Chapter VI: Part 6

They went to a very wide, level plain; in the middle of the plain stood a tremendous, big pine-tree, leaning to one side somewhat.

"My son-in-law," said Sas, "when I was young I used to play here. I cannot play much now, but I'll show you how to play."

"My brother," said Winishuyat, "I will tell you what to do. Sas will try his best now to kill us. Do not kill him to-day; try him, lead him on, make him go higher and higher on the tree, and wait till to-morrow."

Sas climbed the tree some distance and said: "Now, my son-in-law, I am ready!"

Tulchuherris seized the top of the tree, pulled it toward him a little, and let it fly back. Sas kept his hold and slipped down.

"Now, my son-in-law, go up; go higher. I used to go very high when I was young like you." Tulchuherris went to where Sas had been.

"Go higher," said Sas.

"I wanted to stay where you were," answered Tulchuherris; "but I will go a little higher."

Sas took hold of the tree at the top, pulled it to the earth, and let it go. It sprang back into the sky with a noise like thunder. Tulchuherris held on and slipped down unhurt.

"Well, father-in-law," said Tulchuherris, "try again."

"I cannot go high," said Sas; "but I will go a little higher than I did the first time. Don't give the tree a big pull." He went up.

"Go higher," said Tulchuherris.

"My son-in-law, I cannot go higher; I am old."

Tulchuherris teased him till he went a little higher; then he gave a harder pull than before. Sas held on without trouble and slipped to the ground.

"Now," said Sas, "I'll give you a swing." Tulchuherris went up.

"Go higher," said Sas. He went higher.

"Go higher; you are young," urged Sas.

"I don't like to go up," said Tulchuherris. But he went a little higher.

Old Sas gave a good pull, stronger than before. Tulchuherris held on and came to the ground safely. Going to one side, he said: "Whu, whu! let this day be made short!" So the day was made short; evening came soon.

"Well, father-in-law, you try now."

"Very well," said Sas, "give me a small pull; my arms tremble; I am old. I cannot hold on, I am so weak." Old Sas went up.

"Go higher," said Tulchuherris.

"I cannot; I'm old."

Tulchuherris pulled down the top of the tree, but not so far. While he was pulling, Sas said: "Oh, my son-in-law, don't let it go hard."

Tulchuherris gave a pull that would leave Sas on the tree, and he came down unhurt.

"Now try once more," said Sas, "and we will go home."

"Very well," answered Tulchuherris.

"Now, my brother," said Winishuyat, "this is the last time to-day. He will try hard to kill you. Jump off before he lets the tree go."

Tulchuherris went up two-thirds of the way. Sas pulled the tree to the ground and thought that he would kill Tulchuherris surely; but just before he let it go, Tulchuherris slipped off behind him and rushed away. The tree flew up with the noise of heavy thunder. Sas looked everywhere, but could not see Tulchuherris.

"Now, Tulchuherris," said he, "I have finished you at last. You are nobody, you are dead;" and he started to go home, talking to himself as he went.

"Father-in-law, what are you saying, to whom are you talking?"

Sas turned around, amazed. "Oh, my son-in-law, I am glad that you are here. We must go home. We have no wood; we must get wood."

Tulchuherris thought: "My father-in-law wants to kill me. To-morrow I will do what I can to kill him. When my grandmother spoke to me of Sas, I knew nothing; I paid no heed to her. When she warned me, I did not listen, I did not believe; but I see now that she spoke truly when she told me of Sas's house."

He rose in the night, turned toward Sas, and said: "Whu! whu! I want you, Sas, to sleep soundly."

Then he reached his right hand toward the west, toward his grandmother's, and a stick came on it. He carved and painted the stick beautifully, red and black, and made a fire-drill. Then he reached his left hand toward the east, and wood for a mokos (arrow-straightener) came on it. He made the mokos and asked the fox dog for a fox-skin. The fox gave it. Of this he made a headband and painted it red. All these things he put in his quiver.

"We are ready," said Tulchuherris. "Now, Daylight, I wish you to come right away, to come quickly."

Daylight came. Sas rose, and they started soon after for the tree.

"My son-in-law, I will go first," said Sas; and he climbed the tree.

"Go higher!" said Tulchuherris. "I will not give a great pull, go up higher."

He went high, and Tulchuherris did not give a hard pull. Sas came down safely.

Tulchuherris now went high, almost to the top. Sas looked at him, saw that he was near the top, and then drew the great pine almost to the earth, standing with his back to the top of the tree. Tulchuherris sprang off behind Sas and ran away into the field. The tree sprang into the sky with a roar.

"You are killed now, my son-in-law," said Sas. "You will not trouble me hereafter!" He talked on to himself, and was glad.

"What are you saying, father-in-law?" asked Tulchuherris, coming up from behind.

Sas turned. "Oh, my son-in-law, I was afraid that I had hurt you. I was sorry."

