Chapter XXIV: Part 2: also consists of Seneca legends and myths, which are (19)

All the people were notified accordingly. The old man came, and one by one all the rest assembled. Then the old man asked whether all the guests were there who had been invited. The woman, the youth’s mother, after looking around, said, “Yes.” Telling the people to take off their garments, and to dance facing the wall, the old man, seating himself in the center of the room, began to sing. When he had finished the song, he said, “That will do.” Thereupon the dance broke up, the people dressing themselves and going home.

The young man felt better, but he was angry with the woman who had tormented him; so he decided to go again and say to her, “I have caught you,” before she had time to say it. The next morning he started off without telling his mother where he was going. When near the opening, halting, he called for a mole. In a short time the mole came, whereupon the boy said, “You must carry me to the spot where the woman is, but she must not see us.” Reducing his size until he was quite small, the young man entered the body of the mole, which went beneath the surface of the ground. After a while they peeped out, but the woman was still far off. They went on again, and when they looked out a second time, they were quite near the woman. She had large eyes, twice as large as those of anyone else, which were red as blood, and whenever she said, “I have caught you,” nothing had power over her.

The boy told the mole to go underground, so as to come out just beneath her feet. The mole did so, and then the boy, exclaiming, “I have caught you!” at that instant going into her body, squeezed her heart. She cried out with pain, “Do not squeeze so hard.” He answered, “I did not say, ‘Do not squeeze so hard,’ when you squeezed my heart.” Thereupon the woman hurried home. When near home she saw that her sisters were pounding corn for bread, and they noticed that she was crying, so one of them said, “I told you that that young man could not be beaten; you should not have touched him.”

One of the sisters, going to the same old man who had cured the boy, said, “Uncle, our youngest sister is very sick; she is singing, ‘I am going to have a dance of naked persons and a pot.’” The old man told her to invite the people to her pot. She did so, and when they were assembled the dance began. At the moment the old man said, “My song is finished,” the young man squeezed the girl’s heart so hard that she fell down dead. Coming out of her body, the young man went some distance before he became visible. He went home and was tormented no more. He could now hunt in any direction.

62. HOTʻHO, THE WINTER GOD [319]

One day a man while out hunting met Hotʻho and said to him, “You can not make me freeze, no matter how cold you can make it.” Hotʻho replied, “I can do that without much trouble.” They had a long discussion of the matter and at last agreed that they would have that night a trial of strength.

After reaching home the man carried in wood enough to burn all night; then building a huge fire, he made a large kettle full of hemlock tea. When night came he stood before the fire ready for the contest. All night long there he stood, turning first one side and then the other to the fire and often drinking a cup of the boiling hemlock tea. It was a terribly cold night and continued to grow colder until near morning. Just at the break of day Hotʻho, naked, and carrying his hatchet in a slit in the skin above his hip, came into the lodge, and sitting down on a pile of bark by the fire, said to the man, “You have beaten me;” and at that moment, growing warmer, it began to thaw.

This shows that man can conquer Hotʻho, the god of cold weather.

63. SʻHAGODIYOWEQGOWA AND HIS THREE BROTHERS [320]

There lived in a lodge in the forest Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa and three brothers. In their larder they had an abundance of oil, venison, and bear’s meat. Of the brothers Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa was the eldest. Not far from their lodge lived a brother and his sister. The brother, who was the elder, was also a turtle.

One day the youngest brother of Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa said to his brothers, “I am going over to the lodge where the Turtle lives.” His brothers, knowing the motive of the visit, replied: “It is well. You may go,” for they thought it best that he should get married. So after making suitable preparations, he started, and soon he arrived at the lodge of their neighbors. He found the Turtle’s sister at home. The visitor had slung over his shoulder a pouch that contained bear’s oil. Sitting down near Turtle’s sister, he said to her, “I want to marry you,” but she made him no answer nor any sign of recognition. While he sat there waiting for her reply, he would dip his finger into the pouch on his back, afterward sucking off the oil. He patiently waited all day for her reply, and when it was nearly night she answered, “I have decided not to marry you.” He did not press his suit, but said, “It is well;” then he went to his home. Having arrived there, his brothers asked him what success he had, and he told them. They answered, “It is well.”

Then the next elder brother said, “It must be I about whom she is thinking.” The next morning he said, “I shall now go there;” so he started. He found the sister of Turtle at home, and sitting down beside her, he said: “I have come for the purpose of marrying you. Will you consent to be my wife?” Like his younger brother, he waited the entire day for her reply. When it was nearly night she made him the same answer as she had given his brother; he then went home. Having reached there, his brothers asked him what success he had, and he told them. They answered, “It is well.” Then the third brother said, “It must be I of whom she is thinking. I shall go there tomorrow.” So the next morning he went to the lodge of Turtle, and finding the sister at home, he sat down beside her, saying, “I am here to know whether we can become man and wife.” She acted toward him just as she had toward his brothers; so he returned to his home, where he related to them how she had answered him.

