Chapter XXV: Part 2: also consists of Seneca legends and myths, which are (20)

The daughter who died had been buried some time when one night the old woman heard crying at the grave. Going to the grave with a torch, she found there a naked baby. The child had crawled up out of the grave through a hole in the earth. Wrapping the baby in her blanket, the old woman took it home. She did not know, she did not even suspect, that her daughter was with child when she died.

The little boy grew very rapidly. When he was of good size the old woman came home one day from gathering wood but could not find him. That night it stormed, with thunder and lightning raging. In the morning the child returned to her. His grandmother asked, “Where have you been, my grandson?” “Grandmother,” said he, “I have been with my father; he took me to his home.” “Who is your father?” “Hinon is my father; he took me home first, then we came back and were all about here last night.” The old woman asked, “Was my daughter, your mother, in the grave?” “Yes,” said the boy, “and Hinon used to come to see my mother.” The old woman believed what he said.

As the boy grew he used to make a noise like that of thunder, and whenever Hinon came to the neighborhood he would go out and thunder, thus helping his father, for he was Hinon Hohawaqk, the son of Hinon.

Some time after this the boy asked his grandmother where his six aunts were, and the grandmother answered: “There are an old woman and her son, whose lodge is far away; they live by playing dice and betting. Your aunts went one by one with a company of people, and played dice (plum pits); being beaten, their heads were cut off. Many men and women have gone to the same place and have lost their heads.” Hinon Hohawaqk answered, “I will go, too, and will kill that woman and her son.” The old woman tried to keep him home, but he would not remain with her. He told her to make two pairs of moccasins for him. He was very ragged and dirty, so she made the moccasins and got him the skin of a flying-squirrel for a pouch.

Setting off toward the west, soon he came to a great opening where there was a large bark lodge with a pole in front of it, and on the pole a skin robe. He saw boys playing ball in the opening, and going on a side path, he heard a great noise. After a while the people saw him, whereupon one of them said, “I do not know where that boy comes from.” The old people were betting and the boys were playing ball. Soon an old man came up to Hinon Hohawaqk and gave him a club; he played so well that the old man came again, saying, “We want you to play dice; all the people will bet on you.” A bowl was placed on an elk skin lying under the pole. The woman and her son were there and the other people stood around. Hinon Hohawaqk answered, “I do not know how to play the game.” The old man replied, “We will risk our heads on you;” so he followed the old man. He saw a white stone bowl as smooth as glass. The old woman was sitting there on the elk skin, ready to play, and Hinon Hohawaqk knelt down beside the bowl. She said, “You play first.” “No,” answered he, “you play first.” So she took out her dice, which were round and made from plum stones, and blowing on them, cast them into the bowl, which she shook, at the same time calling out, “Game! game!” The dice flew up into the air, all becoming crows and cawing as they went out of sight. After a while they came down, still cawing, and resumed the form of plum stones as they settled in the bowl. The old woman had three plays to make a count of seventeen. She threw three times but got nothing. Then Hinon Hohawaqk in order to win took dice out of his pouch of flying-squirrel skin. The old woman wanted him to use her dice, but he would not touch them. Placing his dice in the bowl, he shook, whereupon the dice, becoming ducks, flew upward. They went very high, and all the people heard them as they rose; when they touched the bowl again they were plum stones, and scored 10. Then Hinon Hohawaqk shook the bowl again, calling, “Game! game!” while the old woman called out, “No game!” Back came the dice, scoring another 10. He cast the third time and scored 10 more. He had won. Then he called the people to see him cut off the heads of the old woman and her son. “No,” said the old woman, “you must play again. Here is my son; you must play ball with him, and if he loses we shall both forfeit our heads.” At this Hinon Hohawaqk asked the old man what he thought. The people, seeing how skillful he was, said “Play!” whereupon he went to the ball-ground, ragged and looking poor. There were but two playing, one on each side. Hinon Hohawaqk jumped, knocking the club far out of his opponent’s hand. Then the old woman’s son ran for his club, but before he could get it back Hinon Hohawaqk had sent the ball through the goal posts. This was repeated seven times and Hinon Hohawaqk won the game. “Now,” said he to all the people, “you can have the heads of the old woman and her son.” The two heads were cut off, and the boys played with the old woman’s head over the whole field.

“Now,” said Hinon Hohawaqk; “I am going to bring my grandmother to this place, and we must all come here to stay and have this long dwelling in which to live.” All went home to their lodges, and as the Son of Thunder went, he sang praises of himself, and his grandmother heard him on his way. He told her what he had done, saying, “We must all go there and live in that fine dwelling and field.” She prepared provisions and they went. It took them a long time to reach the place. All the other people having reached there also, they built dwellings around the field. When all had settled down, Hinon Hohawaqk called them to the council lodge to have a dance. After they had finished the dance, all went to their homes. Putting away her old blanket, the grandmother began to dress. Having put on the clothes left by the old woman who lost her head, soon she looked like a young woman and lived happily. After a time Hinon Hohawaqk went off with Hinon, his father, with whom he stayed all winter.