"Now, my brother," said Winishuyat, "Sas will kill you unless you kill him. At midday he will kill you surely, unless you kill him. Are we not as strong as Sas?"

"Father-in-law, try again; then I will go to the very top and beat you," said Tulchuherris.

That morning Sas's elder daughter said to her sister, after Sas and Tulchuherris had gone,--

"My sister, our father Sas has tried all people, and has conquered all of them so far; but to-day he will not conquer, to-day he will die. I know this; do not look for him to-day, he will not come back; he will never come back to us."

Sas went up high. "I will kill him now," thought Tulchuherris, and he was sorry; still he cried: "Go a little higher; I went higher, I will go to the top next time. I will not hurt you, go a little higher."

Sas went higher and higher, till at last he said, "I cannot climb any more, I am at the top; don't give a big pull, my son-in-law."

Tulchuherris took hold of the tree with one hand, pulled it as far as it would bend, pulled it till it touched the earth, and then let it fly. When the tree rushed toward the sky, it made an awful noise, and soon after a crash was heard, a hundred times louder than any thunder. All living things heard it. The whole sky and earth shook. Olelbis, who lives in the highest place, heard it. All living things said,--

"Tulchuherris is killing his father-in-law. Tulchuherris has split Sas."

The awful noise was the splitting of Sas.

Tulchuherris stood waiting, waited three hours, perhaps, after the earth stopped trembling: then, far up in the sky he heard a voice, saying,--

"Oh, my son-in-law, I am split, I am dead. I thought that I was the strongest power living; but I am not. From this time on I shall say Tulchuherris is the greatest power in the world."

Tulchuherris could not see any one. He only heard a voice far up in the sky, saying,--

"My son-in-law, I will ask you for a few things. Will you give me your fox-skin headband?"

Tulchuherris put his hand into his fox-skin quiver, took out the band, and tossed it to him. It went straight up to Sas, and he caught it. "Now will you give me your mokos?" Tulchuherris took out the mokos and threw it. "Give me your fire-drill!" He threw that.

Another voice was heard now, not so loud: "I wish you would give me a headband of white quartz." This voice was the smaller part of Sas.

When Tulchuherris had given the headband, he said,--

"My father-in-law, you are split--you are two. The larger part of you will be Sas [the sun], the smaller part Chanahl [the moon, the white one]; and this division is what you have needed for a long time, but no one had the strength to divide you. You are in a good state now. You, Chanahl, will grow old quickly and die; then you will come to life and be young again. You will be always like that in this world. And, Sas, you will travel west all the time, travel every day without missing a day; you will travel day after day without resting. You will see all things in the world as they live and die. My father-in-law, take this, too, from me."

Tulchuherris threw up to Sas a quiver made of porcupine skin.

"I will take it," said Sas, "and I will carry it always."

Then Tulchuherris gave Chanahl the quartz headband and said,--

"Wear it around your head always so that when you travel in the night you will be seen by all people."

Sas put the fox-skin around his head, and fastened the mokos crosswise in front of his forehead. The fire-drill he fastened in his hair behind, placing it upright. At sunrise we see the hair of the fox-skin around Sas's head before we see Sas himself.

Next Tulchuherris threw up two red berries, saying,--

"Take these and make red cheeks on each side of your face, so that when you rise in the morning you will be bright, and make everything bright."

Tulchuherris went west and got some white roots from the mountain, threw them to Sas, and said, "Put these across your forehead."

Next he stretched his right hand westward, and two large shells, blue inside, came to his palm. He threw these to Sas and said,--

"Put these on your forehead for a sign when you come up in the morning. There is a place in the east which is all fire. When you reach that place, go in and warm yourself. Go to Olelpanti now. Olelbis, your father, lives there. He will tell you where to go."

Sas went to Olelpanti, where he found a wonderful and very big sweat-house. It was toward morning, and Olelbis was lying down, covered with a blanket. While sleeping he heard a noise, and when he woke he saw some one near him. He knew who it was. Sas turned to him and said,--

"My father, I am split. I thought myself the strongest person in the world, but I was not. Tulchuherris is the strongest."

"Well, my son Sas," asked Olelbis, "where do you wish to be, and how do you wish to live?"

"I have come to ask you," replied Sas.

"Well," answered Olelbis, "you must travel all the time, and it is better that you go from east to west. If you go north and travel southward, I don't think that will be well. If you go west and travel eastward, I don't think that will be well, either. If you go south and travel northward, I don't think that will be right.

"I think that best which Tulchuherris told you. He told you to go east and travel to the west. He said that there is a hot place in the east, that you must go into that place and get hot before you start every morning. I will show you the road from east to west. In a place right south of this is a very big tree, a tobacco tree, just half-way between east and west. When you come from the east, sit down in the shade of that tree, rest a few minutes, and go on. Never forget your porcupine quiver or other ornaments when you travel.

