Chapter XII: Part 2: also consists of Seneca legends and myths, which are (7)

After her lover had gone the youngest sister tried very diligently to fill her basket with huckleberries, but she did not have time to do so before the eldest sister called out, “Come, now, my sisters, our baskets are full, and we must go home.” They started toward their lodge, but missing their youngest sister, called her until she came. She acted shyly, being afraid to go very near them lest they should detect any odor which would let them know that she had been near a man. Then they asked her, “How is it that you have not filled your basket?” To deceive them she feigned illness, but the eldest sister, going near her, exclaimed in disgust: “Oh, pshaw! She emits the odor of a man. Indeed, she has been near a man.” The youngest sister attempted to deny this charge, for she was afraid of her sisters; but they would not believe her. Too well did they know the odor of a man. They were very angry, and they scolded and threatened her; but she was now thinking of the young man, and so did not care what they said or did.

The next day they started out again to gather huckleberries, and the youngest sister went directly to the spot where the young man had promised to meet her. She was more than delighted to see him there awaiting her coming. She sat down with him and they made love to each other. The other sisters, being very busy, forgot to watch her, as they did not expect that anyone would have the temerity to lurk, unwelcome, in their huckleberry patch. Finally she told him how angry her sisters were on the preceding day because her basket was not full, and so they began to pick berries together. When her basket was nearly full, the eldest sister again called out: “Come, sisters! our baskets are full. We must now go home.”

The youngest sister lagged behind as long as possible, and the other sisters waited for her until she came up to them. When she drew near they cried out in bitter anger: “Oh! she smells strong of a man. She can not deny that she has been talking again to a man.” Thereupon they threatened to turn her away and not to let her enter their lodge again. But she begged them not to do so, saying: “What if I do marry? I shall not bring my husband into this lodge, for he will take me away to his own lodge.” But they would not listen to her pleading, their only answer being, “Tomorrow we shall go once more to pick huckleberries, and if you again talk to a man we shall never permit you to come again into our home.”

All that evening and night she sat pensively thinking of her situation and of the young man. She could not bring herself to the point of giving him up. Finally she decided to cast her lot with his people, saying to herself, “Well, they may do as they like, but as for me I shall accept the young man as my husband.” Collecting a small bundle of her belongings, she carefully concealed them outside the lodge, so that in case they would not let her return to the lodge she could get them. During that same evening and night her sisters kept saying: “Oh! what a disgusting smell that is. How can she stand it?” and they made fearful grimaces at the odor.

The next day the seven sisters went again to gather huckleberries. The elder sisters were so incensed at their youngest sister that they paid little attention to her beyond murmuring continually against her reprehensible conduct.

On her part she went directly to the usual place, where she met the young man, who was impatiently waiting for her. After hearing how bitterly opposed his sweetheart’s sisters were to her love-making, he said to her, “If they do not let you go to your home, come to me, and I will be most happy to care for you.”

When the time came for the sisters to go home and they made the usual call, she would not go near them, telling them to go on and that she would make her way home by herself. Then they said: “She has been with that man again. She will indeed bring shame upon us.” At last some of the younger sisters, relenting a little, said: “What shall we do? She is our youngest sister. She is very proud. If we turn her away from home, she will never come back again. We shall then lose her forever”; and they were very sad and disconsolate. But the elder sister, more conservative than they, said, “We must turn her away from us, because if we do not do so, some other sister here will be doing the same thing as she has done.” She was able to bring them, as least outwardly, to her view, and so when the erring one came to the lodge, they said, “You must not come into this lodge any more.”

Deeply grieved, the youngest sister replied, “If you have thus deliberately cast me out from you, I will go away,” and true to her answer, she started away. Weeping bitterly thus to leave her sisters, whom she loved dearly, she walked along, hardly knowing whither she was going. But in her grief she instinctively started back to the young man, who had promised to care for her should her sisters cast her out. Suddenly, while she was thus pensively walking along, she heard the voice of the young man addressing her, saying: “Lo! I followed you near enough to see for myself how your sisters would treat you. Now that they have cast you out, I ask you to come with me to my lodge and be my wife.” Having no other present resource, she accepted his offer and the young man led her home in triumph. Now it so happened that the young man was an only son, and his mother was delighted to learn that he had obtained a fine-looking young wife.

For a time they were undisturbed in their happiness arising from their devotion to each other. But there came an evil day when the young man’s mother began to be jealous of her daughter-in-law, for she felt that the young wife had displaced her in her own son’s affections. She felt this the more keenly because up to the time of his marriage he had been devoted to his mother and had not passed his time in the company of other women and men. Now he was attentive to his wife and tried to grant her every wish, although he did not neglect his mother at all on this account. The young man and his wife were accustomed to go away on hunting trips for several days at a time, and on their return brought much game and meat. But the young man noticed that his mother’s manner had changed toward him and his wife, and this troubled him.