Then Turtle, her brother, said: “I think that we are now about to die. The next man who will come is Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa, the eldest of the four brothers. You have made a great mistake. You should have accepted the youngest brother. I would have consented had you asked me. The youngest brother is a good man, and he possesses great orenda. But the time is now past. Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa has volunteered to come to ask you tomorrow to be his wife.”

The next morning Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa, saying to his brothers, “It has become evident that it is I of whom she is thinking,” started to call on her at the lodge of Turtle. Finding her at home, he said, “My wife, I have come after you, so you must go home with me;” thereupon, seizing her arm, he attempted to pull her along with him. Being very angry, she bitterly resisted him. Turtle, her brother, was at one end of the fire, concealed under the ashes. While Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa was struggling with the young woman as he held her by the arm, she managed her defense in such manner as to cause her captor to step on her brother, who at once bit his toe, causing him to release her. Then Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa said, “Brother-in-law, let go of my toe,” but Turtle still hung to it. At that moment the visitor, taking his staff and putting his foot on the end of the firelog, struck Turtle on the head with the staff. As he did so, Turtle at once grew magically in size and in the strength of his bite. As Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa struck him again Turtle increased in size as before and his bite grew more painful. But Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa kept on pounding him, seemingly unaware that Turtle’s size increased with his blows. Turtle continued to grow larger and larger and continued drawing in Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa until he had swallowed his entire body.

Two days later Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa came away, passing through Turtle’s bowels. Thereupon Turtle said to his sister: “In 10 [321] days Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa will regain his consciousness, and then he will pursue us. To run away is our only safety; so let us flee hence.” Placing him in a basket, which she put on her back, Turtle’s sister started away as fast as she could go.

After the expiration of 10 days, as Turtle had predicted, Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa regained consciousness and, looking around, saw no one there. Then finding the young woman’s tracks, he pursued her. The fugitives had gone a long way when Turtle said to his sister, “Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa is fast overtaking us and is now near us.” So the sister kept on in her flight, and as she got over a fallen tree Turtle said to her, “Leave me here, and you continue your course.” Obeying her brother, she hastened on her way.

Not long after her departure Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa came along. As he walked over the fallen tree he stepped on Turtle without seeing him, whereupon Turtle promptly bit him again. At this Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa exclaimed, “Brother-in-law! let go of my foot; you are greatly delaying me on my course.” But as Turtle gave no heed to what his brother-in-law had said to him, Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa decided to kill him, and raising his foot with Turtle hanging to it, he beat him against the fallen tree. But as before, striking Turtle only caused him to grow in size, until he finally became large enough to swallow his enemy again. Turtle waited there for two days until he had excreted Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa; then he started on his way again. While the sister was walking along she was surprised to find her brother, Turtle, on a fallen tree. He had arrived there ahead of her by means of his orenda.

After the expiration of 10 days Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa regained consciousness, and arising, said to himself, “I have now been asleep a very long time and must continue my hunt”; so saying, he started in pursuit once more. The young woman was now growing faint and exhausted, and her brother said to her as she carried him along in the basket: “Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa is again overtaking us, and is now very near to us. Once more drop me by the first fallen tree that we come to.” She obeyed and, leaving her brother near a fallen tree, kept on her way.

When Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa came along in due time the orenda of Turtle caused him to pass within reach of the latter, who again seized his foot in his teeth. At this Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa said to his brother-in-law, “You are indeed hindering me greatly in my journey, so let go of my foot,” but Turtle paid no attention to this remonstrance. So Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa decided again to beat him to death against the fallen tree. So he began to do this, but Turtle only grew in size until he was again able to swallow his brother-in-law. Turtle waited there for two days, and then having gotten rid of Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa as before, he went on in his flight.

At the expiration of 10 days Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa, on regaining consciousness, said to himself, “I have now been asleep a very long time, and I must continue my hunt”; so he resumed at once pursuit of Turtle and his sister. In time the young woman again grew faint and exhausted, so her brother said to her as she carried him along in a basket: “Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa is again overtaking us and is now quite near us. Still again drop me beside the first fallen tree to which you come on our way.” She was willing to obey him, so she did as he said, and kept on her way. Once more, when Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa came along, Turtle, by means of his orenda, causing his adversary to pass within reach of his teeth, again seized him by the foot. Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa thereupon said to his brother-in-law, “You are indeed greatly hindering me from continuing my journey in peace; so let go of my foot.” But Turtle did not free him, holding fast to his foot. Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa therefore decided to kill him. Raising his foot with Turtle hanging to it, he beat Turtle against the fallen tree; but as he beat him, Turtle grew so rapidly in size that he was soon large enough to swallow him again. Then Turtle waited there two entire days, and when he had excreted Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa he continued his journey.