"While coming up from the east, you will see thick brush along the road on both sides. In that brush are the grizzly bears, your children. Be on your guard against them; they would kill you if they could. As you pass along, let your porcupine quiver touch the bushes; that will keep the bears away. When you go far west to the great water, jump into it; everybody will call that place Sasunhluaston. No one in the world will believe you except Sedit. You and Sedit want all things to die when they grow old. Go to the east; go into the hot place every morning. There is always a fire in it. Take a white oak staff, thrust the end of that staff into the fire till it is one glowing coal. When you travel westward carry this burning staff in your hand. In summer take a manzanita staff; put it in the fire, and burn the end. This staff will be red-hot all the day.

"Now you may go east and begin. You will travel all the time, day after day, without stopping. All living things will see you with your glowing staff. You will see everything in the world, but you will be always alone. No one can ever keep you company or travel with you. I am your father and you are my son, but I could not let you stay with me."

SEDIT AND THE TWO BROTHERS HUS

PERSONAGES

After each name is given that of the beast, bird, or thing into which the personage was changed subsequently.

=Dokos=, flint; =Hus=, turkey buzzard; =Klak=, rattlesnake; =Sedit=, coyote; =Wima=, grizzly bear.

* * * * *

There were two brothers Hus in Olelpanti, and Olelbis had given them a place in his sweat-house. Now, when Olelbis had made up his mind to send all things down to the earth, the people in Olelpanti were talking and saying,--

"What shall we do now? How will it be in the world? Dokos Herit, Klak Loimis, and Wima Loimis have done wrong. They are angry and think bad things. They will make trouble."

"Come into the sweat-house, you my people," said Olelbis, "and talk. Say what you think is best to do."

All who were in Olelpanti at that time went into the sweat-house, where they talked five nights and five days. On the sixth morning Olelbis called the two Hus brothers and said,--

"I have a great work for you. Go down to Tsarauheril, where the first tree is. Right there a people will come up out of the earth, and they will come soon. A little above that place, you two brothers must go to work and make a stone road from the earth up here to Olelpanti. You will find stones and pile them firmly. Make the building very strong. The road itself will be like steps, one higher than another. When you have built half-way up to Olelpanti, you will make a place in which people may spend a night. Put good water there. When you have finished the whole road, people will come up out of the earth, and when they have come up they will go around on the earth everywhere, and live and grow old. When they are old, they can go to the beginning of the road made by you and climb the steps. When they are at the water, which is half-way, they will drink of it, rest one night, and next day travel on till they come here to Olelpanti.

"I will put two springs of water at this end,--one for them to bathe in, the other to drink. If an old man is coming up, he will drink of the water half-way, he will drink and feel better, and when he reaches this end and comes to the water here, he will bathe in one spring, drink from the other, and come out young, fresh, and strong. If an old woman comes, she will drink and bathe and come out a young girl. Then they will go down to the earth again young and healthy. When they grow old a second time, they will come up, drink, and bathe again, and be young a second time; and it will be this way forever. Nobody will die. No man will have a wife, no woman a husband; all will be as brothers and sisters. When the trees grow large which are small now, there will be no limbs except at the top, and the acorns on those trees will have no shells. They will be ready to eat without husking or cracking, and it will be so on all trees,--no husks or shells on the acorns; nobody will need to climb; the nuts will fall ready to be eaten."

When Olelbis had finished talking, he sent away the two brothers. "Go now," said he, "and make that great road."

The two brothers started. They came down at Sonomyai, looked around, and said,--

"This must be the place of which Olelbis told us. This must be the place where we are to work: we will begin here."

"My brother," said the elder Hus, "I will bring stones to you; plenty of them; big stones. You will put them together,--lay them in order and make the walls."

They began to work. On the first day they piled the road up as high as a big house. Next day they piled all day; made the road as high as a tall tree. The third day it was very high; the fourth still higher. It was rising very fast. The brothers worked well, and had great power. The building was already the largest ever seen on this earth. On the fifth day the top could hardly be seen. On the sixth day it was touching the clouds.

A little before noon of the sixth day the two brothers saw something moving from the southwest. When it came near they saw a man with mempak around his neck. He wore an otter-skin headband, an otter-skin quiver, and a Sedit skin, which he wore like a coat. He had on buckskin leggings ornamented with kobalus, and his shirt was stuck full of kobalus, the sharp end of the shell out. He was dressed beautifully. When this man had come near, he watched the two brothers at work. They did not speak to him.

This was Sedit. At last he said,--

"My grandsons, stop work; rest awhile; come and tell me what you are doing. Come and sit awhile here with me, and we will talk. When an uncle or a grandfather comes, people always stop work and talk with their relative."

The brothers made no answer; kept on at their work; paid no heed to Sedit.