His wife, being a prospective mother, did not accompany him when her term was approaching; but when her husband left he would say to her: “You must be very wary, as I am afraid that my mother may do you harm, for she is very jealous of my love for you. Before knowing you I loved only her; but now I love you, and of course she feels that you have taken her place. I am afraid that she may do you harm, although I do not think that she will attempt to poison you. But you must be kind to her, and do not let her know what I have told you. Be on your guard at all times.”

At last, without telling his mother the reason, he took his wife away with him to the forest, where he built a lodge and remained. Soon a boy was born to them.

After a while the young man, wishing to know whether his mother was in need, went to visit her, carrying a large quantity of game. He was not long absent. He made several such trips to his mother. It was his practice to tell his wife just when she should expect him to return, and he did not fail to keep his promise. At last, however, he did not return. Time passed; his wife anxiously waited for him day after day, but he never returned. She told her son, who had grown to be quite a lad, that his father must be dead or that his mother had made him a captive in such manner that he could not escape to return to them.

Years passed and the boy grew into manhood. In looks and manner he was the exact double of his father. He had become a great hunter and was very fond of killing turkeys.

One evening on his return from hunting he found only the upper half of his mother’s body lying on her bed, while the other half was gone. She told him that while she was bending over a kettle, cooking, two men came into the room and, stealing up behind her, with a single blow cleft her body in two; that they then fled with the lower half, leaving her to die. She had crawled on her hands to her bed.

The youth, who was in terrible grief by reason of his mother’s misfortune, exclaimed: “Oh, mother! you can not live. Oh! you will surely die.” But she consoled him by telling him that she had healed her body and that she could live a long time as she was then; and that, if she could recover by any means the lower half of her body, she could cause the two parts to unite again, so that she would be as well as ever.

Moreover, calling her son to her side, she said to him: “Now you are old enough to know about such things, I will tell you all that you should know. This misfortune has come upon me through the machinations of my sisters, who are six in number. There were seven of us. When I was unmarried wampum beads of great value passed from me. This was true also of my sisters. But when I married your father this ceased, and my sisters were very angry with me. This is the reason why my sisters do not marry, for they are becoming very rich by selling the wampum beads which they obtain in this manner. Since your father went away I again pass wampum beads; and this is the reason that the lower part of my body has been stolen by the two men, who were sent here by my sisters. It now hangs in the lodge of public assembly, so that the wampum beads may be gathered from it. You shall bring back my body to me. I will give you the magic power to do it—the orenda which will enable you to call to your assistance any being or thing that you may need.” Placing her head upon his shoulder and her hand on his head, she continued: “You are my son, and I am one of the Seven Sisters. Whatever you wish to do you will now always be able to do by such aid as you may call on to assist you.”

After this annunciation she thrust her hand into her bosom and drew therefrom a tiny black dog. Giving it to her son, she said: “This little dog shall be a companion to you hereafter. It will aid you.” The youth exclaimed with delight, “Oh, mother! why did you not give me this beautiful little dog long ago?” The boy was delighted with the tiny dog, taking it up and caressing it in an exuberance of joy. When he put the dog down, it leaped around, trying to bark and seeming to be full of life. “Now,” said the mother, “I will show you what you have to do in this matter.” Taking a small wand from her bosom, she gently tapped the dog, accompanying the action with the words, “Grow! my dog. Grow! my dog.” With each blow of the wand the dog increased in size until he became an immense beast. Then she said to the boy: “Get on his back and you will see that he can carry you. You must be very kind to him and never neglect him. He will always fight for and protect you. Should you desire to make him small again, pull his ears and shake him gently, and he will assume any size you may wish, from a great dog to one so small that you can secrete him in your bosom.”

The youth willingly accepted his mother’s commission, saying: “Mother, I shall not wait another day to perfect my preparations. I will go after the lower part of your body at once.” His mother told him that the oil of a wild turkey was the only thing which could make the parts of her body grow together again; that it must come from a gobbler; and that he should prepare this oil before he went after the lower part of her body. She told him further that the oil must be rubbed hot on the raw flesh, and that then the two parts would grow together again, and she would be well. The youth said, “I will kill the turkey gobbler on the way.” But his mother said to him, “Oh, no! The turkey must not be killed until we are ready to use the oil, for it must live until the last minute.”

Then the youth started on his quest for the lower part of his mother’s body. While on the way he encountered a flock of wild turkeys and contrived to take a fine gobbler alive. He fastened it to a tree where it would not be devoured by prowling animals of prey and where he would find it on his return.