At the expiration of 10 days, when Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa had again regained consciousness, he arose, saying, “I have been sleeping now a long time and must continue my journey”; so he once more resumed his pursuit of Turtle and his sister. When Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa was again overtaking the woman, and while she was running onward, she saw a light ahead, which seemed to indicate that there might be an opening there. But she soon learned that this was a lake; and, having arrived on its shore, she looked over the water but could see nothing on the farther side. So she said to herself, “It seems that I have got to die; therefore I might as well die here.” With this remark she seated herself on a stone.

In a short time Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa reached her, and seeing her sitting there, he exclaimed, “My wife, you are waiting for me,” and he seemed to be very glad. He took out his pouch, from which he obtained a quantity of tobacco; this he began to burn as an offering to the stone on which the young woman was seated. Moreover, he addressed the stone, saying, “I thank you, because you have been the cause that has made my wife wait for me here.” He kept on thanking the stone as he went back toward the forest, also burning tobacco to the other stones.

Just then a man arose out of the waters of the lake, and addressing himself to the young woman, said, “Be quick! Come with me!” She immediately followed him into the water. When Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa turned toward the lake again, he saw at once that the woman was gone; all he found were her tracks, which led into the water.

Now, the strange man and the young woman soon came to a lodge in the depths, which they entered. The strange man had a sister, who lived in the lodge. The young woman hung up her basket, which contained Turtle. Whenever she ate anything she would drop pieces of food into the basket for her brother, Turtle. Noticing this, the young man’s sister said, “Why do you place food in there?” The young woman replied, “My brother is in there; that is why I place food there.” Then came the question, “Can I see him?” The newly arrived woman said: “Wait two days, and you can see him; then he will come out as a full-fledged man. He shall be a Turtle no longer.” This lodge was situated at the bottom of the lake. The young woman’s brother did come out a full-grown man. Afterward he lived with the strange man’s sister as her husband, and his sister became the wife of the strange man who had rescued her from Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa on the shore of the lake.

[It is not known by the story-teller who this man and his sister were, nor who the four brothers were, with the exception of one, Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa. These four brothers are Whirlwinds.—Editor.]

64. THE MOOSE WIFE

A young man living alone with his mother concluded to go into the forest to hunt for a whole year, collecting and drying meat, and intending at the end of that period to return to visit his mother. So he traveled a long way into the forest to a region in which he thought there was plenty of deer and other game. There, having built a cabin, he began housekeeping by himself. His daily routine was to make a fire, get breakfast, and then start off to hunt. He would stay away hunting all day. Often when he got home at night he was so tired that he would not take the trouble to prepare supper, but throwing himself on his couch, he would go to sleep. He was collecting a great quantity of cured meat.

One evening when he was returning from a long tramp he saw as he neared his cabin smoke issuing from the smoke-hole in the roof. At this he became greatly troubled, for he thought that the fire may have spread and ignited his lodge. Running into the lodge as quickly as possible, what was his surprise to find a bright fire burning in the fire-pit, and his kettle, which had been suffered to boil, hanging on the crook in such a way as to keep its contents hot. He wondered who had come to cook for him, for during the time he had lived there and during his journeys he had never found a cabin, nor had he seen a human being. He searched all around to see whether he could find a trace of a person’s visit. He saw that the deer he had brought home the evening before was dressed and hung up, that a pile of wood that he had cut had been brought in, that everything had been put in order, and that even corn bread had been made. On the way home he had thought of going to bed the moment he set foot in the cabin, so he was greatly rejoiced to find a warm supper awaiting him. He sat down and ate the supper, soliloquizing, “Surely the person who got this ready will come back,” but no one came.

The next morning he started as usual to hunt. When he returned in the evening he looked to see whether smoke was coming out of the smoke-hole of his cabin. There was smoke issuing from it, and again he found supper ready for him. On discovering a partially finished braid of fibers of bark, he knew that a woman had been at work. He saw, moreover, that she had also put a large number of his green deerskins to soak, preparatory to making buckskin. Thereupon he thought how good she was, and he resolved to see her, whomsoever she might be, even if he had to give up hunting in order to do so.

