Chapter XIV: Part 2: also consists of Seneca legends and myths, which are (9)

That day the boy, going to the Long Lodge as before, found the old woman sitting there, mute and motionless, as if nothing had happened in the meantime. He asked the other boy, “What has your mother done with your father?” “Oh! you will never see him again. She will come for you tomorrow morning. I do not know what she has done with my father, but she went off with him and came back without him,” declared the boy.

The nephew of the man went home to prepare for the coming of the woman. He had a mole for his guardian. He got inside of the mole, which, instructed by him, went down into the ground under the lodge as deep as he could. The next morning the woman came again with terrible fury, raging worse than before. She uprooted all the trees in her path, but she could not find the nephew, so she had to go away without him.

Soon afterward the nephew went again to the Long Lodge. There sat the woman, motionless as before. “Oh!” said the small boy, “she went for you this morning, but could not find you. Where were you?” “I was right there,” replied the nephew of the man.

Then the nephew went home. The next morning at daybreak a similar tempest came; but the boy was down in the ground, inside the mole, so that the woman could not find him. Thereupon, making herself into a great whirlwind, and digging a deep hole in the ground, she lifted the earth to the sky, carrying the mole along in the dirt. The mole fell, but escaped, while the boy was killed. The old woman went home well satisfied.

The mole went immediately to work, however, and by blowing the breath into the boy’s mouth and withdrawing it brought him back to life.

After that the nephew set out to find where his uncle was, going northward. He went beyond the Long Lodge, traveling as fast as he could all day and night and carrying the mole with him. The next morning at daybreak the witch again came after him in a terrible tempest. Once more getting into the mole, he went into the ground, where she could not find him, so she went home to the Long Lodge. He traveled the second day as fast as he could. On the third morning the woman came still again in a roaring tempest. Finding that the nephew was in the mole, she made once more a whirlwind, which scooped up the earth, leaving a great hole, and carried him in the dirt far up into the clouds. The mole falling to the earth, the boy was killed. The witch went home satisfied. The mole, by again working over the dead nephew, brought him back to life. Whereupon the latter, putting the mole into his belt, ran on as fast as he could all the third day. That night he spent deep down in the great rocks of a mountain.

On the fourth morning at daybreak the woman came in a tempest, as before, but could not find the nephew. The same day he traveled until he came upon a lodge in an opening, like the other Long Lodge, which was supplied with everything; there, under the roots of a great elm tree near the lodge he found his uncle. The tree was standing on his breast, and his feet were sticking out at one side and his head at the other. He was reduced to skin and bones. He begged for a smoke, exclaiming, “Oh, my nephew! if only I could have a smoke.” “Poor uncle! I will get you a smoke,” said the nephew, and pushing the tree down he gave him a smoke. After smoking, the uncle arose, well. He and the nephew then went into the lodge, where they remained together two or three days.

One morning at daybreak the tempest came again. By watching the young man had found that the witch came in a narrow path and that it was possible to get out of her course. So he told his uncle to run westward, keeping out of her path, for she was the wind. The nephew himself stayed at home to meet her, going into the ground again, and again she dug him up and killed him. She went home contented, but the mole brought him to life. Then he followed her immediately to the lodge, where he found her sitting motionless. Shooting an arrow at the witch, he killed her. Then forming a great pile of dry bark, wood, and bear’s oil, he burned the body thereon, throwing the bones far away in every direction. When he had finished this task he said to the small boy, “We will go to my uncle, your father.” They went together to the old man and lived at the second Long Lodge for a few days.

But the witch came to life, and suspecting that they were at the Long Lodge, she went there in a terrible rage. Now the nephew, determined to meet her alone, sent his uncle and the boy away. He himself kept out of her path, for he had discovered her habits and her strength. He had learned also that after a certain time her force was spent, so that she became weak and could not go fast. He kept swerving to one side, therefore, until she turned into a whirlwind, and even afterward. When all her strength was spent and she had not found him the witch turned to go home. She had to walk, for she could no longer go through the air. Then, following her, the nephew killed her with his arrows. Thereupon he called his uncle and cousin. They burned her body to ashes and taking all the larger bones to the second Long Lodge they there pounded them into powder. This powder the nephew divided into three portions, each one of which he put in one of three skin bags, which he tied tight. One bag he gave to his uncle, another he gave to his cousin, and the third he put into his own pouch, saying: “I will keep it here. She shall never come to life again. When we are in a storm we must always keep apart, so that the force that is in these powders can not unite.”

Then the three went to the first Long Lodge, where there was a large supply of every kind of dried meat, and they lived together, prosperous and happy.