"Grandsons," said he again, "stop awhile; come and talk with me; tell me what you are doing. I want to learn, come and tell me what you know; rest awhile. I might tell you something better than what you know. Perhaps you think, grandsons, that I don't know anything. Come and sit down and I will tell you something wise. If you don't come, I will spoil your work. I will destroy what you are doing."

When the two brothers heard this, they were frightened; they thought that he might injure their work, and they came. When they reached the ground and walked up to Sedit, they asked,--

"Which way did you come, grandfather? Where do you live?"

"My grandsons," said Sedit, "I came from a place not very far from this. I was walking around to see if I could see something. I heard people talking last night about you. They said that you were making a road, and I thought that I would come here to look at your work, and talk to you."

"Very well," said the brothers. "This work which we are doing is not for us. It is for others. Perhaps you think this work is for us; it is not, it is done at command of another. This work is for Olelbis. Olelbis sent us down here to make this great road."

"What!" cried Sedit, "are you working for Olelbis? Did he send you down here to do this? Did he tell you to make this road, and have you come here to make it for him, my grandsons? Do you believe what Olelbis says to you? Do you believe what he says to other people? Do you mind him and work for him? I don't believe in Olelbis. I don't believe what he says, I don't care for what he says."

"My grandfather," said the elder Hus, "hold on, stop talking. I don't like to hear you say such words, I don't like to hear you talk in that way. I am going to tell you why all this work is done, why this road is made. I have told you nothing."

Sedit sat down and said: "Well, tell me. I am glad to hear what you say. I am glad to hear why you are making this road."

The elder brother began: "Olelbis says that a new people will come on this earth soon, that they will live and go around, and after a while they will grow old. When very old, they will come to this road to go to Olelpanti and be young again. When half-way up, it will be evening. They will drink water from a spring and pass the night there. Next day they will go on, and be at the end of the road in the evening,--they will be in Olelpanti, where Olelbis lives. They will find water there. They will drink from one spring and bathe in the water of another. When they come out, they will be young. Next day they will come down half-way, drink of the water, stay one night, then come to the earth, and be young and fresh as they were at first.

"No man will have a wife, no woman a husband. They will be to one another as brothers and sisters. That is what Olelbis wishes, and because he wishes it he has sent us to make this road. When the road is built to Olelpanti, where Olelbis lives, these trees around here, which are small now, will be large. They will grow up and be very tall. They will have no limbs except those near the top, where branches will run out. On those branches acorns will come, and the acorns will have no shells on them. They will be all ready and fit to eat. The people who are to come out of the earth will not be able to climb these trees, and they will have no need to climb, for the acorns will fall, and the people will pick them up and have plenty of food without work, without trouble."

Sedit listened and looked at the elder Hus brother. Then he turned to the younger Hus and said sneeringly,--

"Hu! Do you believe all that? Do you think that every word is true which Olelbis says? Do you think it is wise? Do you think it is good? Now, my grandsons, you wait awhile, and I will tell you something. You ought to know that an old man like me has words to speak,--that he knows something wise. I have something to tell you which is better than all this. I will tell you what it is. I will tell you now. Suppose an old man goes up this road all alone, drinks from one spring, bathes in the other, and comes down young. He will be all alone just as he was when he went up."

"Suppose an old woman and an old man go up, go alone, one after the other, and come back alone, young. They will be alone as before, and will grow old a second time, and go up again and come back young, but they will be alone, just the same as at first. They will have nothing on earth to be glad about. They will never have any friends, any children; they will never have any fun in the world; they will never have anything to do but to go up this road old and come back down young again.

"Now, my grandsons, I will tell you something better, and you will like what I tell you. I like it because it is good. I am going to say something wiser than anything Olelbis has told you yet. It will be better, very much better if trees have limbs to the ground, and if acorns have husks and shells on them. When trees have limbs to the ground, a man can climb them, take a long stick in his hand, and knock acorns to the ground. Others will come under the tree and gather them. When the acorns fall, women will jump and say, 'Oh! oh!' and laugh and talk and be glad and feel well. I think that is better. People can take the acorns home and put them on the ground. Then they will say, 'Come, let us husk these acorns.' Men and women will go and sit down and husk the acorns. When they are doing this, they will throw husks back and forth at each other. They will have fun and laugh and be pleased and feel well. I think that this is better; I know that you will like it.

"Besides, what are people to eat if nothing dies? Deer will not die, fish will not die; the coming people cannot kill them. What are they to eat? They will have nothing to eat except acorns.

"I think it is better for women and men--young men and young women--to marry, live day and night with each other. When they get up in the morning, the man will work for the woman, the woman will work for the man, and they will help each other. I think that the better way. If a man has a wife, he will catch fish and kill deer, he will bring them in, and give them to his wife to cook. She will cook them, and both will eat. I think that is the right way. If people live in this manner, and a woman has a child, her neighbors will say, 'There is a nice baby over there,' and they will go to see it, and will say, 'What a nice baby that woman has!' I think this is better than anything Olelbis told you.