When the youth drew near the lodge of public assembly, which was his destination, he heard loud laughing, screaming, and quarreling over wampum beads, which the people were getting from his mother’s body. This made him very angry and determined to accomplish his errand. Having made his dog very large, he said to it, “Remain here until I return”; then he went to the lodge of assembly. On his way there he called on the Chief of the Crows to come to his aid. In a moment the Black Chief was at his side ready for any command. To him the youth said: “Friend, my mother’s body is hanging on a post inside of the lodge and the people are getting wampum beads from it. Now, when the people stoop down to gather the beads I wish you to go in at the smoke-hole, draw up the body out of the lodge, and quickly bring it to me.” The Black Chief replied, “I will do your bidding at once.” Waiting until the people on the inside of the lodge began to scramble and fight for the wampum beads, he swooped down through the smoke-hole, and seizing the part of the body which he sought, he flew out with it to the waiting youth, who sat on the back of the monster dog. With an exclamation of thanks to his friend, the Black Chief of the Crows, the youth parted from him. The huge dog ran homeward with great speed, directing his way to the place where the turkey was fastened to the tree. Having obtained it, the dog soon brought the youth, the part of the mother’s body, and the turkey to the waiting mother, who hardly expected her son back so soon. At once the youth killed the turkey, and taking the oil from it, rubbed it on the severed surface of the lower part of the body.

After treating likewise the surface of the upper part he brought the two parts of her body close together, whereupon they joined of themselves. Then the woman with her hands rubbed the place of juncture. Becoming then entirely whole, she arose and, standing, said, “I am well now, and no one shall come to trouble us again. I am thankful to you.” This prediction proved true, for they two lived in peace and contentment.

The youth became a great hunter, famous for his great successes in the chase. His mother continued to pass wampum beads as in former years, and their lodge was richly ornamented with many strings of wampum, each of which was worth a man’s life and two that of a woman.[46] Although the youth was always looking for his father, the latter never returned.

27. THE FORSAKEN INFANT AND GAHA (THE WIND)

A number of Seneca went hunting. When they had finished their hunting and were ready to return home, they did not know what to do with a little boy whose father and mother had died while they were at the chase. They had so much meat that they could not well carry him, and, owing to his infancy, he could not walk. Finally they decided to leave him in the hunting lodge, with plenty of wood and meat. Learning this, the child cried bitterly.

When the hunters reached home the report went around that a child had been left in the woods, and all feared that it would die. At once the chief sent a trusty man to see whether the child was alive. When he got outside the village the man turned himself into a great bear, so that he could run the faster.

Meanwhile the child kept a good fire and cooked meat and lived fairly well. One cold night he began to cry, for the meat was nearly gone and all the wood had been burned. At last he heard some one come to the door, making a sound as if shaking the snow off his feet, and call out: “Well, little boy, you think you are going to die, but you will not. I am going to help you. The chief has sent a man to see whether you are still alive, but he will not be here for some time yet. I will be your friend. When you want me to aid you all you have to do is to think of me and I will come.” Soon after that the boy fell asleep. In the morning he found a pile of wood at his door, and on a low limb of a near-by tree hung a piece of meat. Now he was happy. Building a fire, he cooked and ate some of the meat.

The next night this strange man came again. Stopping at the door, he shook his feet but he did not come in. He said: “The man who is coming will not help you; he is coming in the form of a great bear; he will be here tomorrow forenoon. In the morning you will find between the roots of the old stump in the dooryard a trusty knife. You must sharpen this knife to kill the bear. When he is near, you must run to the spring where the tall hemlock stands and climb the tree a little way; the great bear will follow you. Then slip down on the other side, and when he is coming down after you, stab him in the forefoot.”

The next morning the boy did as the voice told him. After he had killed the bear, he went to the lodge and was very glad.

The next night he awoke, and the stranger, knocking, said: “My friend, I want to say to you that men are coming for you; you must go with them for they will be fond of you. You must not be proud. The headman of the tribe will want you to stay with him. You will be one of the fastest runners among your people. Do not forget that I am your friend; you will not be able to see me, for I am the one whom you call Gaha. If you are in trouble just think of me and I will come and help you. Tomorrow afternoon four men will be in this lodge. They will ask you about the great bear, and you shall say, ‘I saw no great bear, but a strong wind went through the woods one morning.’”

The next day four men came to the lodge with food; they saw that the boy had wood and meat but no bow nor arrow. They took him home the next day. The chief ordered them to bring him to his lodge for the lad’s relatives were all dead. The chief said, “You shall be my grandson and you shall live with me.” The boy wanted a club instead of a bow and arrows. “What do want a club for?” asked the chief. “To kill deer with,” replied the boy. The chief had a club made for him. Owing to his great speed, the youth used to chase deer, which he struck in the forehead with his club; he also killed birds by striking them before they could rise to fly.