In the morning he started off as though he were going to hunt, but went only a short way into the woods to a place whence he could watch the cabin. He had built no fire that morning, so that he might be able to tell the moment smoke began to rise from the lodge. Stealthily creeping back toward his home, he soon saw smoke rising from the cabin. As he drew nearer, he saw what to him was a woman come out of the lodge and take up an armful of wood. When she went into the lodge he followed her as quickly as possible. There he found a beautiful young woman, to whom he said: “You have been very kind to me, and I am very thankful to you.” She said in reply, “I knew you were starving for lack of a woman’s aid, so I came to see whether you would take me as your wife.” He accepted her offer, for he was very happy that she was willing to remain. She never left him after that. Every day she tanned the deerskins and cooked for him, working hard all the time. His wife was beautiful and he loved her dearly.

Before the end of a year a boy was born to them, and they were perfectly happy. When the time was near to fulfill his promise to visit his mother, she said to him: “I know you promised to visit your mother, and the time is now here. I have everything ready for you. I have made moccasins for you and for your mother.” He said in reply, “I wonder how I can carry her some meat, for she lives a long way off.” “You have only to choose the meat you want,” she replied; “I know how you can carry it.” He decided to take some of every kind. She warned him to be true and faithful to her while away, for many women when they saw what a good hunter he was would ask him of his mother. She said: “You must be true to me as I will be to you. You must never yield to temptation, for I shall know if you do, and you will never see me again.” He promised her everything she asked. Early the next morning she asked him to go to the river with her; it was not far from the cabin. She knew how he came, and that he would reach his mother’s home sooner by going on the river. When they reached the bank, she took out of her bosom a tiny canoe. He wondered what she was going to do with so little a plaything. She told him to take hold of one end and to pull away from her. On doing so, the canoe stretched out until it was a very large one. Then they brought on their backs basketful after basketful of meat, which they packed away in the canoe. Giving him a package, she said: “I have made these moccasins for your mother. Here is another package for you. I wish you to put on a pair every morning, throwing away the old ones.”

He promised to return in the fall, and then they parted. When he reached his mother’s lodge the news spread that a certain woman’s son had returned after a year’s hunting, and many came to see him and the great amount of meat he had brought. He did not tell even his mother that he was married, and many young girls asked for him as a husband. His mother had a beautiful girl in view for him, and continually urged him to marry her, but he would not consent. After a while he said to his mother: “I am going to the woods again. I have a cabin there, and sometime you will know why I do not wish to marry.” So saying, he started off.

When he reached the river he shook his boat as his wife had instructed him to do, whereupon it again stretched out. Getting aboard, he started up the river. When he neared his cabin, he saw his wife waiting for him and his little boy running around at play and they were very happy again. She told him she loved him better than ever, for he had withstood temptation.

Another year passed. They had all the meat they could take care of, and another boy had been born to them.

Again she got him ready to carry meat to his mother, just as she had done before. She seemed, however, to feel that this time he would yield to temptation, so she said to him: “If you marry another woman, you will never see me again, but if you love me and your children, you will be true to us and come back. If you are not true, I shall not be surprised if your new wife will soon be sucking her moccasins from hunger, for your magic power or orenda for hunting will vanish.” He promised her everything.

As before, on reaching home his fame as a hunter brought many beautiful girls to ask for him in marriage. Again his mother urged him to marry, and the temptation to yield then was far greater than the first time, but he resisted and was ready to start for his cabin, when one day a beautiful stranger, appearing in the village, came to his mother’s lodge. The mother urged him to marry her, as she was so lovely, and he finally yielded.

The wife in the woods, knowing the conditions, said: “Now children, we must be getting ready to go away. Your father does not love us and will never come back to us.” Though the children were troubled by their mother’s tears, still they were full of play and fun, but the poor mother was always weeping while preparing to leave her home.

After the man had taken a second wife, the meat in his lodge began to fall away strangely. He could almost see it disappear, though there was a good supply when he married. In a few days but little was left. He went hunting but could kill nothing; he went day after day, but always had the same ill luck, for he had lost his magic power (orenda) for hunting, as his wife had foretold. One day when he came home from hunting, he found his new wife sucking her moccasin, for she was famishing with hunger. He cried and sobbed, saying, “This is my punishment; she warned me that this would happen if I was untrue to her.” Thereupon he decided to go back to his first wife and children at once and never to leave them again.

He set out without saying a word to the starving wife or to his anxious mother. When he reached his cabin not a single footprint was to be seen. He went in, but only to find it empty—wife and children were not there, nor any meat, but their worn moccasins were hanging up. The sight of these made him very sad. As he was nearly starved, he searched everywhere for food. On the hearth he found three small mounds of ashes, of different sizes, the third being very small. Sitting down, he wondered what this could mean, for he knew that it must have been left by his wife as a sign to him should he ever come to the cabin. At last he made up his mind that he had three children now, and he determined to find them even if he had to follow them to the end of the world.