37. A RACCOON STORY

An uncle and a nephew lived together in a lodge in the forest. The nephew was a fine hunter. One day when the nephew was off in the woods hunting for game, a handsome woman, bringing a basket of bread, came to the lodge and said to the old man, the uncle, “My father and mother have sent me here to marry your nephew.” “Is it true that they sent you?” asked the uncle. “Yes,” said the young woman. “It is well,” said the old uncle. Lowering the basket, the girl set it before the old uncle. In it was the customary marriage bread. When the nephew came home, the old uncle said, “You are married now; here is your wife,” showing him the young woman. “It is well,” replied the nephew, and he and the young woman became man and wife.

Every day the nephew went out hunting, always returning with a heavy load of game.

One day while out hunting he came to a tree in the top of which was a large hole. In this he found a litter of raccoons. Climbing the tree, he threw one raccoon after another to the ground. All at once he heard a woman’s voice under the tree, saying, “Come down! come down! you are tired.” With that, she ran off through the forest. When he reached home, he told what had happened. His wife laughed at his perplexity, but said nothing.

Not long afterward, on a hunting trip, while packing up his game and making ready to start home, a woman came up behind him, and taking him by the arm, led him to a neighboring log. They sat down on it, whereupon drawing his head on her lap, she began to look for vermin. He was soon asleep from her orenda (magic power). Putting him into a basket, which she threw on her back, the woman went to the rocks in the middle of a lake. Then she took him out, and awakening him, asked, “Do you know this place?” Looking around, he replied, “Yes. This is the place where my uncle and I used to fish,” and giving a sudden spring into the water, he became a bass and escaped in a flash.

On reaching home, he told his wife what had happened to him. She laughed, but said nothing. He was so frightened at what had taken place that he remained at home for several days. At last the feeling of fear wore away and he started off to hunt.

As he was packing up his game to return home, a woman’s voice said, “Stop! Wait a while, for you must be tired.” They sat down on a log, and she, drawing his head on her lap, began looking for vermin. The man was soon asleep. Putting him into a basket, the woman carried him off to a great ledge of rocks, where there was only a small foothold. Taking him out of the basket, she asked, “Do you know this place?” “I will tell you soon,” said he, looking around. But at that instant the woman disappeared. He soon saw some one farther along on the rock, and heard him say, “I am fish hungry. I will fish a while.” Then, throwing out his line into the water below, he began singing while he pulled up one fish after another. At last he said: “I have enough. I shall take a rest now and have something to eat. This is what we people eat when we are out all night in the rocks.” Then he took a baked squash out of his basket.

The young man said to the rock, “Stand back a little, so that I can string my bow.” The rock stood back. Stringing his bow and saying, “Now boast again!” he shot the fisherman. The young man soon heard a loud noise, and looking in the direction from which it came, he saw an enormous bat pass a little to one side of him. Taking from his pouch a hemlock leaf, and dropping it over the rocks, he began to sing, “A tree must grow from the hemlock leaf.” Soon a tree came in sight. Then he talked to the tree, saying, “Come near to me and have many limbs.” As the tree came to a level with the place on the rocks where the young man was sitting, it stopped growing. He had seen along the narrow shelf on the rocks many other men. He called to the nearest one, asking him to tell all to come, so they could escape. Slowly creeping up, one after another, they went down the hemlock tree.

When all had reached the ground, the young man, taking a strawberry leaf out of his pocket and laying it on the ground, said, “Grow and bear berries.” Then he began singing, “Ripen berries, ripen berries.” The vines grew, and were filled with berries, which ripened in a short time.[55] When they had all eaten as many berries as they wanted the young man picked off a leaf and put it into his pouch, whereupon all the vines and berries disappeared.

Then he said, “Let us go to our wife” (meaning the woman). After traveling some distance the young man killed an elk. Cutting into strings the hide they made a “papoose board,” but big enough for an adult; then they started on. Soon they came near a lodge, where they saw a woman pounding corn. When she noticed them coming she began to scold and, holding up the corn pounder, was going to fight with them. When the young man said, however, “Let the corn pounder stop right there,” it stopped in the air, half raised. Seizing the woman, they strapped her to the board, saying, “You must be very cold.” Then they set the board up in front of the fire in order to broil her slowly. Just at this time the young man’s wife came. Finding that they were roasting the woman, she was angry and, freeing her, said, “You are now liberated and I shall go home.” Making her way to the lake, she called on the bloodsuckers to stretch across it so that she could walk over on them. Each man went to his own lodge. When the young man came home his wife was there.

38. THE SELF-SACRIFICE OF TWO DOGS FOR THEIR MASTER

In a certain village lived a man who was very fond of hunting; he had two dogs, which were so very strong and fierce that they would attack and kill a bear.

One day the man started off from the village to hunt. After he had traveled for two days he pitched his camp. The next morning he began to hunt. He was very successful for many days, killing a great deal of game. One night as he was going to sleep his dogs began to bark furiously. Not far away from the camp was a very large elm tree, whose top had been broken off. Hitherto the man had thought it might be hollow, although he had never examined it. One dog ran in the direction of this tree. The other dog followed it, and by the sound of its barking the man knew that it had stopped near this tree.