The last word that his friend Gaha said to him was: “Do not think that you are the swiftest runner living. Do not boast of your speed.” But the boy had this idea of running always in his mind; when he saw other boys running, he laughed, thinking, “That running is nothing; I can run faster than any other living man.”

One night he heard some one come and strike the door post near the bed. He did not speak. Then a second knock, and the visitor spoke, saying, “Who is there?” “I am here,” answered the boy. “Well, I challenge you to run a race with me, because you think that you are the swiftest runner living. We will start from the second mountain and run from sunrise to sunset,” declared the stranger.

In the morning the boy asked his grandfather whether he had heard a man talking in the night. “No,” came the answer. “Well, a man challenged me last night to run a race,” said the boy. “Oh! I do not believe it is a man. It is a beast. Perhaps you will get killed,” said the old man. “Well, I must be ready,” said the boy; “we run on the third morning from this.” The youth made ready ten pairs of moccasins, put flint on his arrows, and took prepared parched corn to eat.

On the third morning he went to the appointed place. As he drew near he saw there a great dark mass. When nearer he saw an immense creature, but he did not know what it was. When daylight came, he saw that it was a great bear. When the sun appeared the bear said, “Now, we will start.” At once he leaped straight across the valley to the next hill. The ground sank where he struck. He leaped from hill to hill all the time, but the boy had to run through the valley. At noon the great bear was ahead, and the boy was falling behind. The latter began to think, “I am lost; I wish my friend Gaha would come.” At that moment Gaha came in a whirlwind and carried the boy far ahead of the bear. Gaha threw all the trees down, and the bear was delayed jumping over them. The boy called to the great bear, “You must do better than that.” The great bear then gave up, telling the boy that he might have his life; so the boy killed him. Then he took some burned tobacco to his friend Gaha, and, after doing this, asked to be taken home. His friend, carrying him in a whirlwind, set him down in front of his grandfather’s lodge. The boy said: “I have come, grandfather. I have killed the great bear, and you must send and get his body.” The grandfather sent eight men to get his body. They were twenty days going and twenty days returning. The boy was not one day coming, for Gaha carried him over the woods and under the clouds.

28. THE OLD MAN AND THE BOY

In the past an old man and a small boy lived together in a lodge by themselves. With great affection they passed the time. Each called the other “friend.” They were not blood relatives, only cousins.

One day the old man dressed himself richly—sticking new feathers in his headdress, trimming his hair, and painting his face, and putting on new moccasins. The little boy, watching him, asked, “What are you going to do, my friend?” “Oh, I am going to see the world. I shall be gone a good while. I shall make a long journey,” the old man answered. “Can I not go with you?” asked the boy. “Well, if your father and mother will let you go, I will take you along,” said the old man.

Going to his mother, the boy asked her if he might go. After thinking a minute, she said, “Yes; you may go,” and gave him a new pair of moccasins to wear on the journey.

He returned to his friend, who washed him, trimmed his hair, painted his face, put new feathers in his headdress, and gave him a fine new bow and arrows. Then both set out together. They traveled until night, when they stopped and made their fire in the woods; then they ate their evening meal and slept.

They traveled in this way for five days, until they came to a lake so broad that they could not see the other shore. “How can we get across?” asked the boy. “Oh! we shall have to make a canoe,” said the old man. “Will it take long?” asked the boy. “About one day,” the old man replied. He looked around in the woods until he found a large bitternut hickory tree; stripping off the bark he made a large canoe.

The next morning the old man and the boy, putting their bows, arrows, and fur robes into the canoe, started across the lake. The boy was seated in front and the old man, who paddled, in the stern. In the evening they came in sight of a low island, and without landing they fastened their canoe to the bullrushes that grew around the shore. “How can we sleep here? Is it safe? Are there not things in the water that might kill us?” were some of the anxious queries of the boy. “Oh!” said the old man, “there are fish in the water, and there are in the world evil things reaching from the bottom of the water up to the home of the Master of Life.” [47] “If the wind blows we shall be carried off into the lake,” said the boy. “Oh, no! we are safe,” said the old man. So both lay down and soon fell asleep.

About midnight the boy heard a rushing sound as of swiftly moving water, and it seemed to him that the canoe was moving rapidly. He thought that the wind must be blowing hard. On sitting up in the canoe he found that the weather was calm. Then he thought that the water must be running very fast, and putting his hand overboard he found this to be true. He roused the old man at once by shaking his feet and saying: “Get up, friend, and see what the trouble is. The water is running by very fast. Where is the lake going? What are we to do?” “Lie down,” said the old man, “no harm will come to you or me.”