He mused, “My boys are very playful, and as they followed their mother they must have hacked the trees as they went.” Indeed, as the mother and the boys were starting away, the boys said, “We will make some sign, so that if our father ever thinks of us and comes back, he will be able to follow us.” But the mother said: “No, children, you must not; he will never come, for he has another wife, and will never think of his children in the woods.” Nevertheless, as they went on and played by the way, the boys hacked the trees and shot arrows in sport, so the father was soon able to trace them. He found that after a day’s journey they had camped for the night, for he discovered the remains of a fire, and on a tree nearby, four pairs of worn-out moccasins. Tying these in a bundle, he hung it on his arm.

Again he walked all day, finally coming to the remains of a fire, near which he saw four pairs of worn moccasins hanging up as before. He was very tired and hungry.

The next morning he traveled on and, as before, found the remains of a fire and four pairs of worn moccasins hanging on a tree. He always took these with him. Near noon the next day he saw smoke in the distance, seeming to rise from a cabin, and so it proved to be. He saw also two boys playing around, running, and shooting arrows; on seeing him they ran to tell their mother that a man was coming. On looking out, she recognized her husband, whereupon she told the boys to stay inside the lodge. He had not recognized the children as his sons, but supposed they belonged to people living in the cabin.

As he was very hungry and tired, he thought he would go in and ask for food. The woman turned her back as he entered, but the eldest boy, recognizing his father, ran to him and put his hand on his knee. The father, however, not recognizing the child, gently pushed his hand away. At this moment the mother, turning around, saw this action. “There,” she said, “I told you to keep away from him, for he does not love you.” Now the man, recognizing his wife, cried out, begging her to forgive him and to receive him home again. He seemed to be sorry, and begged so hard that she forgave him and brought him his little daughter, born after he had gone away. Ever afterward he was true to his Moose wife (for she was a Moose woman), and never again left his home in the woods. He and his little family were always very happy.

65. SʻHAGODIYOWEQGOWA

[Modern]

A number of Indians traveling northward from their village met a Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa, with whom they talked. He said, “Hawenniyo caused me to be around to assist you.” His mouth was drawn up on one side and down on the other. Continuing, he said: “If anyone mocks us in earnest, we will enchant him by sorcery. You may go to work making a mask representing a face like mine, and then you can cure by means of it the sick who are troubled by us, the Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa. In this way you may take my place.” So the people made wooden masks, to be used as directed. This, it is said, is the origin of the Society of False Faces, or Maskers, so prominent among the Seneca.[322]

66. THE PORCUPINE’S GRANDSON AND THE BEAR

A widower, who had a small son, married a second time. Soon after this event he took his wife and child into the forest to hunt. They lived very happily until the new wife began to think that her husband loved his child better than he did her. This troubled her beyond measure, so that she became very uneasy, thinking of nothing else. Then she began to study how to get rid of the boy, and at last resolved to destroy him.

So one day while her husband was out hunting, she took the boy into the woods to a cave, whose mouth was closed with a rock. She rolled away the stone from in front of the opening, at the same time telling the boy that there were bears in the cave, and that he must run in and scare them, so that they would run out at the other end. He crept in, and immediately the woman rolled the stone back over its mouth, and then deserted him.

When night came the father returned from hunting, and immediately missing his boy, asked where he was. The woman answered that he was at play when she went to gather bark, and that when she came home she could not find him, asserting further that she had been hunting in all directions for him, and that she was afraid he had been carried off by some wild beast. The father was nearly crazed by this event, and for many days hunted for his boy, but he could find only the tracks made by his little moccasins far into the woods—tracks which the wicked stepmother had (artificially) made to mislead and deceive the father.

When the child found himself fastened in the cave he began to scream and cry, and his strength was giving way and he was near fainting when he thought he heard a voice saying: “Poor child, stop crying! I am your grandmother. I will give you food.” This was a Mother Porcupine. Wiping away his tears with her paw, she brought him food, which he thought was very good, though it was only hemlock burs. She gave him some of the food which she had saved for herself. After eating he was contented, whereupon she said, “You are very tired, my dear little grandson; come and lie down.” In this way she fed and cared for him a long time.