After a time one dog came back to the man, saying: “My brother, I believe that we are going to die to-night; we have seen a creature such as we have never beheld before. We think that it will come down from the tree to attack us. I will go and watch it; but first you must mark me with coal from the end of my mouth to my ear.” The man did as the dog wished. Then the dog said, “Now, I will go to the tree and my brother can come to be marked by you as I am marked.” Off he ran. The other dog soon came and the man marked him in the same way. Taking a torch, the man went to the tree. There on the broken top he saw a terrible creature; its head and part of its body were protruding out of the hollow in the trunk; it had very long teeth, enormous eyes, and long claws. The man had never before seen anything so dreadful. He went back to his camp. One of the dogs followed him, saying: “We two shall be destroyed, but we will do what we can to save you. You must hurry back to the village. Do not take a torch or a bow with you; it will only be in your way. Put on a pair of new moccasins, and carry also a second pair. I will lick the soles of your feet to give you speed.” The dog licked the soles of his feet; then the man, putting on the new moccasins, started toward home.

He had been running a good while when he heard a sound, and one of the dogs, overtaking him, said: “Run as fast as you can! Our enemy has started in pursuit. It does not travel on the ground, but leaps from tree to tree. The only thing left for us to do is to get between the trees and spring at it as it leaps past. When you come to water, stick your feet in it, making it as muddy as you can; then drink that water. You have noticed that since we have been your dogs we have drunk such water; it is better for us.” The man soon got very thirsty. Coming to a place where there was water, he stirred it up with his feet; then, after drinking what he wanted, he went on. He had not gone far when a dog came up to him and said, “I think there is a hole in your moccasin.” (The man looked; there was indeed a hole in his moccasin.) “Put on new ones.” Again the dog licked his feet and put on new moccasins. Then the dog said, “My companion will come the next time.” Then the dog ran back and the man rushed on.

Soon the other dog, rushing up, said to the man: “The enemy is coming very fast, and we are afraid it will overtake and kill you. When I go back my brother will come to aid you once more, whereupon the monster will kill him.”

The dog disappeared. Listening, the man heard both dogs barking. As he listened the barking of one ceased, and he knew that a dog was coming to aid him. On coming up this dog said: “I am here merely to speak to you and see you once more. When I go back I will attack our enemy and do all I can to defeat it, but it will kill me.” The dog returned. Then the hunter heard both dogs barking and then a howl; he knew by the sounds that a terrible fight was going on. The cry of one dog died out; this told him that that dog was killed. Now only one dog barked and howled. The man tried to increase his speed. It was still dark. The barking ceased, and presently the dog spoke behind him, saying: “My brother is killed and I am left alone. You would better start the death cry; our village is not far away and the people may hear you.” The man began to scream out the death cry, Goʹweh, as he ran. There happened to be a dance at the Long Lodge that night, and some people were sitting outside. Suddenly a young man, hearing a voice of some one in distress, gave the alarm.

Now, the dog came again to encourage the man with these words: “Do your best; you are near home, and perhaps you will escape. I will come once more. Then I will leap upon and draw the monster down and fight it.” The man heard the dog when the latter got back, and knew the monster was drawing near by the sound of the animal’s barking. Then the man ran on as fast as possible. The dog ceased barking and coming again said: “This is the last time I shall see you; I shall be destroyed now. If the people hear your cries and come to meet you, you will escape; if not, you will surely be killed.”

The dog went back; he had but a short distance to go this time. As the man ran, screaming, he saw a torchlight ahead. The dog howled in distress; then his howl died away and the man knew that he was dead. Finally, seeing people coming to the rescue, he struggled on harder and harder. When he met the people he fell in a faint; he heard the sounds behind him as he fell, and that was all he knew.

Holding up their torches the people saw a terrible animal; its fore legs seemed longer than the hind ones. They shot at it, whereupon it disappeared, and they returned to the village. The animal had made a journey during one night which it took the man two days to finish when he was going to hunt. As soon as he could talk he told the people what occurred from the time the dog first spoke to him. They decided to go to his camp and bring home the meat. Not far from the village they found the last dog torn to pieces, and farther on the other one. When they reached the camp they saw that the strange animal had eaten most of the meat; what remained they took home. They did not see the animal and never knew what it was.

39. THE THREE YOUNG WOMEN, DAUGHTERS OF AWAEH YEGENDJI OR MOTHER SWAN

There was an old woman who had three daughters, all of whom were young, good-looking, and clever.