The boy then lay down, but he could not sleep. Just at daybreak a voice spoke to him. Opening his eyes, he saw a fine-looking, middle-aged man, beautifully decorated with paint and feathers, standing at the bow of the boat. The boy saw, too, that the canoe was on dry land. Now the stranger roused the old man saying, “Come with me.” Taking up their bows and arrows and other equipage, they followed the man, who took them to a long lodge. They entered it. There were, they saw, many persons inside, some asleep, some awake. When the old man of the lodge met them he said to the guide, “Oh! you have brought them,” and then, turning to the two friends, he said: “I am glad that you have come. I know you have heard of us before. We are the people whom you call Hinon in your home. We bring rain to make corn and beans and squashes grow. We sent our young man to the island for you. It is we who put it into your mind to come east. We want you to help us, for you are more powerful in orenda than is anything else. The world was made for you. You are more powerful in orenda in some respects than we are, and we want you to help us to kill some of your and our enemies.”

Then they ate their morning meal. There were all kinds of food—corn, beans, squashes. “We have these things. We take a little from a great many fields,” said the old man. “When you see a small row of corn, or a withered squash, or bad kernels of corn on an ear, or dried-up beans in a pod, then you may know that we have taken our part from these. We have taken our part—that part is the spirit of these things—and we have left the shells, or husks. If you should see a whole field blasted and withered, then you would know that we had taken the whole field. But we seldom or never do that. We take only a little from each field.”

After they had eaten, the youngest warrior of the long lodge said: “Now we will go and try to kill the great porcupine. Off there on the hill stands an immense hemlock tree, the largest tree in the whole country. On that tree dwells a terrible porcupine, of such size that his quills are as large as long darts. These he hurls in all directions, killing all who approach him. We Hinon can not kill him, and we are afraid to go near the tree.” So they all agreed to go together.

As they went toward the tree the boy marched ahead with his little bow and arrows. The old man, his friend, and the Hinon laughed to see him, and the old man said in fun: “I think that our little friend might try his luck first.” “All right,” said the Hinon. The little boy was pleased with the suggestion. They stopped at a good distance from the great hemlock tree. No one would venture nearer.

Then, the little boy going down into the ground, went forward until he was directly under the tree in which the porcupine lived. Putting his head and arms out of the ground, and taking aim, he sent an arrow into the porcupine’s body. It moved a little. Then he sent another and still another arrow in quick succession. Feeling something hit him, the porcupine, raising his quills, shot them in every direction. To avoid them the boy hid under the ground. Then the porcupine groaned and, rolling from the tree, fell to the ground dead. Thereupon all the Hinon with the old man came up. Cutting open the great porcupine, which was very fat, they took out his entrails, and then dragged his body home; they saved his quills and ate his flesh. All wondered at the orenda of the little boy.

Old Hinon was delighted. “Now,” said he, “we have another enemy—a great and terrible sunfish, which lives in our river here and which lets no one come near for water; he devours everything, and he even springs up out of the water and catches birds as they fly over the river. The little boy said, “I can kill him without trouble, for he is in the water.”

The next day the Hinon and the old man went near enough to show him where the sunfish lived. The trunk of a great tree had fallen into the river, and it was under this that the sunfish used to lie in wait. He was in his lurking place when they arrived there. The little fellow at once saw him; he shot his arrow straight into the heart of the sunfish, which came to the surface and died. Springing into the water, the whole party of Hinon pulled the sunfish to land and dragged him off to the lodge of old Hinon, who was overjoyed at seeing his second enemy dead. “He is good eating,” said old Hinon, and they feasted on him that day.

The third day old Hinon said: “Now comes the turn of our last enemy. Every other day there flies past here an enormous butterfly, as big as a cloud. He brings sickness, and many of our people die because of him. If we could kill this butterfly, we should have good health and very few of us would die. He passes over here from the west early in the morning and goes back in the evening. Wherever he goes he carries sickness. He will come tomorrow morning.”

The next morning very early they went out in the high grass, where they waited. Soon the great butterfly appeared, flying toward them. He was almost over the place where they were concealed when the little boy, drawing his bow, let an arrow fly. This struck the butterfly, whereupon the hind part of his body immediately dropped, hanging toward the ground. All expected to see him fall. Instead of that he turned and flew back slowly in the direction from which he came. Hinon said: “I am very glad. I do not think that he will come again to this place. Our last enemy is destroyed.”