One day she said: “My stock of food is exhausted, and as it is now spring, we should not be cold out of doors. Your stepmother has fastened us in here. I must call on our neighbors to let us out, and when we are out, I will leave you in their care and go in search of food for myself.” Approaching the opening, the Porcupine called aloud for help. Afterward the boy thought they went back into the cave, and the Porcupine said: “My dear grandson, we must now part. I feel very sad but it can not be avoided. I will give you this advice. They will come and let us out, and you will go with them. You must be obedient and do just as you are told to do, and all will be well in the end.” Soon they heard noises with the sound of voices outside the cave, and after a while a great crowd seemed to be collected. The imprisoned ones heard the chief of the assembly say: “All who heard the call have come.[323] Now we want to know who will roll the stone away?” Birds came and pecked at it in vain; they could do nothing. Then the smaller animals scratched at it. One after another failed. At last a wolf came forward, saying, “I can pull the stone away; I am the man to do it.” Pushing his long claws under it, he pulled and pulled, until at length he exerted so much strength that his hold gave way and he fell over on his back. Then the deer tried with his long horns to raise the stone. All tried, every one in his own way, from the smallest to the largest animal (for all were present that had heard the call), except the she-bear; she sat at a short distance with her little family around her, consisting of three young cubs. When all the rest had failed, she said, “Well, I will try.” Walking up slowly and majestically to the blocking stone, she examined the scratches made by the other animals until she made up her mind how to act, and then she very quickly got the stone away. Then peeping in, she saw a Porcupine and a human being, whereupon she hurried away from the opening as though she was greatly frightened. As the other animals looked in, they, too, took to their heels until they were far enough away to make sure of escape; then they waited to see what was to take place.

The Porcupine, coming out, told them not to be frightened. Said she, “We are very poor, my grandson and I.” She told them further how he came there and that her stock of food was exhausted, adding, “Many of you are well able to care for him, so I want you to take charge of my grandson.” All, even the birds, announced their willingness to do so. “Now,” she continued, “I want to know what you will give him to eat, and when I make up my mind that my grandson can live on the food that any one of you can supply, I will give him to that one. To my faithful friends, the birds, I give thanks; you may go, for I do not think my grandson could live on anything you could give him.”

All had brought specimens of what they could furnish and had laid them before the Porcupine. The wolf, coming forward, laid down what he had. The Porcupine examined it and then asked, “What would you do in case of danger?” “Of course we should run,” the wolf replied, thereupon running off to show her, and then coming back. “No, my grandson can not go with you; he could not run fast enough.” The deer came forward with the most suitable food, but when the Porcupine asked, “What would you do in case of danger?” the deer ran off at such speed that his horns could be heard rattling through the woods. Last of all the old bear came forward, saying: “You have all failed. Though I have a large family of my own, I will take the boy and will feed him as I feed my cubs, on blackberries, chestnuts, and fruit.” When asked what she would do in danger, going back to her little cubs, she gave them the sign of danger, at which they all crouched down beside a log while she lay at their side watching. She said: “That is what I do, and thus we lie still until I think the danger is past. I know where the berries grow in abundance, and I will take them there. I know also where my winter quarters will be; there my cubs will get nourishment by sucking my fat paws.” The Porcupine then said: “You are the one to care for my grandchild. I wish you to take good care of him. I am now going for food.” The boy never saw the Porcupine again. The child thought the bear took him by the hand, and that she was like a human being, and that they were all like real people.

She led the boy and the cubs to the place where the berries and chestnuts were abundant. They played as they went along. The young bears became very fond of the boy. When the old mother bear was lying asleep in the sun, and they were at play, the cubs would pull the boy’s nails to make them long like theirs, and they tried to teach him how to climb and run up the trees as they did. At last he was almost equal to them in skill in these exercises, his nails having grown long and sharp.

One day the old bear woke up and could not see the boy. At last she saw him high up in a tree a long way off. Then she scolded her cubs and was angry with them, and made the boy’s nails as they originally were. So the many days of summer passed. The cubs and the boy were great friends and they had him sleep between them and their mother.

When winter came, the old bear said, “It is time to go to our winter quarters”; so she took them to a tall, hollow tree, into which they all climbed, finding therein a comfortable place. Here they remained; and the boy thought they had plenty of room. He and the cubs played together and were very happy. The old bear slept most of the time, but when she heard a sound she would awake instantly and would say, “You must keep very still; there is a hunter near.” In the tree was an opening from which she had an outlook. Soon after the warning they would see a man coming toward the tree. Then the boy thought he saw the mother bear, putting her paw into her pocket, draw out an object that had two prongs. As the hunter approached she would thrust this out through the hole, moving it to and fro until he passed; then she would draw it in again.