In the spring the old woman was uneasy in her mind. She heard thunder in the west, and soon afterward her grandson came to the lodge. She was very glad to see him. “Where have you been?” she asked. He answered: “At the great mountain far off in the west. I have been with my father helping the nations and protecting men.” After that he remained with his grandmother all summer. Once in a while he would go away when it began to storm but would come back again when the turbulence of the weather ceased.

He lived a long time in this way, until at last he said to his grandmother: “I have an uncle living in the west; some witch stole him from you. I must go to find him.” So he went to the west to search for his uncle. He went on till he came to a lodge in which he saw a woman sitting by a fire, with her head resting on her hands. She would not answer when he asked where his uncle was. Soon afterward he went out, and taking his war club from his pouch, he knocked her on the head, killing her. When he had killed the woman he went out and walked all around the lodge, mourning and looking for his uncle. At last he heard the moaning of a man. He looked into the trees, for he could not see any one on the ground, but could not find him. Soon he came to a large slippery-elm tree, the great roots of which held down a man, his head coming out between two roots on one side and his feet between two on the other side, while the tree stood just on the middle of his body. He was calling to his nephew to give him a smoke. The latter answered: “Oh, poor uncle! how badly off you are. Oh, poor uncle! I will give you a smoke very soon.” Then he kicked over the tree, saying, “Rise, uncle!” at which the uncle rose, well. Taking out his pouch, Hinon Hohawaqk gave the old man a smoke, which pleased and strengthened the uncle very much. He told his nephew how the woman had beguiled him to go with her, pretending that she wanted to marry him. When she had him at her lodge, however, she ate him, putting his bones under the elm tree. Then both the uncle and the nephew went home to the long lodge. The old grandmother was surprised and glad to see them.

All lived happily in their home till one day when the Son of Thunder went off in a storm. When it was over he brought home a wife. After that, when he went away in a storm his wife was uneasy, not knowing where he was, for her husband had brought her home on his back such a long distance in the storm. In due time she gave birth to a son. When the boy was large enough to run about, the old man, the uncle of the Son of Thunder, whose bones had lain under the elm tree, began to teach him, and soon he was able to make a noise like thunder. One day the boy followed his mother out of the lodge. They had a small dog, and as the boy was running after his mother, somebody seized him and rushed away; but the dog ran after him, and, contriving to seize his feet, pulled off his moccasins, which he carried home. This was the first indication the woman had that her boy was gone. Hinon Hohawaqk was off with a storm at the time, and when he came home his wife asked whether he had taken the boy. “No,” said he. “Oh! he is lost,” cried she. “Oh, no! he is all right,” said Hinon Hohawaqk; “he has many relations around the world—uncles and cousins.” The boy stayed away all winter. One day when the winter was over he came home with his father. Then Hinon Hohawaqk said to the people of his family, “We must all move away and live with my father.” The old woman said, “No, we can not go; it is so far and I am so old.” “I will carry you there in a little while,” said the grandson. Thereupon Hinon Hohawaqk began to thunder, and lightnings flew around. The lodge was torn to pieces and blazed up in flames. All the rocks and lodges in the opening were broken to pieces. Hinon Hohawaqk and all of his people rose in the air. The east wind began to blow, bearing them to lofty mountains in the west, where they found old grandfather Hinon. All live there in the caves of the rocks to this day.

69. HAGOWANEN AND OTʻHEGWENHDA [328]

At Hetgen Tgastende [329] lived a man named Hagowanen, who possessed potent orenda (magic power), and who belonged to the Donyonda people. One day he set out to hunt. In his canoe he sailed across a broad lake in front of his lodge, and then, leaving his canoe on the other side, he traveled five days toward the west. Then he collected wood and made a camp.

On the first day of his hunting he killed five bears and deer, which he brought into his camp, saying, “What bad luck I have had today!” On the second day he killed 10 bears and 12 deer and brought them home and skinned and roasted them to dry the meat of the 15 bears and 18 deer which he had killed, finishing the work before daylight. The next morning he said, “I must go after more meat.” That day he killed 24 deer and 20 bears and brought them into camp, and skinned them and finished roasting the meat precisely at midnight. Then he said, “I think I have enough now.” Putting all the meat into one heap, he tied it up with bark ropes. Then he shook the package, saying, “I want you to be small,” at which it shrank into a small package, which he hung in his belt. In the same way be made the skins into similar bundles, which he hung to his belt, and then set out for home.

When Hagowanen reached the lake he could not find his canoe; he looked everywhere, but he could see nothing of it. At last, he saw on the shore a man whose name was Handjoias.[330] When they met, this man asked, “What have you lost?” “My canoe,” answered Hagowanen. “Well, the man who lives on that island yonder was here yesterday, and he took your canoe,” replied Handjoias. “Who is the man on the island?” said Hagowanen. “He is one of the Ganyaqden331 people,” was the answer. “How am I to get my canoe back?” inquired Hagowanen. “Give me what meat you have, and I will get it for you,” said Handjoias. “What am I to eat if I do that?” replied Hagowanen. “I will do better, I will bring the canoe. Take your meat home, and roast it, keeping half and putting the other half outside of the door of the lodge for me,” declared Handjoias. “Very well,” answered Hagowanen. Handjoias, who himself had taken the canoe to the island, now brought it back, saying: “That man on the island is a very ugly fellow. He almost killed me.” Getting into his canoe, Hagowanen sailed home; on arriving he drew up his canoe safely on the rocks. Then he untied and threw down the bundle of meat, which in a moment regained its natural size. The meat he piled up inside of the lodge, and tanned the skins, but he never paid Handjoias for bringing back the canoe.