"When that baby grows up and another baby grows up, they will be a man and a woman, and the two will get married and have children themselves, and in that way there will be plenty of people always; new people, young people. When a man grows old, he will die; when a woman grows old, she will die. When they die, others will go around and tell their neighbors about it, and say, 'A woman died over there,' or 'A man died over here. They will bury him to-morrow.' Then all the people will make ready to help the relatives of the dead man; they will cry, the dead man's relatives will cry and mourn. I think this is better. When a man dies, his nearest relatives will cut their hair very close, paint the face black; and when people see one of them coming or going, they will say, 'His father is dead,' or 'His wife is dead,' or 'His mother is dead,' and they will talk about that man and his dead father, or dead mother, or dead wife, and say, 'Poor man, he has lost his father, or his mother, or his wife.' I think this is better.

"When an old woman dies, she will leave a daughter, and that daughter will have a daughter, or an old man dies, he will leave a son, and that son will have a son. As men and women grow old, they will die, and their places will be taken by young people. I think this is the right way. I think this is the best way. All living things should go this way,--all should grow old and then die. When the new people come on this earth, they ought to go this way. When those people come and live all around on this earth, they will die in many ways,--they will fight with each other and die; when trees grow old, they will die and fall down; everything will die in like manner.

"When a man dies, his friends will put mempak on him, like this which I have around my neck, and an otter-skin band around his head, and give him a quiver, dress him, and then put him in the ground. When a man goes to some place, a grizzly bear may catch and kill him, or a rattlesnake will bite and kill him, and when people fight they will use flint and kill one another. People will get angry and fight. When there is a gathering, somebody will come running in and say, 'People over there are fighting.' Those inside will hurry to see, and will find a man killed, and say, 'A good man is killed;' then they will punish the others for killing him."

The two brothers sat there, made no answer.

"Well, my grandsons," continued Sedit, "I know that what I tell you is right. What do you think?"

The brothers said nothing at first. They thought and thought. After a while the elder looked at Sedit and said,--

"I think what you say is better. I think that it is right. I suppose it is true. I believe that you are old enough and ought to know. I think that you are right."

"Grandfather," said the younger brother, "would you like to die, too, the same as others, and be lying in the ground and not rise any more; never go around with an otter-skin band on your head, and a beautiful quiver at your back, and fine things such as you are wearing to-day? You want others to die; you want death in the world. What would you say if you had to die yourself? You want all the coming people to die, and all living things hereafter to die and be gone from here. Olelbis does not want any one to die, but you want all living things on this earth to die. You want to spoil all the work which Olelbis sent us down here to do."

When the younger brother said this, the two stood up and walked off a little way, and Sedit said,--

"My grandsons, come back, come back. We have not finished talking yet. We must talk more. We will talk this all over again. Come back, my grandsons, come back."

But the two brothers did not turn back; they walked on, walked toward the east always--said nothing. After a time they turned and went to where their road was. They pulled out some great stones, and the whole road fell to the ground.

The two brothers flew up then, circling around for a while. They went higher and higher, till at last they disappeared and went to Olelpanti.

Sedit saw them fly up, watched them till they disappeared. He stood looking around for a long time. At last he said,--

"What am I to do now? I wish I had not said all that, I wish I had not said so much. I wish I had not said anything."

He stood around there and kept repeating: "What am I to do now? I am sorry. Why did I talk so much? Hus asked me if I wanted to die. He said that all on earth here will have to die now. That is what Hus said. I don't know what to do. What can I do?"

He looked around and found a plant with long, broad leaves, the wild sunflower. He found this plant in great plenty, and took many leaves from it. He pulled off all his fine clothes, threw them aside, then stuck the leaves into his body, all the way up and down his legs, body, and arms, and said,--

"Now I will go up to Olelpanti. I am not going to stay down here where people die. I am going up to the place where the Hus brothers went."

He made a tail of leaves; then he rose and flew around and around, rose pretty high; the leaves began to get dry and break one after another. After a while Sedit, whirling round and round, came down with great force, struck the ground, and was crushed to pieces.

The Hus brothers went up to Olelpanti. Olelbis said,--

"There are rocks at the south not far from the sweat-house; go there and stay."

Olelbis looked down, and saw Sedit trying to fly to Olelpanti; he saw him fall.

"It is his own fault," said Olelbis. "Sedit is the first to die, killed by his own words; hereafter all his people will fall around and die and be found dead at roadsides and places where people pass. The people to come will see them there."

The name of the place where the ruined road was is Sonomyai.

Our Wintu people say that ever since white men settled in the country they have been drawing away the stones which the Hus brothers piled up. They have taken them as far as fifteen miles to build chimneys.

HAWT

PERSONAGES

After each name is given that of the beast, bird, or thing into which the personage was changed subsequently.