They then went back to the lodge and ate. As the day passed, the old man said to the two friends, “You may stay and live with us or go home, as you choose.” The old man said: “I am old and can not help you, but my young friend—the little boy—may stay. He is very powerful in orenda. He can do anything, and will be of great assistance to you.” “Well,” said the Hinon, “we are going to your place this evening. There will be a great dance there tonight. We will all go and have some sport, and will carry you as we pass along in the clouds.”

After dark, when the council lodge was full of men and women dancing, the old man, the boy, and the Hinon went in. As the Hinon entered, they began to dance. When they shook their heads the lightnings began to play around the lodge. The chiefs said, “Our grandfathers are here tonight. They should behave themselves or they may do us harm.” Then for a little while the Hinon quieted down. Later, again becoming excited in the dance, they shook their heads until the lightning flashed everywhere and the people were afraid.

After dancing as much as they wished the Hinon went home, leaving the old man but taking the boy with them, and today the little boy goes with them everywhere. “And after the great peals of thunder we hear the little fellow with his boyish voice, and we say, ‘That is the boy.’ We burn tobacco to him, saying, ‘This is all we have to give you,’ and we thank him for the rain that he and the Hinon bring,” say the Seneca.

29. THE STORY OF THE GIRLS WHO WENT FOR A HUSBAND [48]

There was an old woman Yegondji of the Awaeh people with three daughters who had grown to young womanhood. One day she said: “My daughters, I have had a great deal of trouble in rearing you, and thus far I have not eaten anything but onehsa [moss]; now I should like to have some meat to eat. You are old enough to get married. There is a rich woman of the Donyonda people, named Doendjowens, who has a son, Tagonsowes. He is a good young man and a great hunter. I want two of you to go to her lodge and marry this son.”

The girls set to pounding corn for the marriage bread. The old woman baked 22 cakes in the ashes, which she wrapped in corn husks. The next morning she dressed the girls’ hair and painted their faces with red stripes. She told the elder to carry the basket, and cautioned them, saying, “Stop nowhere until you come to the lodge of Doendjowens, and do not inquire of anyone on the way, or speak to any man.” The elder daughter took the basket and the younger followed her.

About midday they saw a middle-aged man of the Ohohwa people running across the road, who was saying: “I have lost my arrow. I was shooting a fisher on a tree and the arrow has gone so far that I can not find it.” The elder daughter put her basket on a log and both girls hunted for the arrow. The strange man ran around the girls, and seizing the basket of marriage bread, carried it home. The younger sister did not like hunting for the arrow and reminded her sister of what their mother had said, but still she had to follow her elder sister. After a while, failing to find the arrow, they returned to the log; discovering that the basket was gone, both girls went home. The mother asked them what had become of the bread. The younger said, “A man asked us to look for his arrow, and I think that he stole it.” The old woman scolded them, saying: “You do not love me. You know that I am suffering for meat, and still you disobey me.” Then she said to the younger girl, “We will make more marriage bread to-morrow and you and your youngest sister shall go this time.”

The next day they made 22 loaves of marriage bread. The day following, after the old woman had dressed their hair and had given them the same cautioning as before, the two girls set out. Going by the same road, they again met the Ohohwa man, whom they asked how far it was to the lodge of Doendjowens. “Oh,” he said, “it is not so far. It is right over here,” showing them his own lodge. There they found Ohohwa’s wife and one little boy. The girls put down the marriage bread near the woman, thinking that she was Doendjowens.

When the man came home he sent his wife to the other side of the fire, telling her to pretend that he was her brother. She did so. He sat between the girls, talking to them. Soon the little boy began to say, “Father! Father!” Thereupon Ohohwa said: “This is my sister’s son. His father was buried yesterday and the boy is calling for him.” Then Ohohwa began to cry for his brother-in-law.

At last somebody was heard running. He came and kicked at the door, calling, “Ohohwa, they want you at Doendjowens’s long lodge.” Ohohwa said to the girls: “They are always using nicknames here. My real name is Tagonsowes.” He continued: “They are holding a council and can not get on without me, so I must go. You lie down here whenever you like, and I will come home soon.” Then he went away to attend the council.

The younger girl whispered: “Let us go out. This is not Tagonsowes’s lodge. If we could get the basket we might go on.” When Ohohwa’s wife fell asleep the younger girl took the basket of marriage bread out of doors, saying: “We must go on. Let us put two elm logs in the bed.” They did so, and started away.

Soon they came to an open place in the center of which stood a council lodge. They stood near the lodge and, peeping through a crack in the side of it, saw Doendjowens, a fine-looking woman and her son, who sat near her, a splendid young man. There were two fireplaces in the lodge. There were also many people, men and women. Ohohwa was in the lodge, and the people were singing for him to dance. As he danced they threw pieces of meat into his mouth and struck his blanket with fat. He was a sight to look at. The girls recognized him.