After a time a woman of the Hongak (Wild Goose) people came to Hagowanen’s lodge, bringing a basket of marriage bread, and saying, “My mother has sent me to Hagowanen to ask him to take me to wife.” Hagowanen hung his head a while thinking, and mused, “I suppose nothing ill-starred will come of this.” Then, looking at her, he said, “It is well; I am willing to do what your mother wants me to do.” On hearing this reply the woman was glad. She placed the basket of nuptial corn bread before him. In accepting it he said: “I am thankful. For many years I have not tasted bread which was made by a woman.” So he ate some of the bread, whereupon they became husband and wife.

At the end of the first year the Hongak woman bore a son to Hagowanen, and so she did every year until at last they had ten sons, whom they named in their order from the eldest to the youngest, as follows: (a) Tgwendahenh Niononeoden;[332] (b) Hononhwaes; (c) Haniodaqses; (d) Hagondes; (e) Dahsihdes; (f) Dahsinongwadon; (g) Daheqdes; (h) Oeqdowanen; (i) Donoengwenhden; and (j) Otʻhegwenhda.

They lived together for some time at Hetgen Tgastende, until one morning when Hagowanen, who was sitting on a stone outside the lodge with drooping head, said to himself: “Well, I have many children now. I did not think that woman would have so many. I must go home again.” So he rose, and going aboard his canoe, sailed away across Ganyodaeowanen (“The Big Lake”). After a while his wife, missing him, said, “Where is my husband?” She looked out and around everywhere but could not find him. The eldest son was then a youth and the youngest a lively little boy.

One day the eldest said, “I am going to look for my father, and see where he is.” The mother rejoined, “You will get lost on the way.” “Oh, no! I will not get lost,” he replied. At this the mother continued, “Then you may go.” So he set out, traveling northward. While going across a rocky place he found a trail. “This looks just like my father’s trail,” said he, following it. Soon he came to a cross-trail, and after examining it, he said: “I wonder where this path comes from and where it goes. Well, when I return, I shall find out.” Not far from the cross-trail he came to a lodge, and as the trail led up to it, he entered. Looking around, he saw an old man in the southeast corner of the room; another in the southwest; a third, in the northwest; and a fourth, in the northeast. All sat smoking. The youth looked for his father, saying, “He must be here somewhere.” The first old man, raising his head, looked at him and asked: “Well, my grandson, what are you doing here? Come this way, if you want to see your father. I will show him to you; he is right here.” On the youth approaching, the old man took him by the hair, and bending his head forward over a bark bowl, cut it off, saying: “I am glad that a young game animal has come. It must be good eating, as it is just the right age.” So saying, he began to quarter the body.

After the people at Hetgen Tgastende had waited for some time without tidings of the eldest brother, Hononhwaes, the second son of the Hongak woman, said, “I want to follow my elder brother.” “Oh, my son!” said the mother, “do not go away; something evil has befallen your brother.” “I must go,” said the boy; “I can not resist the desire. I must see my brother and father.” So he began to prepare for the journey, putting on a hunting shirt, leggings, and moccasins of buckskin, and taking his bow and arrows. His mother cried all the time, but she could not stop him from going. He went northward, as his brother had done, going over the same trail, until he arrived at the cross-trail and the lodge, where he saw the four old men smoking in the four corners of the room. He of the northwest corner spoke, saying, “My grandson, do you want to see your father? Come here and you shall see him.” He went forward and, looking into a large bark bowl half full of water, he saw the faces of his father and brother. As he was gazing on them, the old man cut off his head also, rejoicing as before.

Nine of the Hongak brothers went, one after another, in search of their father and brothers, and all were killed by the four old men in the same lodge. At last the tenth and youngest, Othegwenhda, who was still small and young, said to his mother, “I should like to follow my brothers.” “Oh, my son!” said the mother, “you must not go. There are four brothers, old men, living on the road, who are called Hadiiades (Blacksnakes). They have great magic power.” “But,” said he, “I must go. I want to see my brothers very much.” “You will never see them,” she replied. “They are dead.” “Well, can not I kill the old men?” he said. “Maybe you can,” she replied, “if you take my orenda (magic power) with you.” “Well, mother,” said Otʻhegwenhda, “give me your magic power. I want to kill these men.” “I will go and bring my magic power, my son,” said his mother. Thereupon the Hongak woman went westward to a rough and rocky place, where she got a small figurine of slate rock, about half the length of her little finger, with which she returned to her home. When she had reached home the boy was ready to start. He had armed himself with a bow of hickory and arrows of red willow pointed with wasp stings. “Here,” said the mother, “I will tell you what to do. Gird on a belt and put this fetish in it.” He placed the fetish between his buckskin belt and his body. “You are now ready,” said the mother. “Now you can do what you like. You can change yourself to whatever form you please.”