When the eldest was 16 years of age and the youngest 12, the old woman said: “We want some venison and bear meat. We have lived here a good many years, and have had no meat—nothing but bread, and corn, and beans, and I long very much for meat. And now,” said she to the eldest, “you are old enough to be married to a man who can get us some meat.” To the second daughter she said: “You must go with your sister; perhaps you will have to stay all night on the way. There are an old woman and her son living in a broad field where you must go. The young man is handsome and a successful hunter. The old woman’s name is Big Earth.”

Both girls were willing to go, so the old woman continued: “To-morrow we must make marriage-bread.” After shelling and pounding corn, they made marriage-bread and some cakes, which they baked in the ashes. They made twenty-four of these cakes, which were put into a basket. The old woman painted the elder girl, combed her hair, and dressed her well. Then she told her: “Carry this basket on your back. You must take no notice of anyone you meet, and do not stop to talk with any person no matter what is said to you. When night comes, do not stop at any lodge but camp in the woods.”

The girls started, going along in a narrow path. They saw no person and no lodges until the evening; when they noticed a man running on ahead of them. He had a bow and arrows and was trying to shoot a squirrel in a tree. On seeing the girls he stopped them, saying, “Put down your basket and watch my arrow; see where it goes,” adding that he was almost blind and could not follow its course. He was very pleasant, so the elder girl put down her basket, and both sisters ran for the arrow. When they got back the basket, which they had left on the log, was gone. “Now,” said the younger girl, “we have disobeyed our mother. She told us not to answer anyone who spoke to us.” They had then nothing to do but to go home.

On reaching home they told their mother: “We met a man who begged us to bring his arrow. We put our basket on a log and when we got back it was gone.” The old woman did not scold much, although she was very sorry; she said that they could not love her or they would obey her words. Later she said to the youngest and to the second sister, “You must go for the young man.” Then they made more marriage-bread. The mother told the youngest: “If your sister wants to stop, make her go on. Do not speak to or answer any man.” The sisters traveled until they met the same old fellow. Thereupon the elder, who carried the basket, wanted to ask how far it was to the place where Big Earth lived, but the younger cautioned her, repeating her mother’s words. As they came up to him, however, he was so kind and pleasant and spoke so agreeably that the eldest asked how far it was to Big Earth’s lodge. “Oh,” he said, “she lives in the first lodge; it is not far from here.” Running around to the lodge, he told his wife to go to the other side of the fire with her child, as two girls were coming and he wanted the bread they brought, and, further, as he had informed them that Big Earth lived there. Then he threw ashes over his wife, making her look old.

By and by the two girls came in and, as the old man was painted and looked fine, they sat down by him—they thought he was the young man they were seeking. In a short while they heard some one coming, who kicked the door, saying: “Gesagwe! Gesagwe! They want you at the Long Lodge.”

Turning to the girls, the old man said: “My name is not Gesagwe. They always call me nicknames.” By and by the child cried out, “Oh, father!” Whereupon the old man explained, “The child’s father died yesterday and now he is calling for him.” After a time the runner came again, saying, “Gesagwe, the people are waiting for you.” Again he said, “They call me nicknames all the time.” The girls thought it was all right, and he told them to lie down and wait for him.

But the younger sister thought something was wrong. When the old woman lay down the girls went out. She said to her sister: “Something is wrong. This is not the man. He is the man we met, and our mother told us not to speak to anyone.” The elder said, “I suppose we have done wrong.” Then, putting into the bed two slippery-elm sticks and covering them up, they started on with their basket of marriage-bread. They heard dancing, and as they approached the source of the sound they saw a Long Lodge. Peeping in, they saw Gesagwe in the middle of the floor. The singers sang to him. Then everyone, rising, threw corn into his mouth. He had a blanket around him. They threw what they had into his mouth. A woman and her son sat by the fire, and they, too, looked very attractive. The younger sister said, “That is the young man we want.”

Going into the lodge, they walked up to the old woman, Big Earth, and put down the basket. Big Earth was pleased. When the dancing was over all the people went home. The man who was dancing went home. Seeing what he thought were two girls in his bed, he said: “Well, I must smoke. They have had a big council. They could not do anything. I was there.” Taking down a piece of deer’s tallow, he chewed it. Every time he spat it simmered on the fire. He lay down and one of the girls, he thought, pinched him. He said, “Wait until I get ready to lie down.”

Undressing himself, he started to get into bed, whereupon he found two rotten logs and a bed full of ants. Awfully angry, he scolded his wife and threw the logs out of doors.

The girls lived happily with Big Earth’s son for two months. At the end of that time he got bear meat and deer meat, which he put into very small packages. He made two loads of the meat, one for each of his wives. Then they all started with the meat to visit his mother-in-law. She had been very uneasy, thinking that her daughters had been deceived again. When she saw them coming with their husband she was pleased. After they had lived there some time, Big Earth’s son said he was going to take his mother-in-law to his own home. They all went to his place, where they lived happily together.