=Chírchihas=, mountain squirrel (red); =Handokmit=, striped snake; =Hau=, red fox; =Hawt=, eel; =Hus=, turkey buzzard; =Kanhlalas=, weasel; =Karkit=, raven; =Kinus=, wood dove; =Kiriú=, loon; =Lutchi=, humming-bird; =Memtulit=, otter; =Múrope=, bull snake; =Nomhawena=, ----; =Nop=, deer; =Patkilis=, jack rabbit; =Patit=, panther; =Sedit=, coyote; =Tichelis=, ground squirrel; =Tsaik=, bluejay; =Tsárarok=, kingfisher; =Tsaroki Sakahl=, brown-green snake; =Tsihl=, black bear; =Tsileu=, yellowhammer; =Tsudi=, mouse; =Tunhlucha=, frog; =Waida Dikit=, Dolly Varden trout; =Waida Werris=, Polar star; =Wai Hau=, silver-gray fox; =Waiti=, north side; =Watwut=, mountain bluejay; =Wima=, grizzly bear; =Yípokos=, black fox.

* * * * *

On the south side of Bohem Puyuk is a small mountain called Tede Puyuk. Near that small mountain lived Waida Dikit Kiemila. He lived all alone, without neighbors. There was no house near his. He lived long in that place, thinking what was best for him to do, thinking, thinking. After a great while he thought: "The best thing to do is to build a sweat-house."

He built a sweat-house about a mile west of the place where he was living. When he had finished, he took a kind of red earth and painted the eastern half of the house red on the outside. The western half he painted green with paint made from leaves of bushes. After he had painted the western half, all the different kinds of bushes whose leaves he had used for paint grew out of that side of the sweat-house.

The sweat-house was ready for use now, and Waida Dikit went to see a man, Tsaroki Sakahl, who lived farther south.

"My grandson," said Waida Dikit, "I wish you would come up and stay in my house. I have no one to keep me company. I wish you would come and live with me."

"I will go with you," said Tsaroki, and he went to live with the old man.

Waida Dikit had not told Tsaroki of the sweat-house, he took him to the old house. After two or three nights Waida Dikit said,--

"My grandson, what shall we do? What would you like to do? What will be best for us? We must talk about something. There should be something for us to talk about. We must have something to say."

"Well," said Tsaroki, "I think that you want what is best; you want to see somebody, to see something. I think that is what you want. I think I know what you want. The best way to get what you want is to build a sweat-house."

"That is wise talk, my grandson, I like to hear it. I have a sweat-house built--all finished."

"Where is it?" asked Tsaroki.

"I will show it to you soon," answered Waida Dikit.

Putting his hand behind him, he picked up a small basket, took out yellow paint with his thumb and forefinger, and drew a yellow streak from Tsaroki's head down his back. The young man had been all green; now there was yellow on his back. Next Waida Dikit took a net woven of grass fibre, like a woman's hair net, and put it on Tsaroki's head. "You are ready now," said he. Then he led him out of the house and said, pointing to the west,--

"Look! There is our sweat-house. Now, my grandson, I am going to take you to that house. The east side is painted red. When we are there, don't go near the sweat-house on this eastern side; pass by, but not too near, a little way off. When we go in I will take the eastern half and stay in it; you will take the other half and stay on the western side, where there is green paint. That is where you are to lie, on the green side."

They started. The old man walked ahead. When they went in, Waida Dikit took the eastern half of the house and Tsaroki the western. The young man sat down, and then Waida Dikit took a pipe which was in the sweat-house.

"My grandson," said he, "you will find a pipe right there on your side of the house and a sack of tobacco. You may smoke if you wish."

Tsaroki took the pipe, looked at it, liked it well. This pipe was from Wai Hola Puyuk. When he drew in the smoke and puffed out the first whiff, the whole house was filled so that nothing was seen in it. Waida Dikit put his head outside the door. There was smoke outside everywhere. He could see nothing. Then he turned back and said,--

"My grandson, you are a good man. You are a strong man. You smoke well. This will do for the first time.--If he does that again," thought the old man, "there will be nothing seen in this world; all will be covered with smoke;" and he said, "You are a strong man; that is enough for this time."

"I should like to know why he says, 'That is enough.' What does he want to do with me?" thought Tsaroki. "Maybe he is trying me in some way."

"My grandson," said the old man, after a while, "I should like to see somebody; I should like to see something, see people; I should like to have fun and see games of some sort."

"I should like to see them too," answered Tsaroki; "I should like to see them, my grandfather. You are older than I; if you tell me what to do, I will do it."

"My grandson, can you play on anything?"

"I should like to play if you would teach me," said Tsaroki.

The old man put his hand behind him into a basket of things, drew out a flute and gave it to Tsaroki, who took it quickly, he was so glad. He sat down, crossed his legs, and before he had blown into the flute, just as he touched his lips with it, beautiful sounds came out.

The young man was glad, wonderfully glad. The old man, who sat looking at him, asked,--

"How do you like the flute, my grandson?"