Otʻhegwenhda, going northward as his brothers had done, found a fresh trail looking as if made only a few minutes before. “This must be my father’s trail,” thought he; “perhaps I will find him somewhere.” After a while he came to the cross-trail running east and west; he stood thinking whence it came and whither it led. “I will see,” said he. Going toward the east, he soon reached a wide opening in the forest, near the end of which was a cloud of dust moving in his direction. “I will hurry back,” thought he, “or something may happen to me.” The moment he turned back the great dust cloud approached very quickly, and when it touched him, from weakness he fell to the ground. Soon after this he heard a noise, and, looking up, saw a person with long legs, rushing on toward him. Springing to his feet, the youth climbed a tree; and then he shot his wasp-sting pointed arrows, thus killing the stranger in the cloud of dust. This stranger was a Djieien (Spider).

Now Otʻhegwenhda went eastward again, and another cloud of dust rushed against him, but he got outside of it, and after the cloud had passed, he hastened westward to the point where the trails crossed. Thence, going northward, he soon reached the lodge where the four old brothers, Hadiiades (Blacksnakes), sat smoking. After standing outside a while, he found a crack in the lodge; peeping in, he saw the four old men in the four corners, at which he soliloquized: “I wonder whether these are the men of whom my mother spoke. I will kill them if I can, and if I can not, I will burn the lodge.” Taking out the fetish, he placed it on his head, whereupon it stood up, and he said, “I am going to ask you a question; I want you to tell me what to do; I want to kill these old men.” The fetish answered: “If you want to kill them, you must get on that high rock and call out, ‘I, Otʻhegwenhda, am on this high rock.’ You will find very sharp flint stones up there; take a handful of these and throw them this way, saying, ‘I want it to be hot.’ This is your only course to succeed.” As Otʻhegwenhda put back the fetish in his belt, he heard the old men talking. “It seems Otʻhegwenhda is about here,” said the old man in the northwest corner to the one in the southeast. “Oh!” replied the other, “I thought you said all that family were killed.” Then the old man in the southwest remarked, “It was my opinion that one was left.” “Well, I think they are all gone except the old woman Hongak,” said the old man in the northeast. “Well,” added the old man in the northwest, “it seems to me that Otʻhegwenhda is lurking around here somewhere.” “If you think so, you should look for him,” replied the old man of the southwest. “Yes, I must look to see if I can find him,” rejoined the man of the northwest. Otʻhegwenhda, leaping on the lodge, sat with his feet hanging through the smoke-hole. The old man looked everywhere but could not see him.

Otʻhegwenhda with his bow and arrows now shot down through the smoke-hole at each of the four old men, the arrows piercing their bodies deeply, but the old men were not hurt; they did not even know that they were hit. Leaping off the lodge and landing about forty rods away, Otʻhegwenhda went into the rock, whence he called out, “My name is Otʻhegwenhda.” As he stood there a while one of the old men said: “My back is sore. It feels as though my bones were broken.” Picking up a handful of sharp fragments of flint, Otʻhegwenhda threw them at the lodge, saying, “I want you to be red hot and burn up these old men and their lodge.” The flint went straight to the lodge, a few pieces flying beyond. Those that struck the lodge set it on fire, and those that fell beyond set the forest on fire. Everything was blazing in and around the lodge. Then the boy threw another handful of flints, saying, “I want you to cut these old men’s heads off,” whereupon the flints pierced their necks, causing their heads to fall off.

Otʻhegwenhda stood on the rock, watching the fire burn until nothing but coals remained. Suddenly he heard an explosion—a Dagwanoenyent flew toward him, knocking him off the rock; then rising high in the air, it went straight west. Quickly springing to his feet and looking up, the boy saw the Dagwanoenyent going higher and higher. Soon he heard a crash as it struck the Blue (Sky),[333] after which it came rushing down again, soon reaching the earth. Thereupon the youth crushed its head with a white flint.