40. HINON AND THE SENECA WARRIORS

(A TALE OF THE WARS OF THE SENECA AND THE CHEROKEE)

Once a war party of Seneca while on the warpath against the Cherokee became very hungry. Seeing a bear, they chased it into its den, one of the party following it. When he had gone some distance into the den he could no longer see the bear, but he saw instead a fire burning briskly and three men sitting around it. The eldest asked the Seneca warrior why he had tried to shoot one of his men whom he had sent to entice him into the den. He continued, “I want to send word to the eldest man at your camp to tell him that his friend is here and wants some tobacco, and that tomorrow as many of his warriors as wish may come to see me here.” So the warrior went back to the camp of his comrades and reported what he had heard.

The next day, accompanied by five of his companions, each bearing a pouch of native tobacco, he returned to the den of the bears. When they gave the tobacco to the old man, he was very glad, and said to them: “I am thankful to you for this present of tobacco. I shall enjoy it a long time, for it will last me many days.” While in the den one of the warriors remarked, “Oh! I am very tired and sleepy.” Overhearing this remark, the old man said to him, “Lie down, then.”

When the others also had laid themselves down the old man arose, and going over to the spot where the first warrior lay, rubbed his body from his feet to his head. Then setting down a vessel which he held in one hand he proceeded to dismember this warrior’s body joint by joint until he had taken him to pieces. Placing each piece in a mortar, with a pestle he pounded the bones to a jelly, which he poured into a bowl. Then he took the bowl and the other vessel into another part of the den, where he left them. Returning and sitting down, he began to smoke.

After a while he called out: “My nephew, come out now. You have been there long enough.” When the young warrior came out, he appeared as light, fresh, and lithe as a boy. Then another of the Seneca warriors said, “Can you do this for me, too?” The old man answered, “Yes, if you wish me to do so.”

Then the warrior laid himself down, and the old man went through the same process as he had with the other warrior. After he had carried the two vessels into the remote part of the den, the old man, returning, began to smoke. Shortly he called out, “Oh, my nephew, you have now slept long enough!” At once the warrior arose and came forth so fresh and lithe that he felt no weight in his body. Thereupon another Seneca warrior asked the old man to treat him in the same manner. The latter man consented and, after going through the same process as that which renewed the others, this warrior, too, was made young and as light as a feather, and consequently was very happy.

Then a fourth warrior asked the old man to transform him likewise, but the old man refused, saying: “I have now done enough. I will tell you why I have taken the trouble to do this to four of your people. There is a large opening extending from one end of the world to the other. In this opening is a great rock, and in this rock is a man possessed of enormous horns. We have tried to kill him, but can not do so. Now, I want two of you to try to crush this rock and so kill him; but first you must go out and try your strength in orenda” (magic power). So, going out, they shot at a rock, which crumbled to pieces when they hit it. Then they shot at an enormous tree; this, too, they brought down when they hit it, leaving nothing but a stump. “Now,” said the old man, “you may go to the opening and see what you can do with that enchanted rock. Your companions may remain here; they will not die, for we never die here. I always help my grandchildren. I cover your trail whenever you need to conceal it. It is I who cause it to rain.”

The two transfigured warriors went to the opening, as directed, and seeing the great enchanted rock, they shot at it; then, returning to the old man, they told him what they had done. He quickly asked them, “Did you use all your orenda?” They replied, “No. We could have struck the rock a harder blow”; whereupon the old man said, “Go back there and employ all your magical strength.” Returning to the opening where the great rock stood, the two warriors shot it with all their orenda. After waiting for some time, they heard a person coming toward them. Soon they saw that it was a man carrying the head of an enormous horned snake securely strapped to his back. This man was the old man who had transformed them. Returning to the den, the two warriors said, “Now our work is done; the great horned snake is dead.” Then they went back to their homes.

41. HODADEÑON AND YENYENTʻHWUS [56]

There was a little boy, Hodadeñon, who lived with his elder sister, Yenyentʻhwus, in a bark lodge.

When the sister went out to plant, she would fasten the door of the lodge so that nothing might harm her brother. She did not allow him to go out alone. To amuse him she got a raccoon’s foot, and also brought him a bow and some arrows. In playing he tossed up the raccoon’s foot, telling the arrows to strike it, and the arrows always hit the foot before it fell to the ground.

One day while Yenyentʻhwus was at home, a voice was heard in the upper part of the lodge, saying, “Mush, brother! Mush, brother!” Hodadeñon asked, “How is this? I thought we were alone in the lodge?” The sister said, “It is our poor brother; he is only just alive.” “Well, my sister, make him some mush,” said the little boy.