The younger daughter now went into the lodge followed by the elder, who put the basket of marriage bread near Doendjowens. The two sisters sat on each side of the young man, and Doendjowens was glad, for she liked the two girls. All sat and looked at Ohohwa. Just as he looked at Doendjowens he had his mouth full of mush, and he saw the sisters there. Dropping his blanket in astonishment, he ran out. The people wondered what the matter was with him. Ohohwa ran home. There he saw, as he thought, the two girls in bed, so he sat down on the couch and smoked a while. As he sat there, he was pinched several times by black ants. Turning to the bed he said, “Wait a while. I shall be there soon.” At last, having finished smoking, he undressed; then he discovered that what he had taken for the girls were two logs.

The daughters of the Awaeh Yegondji lived with Tagonsowes and were contented. He was a good hunter and they had plenty of everything to eat.

After a time Doendjowens said to the wife, her daughter-in-law: “You must go home and take your mother some meat. She is suffering for it, I know.” So making ready a pack of meat, she caused it to become small. On reaching home she threw down the pack, and it became as large as ever. Before the sisters set out for home Doendjowens said: “You must bring your mother here. I will give her one fire in the lodge as her own to use.” After Awaeh Yegondji had eaten enough meat and was glad, her daughters brought her to Doendjowens’s lodge, where she lived happy and contented.

30. THE CREATION OF MAN

(MODERN FOLK EXPLANATION)

God at first created the sun and the moon. One day while walking about on the earth, becoming lonely, he said, “I will make a human being to keep me company.” He held his way until he came to an uprooted hemlock, which had raised a great pile of earth with its upturned roots. Now, the roots of the hemlock are very numerous and slender and are covered with tufted rootlets for, as the tree grows on thin, pale, sandy soil, it needs many feeders to provide the necessary sustenance. God made a human being from the earth piled up among the roots of this tree. There were so many small fibers in this earth that the human being was seemingly hairy, and the soil was so poor and light-colored that he had a pale, sickly complexion. God breathed on him and he stood up and walked. Then God looked at him from behind the roots of the tree, but being not pleased with his creation, he resolved that he would try again.

God soon came to a walnut tree lying uprooted, which had pulled up with its roots a mound of black earth. From this earth God made another human being. As he looked at him, he saw that, being black, he had too much color. So God was not satisfied with this piece of work, either.

Going on farther, he came at last to an uprooted sugar maple. There the earth had a fine deep color; so out of this God made the third human being, whose body was smooth and firm and of a full rich tint. And God, pleased with his looks, said, “He will do; he looks like me.” This last human being was an Indian; thus the Indian was the native human being.

31. GANIAGWAIHEGOWA

Once a Seneca warrior was missing from his village. It was thought that his disappearance was due to witchcraft in the neighborhood. A party of skilled men was formed to find out the cause of his unexplained disappearance. They discovered great tracks near the village, which they followed to a cave in the woods. Making a large fire, they threw burning brands into the cave. In a short time a Ganiagwaihegowa came out. They shot arrows at the beast, but none of these injured him, for he was full of evil orenda. But, while the bear was rushing around, he happened to raise his fore feet, and when the men shot him there, he died instantly, for it is said that the life of the Ganiagwaihegowa is in the soles of his fore feet, and that this bear is vulnerable in no other spot.

The Ganiagwaihegowa used to eat common bears. No bear but this would eat a bear and no other kind of bear could be killed by being shot in the feet.

32. THE MAN WHO BECAME A FISH, AND A GANIAGWAIHE

Two young warriors, who were cousins, started on a hunting expedition. Having arrived at their destination, they constructed a temporary camp.

Some time after camping they heard a very peculiar noise, and one of the cousins said, “I am going to see what is making that sound.” On investigation he found that the sound came from a hollow tree, so he concluded naturally that it was caused by a bear. Going back to the camp, he said to his companion, “There must be a bear in that hollow tree, although the noise which it makes is like that of a whirlwind.” Then they both went to the tree to investigate further the cause of the peculiar sounds. One climbed the tree to take a look into the cavity. At first he could see nothing, but finally he saw at the bottom of the hollow cavity a spotted trout, which was leaping around swiftly in water collected there. Crawling into the hole, he captured the trout with his hand. On getting out, he threw the fish down to his cousin, who said: “This is a curious fish. Let us take it back to camp.” The other replied, “No! Do not touch it; it may be something that will bring us harm.” But the other young man would not heed this advice. Taking the fish to camp, he cleaned, cooked, and ate it. When he had finished eating, he began to be very thirsty, and said to his companion, “Go and get me some water, cousin.” The cousin brought him water, and the other drank and kept on drinking, seeming to be unable to get enough water.