Otʻhegwenhda now searched all through the coals with a pointed stick, but he found nothing but fire. At the northwestern corner of the burnt heap he found a trail leading toward the northwest, and following this, he came to an opening in the forest where he saw a cloud of dust rushing toward him. Swerving aside into the woods, he peeped out from some sheltering shrubbery; presently the cloud stopped at the edge of the woods. Then he saw a Djieien (Spider) 6 feet tall. “Oh! I thought,” said Djieien, “somebody was on the trail. It must be my master fooling me. I thought he was here and had found some more of the Hongak family.” The Djieien, turning back, ran as fast as he could, Otʻhegwenhda following closely until Djieien reached the lodge, which was slightly sunken into the ground. When the Djieien went into the lodge Otʻhegwenhda listened outside. Soon he heard crying within and thought that the sound resembled that of his father’s voice, and that his father must be in there. Then he took out the fetish, which came to life, and stood up; he asked of it, “How am I to kill the Djieien who lives in here?” The fetish answered: “Go to that tree just west of here, and climbing high upon it, call out, ‘I am Otʻhegwenhda, and more powerful than anything under the Blue (Sky). I can kill any kind of game (ganyo) on earth.’ When you have spoken, cut a limb from the tree and throw it with the command to split the Spider’s heart in two (the heart was in the ground under the lodge). When Djieien is killed, you can come down and see your father before burning the lodge.” Otʻhegwenhda did as directed by the fetish. He cut off a limb of the tree, and spat on it; straightway it became alive, and he cast it toward the lodge, saying, “Split Djieien’s heart in two.” The limb went under the lodge to the place where the heart was hidden, and the instant its heart was split Djieien stretched out, saying, “This is the end of me,” and died. The boy heard the words and laughed. Then he slipped down, and entering the lodge, said: “I must go in to see my father. I heard him cry, so he must be inside.” So saying, he went in. There Djieien lay dead in the middle of the room. Under the couch was someone nearly dead. On raising the couch, he found his father in a dying condition with the flesh gone from his legs and arms. Otʻhegwenhda exclaimed, “Oh, my father! you must go home; my mother wishes to see you.” Hagowanen whispered (he had lost his voice), “My son, you will die if you come in here.” “Oh, no!” answered the boy; “there is no danger now.” Putting the fetish on his hand, he asked it, “What shall be done with my father?” The fetish answered: “He is only a skeleton now. Spit on your hands and rub the spittle all over him, and flesh shall come on his bones again.” Otʻhegwenhda did this, and his father became as well as ever, whereupon he said: “Now, I have become Sʻhodieonskon. I have heard old people say that when Sʻhodieonskon dies he comes to life again immediately.” The boy laughed, and Hagowanen added, “Let us go home.” “You go, but I must find my brothers,” replied the youth.

When Hagowanen reached home, his wife, looking at him, began to cry: “Oh! my dear son, I wish you were here. I think I have seen something mysterious.” Hagowanen asked, “Why do you talk so?” She cried the more, and he added: “Why do you cry? Are you sorry that I have returned?” “No, but you are not alive,” she said. “Oh, yes! I am,” he replied. “No; I can not believe that you are,” and, thinking he was a ghost, she drove him out to the rocks, where he sat down.

After his father had gone Otʻhegwenhda burned Djieien’s lodge. When nothing but coals were left, something shot up out of them, and flying westward, it finally alighted on the plain, becoming a Dowisdowi (Sandpiper). “That is the way I do, and that is why I claimed, ‘I can kill anybody,’” said the boy. Going around the edge of the clearing on the eastern side, he found a broad trail on which he traveled for half a day, until he came to a cross-trail leading from north to south. He stood at the four corners made by the trails, and putting the fetish on his hand said, “You are the one I need.” “What do you wish?” asked the fetish. “I wish you to tell me what I am to do now.” “If you go to the foot of that pine tree,” answered the fetish, “you shall find a bark bowl, beyond the tree a medicine spring, on the other side of the spring, a plant. Dig up this plant, put it into the bowl, which you shall fill with water from the spring, and then at this spot where the trails intersect, dig a hole, and in it put the bowl with the plant standing in the water. This done, step aside and see what will happen. Now, be quick!” Hurrying to the pine tree which grew in the northwest between the northern and western trails, Otʻhegwenhda found the spring, and farther on, the plant awéaundagon (in full bloom), with bright red blossoms. He did as directed, putting the bowl with the plant therein in the ground at the crossing of the trails; then stepping aside, he watched and listened. Presently he heard a noise in the forest like that made by a heavy wind from the north. Nearer and nearer it came, accompanied with a great cloud of dust. Nothing could be distinguished until the cloud stopped at the crossing. Then, in the middle of the cloud he saw the skeleton of Djainosgowa standing near the bowl. The skeleton, walking up to the plant, ate one of its red blossoms. Though it had no stomach, no place to hide the blossom, it nevertheless vanished, at which the boy wondered greatly, saying: “It is nothing but bones. Where does the food go?” Presently, the skeleton growing sick, jumped around until it fell to pieces—arms, legs, head, ribs, all the bones falling apart. Now Otʻhegwenhda laughed, standing in his hiding place. But before he had stopped laughing he heard the rushing of another wind from the south; after it came a cloud of dust, which stopped at the crossing, and he saw the skeleton of Tsodiqgwadon near the bowl. This also, going straight to the plant, ate a blossom. In a moment it began to shake all over; soon it fell to pieces, becoming a pile of bones. Soon the sound of a third wind was heard approaching from the east with a great cloud of dust. This came rushing on until it stopped at the crossing. In the middle of the cloud was the skeleton of Ganiagwaihegowa, which ate a blossom, after doing which it began to tremble and to become disjointed until, finally, it was a mere heap of bones, like the other three.