Uncovering a place under her couch, the sister took out a very small pot and a little fragment of a chestnut. Putting the least bit of meal scraped from the chestnut into the pot with water, she boiled it. While doing this she stirred the meal and tapped the pot, which increased in size until it became as large as any pot. When the mush was cooked the sister took it off the fire and put it all into a bowl, saying to Hodadeñon, “Go up the ladder and feed your brother.” Climbing the ladder, he found a man lying in the upper room or attic. The little fellow said, “I have brought you mush, my brother.” The brother, whose name was Hadjisgwas,[57] took two or three mouthfuls of the mush and it was all eaten. Then, after exhaling his breath two or three times and rubbing his arms and legs, he began to sing.

Hodadeñon heard the singing and the beating of time overhead. A little later they heard Hadjisgwas call out, “Tobacco!” and the little boy said, “My sister, our brother wants to smoke.” “Oh!” said she, “Our poor brother! he is barely alive; he lives on chestnut meal and tobacco.” Going aside, she got a big pipe, into which she put tobacco. Lighting it with a coal of fire, she gave it to the little boy, saying, “Take this up to your brother.” Hodadeñon went, with the words, “My brother, I have come with a pipe for you.” “Thank you,” said Hadjisgwas, and with one puff he so filled the room with smoke that he nearly smothered the boy, who had to hurry down to escape. Soon they who were below heard a sound as though Hadjisgwas blew through the pipestem and rapped out the ashes from the pipe. After rubbing his arms and legs, he began to sing. They thought his voice was stronger. Then Yenyentʻhwus went out planting, having first fastened the door so as to keep in her little brother.

When his sister had gone, Hodadeñon thought he would like to make some chestnut mush for his brother in the loft and to sing and dance for him. Finding the little pot under his sister’s couch, he took from it the piece of chestnut, every bit of which he scraped into the kettle. As it boiled he tapped the pot, which grew as large as any vessel. When the meal was cooked he poured it out—a great bark bowl full of chestnut mush. This he took up to the loft, saying, “My brother, I have made you another bowl of mush.” “Thank you, brother,” said Hadjisgwas, who ate the mush and, after rubbing himself, began to sing. He was stronger now, so he could sing a regular song. After Hodadeñon had come down and put away the kettle, he thought, “My brother must have a smoke.” Therefore he cut up all the tobacco there was and put it into the pipe, which he carried to the loft, saying, “My brother, I have brought you a pipe.” His brother said, “Thank you.” “After you have smoked, I wish you would sing while I dance,” said Hodadeñon.

Hadjisgwas sent out such a puff of smoke that the little boy had to hurry down the ladder to escape it. He had not been down long before his sister came in. He said to her, “Oh, my sister, I have made our brother some pudding.” “How did you make it?” she asked. “I cut up all the chestnut and boiled it,” he replied. “Oh, now he will die on your account,” she said. “After he ate the mush,” said Hodadeñon, “I gave him a smoke.” “How did you do that?” asked Yenyentʻhwus. “I shaved up the piece of tobacco, put it into the pipe, and gave it to him,” said he. “Now we shall surely lose our brother on your account,” said Yenyentʻhwus; “you have done great mischief.” “Well, my sister, where are the chestnuts? I will go and get more of them.”

“Those chestnuts,” she said, “grow at the eastern end of the world; and on this side of them, where the tobacco grows, are many wizards. Before you come to the lodge of the wizards is a river, over which trees are thrown to walk upon. Just beyond the river are two great rattlesnakes, one on each side of the path, which attack every one who goes that way. If you pass them safely, you will come to a great rocky mountain, so steep that no mere man can climb it. There is but one pass through that mountain, and just beyond the pass stand two Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa, each one half as tall as a tree. If you should succeed in passing these, going farther you would come upon two men at the edge of an opening or clearing, who give the alarm the moment they see anyone, whereupon the wizards run out to attack whomsoever they find approaching. If you should make your way past these men and reach a knoll from which the lodge of the wizards can be seen, you would find there a woman walking back and forth on a platform in front of the lodge, who begins to sing as soon as she sees a stranger; straightaway the wizards, rushing out, kill him who is approaching.”

The next day when Yenyentʻhwus went to plant she fastened the door, shutting in Hodadeñon. While she was gone, hearing some living thing outside, he tried to get out to shoot it. Then he heard a noise on the lodge roof and, looking up, he saw some kind of creature—he did not know what—with its eyes fixed on him. Then he said, “You are Odyaqgweonion,[58] anyhow,” thinking to himself, “I will shoot at the game.” Drawing his bow, he said to the arrow, “I wish you to go straight to the game.” The arrow struck the creature, killing it; thereupon he rushed to bring it in. Not being able to open the door, he dug a hole in the earth close to the door, through which he got out. Bringing in the game, he put it into the corn mortar and covered it. When Yenyentʻhwus, his sister, came, he said, “My sister, I have killed game.” “Well, where is it?” she asked. “Here in the corn mortar,” answered Hodadeñon. Running thither, he brought the game to his sister. “Oh! that is a chickadee,” said she. Having dressed and cooked the bird, Yenyentʻhwus began to eat it. Hodadeñon stood there watching her eat, and asked, “Is it good?” “Yes,” she replied. After looking on a while longer, he asked, “Are you not going to give me some?” “No,” she replied, “this is the first game you have killed, and you must not eat of it; it would not be right.”59

The next morning the boy said to his sister, “You will have to tie a belt around me now; I am going out.” She had to do what he asked, for she could not help doing it. Putting the belt on him and preparing him for the day, she said, “You must not go north nor far away; stay near the lodge.”