All went well until one day toward spring, when the fatal moment came. The mother bear heard a hunter approaching again and, although they all kept very still, she said, addressing the child: “I think our time has come; our separation is near; you can remain here, but we must go, for we are bears, but you are a human being. They will take you out and care for you.” Then the child and the cubs saw the hunter coming. She put out her two-pronged bough but could do nothing; all her magic power was gone. When the hunter came up, seeing the claw marks on the bark of the tree, he concluded there must be bears within. The old bear knew all was over, so she said to the eldest of her cubs, “You must go first and the others must follow.” At this the eldest climbed up and out, and at that instant the boy heard the twang of the bowstring and impact of the arrow, and as he watched the little bear it seemed to throw off a burden, which fell to the ground, while the little bear itself [324] went straight on without stopping. Then the other little bears followed, one and all sharing the fate of the first; each time one emerged the boy heard the same sounds and saw the burden fall, but as he saw the little bears still running on, he was not frightened. Then the old bear said: “Now, I have to go. You must be good and obedient and all will be well with you”; then she went out. He heard the same sounds as before and saw her drop on the ground; knowing she was killed, he began to scream. The hunter, hearing him, was astonished. Then, remembering having heard that a child had been lost, he though it might be the child in this tree. So he set to work to get the boy out, and soon succeeded in doing so. He found the child naked and unable to speak a word, having forgotten how to talk. Skinning the largest cub, the hunter made leggings for the child from the skin. The boy was grieved to see his companions dead and cut up, but he could not speak to let his rescuer know how dear they were to him. The hunter took the boy to his father, who was overjoyed to see his child again. Ever afterward he kept the boy near himself, and in the future all was well.

67. GENONSGWA

An old woman, the eldest of her people, lived in the forest with two grandchildren, a boy and a girl. One day while the old woman was away a female Genonsgwa came into the lodge and picked up the younger child, the girl. After speaking kindly to her, saying that she was a good little thing, she swallowed her. Then she began to talk to the boy, telling him how well he looked, and that he was wholesome, but she did not kill him. Sitting on the bed, she told the boy that if he would get on her back, she would take him out to find his grandmother. After climbing on her back, he soon became frightened, whereupon he grasped her so tightly that he became fastened to her back so that he could not get off, though he tried hard to do so. The Genonsgwa, rising, went in a direction different from that in which his grandmother had gone. The boy told her of her mistake, but she said, “Oh! we shall come to the place where she is.” The Genonsgwa went very far into the woods. The boy began to cry for his grandmother, and cried so hard that the Genonsgwa told him to get off her back; she did not like to hear him cry, she said, but as she wanted to eat him, he did not get off; in fact, he could not do so. Fortunately, the Genonsgwa could neither get her hands around to pull him off, nor turn her head to bite him. She could not get at him in any way. Knowing this, the boy clung to the middle of her back, realizing that she would eat him up if he slipped down. They traveled on thus for many days.

When the grandmother came back to her lodge and found that the boy and the girl were not there, she became very uneasy. She searched for them but found no trace of either. After a while, finding the tracks of the Genonsgwa around the lodge, she guessed what the trouble was. The old woman followed the trail of the Genonsgwa, saying that she was bound to get her grandchildren back.

Genonsgwa tried to get the boy off by rubbing him against a hickory tree. The boy said, “Oh! I like that. Rub harder!” At this she stopped rubbing him against the tree and went on. The grandmother followed in the form of a Whirlwind, whereupon Genonsgwa said to the boy, “Your grandmother is coming as a Whirlwind, and she will strike and kill us both.” The boy was silent. Looking for refuge, she found a hiding place in a deep ravine, in which she dug a hole, and going in, covered herself with the earth which slipped down from above. The two heard Dagwanoenyent, the grandmother, coming. “Now,” Genonsgwa said, “you can hear your grandmother coming.” The Dagwanoenyent rushed over the place where they lay hidden. The boy shouted to his grandmother, who, hearing him, changed her course, coming straight back to the place they were in. She blew off the earth from the hiding place, so that Genonsgwa became just visible above the surface. Then the grandmother asked the boy whether he was there. He answered, “Yes.” The Genonsgwa lay still, whispering to the boy, “Be quiet! Your grandmother will see us.” The grandmother then called the boy by name, “Dagwanoenyentgowa,[325] get off Genonsgwa’s back.” Having done so, he went a short distance from the cliff. Then the old woman hurled rocks at the Genonsgwa, and after breaking all her clothes of rock, killed her.

The old woman now went toward home with her grandson. On the path she said: “Never allow yourself to be treated this way again. Never allow yourself to be maltreated by anyone. You can master all those Genonsgwashonon,[326] if you will only use your power, for you, too, are a Dagwanoenyentgowa.” The old woman remained at home a few days with her grandson. Meanwhile some of the Genonsgwa’s people found the trail of the Genonsgwa woman, which they followed until they came to the place where her stone clothes were rent, and she was killed. When they asked of it, the spirit of the Genonsgwa told how she had been killed and how her coat had been rent.