"I like it well," said Tsaroki.

"I am glad to hear you play, my grandson; I am glad when you do something good. When I was young, I used to say good things, I used to do good things. Now, my grandson, think what you would like best to do."

"I should like to hear something nice, to hear music, to hear beautiful sounds."

After he had taken the flute Tsaroki did not sleep; he played for three days and three nights without stopping; then he stopped and asked,--

"What is this flute? What is it made of? It sounds so sweetly."

"My grandson, I will tell you; that flute is of wood,--alder wood. That is an alder flute, but the wood is people's bones. There were people long ago, and that alder wood grew out of their bones. My grandson, would you like to have another young man with you, or do you wish to be alone? I think it would be better for you to have company."

"My grandfather, I should like to have another man with me; I could talk with him. I could live then more pleasantly."

"My grandson, to see another young man you must go to the west; you must go in the middle of the night, when it is very dark, so that no one may see you. My grandson, it is better for you to go to-night."

"Where? Which way do you want me to go, my grandfather?"

"Go west from here, far away; you will start when it is dark; you will get there in the dark. You will go to where the old woman Nomhawena Pokaila lives: she is your grandmother. When you go to her house, ask her about your brother; she will tell you where he is."

"My grandfather, I don't believe that I can find her house. I don't know what kind of house it is."

"You cannot miss it, my grandson. The night will be very dark; no one will be able to see anything, but you cannot miss the house. It is a little house; no one can see it, but you cannot miss it. You will go there very quickly, though 'tis far from here and the night is dark."

Then the old man showed him a small sand trail; it was bright, just like a ray of light in the darkness, though it was very narrow, as narrow as a hair, and all around it was dark night. The old man had made this trail purposely.

Tsaroki started, and could see the trail straight ahead of him; he went over it as swiftly as an arrow goes from a bow. He travelled right on, and at the end of the trail, just on the trail itself, was a little bark house. He went into this house, and saw an old woman lying there with her back to the fire; she was sleeping on the south side of it. He walked in and stood at the north side. He sat down then, and was sitting a while when the old woman woke, turned her face to the fire, and saw some one opposite. She rose, stirred the fire to make light, looked at the young man, and said,--

"I see some person over there; who is it?"

"My grandmother, I am Tsaroki Sakahl. I have come because my grandfather, Waida Dikit, sent me to see you, so that you might tell me about my brother. I should like to know where my brother lives. I have come to see my brother and speak to him."

"Very well, my grandson, I will tell you. He lives right over here on the west."

As soon as she had finished speaking, Tsaroki stood up and went toward the west. He had not made many steps when he saw a large space, a broad space on which a great many people were sitting. The place was dark, but the people could see one another. Tsaroki saw all, and looked around carefully. He saw that all were at work except one man, who was sitting in the middle in a good place. He looked a long time, not knowing what to do, for Waida Dikit had said to him,--

"You must not let any one know but your brother why I sent you, and tell him not to tell others."

No one present saw Tsaroki, and he thought: "I don't know how I shall go to my brother without letting any one know." At last he made up his mind what to do. He went down under the ground where he had been sitting, and came up just in front of the great man, his brother.

The people were dressing skins, making arrow-points, and finishing arrows. All were at work but the man in the middle. Tsaroki came up in front of him and whispered,--

"My brother, I have come for you. My grandfather sent me to ask you to go to him and not to tell any one."

"That is well. I will go. Let us start."

That was all he said. This big man was Hawt. Tsaroki had brought his flute, but he could not use it, for he had to keep his journey secret and not let himself be seen; he held the flute hidden under his arm.

"Let us go," said Hawt; "you go ahead."

Tsaroki went into the ground, came out where he had been sitting at first, and then went to the house of the old woman, his grandmother. Hawt stood up to make ready for the journey. The people kept on working. They were all of the Hawt people, and the big man was their chief.

Hawt dressed, and took his bow and arrows. When ready, he turned and said,--

"My people, I am going to leave you, to be gone two or three days, perhaps longer."

That was all he said; he did not say where he was going, nor why. He walked away and went to Nomhawena's house, where Tsaroki was waiting. The two brothers had been sitting just a little while when the old woman said to them,--

"Now, my grandsons, you must go; you must be at Waida Dikit's before daylight; you must travel while it is dark, we do not wish to let other people know of your journey. Go. I shall be in this house, but shall hear all that is happening at your place."

They left the old woman, and reached Waida Dikit's before daylight. The old man was up already, and standing by the fire in the middle of the sweat-house combing his red hair, which touched his feet. The moment he went into the house Tsaroki took his flute, lay on his back, and began to play. Hawt stood a while; didn't know where to sit. At last Waida Dikit said to him,--

"My grandson, I am living here in a small house. There isn't much room in it, but go north of the fire and sit there."