Yenyentʻhwus then went to her work in the field. Soon the boy, seeing a bird on a tree, said, “You must be the bird they call Gwenhdaen nisedosyoden,” [60] whereupon he killed it with his arrow. Carrying in the game, he put it into the corn mortar. When his sister came he said, “I have some game, sister,” showing her the bird. “Oh!” said she, “that is the Gwenhdaen nisedosyoden.” She dressed, cooked, and ate the bird, but did not give him a bite.

The next morning, getting up early and making a fire, he called his sister to get breakfast, so that he might go hunting in good time. After breakfast he said, “My sister, put on my belt and get me ready.” She girded him and made him ready for the day. Both went out, she to her planting and he to his hunting. After he had been out a while, seeing a bird, he said, “I do not know you, but I think you are Djeqgowa.” [61] He hit the bird with his arrow, killing it, and brought it home; putting it into the corn mortar, he covered it. When his sister came he said, “My sister, I have game; here it is.” “Thank you,” said she; “that is what we call a pigeon.” After dressing the bird she cut it into two parts, one of which she put away and the other cut into pieces, saying that she was going to make dumplings. She pounded corn meal and, mixing the meat with it, made dumplings, which both of them ate.

The next morning before daylight Hodadeñon, having made a good fire, called up his sister to cook. After they had eaten she warned him not to go north nor far away. She then went out to plant while he went hunting.

He went farther than before, and seeing a new kind of bird running along, said, “You look pretty well; you must be what they call Dyoyoqgwahacyon.” [62] He drew his bow and hit the bird with his arrow. It ran a while, and he called, “Hold on; do not break my best arrow.” The bird stopped and died.

He had all he could do to carry it home. He put it in the corn mortar. When his sister saw it she said, “This is a partridge.”

She dressed the bird, took half and hung it up on a stick; the other half she cooked for herself and brother.

The next morning Hodadeñon was up early. His sister put on his belt for him, and both went out. She told him to stay near the lodge. Then she went to plant and he to hunt. He went farther than he had gone the day before. He saw a creature coming toward him; after watching it, he said, “I think it is you they call Shanoonsdehon.” [63] Looking again, he said, “I think you are the one they call Shadjinoqgyot.”64 The third time he said, “I think it is you they call Osoont.”65 At that moment the creature, seeing him, turned to run, but on Hodadeñon calling out, “Stop!” it stopped right there. Drawing his bow, he shot it. As the animal struggled he called, “Look out! do not break my best arrow.” Whereupon it stopped and died. Hodadeñon tried to carry the carcass, but could not lift it. Running to the place where his sister was planting, he said, “My sister, I have shot big game. I can not carry it.” She went with him to the game; when she saw it, she said, “That is what we call Osoont” (i.e., a turkey). She carried home the turkey, and after dressing it put half away and cooked the other half.

The next morning Yenyentʻhwus put the belt on Hodadeñon. She warned him against going north, or far from the lodge. On going a few steps farther than the day before he found tracks, all pointing in the same direction; thereupon he said: “My sister never told me that people lived here and that there was a path.” Putting his feet in the tracks, he found they fitted exactly. Just before him in the trail he saw a game animal coming. He said to himself: “This must be what they call Spotted Face, what they call Dyoyoqgwahacyon, or Striped Tail.” Drawing his bow, he pierced the creature with an arrow. As it went staggering along he called out: “Here! do not break my arrow; that is my best arrow.” Running up to it, he pulled out the arrow. Finding he was not able to carry the game animal, he had to go for his sister. When she came she said, “That is called Djoeaga.” [66] After thanking her brother, she seized the raccoon by one leg and, throwing it over her shoulder, went toward home. She told her brother that she was going to make corn bread to eat with this kind of meat. When they reached home they cooked part of the raccoon and made corn bread. While the meat was cooking she skimmed off the oil, telling her brother that she had wanted oil for a long time. This oil she rubbed into her hair.