Taking out the fetish again, Otʻhegwenhda asked it, “Is the work all finished now?” “Yes,” said the fetish; “all the trails are clear. Now you can go to the end of the southern trail. Perhaps you may find your brother there. If you do, treat him as you did your father.” Immediately he started toward the south. When he reached the end of the trail, he could see nothing; but he searched until at last he found a rock with an opening in it. Entering this opening, he went down into the ground, looking around very closely. It was dark, and he thought, “There may be more skeletons here, but I must go on.” At last he came to a room. There was no fire in it; only plenty of light. He saw also another room, on entering which he found three of his brothers—the eldest and the two next to him. The eldest called out: “Oh, my brother! are you here? You would better run away. The skeleton will come soon.” “Oh! I will kill it,” he said. “My brother, I do not think you can live if you stay here,” the elder brother continued. “I have come to take you away,” answered Otʻhegwenhda. “We can not walk,” answered the three brothers; “the skeleton has eaten our flesh.” On looking at them, he saw that their limbs were bare bones. After he had rubbed them with his spittle, they were covered with flesh as before, and his brothers were well and strong again. Thereupon he said: “I want you to start home now. I will go to find our other brothers.”

The three brothers now went home. When their mother saw them, she began to cry, thinking they were ghosts, and, seizing a club, she drove them out. They found their father, who was very glad to see them, and they sat down on the rocks with him.

Otʻhegwenhda, now returning to the crossing, went along the eastern trail to the end. There he saw nothing and wondered whence Ganiagwaihegowa came. At last he noticed an opening in the ground, and, entering it, he went down. It was very dark within. “There must be a skeleton here,” thought he, looking around. Going farther, he came to a room in which was abundant light from rotten wood all around. Farther on he came to a second room, in which were three of his brothers too weak to move, all their flesh having been eaten away. Having brought flesh to their limbs by means of his spittle, he sent them home. Their mother, thinking that they were ghosts, cried; then she drove them out to the rocks, where they found their father and brothers.

Otʻhegwenhda now went along the northern trail until he came to a small opening, where he stopped a moment. At this time a whirlwind came straight upon him, causing him to run to the shelter of a great maple tree near by. In a short time he heard the sound of a blow on the other side of the tree. Looking toward the spot, he saw an Onwi (Winged Snake) lying dead, for coming in the whirlwind, it had struck the tree and in this way had been killed. The boy now went to the edge of the opening, where he heard the noise caused by a second great whirlwind. “I shall die this time surely,” thought he, as he saw a multitude of winged snakes borne by the whirlwind. Again as he stood behind a tree, they rushed far beyond. Thereupon he ran to the other side of the opening. Presently the whirlwind of snakes [334] came back; this time he lay down on the roots, on the opposite side of the tree, until the snakes rushed by and far away. Now, putting the fetish on his hand, it stood up alive; he asked, “What am I to do with these snakes that are chasing me?” “Oh! make a large fire across their trail,” was the reply. Gathering boughs and sticks into a great pile, he set fire to the western end of it, saying to the wind, “Oh, my grandfather! send a breeze on the western end of this pile.” His grandfather heard him, and soon there was a mighty fire. When well kindled, he said, “Let the breeze be still.” Immediately it died out. Very soon the snakes came on again in the whirlwind, and rushing into the fire, every one was killed.

Now free, Otʻhegwenhda hurried along the northern trail again until he came to a second one leading toward the northeast. Once more taking out the fetish, he asked, “Which way shall I go?” “North,” was the answer. So he went on. Soon he saw a trail going toward the northwest, but he kept straight on his own trail to the end. At first he saw nothing there, but after a long search he found an opening near a birch tree which stood at the end of the trail. On entering, he came to a room in which an old man sat smoking. “What can that old man be doing,” thought he. Presently the old man straightened up, saying: “I am weak this morning. It seems to me somebody is around here. I thought the man who guarded the opening said the Hongak family were all dead.” Raising his head, the old man looked, and as he looked, his eyes seemed to stand out from his head. At length he saw the boy, to whom he said: “My nephew, I am glad you have come to visit me. I am going to try whether I can find what luck (or orenda) you have. So saying, he shook a rattle made of Dagwanoenyent, saying sáwa. “No,” said Otʻhegwenhda, “I will try your orenda or magic power.” “Oh, no! I will try first,” said the old man, whose name was Dewaqsentʻhwûs (Flea). Thereupon they disputed until they came to blows. Throwing down the rattle, the old man struck the boy with one hand. Immediately the old man’s arm fell off; he struck with the other hand, whereupon the other arm fell off. Then he kicked at the youth with one leg, and that broke off; he kicked with the other leg, which likewise dropped off. The old man was now merely head and body. The arms and the legs tried to get back into their places, but Otʻhegwenhda rushed around to push them away, and shot an arrow through the old man. Immediately the arrow, taking root, became a small tree. Though fastened to the earth, the old man tried to bite Otʻhegwenhda, but the moment he did so, his head flew off. The boy pounded the body to bits. Jumping and dancing around, he said, “Oh! my uncle is all in pieces.” In the old man’s lodge he found a second room, in which were the last three of his brothers, who were as weak and wretched as were the others. These he cured in like manner and sent home. Their mother drove them out of the lodge, whence they went and sat down on the rocks with their father and six brothers.