Just as Hawt was sitting down at the appointed side, daylight came. Tsaroki played two nights and two days. Hawt lay in his place and listened.

"My grandson," said Waida Dikit to Tsaroki, "I should like to hear you both play. You must give that flute to Hawt some of the time."

Tsaroki gave the flute to his brother, and from time to time they passed it from one to the other. Both played; both made beautiful music. They played day after day, night after night, ten days and ten nights.

"You play well now, both of you, my grandsons. Would you not like to hear other persons play?"

"Oh, we should like that very much; we should like to hear other persons play," said Tsaroki and Hawt.

"I used to hear a friend of mine long ago," said Waida Dikit, "and he played very well. Would you like to have him play with you?"

"Yes, yes; maybe he would teach us to play better."

"My friend is very old now," said Waida Dikit: "he is Kanhlalas Kiemila."

"I will go and bring him," said Tsaroki.

"Go, my grandson. I will show you a trail, but do not go near the east side of my sweat-house. It is not far. Kanhlalas lives northeast from here."

Tsaroki found Kanhlalas's sweat-house on the trail. He heard music inside, beautiful music. He stood awhile listening, then went in and saw an old man lying on his back playing. The old man stopped playing, but did not speak. Tsaroki touched him on the shoulder and said,--

"My grandfather, I have come for you. Waida Dikit, my grandfather, sent me to ask you to visit him."

"I will go," was all that the old man said. No questions were asked or answered. "I have come for you," "I will go;" no more. Those people of long ago talked in that way; they didn't talk much.

Tsaroki went home. Kanhlalas made ready to go, and went under the ground. Waida Dikit was lying in his house when on a sudden Kanhlalas rose at his feet. Waida Dikit sat up when he saw him, took a pipe, and told him to smoke. Kanhlalas smoked, and the two old men talked a good while. The young men played, first one, then the other. It was dark in the sweat-house, but after Kanhlalas came he shone and gave light like a torch in a dark house. You could see some, but not very much. Kanhlalas was a grandfather of Waida Werris.

"I sent for you," said Waida Dikit, "for I thought you might teach my grandsons to play better. They like to make music. They think of nothing else."

"I am old," said Kanhlalas. "I am not as I used to be. I cannot play much now. When I was a boy, when I was young, I could play. But I will play a little."

About dark he said a second time, "I will play a little." So he lay on his back, took his own flute, which he had brought with him, and began. The two brothers lay and listened. Kanhlalas never took the flute out of his mouth from the dark of evening until daylight. Next day he played, and all night again. When morning came there was a light stripe down his breast, and when the sun rose his breast was white, for the breath was nearly out of his body. That morning old Waida Dikit said,--

"Now we will invite all people in the world who can play, to come here."

"If you invite all people in the world who can play," said Tsaroki, "this house will be too small for them."

"No," said the old man, "it will not be too small. You will find it large enough when they come."

Tsaroki was sent to the northwest to invite people. He went very fast. In a little while he was at a place just this side of where the sky touches the earth. He went to Nop Hlut. When near the sweat-house he heard stamping in a dance. He went in and saw a very big house full of people sitting around at the wall. Only one woman and a young girl were dancing in the middle of the house, Nop Pokte and Nop Loimis. The girl was very small, and had fawn's feet tied behind her head. These rattled so sharply that you could hear them when far away. As Tsaroki was coming in through the door on the south, he saw an old man lying on the north side. This was Nop Kiemila, the master of the house. Tsaroki went straight to him, put his hand on his shoulder, and said,--

"I have come for you."

"What kind of call do you make?" asked Nop.

"My grandfather is going to have a playing on flutes."

"I will go," said Nop.

"My grandfather is inviting people from all parts of the world. All will be invited who can play on the flute."

Waida Dikit himself went south to invite people living in the water, and sent Tsaroki to invite all the land people. They went far and near to invite all. After a time both grew wearied, and wanted to get some one to take invitations. They thought who would be best in heat and cold, light and darkness, and thought that Kinus would be; so they called him, and hired him to go.

Kinus went as far as he could go, went around the whole world to a distance a little this side of where the sky comes down. After a time he returned and said,--

"This world is wide and big. I called all the people as far as I went, but I was not able to go everywhere,--this world goes farther than I went. Whole days I could get no water, no food; but I invited all the people that I saw."

Now, while Kinus was speaking the invited people were listening; and there were many of them then at Waida Dikit's. Lutchi sat at one side and listened.

"There is," said Waida Dikit, "a man that we should like to see here. Waida Werris and also a man who lives far in the East, Patkilis; he lives behind the sky, beyond the place where the sky touches the earth, and Sedit lives with him. We want these three. Now Kinus cannot go to them,--nobody that we know is able to go to them. What shall we do?"

All talked about this. Lutchi sat back in silence, and listened to what they were saying.

"This sweat-house is too small," said Kanhlalas.

"You will see," answered Waida Dikit.