Chapter XXVII: Part 2: also consists of Seneca legends and myths, which are (22)

One morning his wife, who was chagrined by the failure of her husband to provide a sufficiency of food for herself and little ones, said to him: “Can you not bring home more meat than you do? We are very, very hungry.” Hadjowiski, dissembling, replied, “No; I can not kill more game, for I have not efficient orenda (magic power).” But the suspecting wife persisted in her questioning: “Well, your back always looks as if you had killed plenty of game. What do you do with it after you have killed it?” To this the husband answered: “Nothing. I never have good luck.” The wife did not believe him, however, so she retorted, “I think that you are doing something wrong with what you kill.”

That day Hadjowiski did not bring any game home, but his back bore traces of fresh blood. In further chiding him his wife said: “There is fresh blood on your back, so you must have killed some game today.” But he replied: “No; I killed nothing. That blood came from my getting hurt by a hemlock tree falling on me.” But she did not believe him at all.

The next morning he was on the trail long before sunrise. His wife, now thoroughly aroused, stealthily followed him. Just at midday she saw him kill with a small stone a large bear. Taking the bear on his back, he started off, trailed by his wife. He soon reached a lodge, which he entered, wholly unaware that his wife was following him. Creeping up to the lodge, she listened outside to what was being said within, and overheard the voice of a woman, saying, “The next time you come you must stay here, and you must not go back home again.” Hadjowiski replied, “It is well; I shall do so.” Thereupon he came out of the lodge, in which he left all the meat he had killed that day, and started for home.

His wife ran on ahead, and, reaching home ahead of her husband, she said to her boys, “Sons, your father has another wife, so I shall not remain here any longer.” Then putting on her panther-skin robe, she departed. When Hadjowiski arrived at his home, not finding his wife, he asked: “What is the matter? Where is your mother?” One of the boys told him that his mother had been gone all day, and that, returning but a short time before, she had put on her panther-skin robe, declaring that she was going away. Hadjowiski hung his head, but at last he asked, “Why did she go away?” The boy replied: “She told us that you have another wife.” To this the father answered: “It is well. My sons, I shall follow her. I want you to remain in the lodge while I am away. If I am alive then, I will be back home in 10 days.” Hadjowiski departed and traveled all night. The next morning he found his wife’s tracks, and discovered that she had doubled on them, but he kept straight ahead, knowing well that she had done this in order to deceive him. Soon afterward he was again on her trail, going directly westward. After traveling for some time he came at last to a lodge in which lived an old man, who said: “You are traveling, my friend?” Hadjowiski replied: “Yes. I am following the woman whose tracks come to this lodge.” Then Sʻhagoiyagentʻha,[354] for such was the old man’s name, who belonged to the Nosgwais people, answered, “I do not know where she has gone.” Hadjowiski again declared, “Her tracks come here, anyway.” Sʻhagoiyagentʻha replied: “It is well. You can look for her, if you like.” So Hadjowiski searched for her everywhere, but he could not find her. Finally the old man resolved to send him off, so he asked him, “Do you want me to tell you which way she went from here?” Hadjowiski replied, “Yes; I do.” Thereupon Sʻhagoiyagentʻha brought a small canoe made of flint, telling the man to sit in it. When Hadjowiski had done so the old man shoved the canoe out of the doorway, and at once it rose into the air, through which it passed with great rapidity. Finally the canoe collided with a high rock, and the renegade Hadjowiski was flung out; falling among the rocks, he was killed. The canoe, which was endowed with life, returned to the old man.

When the sons of Hadjowiski had been at home for several days the eldest went out to hunt. When night came he did not return to his home. So the next morning the second brother started off to find him, if possible. The brothers who remained at home waited all day, but he, too, failed to return. The second morning the third brother went to look for the two others, but he likewise did not come back. Thus, day after day passed, until at last the six brothers had gone out and not one had returned. Only Deoyadastatʻhe was left of the family of seven sons.[355] He was always under the bed playing with his dog, which was a flea. Finally, judging from the unbroken silence reigning in the lodge, Deoyadastatʻhe exclaimed: “It seems to me that there is no one in the lodge, for I hear no one moving around. I shall see about it.” So saying, he came forth from under the bed and looked around, but saw no one; then he listened for some sound, but he heard none. After listening for a long time, he exclaimed: “It seems to me that I hear my mother crying. It must be that she is weeping in the far west. I shall therefore go to her.” Going outside the lodge, he stood still, listening, while his dog stood behind him. He now heard quite distinctly the sound of weeping in the far west. By low half-uttered growls his dog showed that it, too, heard some unusual sound.