After his brothers had gone home Otʻhegwenhda, taking out the fetish, asked it, “Is there anything on the northeastern trail?” “Not much. Still you will save some people, if you go there,” was the reply. “Is there trouble in the northwest?” the youth asked. “Yes; but not very much,” was the answer. Keeping on to the end of the northwestern trail, Otʻhegwenhda found a lodge without a door, at which he thought, “How can I get into this lodge?” Peeping through a crack, he saw within an old woman of the Onweaunt people, who was singing, “Otʻhegwenhda is coming, Otʻhegwenhda is coming.” “Well, she knows I am here,” thought the boy. Presently, saying, “I will go out and play,” she went into a small but very deep lake, called Dyunyudenodes, also Dedyoendjongoqden,[335] going way down into the water. After a while her tail appeared moving around in a circle on the water. As the lake was very small she was near the shore. The boy saw on the tail two small objects like fins, which in rubbing against each other made music. After the old woman had played a while, she started to come out. Seeing the boy, she said, “My grandson, do not kill me; I never killed any of your people.” “If you give me something, I won’t kill you,” answered the boy. “Well, I will give you one of these points on my tail;” and taking off one, she said, “Keep this; it is good to find out your luck with.” “What shall I do when I want to use it?” asked the youth. “Put it under your head when you go to sleep; you will have a dream, and the dream will tell you what you want to know,” she replied.

Now the boy went home with the old woman. On entering her lodge and looking around, he saw an opening in the ground; going through this, he found a great many people almost dead. To these he said, “My friends, I have come to help you, so you may live a little longer.” Having spat on his hands, he rubbed each one of them, whereupon all were well straightway, and went out into the open air. He asked all where they came from and told them what direction to take to go home. One said, “I came from Hetgen Tgastende.” There were ten with him; they were Donyonda people. “Go toward the southwest for five days,” the youth told him. Another said, “We came from Gawenogowanenne.” “Go westward five days’ journey,” he ordered. Twenty followed him; they were Teqdoon people. A third person said, “We came from Dyoenhdanódes;” these were Díhdih people.[336] “Go toward the northeast,” he directed them. A fourth person said, “We live in Dyonondadenyon;337 our chief’s name is Honigonowanen.” These were Djoqgweani338 people. Otʻhegwenhda said: “I must go to pay you a visit. You have twenty days’ journey before you.”

All went home. When they were gone, Otʻhegwenhda went back to the old woman, whom he asked, “Why did you shut up these people?” “I did not shut them up,” she replied. “Well, they were in your lodge,” he continued. “Yes, but my husband, who is a man-eater, did it,” she responded. “Does he live here? What is his name?” he asked. “He lives on another trail,” she replied; “his name is Dewaqsentʻhwûs (the Weeper, or Flea).” The boy, laughing, asked, “Was that old man your husband? Oh! I killed him some time ago.” “Are you sure?” “Yes,” he said. “Well, then I am glad. I never liked him. Your people are safe now, for you killed the man who always hunted them.” The boy said, “I will let you live this time, but I will kill you if you ever chase my people.”

Otʻhegwenhda now went on the northeastern trail until he came to a lodge in which he heard singing in a very low voice: “The youngest son of Hongak is going all over the world. We wish he would come to visit us.” Then the song ceased, and a woman’s voice said, “I feel worse this morning.” “Let us go out and play and feel well,” answered the man’s voice. Coming out, with the boy following them, they went to some white flints as large as a lodge. Picking up one of these stones, the woman threw it into the air. It fell on her head but did not hurt her a bit. Then she threw it to the man who, having caught it, threw it back. Thus they played some time until the woman said, “Let us go home.” “Very well,” answered the man. Otʻhegwenhda hurried on before them. After they had entered the lodge, the man said: “It seems as though some one were here. I will go and look outside.” On going out and finding the boy, he said, “My grandson, what are you doing here?” The youth replied, “I have come just to visit you.” “Come inside then,” was the response. “Otʻhegwenhda has come,” said the man to his wife, who turned, saying: “My grandson, I am glad you have come. We have been waiting for a long time to see you. Now we will tell you why we wish you to be powerful. We know that you have killed the man-eater, Dewaqsentʻhwûs, and the skeletons of Tsodiqgwadon and Ganiagwaihegowa. There are many people under our lodge and we want you to free them.” At one corner of the room was an opening through which the boy passed into a second very large room, in which he found a multitude of people without flesh and almost dead. He rubbed them with spittle, thus curing them, after which he brought them out. “Now,” said he, “you are all free and need have no further fear, for the evil people are all dead.” He then asked all where they came from. One party, the Djoñiaik people, said they came from Diogegas he Tgawenonde (Hickory Point). “You go southward fifty days,” he told them; and they went. The second party, the Gaisgense people, said they came from Gendowane (Great Meadow). “You go toward the southeast,” he told them. A third party, the Djagwiu people, said they came from Gahadowane (Great Forest). “You go toward the southeast,” he told them. A fourth party, the Ogenhwan people, said they came from Diodonhwendjíagon (Broken Land). A fifth party, the Gwaqgwa people, said they came from Hehdon dyóondaien (Juneberry Tree Grove). “Go directly westward a day and a half,” was the command. A sixth party, the Guro [339] people, said that they came from Nitgendasédyea (Beyond the Narrow Opening). “You travel toward the south five days’ journey,” he said. Three were left who did not remember at first where they came from. Then they said, “We think that the old people called the place we came from Steep Opening.” “Then you go northeastward,” said the youth. Otʻhegwenhda was left there alone. The man and woman who had been guarding the people just liberated now thanked him; they, too, were then free from Dewaqsentʻhwûs, the man-eater, who, being master of the skeletons, had forced them all to work for him in capturing and confining people for him to eat. “Now,” said Otʻhegwenhda, “let all the trails disappear. Trails are not to be made across the world to deceive people.” Thereupon the trails all vanished.