The brother and sister had more meat from this Djoeaga than they could eat, and some was left. The next morning, after breakfast, they went out, the sister to plant and the brother to hunt. At parting she warned him, as she had done every day before. Hodadeñon went this time a few steps farther than before. When he saw game coming toward him, he said: “You are the one they call Hustoyowanen.” [67] Then, looking again, he said: “I think that you are the one they call Dodjenendogeni,”68 and as he looked, the animal, seeing him, turned to run. He called out to it: “Stop!” As it did so, drawing his bow, Hodadeñon pierced it with an arrow. The animal ran off out of sight, whereupon Hodadeñon screamed: “Stop! Stop! You are breaking my arrow!” But the game animal was not to be seen. Still the boy cried: “Stop! Stop! That is my best arrow. Stop!” Then he thought: “I have lost my arrow, but I will follow a little farther. If I can not catch the game animal, I shall go for my sister, who will find it.”

Going on a short distance, he found the game animal lying dead. He ran for his sister, who came, and thanking him, said: “This time you have brought me Onogengowa.” [69] She brought a strap braided out of hemp bark, so as to carry the meat home on her shoulders. Having skinned and cut up the deer, she divided it into pieces. Hodadeñon wanted to carry a part, so his sister, cutting off the feet, tied them together, and gave them to him. She carried half the meat home at one time and then went back for the other half.

The next day Hodadeñon went a little farther than before. On seeing a game animal walking along, he said to it, “You must be what they call Dasidowanes.” [70] The game animal, seeing him, jumped, but he said, “Keep still.” It stopped, whereupon, drawing his bow, he shot an arrow into the animal, which rushed through the woods and out of sight. Hodadeñon cried, “Look out! that is my best arrow.” Following, he found the animal dead, with the arrow point sticking out of its body. He said to it, “You are Dasidowanes”; then he ran for his sister. When she came, she said, “This is Ganiagwaihe.”71 She skinned the bear and cut off the feet. She gave her brother the fore feet to carry, while she herself took half the meat home, and then went for the rest. They had a good supper that night, and the sister got more hair oil.

The next day they went out again, as usual, Hodadeñon to hunt and Yenyentʻhwus to plant. The brother went to the spot where he had killed the bear, but could see no game. Then he traveled in a circle, but could see nothing. As he looked toward the north it seemed very pleasant. There was an opening, or clearing, in front of him, and he thought he would go into it, hoping that he would find game there. In the middle of the clearing was a lodge. On peeping through a crack in the wall he saw a crowd of naked men of the Odjineowa [72] people, dancing. Very soon one of these men said, “Some one is looking at us,” and then another said, “Let us kill him.”

Hodadeñon ran back to the woods, the men chasing him to the edge of the opening, where they turned back. Hodadeñon went a short distance toward home; then, taking a long stick of wood from a pile which his sister had made, he carried it to the edge of the opening, where he stuck it into the ground, saying, “When the men in that lodge run after me with their clubs, do you fight against them to help me.” Then he brought another stick, which he put down by the side of the first, with the same words. He kept on in this way until he had a great many sticks standing in the ground.

Then, running to the lodge, he looked in again. The Odjineowa men, seeing him, said, “Let us be sure to kill him this time,” and rushed out with their clubs. The boy escaped, however, to the woods, and when the naked men came to the edge of the woods the sticks of Hodadeñon became people and fought, killing all the men. Thereupon Hodadeñon came, and after dragging the men one after another into their lodge, he set fire to it, burning them all up.

Having taken the sticks back to his sister’s woodpile, Hodadeñon went on until he came to the tall stump of a broken tree on which stood a man, who called out “Ogongaqgeni hiwaden, My eyes have outmatched yours, my nephew,” but the boy thought, “He does not see me,” so he passed by. The uncle did not see him. When the boy walked up, the uncle said: “You have come to me. I am an Hodiadatgon, a great wizard. What would you do if it should rain spears upon you?” “Oh,” said the boy, “I think my sister and I would be very glad, for we have no spears to fish with now.” Then he ran home with all his speed. When near the lodge he saw his sister go into it, whereupon he ran around it, saying, “Let our lodge be stone,” and straightway it was stone. Just then he heard a terrible roar, and a great rain of spears came down; some broke on the roof, others fell on the ground. When the shower of spears was over, his sister said, “You have gone toward the north.” “Yes, but I shall not go again,” replied the boy.

After a while he went out to play. While playing he thought, “I will go to my uncle and be the first to say, ‘Ogongaqgeni, My eyes outmatch yours.’” So he went on until he came as near his uncle as he could without being seen. Then he called a mole and, entering his body, he traveled underground up to the roots of the stump on which his uncle was standing. Coming out, he cried, “Ogongaqgeni hawknosen, What would you say if a fire should come and burn up that stump and the woods and all else there is about here?” “Oh, nephew, that is too much,” answered the uncle. “I did not say that is too much,” replied Hodadeñon, “when you sent a rain of darts on my sister and me.” At that moment thick smoke was seen coming, and soon the woods were in a blaze on every side. The fire spread to the spot where Hodadeñon’s uncle was. He fell off the stump, and, his head bursting, an owl came out of it and flew away.