Deoyadastatʻhe finally declared: “That is my mother who is weeping, for I recognize her voice. I must go to her.” As he started, both he and his dog, rising in the air, flew along over the highest trees, directing their flight toward the west. At last in the far distant west they alighted at the edge of a village. Making their way into it, they finally entered an old hut in which they found two women, an aged grandmother and her granddaughter. To the grandmother Deoyadastatʻhe said, “I have come to visit you.” She replied: “We are too poor for that. We have nothing to eat, and you would get very hungry.” “Oh! I do not care for food,” Deoyadastatʻhe answered; “I want only shelter at night.” “It is well; you may remain,” said the grandmother. One morning when Deoyadastatʻhe had been there several days some one came on the run to the lodge, and kicking the door-flap aside, said: “You are invited tonight to the burning of the woman’s feet and to pick up wampum beads from the tears that she sheds. All are pressed to be at the lodge of assembly tonight.” When the messenger had gone, the grandmother exclaimed: “Oh! how very wicked are the people of this village. That old man, Sʻhagoiyagentʻha, is the evil servant of the Chief Dihdih.[356] (The rest of the people belong to the Gaqga357 family.)” Now, the grandmother, whose name was Yeqsinye, also belonged to the Gaqga family. She was in the habit of making bark thread by rolling it on her legs. When night came Deoyadastatʻhe went to the lodge of assembly, where he saw a great multitude of people. Entering the lodge, he saw his mother tied to a post—the war post of torture. And as soon as Deoyadastatʻhe entered the room his mother, scenting him, knew that he was there. Then Chief Dihdih arose and said: “Now all be ready. Look out for the beads.” He had two daughters, who lighted the torches for the people who were intending to burn the woman’s feet. When they held the torches under the woman’s feet tears flowed from her eyes which fell on the ground, where they became beautiful wampum. The people rushed forward to pick up the beads. Deoyadastatʻhe was watching for an opportunity to rescue his mother; so when the people were on their knees gathering the wampum, quickly unbinding his mother, he led her out of doors. Then he said, as he ran around the devoted lodge, “Let this lodge become flint and let it become at once heated to a white heat.”358 This at once took place, and the people within the lodge, becoming too hot, ceased picking up wampum and tried to escape, but they could not. There were fearful shrieks and wails, but these continued only for a moment before all were dead. The heads of the dead people burst asunder and from them came owls, which flew out of the smoke-hole of the lodge.

Then Deoyadastatʻhe told his mother that they must leave that place. So calling his dog, they started for the lodge of old Yeqsinye. In passing through the village a blue lizard attacked Deoyadastatʻhe and his little party, but the young man tore it to pieces. As the pieces fell to the ground the dog carried them away so that they would not fly back into place again before they became cool. Then the young man said, “You thought that you were going to kill me, but I have destroyed you.” When Deoyadastatʻhe arrived with his mother at the lodge of old woman Yeqsinye, he said to her, “I have killed all the people of the wicked village, so you shall now live in peace.” For this the old woman thanked him.

Then Deoyadastatʻhe and his mother and dog continued their journey until they arrived at their own lodge. There they found the six brothers of Deoyadastatʻhe, who had returned during his absence.

[The relator of the story evidently did not know the entire legend, for nothing is said as to where and as to why they had been so long away, nor how they came back.—Editor.]

74. A GENESIS TRADITION

[A modern version; a fragment]

Before this earth came into existence there were human beings who dwelt in the center of the sky above. In the middle of the village in the sky stood a tree which was covered with white blossoms.

It so chanced that a woman of that country dreamed a dream. In that dream an Ongwe [359] said to her that the great tree bearing white blossoms must be pulled up by the roots. When this tree was in bloom its flowers gave light to the people there, but when its flowers fell, darkness came over the people. When the woman related her dream all the people kept silent, because they felt that the suggestion was that of a visionary and because the tree was sacred to them. In the course of time the woman dreamed again, and in the dream the Ongwe declared to her that a circular trench must be dug around the tree, which must be pulled up by the roots; that then something giving more and better light would come to them. Notwithstanding this second dream, the people remained obdurate, paying no attention to the advice of the Ongwe of the dream. Time went on and the woman had a third dream, in which the injunctions of the other two dreams were repeated, that the tree must be pulled up by the roots. Then one of the men said, “I believe that if we give heed to the words of the dream we may receive better light, and that the people will have cause to rejoice for having obeyed the words of the dream.” His advice was adopted by the people at large.

So a number of men began digging and cutting around the roots of the tree. Suddenly, when the last root was cut, the tree sank into the ground, disappearing from sight. Thereupon the chief of the people there said, “I have never given any heed to this dream, because I knew that something strange would happen to the people if I did.” Then he ordered that the woman who had had these dreams should be cast into the hole left by the tree. The order was carried out. The pit seemed to have no bottom. Nothing could be seen in it, for all was darkness within. The woman continued falling through the hole for a long time; at last she saw that below her it began to grow light. When finally she had passed through the hole she emerged into bright light in our sky. Looking down, she saw beneath her a great expanse of water, on which floated loons, ducks, and various kinds of water folk, but no land.