Then the youth went to his own lodge, where he found his father and his nine brothers, sitting on a great flat stone. “Oh!” said the youth, “why do you not go inside where my mother is?” Hagowanen answered, “Your mother drove us out.” Otʻhegwenhda, going into the lodge, asked: “Mother, what have you done? Are you not glad that I brought my father and brothers back?” “Did you find and bring them home?” asked his mother. “Yes, I did,” he replied. Then the woman was sorry. She invited them in, and they came into the lodge and all were happy. After he had been home a while Otʻhegwenhda said to his family: “I must visit my friends, the Djoqgweani in Dionondadenion. It is not far from here,” he said. They had to let him go and do what he liked, for he possessed the most potent orenda.

Otʻhegwenhda soon came to a lake called Onyudetdji (Rough Lake). Putting on the water a piece of slate, he said, “I want you to take me across.” Sitting upon the slate, it carried him quickly over the water to the other side, where he left it, saying: “Wait here until I return. Then I shall need your help again.” Soon reaching Dionondadenion, a beautiful country, he inquired until he found the chief’s lodge. When he entered he saw an old man, to whom he said: “I have come to see you.” The old man was silent. The youth spoke again, but received no answer. “Why do you not speak?” thought he. A third time he spoke, whereupon the old man replied, “Why do you not hurry and eat up all my people?” “I have never killed any of your people. I have saved many of them from Dewaqsentʻhwûs, and I thought you would be glad,” said the youth. “Well, there is a man around here eating up all my people. He looks like you, though he is an old man.” “I came to help you,” said Otʻhegwenhda, “and I will kill this man.” “Well, he is coming now,” said Honigoneowanen. Presently a man kicked the door open and came in, saying, “I have come to see you a few moments.” His mouth was smeared with fresh blood. Otʻhegwenhda, standing up, said: “I have come to fight with you. You will have to conquer me before you kill these people.” “Very well,” said the man-eater, whose name was Djiniondaqses;[340] “come out.” Thereupon they went out, and they fought until night; then until dawn. Next morning Otʻhegwenhda was nothing but bones, while the man-eater, too, had lost all his flesh. The two skeletons fought all that day, and when night came, their bodies were broken up, nothing being left but the two skulls. The skulls fought all night, and when daylight came the skull of Djiniondaqses was crushed to pieces. The skull of Otʻhegwenhda was sound, and it kept on rolling over the ground where he had fought. As it rolled around, the bones of his body began to reattach themselves to it, and soon the skeleton was complete. Then the skeleton rolled in the blood and flesh where he had fought, and straightway the flesh and blood grew to it, until at last Otʻhegwenhda stood up sound and well as ever.

When Otʻhegwenhda went into the chief’s lodge, Honigoneowanen said: “I am very glad and thank you. I will now give you my daughter, and when you are old enough, you shall marry her.” Otʻhegwenhda took the chief’s daughter to Hetgen Tgastende and they lived there.

70. OKTEONDON AND HAIEÑTʻHWUS [341] (THE PLANTERS)

Okteondon was a youth who lived with his maternal uncle, Haieñtʻhwus, in an arborlike lodge in the forest. From his earliest babyhood Okteondon lay carefully hidden from the eyes of the people, having been for this purpose securely fastened under the roots of a large tree, around which his uncle had erected his lodge.[341a] Okteondon had now reached the age of puberty.

One day while Haieñtʻhwus was in the neighboring field planting corn, he heard his nephew singing in a loud voice: “Now, I am rising. Now, I am rising.” Dropping his planting-stick and shouting, “No, my nephew, you are not ready yet; you are in too great a hurry,” Haieñtʻhwus ran home, where he found that Okteondon had raised his head by partially uprooting and overturning the sheltering tree. Haieñtʻhwus therefore pushed him back into his place, admonishing him, “I will tell you when it is time for you to arise.”

The next day Haieñtʻhwus again went out to plant corn. He had hardly reached the field when he heard once more his nephew begin to sing and to strive to arise. Haieñtʻhwus at once started for the lodge, running with so much haste that he lost on the way all his seed corn from his seeding basket. When he reached home he found the tree half uprooted and leaning far over to one side. So he pushed his nephew back into his place, but he was unable to reset the tree as firmly or as nearly upright as it was before.

On the third day Haieñtʻhwus again went out to finish his corn planting, but the moment that he began to drop the grains of corn he heard still again the singing of his nephew. So Haieñtʻhwus without delay rushed back to the lodge, but while running he heard an awful crash and crackling of limbs, from which he knew that the tree had fallen. When he reached the lodge he found Okteondon sitting on the ground. Haieñtʻhwus did not return to the field to complete his corn planting, but remained in his home to look after his nephew and to make the necessary preparations for the coming marriage of the young man.