The headman of the Genonsgwa now resolved to muster a large company of their people and kill the old woman, Dagwanoenyentgowa. While they were preparing for this, the old woman found out their plans when she was out on her journeys and said to her grandson, “We must go to get your sister out of the belly of the Genonsgwa woman, for she is sitting there crying for me all the time.” So they set out for home, and when they reached the place where the Genonsgwa woman lay dead, the grandmother, having built a small fire, began to burn tobacco on it for her granddaughter, saying, “This is what we like; this is what we like.” They burned perhaps half a pouch full of tobacco, meanwhile fanning the smoke toward the Genonsgwa woman all the time, and saying: “This is what we like. Do you come out of Genonsgwa’s belly.” There was no sign yet of her granddaughter. She had not yet come forth. At last the old woman said to her grandson: “We must have more help. You have a great many relatives—uncles, aunts, and cousins. We must call them here.” Thereupon the old woman, Dagwanoenyentgowa, called repeatedly. They came one by one. Soon there was a great number of them. Having broken up and removed all the clothes of the Genonsgwa, they threw them away, leaving the dead body naked. Then the old woman, building a fire at Genonsgwa’s head, burned tobacco on it. All the Dagwanoenyent people walked around the fire, each throwing tobacco on it and saying, “This is what we like.” After each one had gone around once and had thrown tobacco into the fire once, the young girl started up in the Genonsgwa’s belly, and panting for breath, walked out, saying, “How long have I been here?” They gave her more tobacco smoke, which she inhaled until she gained full strength. Then all went home, the old woman and her two grandchildren to her own lodge, and the other Dagwanoenyents each to his or her lodge.

After they had been home a while a Genonsgwa came to the old woman’s lodge, who talked pleasantly, inquiring how they were. Having found out that they were only three in number, the Genonsgwa went back home, thinking it would be a small work to kill them all. After the Genonsgwa went away the old woman said: “We are in trouble now. There is a great number of these Genonsgwa people leagued against us. They are assembled somewhere, not far away. When this struggle commences we do not know whether we shall be able to come home here again or not.” As soon as she had finished talking with her grandchildren, the old woman, going out, called, “Dagwanoenyents!” The girl, not knowing what that meant, asked her grandmother, who said: “I am calling your relations to help us. You are a Dagwanoenyent, too.” The Dagwanoenyents came one by one. When all had come, there were 60 besides the old woman and her two grandchildren. Dagwanoenyentgowa now said: “Each one must have a stone to strike with, just heavy enough to handle with ease.” When they had gathered stones the Genonsgwa began to come, thousands upon thousands in number. The Dagwanoenyents were frightened when they saw them, but the old woman who led them said: “We must separate and attack them singly. Have faith to kill each one with but one blow, and you will do it. You must keep the stones in your hands. Be firm and retreat slowly in different directions.” The Dagwanoenyents took her advice. Whenever they had a chance, they struck and killed a Genonsgwa, retreating all the time and killing the Genonsgwa for a long distance. The old woman then told all her people to go up a high mountain toward the south, ahead of them, fighting as they went. She continued: “When we all reach the top, we shall go down a short distance on the other side. The Genonsgwa will come to the top and we shall strike them. One lot of us must strike from the east, and the other from the west side, and we must get behind them and drive them forward into the great ravine on the south side of the mountain, where a river runs by. There they will all perish.” The Genonsgwa came to the mountain top, where there was a large clear space. Looking around on every side, they saw nothing of the Dagwanoenyents, hence they thought the Dagwanoenyents had gone for food. They had not stood there long, however, when they heard the sound of the wind below them on both sides of the mountain. The noise grew louder and louder, until presently the Dagwanoenyents struck them on both sides, and uniting in their rear, fell upon them from behind also. So terrible were the attack and the power of the Dagwanoenyents, that they tore all the trees out by the roots and swept the earth off the top of the mountain, hurling the rocks and trees and Genonsgwa into the ravine and river below. The Genonsgwa were piled upon one another like the rocks on the banks and in the bed of the river. The Dagwanoenyents were now dancing on the mountain top, and the old woman said: “We have hurled the Genonsgwa down there and we would better finish them. Half of you go along the ridge running south from this mountain east of the river, and the other half along the western ridge, and blow all the trees and stones and earth into the great ravine.” They did this, and when they came together they had stripped the mountain spurs naked. Meanwhile the river forced everything to the end of the ravine, where it piled up the débris of fallen trees in a great dam, so that the river became a lake on the south side of the mountain. This lake is called Hadiqsadon genonsgwa ganyudae; that is, the grave of the Genonsgwashonon, or Genonsgwa people.

68. HINON, HOHAWAQK [327] AND HIS GRANDMOTHER

There was a very poor little old woman, who lived in the woods. She was so destitute that she was nothing but skin and bones. She dwelt in a smoky little lodge and cried all the time, both day and night. Her robe of skins was so old and dirty that one could not tell without difficulty of what material it was made. She had seven daughters, six of whom were carried off one after another by hostile people, while the seventh died.