Then his cousin said to him, “Do you not think that the fish is making you ill?” The only reply was, “Oh! get me more water. Take my moccasins and get me plenty.” He brought both moccasins full of water, which the thirsty man drank at once. At last the man who was not ill said, “I am tired of getting water for you; go to the spring and there you can drink all you want.” Visiting the springs he drank until he was tired of drinking; then he rested, and then he began to drink still more.

The cousin, being busy around the camp, did not pay much attention to the sick man, but after a while he went to the spring to look after his cousin. Arriving there, he was frightened when he saw him, for his mouth had become like that of a fish. He asked the sick man how he felt. The other replied, “Oh, about as usual.” Then came the query, “Does not your mouth feel queer?” Putting up his hand, the afflicted youth found that his mouth had grown large, but still kept on drinking. His companion hurried back to the camp in sorrow. The next time he went to the spring he found that his cousin had become a fish to the waist. Later, when he went again to the spring, his cousin had completely changed into a fish, and had gone into the spring. The following morning his cousin had become a great fish, dwelling far under the water, and the spring had grown into a large pond.

The man sat down on the bank of the pond. Soon the great fish, raising its head out of the water, said: “My poor cousin, you see how I have turned into a fish. Go home and tell my parents what has become of me. When you need fish, come to this pond and you shall get all you want. This pond will always be full of fish.”

The man went home, where he told everyone what had befallen his companion. The people then visited the pond, whereupon the great fish, lifting its head above the surface, said, “I shall not long be a fish, for I shall soon become a Ganiagwaihe.” Then the people departed.

In a short time the great fish became a Ganiagwaihe, having hair only on its back and feet. It remained around the lake, and of those who came there to fish it always killed and ate one. The people did not see this done, but always missed one of their number at that place. They did not like this at all, knowing that if the fish continued to live there long it would kill many persons. The people therefore assembled in council to decide how to get rid of the great fish. At last two or three young men agreed to go there and try to kill the Ganiagwaihe; but they never returned. Men who went to find them recovered only their garments.

Finally the cousin of the man who had become a Ganiagwaihe said: “I shall now go. Perhaps I may be able to kill it.” So they prepared for him parched corn, new moccasins, and a very good bow and twelve fine arrows. Having arrived at the pond, he camped there. That night he dreamed that his cousin, appearing to him in the form of a man, asked him: “Why did you come? I can kill you.” The other answered, “I have come to kill you because you are doing great harm to our people.” Then Ganiagwaihe said, “I shall start at daylight, and you pursue me and see if you can catch me.”

Early the next morning the young man started in the direction the Ganiagwaihe had indicated it would flee, and, running as swiftly as he could, he kept up the pursuit until midday, when he saw the tracks of the Ganiagwaihe. Thereupon he shouted in triumph: “Now I shall kill you. I shall soon overtake you now.” Then he ran faster than he had been running before. He ran until night, when he camped and built a fire. On looking at his bundle of corn flour he found that it had become ants; so he had nothing to eat. This mishap was caused by the Ganiagwaihe in order to deprive the man of food. It was now night. While the young man sat there thinking about his situation he heard the approach of footsteps. He knew that it was his cousin, the Ganiagwaihe, and he was ready to take aim when the Ganiagwaihe called: “Stop, cousin! Hold, until I can have a talk with you. If you will permit me to escape this time, I will start early in the morning and will leave this part of the country forever, and I will injure your people no more.” The young man replied: “If you are in earnest in what you have just said, I will spare your life. You know that too many have already been killed by you, and you must stop killing our people at once.” Thoroughly frightened, the Ganiagwaihe agreed to this; and, having bade each other farewell, they parted.

The next morning the young man went home, where he told the people what had occurred, adding: “You can now fish in the pond as much as you desire; there is no one to give you trouble now.” So it came to pass that the Ganiagwaihe kept his word to his cousin.

33. A DEAD MAN SPEAKS TO HIS MOTHER THROUGH THE FIRE

An old woman and her son lived in a lodge in a certain village, and a brother and his sister in another. The old woman’s son and the brother were of the same height and looked so much alike that they could scarcely be known from each other; they were great friends.

The son often visited the brother and sister, and the brother found out that he thought of marrying his sister, who was yet very young, when she became old enough. The brother was not pleased with this prospect, so he made up his mind to kill his friend. The next time the latter came the brother killed him. Digging a deep hole under the fireplace and putting the body therein, he covered it with earth, and made a fire again over the spot.

The mother waited for her son, but he did not come home. Then she went to the other lodge and asked, “Where is my son?” “He left here to go home. It may be he is in the woods now. He said he was going to cut wood for arrows,” answered the young man.