Of these the loon was the first to see the dark object falling from above, at which he exclaimed, “I believe that a human being is falling down from above, and I think that it is best for us that all join together and give aid to her, for if we do not she will sink when she strikes the water.” So all the water folk were notified to help save the woman. They all came together—Loon, Fishhawk, Beaver, Water Serpent, Turtle, and all who dwell in the water. Then Loon said to Fishhawk, “Go with your warriors and meet the woman in the air; receive her on your backs, and thus hold her in the air until we shall be ready for you to bring her down here.” Instantly this request was performed. While the others watched they saw the woman fall on the backs of the fishhawks, and they were delighted to see that the fishhawks were able to hold her in the air. Then the Loon said, “What are we going to do with her?” to which the Turtle replied, “I will take care of the woman.” But Loon answered, “You can not take care of her, for you are too fond of eating flesh.” Next the Water Serpent said, “I will volunteer to help this woman and to take care of her; she can come and sit between my horns, and so I shall carry her wherever I go.” Loon rejoined, “You can not take care of her, for you are endowed with too much evil orenda (magic power), which would kill her.” The Turtle spoke a second time, saying, “I think I can care for her, if you can find some earth to place upon my carapace.” This suggestion satisfying Loon and the other leaders, Loon replied, “You may take care of her if we can obtain the earth.” There were there many kinds of water folk, all of which were sent into the water in an attempt to obtain some earth. They dived down, but, one after another, they soon floated up to the surface dead. Hell-diver at last brought up a small quantity of earth. The Loon being the chief, when Hell-diver came up with the earth he sent all of that kind of water folk after more earth. Then Beaver mounted on Turtle’s back, and as the Duck people brought up the earth he used his tail like a trowel, fastening the earth on the carapace of the Turtle.

The earth at once began to grow, spreading out large. Chief Loon soon decided that it had acquired a sufficient extent for their purpose, so he called to the Fishhawk and his men to bring down the woman. This they did, placing her on the newly made earth on the carapace of the Turtle. In the meantime Beaver and the Duck people kept at work making the earth larger. As it grew in size, a still greater number of Beaver and Duck people were set to work around the edges of it. The Turtle floated with ease. Then on the earth bushes began to grow, little red bushes like water reeds. The woman walked around the edges of the earth to see how the workers were succeeding in their labors and to encourage them. She was pregnant, and in a short time after this descent a girl baby was born to her. The child grew rapidly to womanhood. She was very active, and soon took her mother’s place, walking around the island inspecting its growth. It was now very large, and she would be away all day on her tour of the island.

One day it chanced as she was walking along that she met a very fine-looking young man. Promptly falling in love, they decided to live together as husband and wife. It is said that by this union Day and Night came into the world. Her mother was not consulted. It was the custom of the young woman to go out in the morning to look for the young man at their trysting place, and in the evening to start for home. One evening when they had parted she resolved to look back to have a view of him. On turning around, she saw a large turtle walking along where she knew her husband had just been, hence she reached the conclusion that a turtle was deceiving her; then she went home. The next day she remained at home and, indeed, did not go out any more after that time. Her mother saw from her appearance that she was pregnant. Being questioned about her condition, she told her mother the whole story of her marriage, concluding with the statement that the last time they had met she had turned to look at him as they parted, whereupon she saw only a great turtle walking where she expected to see her husband.

The time for her confinement having arrived, the prospective mother heard a conversation being carried on within her body. One speaker said: “Let us go out now,” but the other replied: “You go first, and I will follow you.” Then she heard one say, “Let us go out by the way of the armpit, for I see a little light there,” but the other answered, “No; we should kill our mother in doing so.” Finally, one came into the world in the natural way, but she heard the one who was left say, “I am going out through the armpit, for I can go quicker in that way.” This statement he repeated a number of times, and at last he tried to issue through the armpit with his head. Twice he failed, but the third time he succeeded, although his mother died immediately. He possessed a peculiar head, in the form of a rough flint. The grandmother had to draw this child out of his mother’s body, for he could not get out unaided. Both children lived.

Before the twins were born, while they were conversing in her body, the woman told her mother that she was going to die and that she should be buried and covered well with earth. She said further that a stalk would sprout out of the ground over her which would produce white corn; that a second stalk would grow which would produce red corn; that one of these stalks would grow from each of her breasts; and that each stalk would bear an ear of corn, which the grandmother must pluck, giving one to each of the children. A short time after her burial the two stalks appeared above the ground, just as she had foretold.

The boys grew up strong and healthy, but the younger was an awkward, ugly, disagreeable fellow; he was ill-tempered, often striking his brother in anger.

One day while the elder brother was away, the younger one became lonely, so he decided to make something. Seating himself on the ground, from a portion of earth he formed an object which was in shape like a grasshopper. After he had finished it, he set it down, saying, “Can you not jump?” Then he blew on it until at last the grasshopper did jump. As the grasshopper flew away, the youth decided to try to make a creature that would fly higher. So he made a bird of red clay, which is the cherry bird. After he had finished it he set it up, telling it to fly. Obeying him, the bird flew up in the air, alighting on a bough. This was the first land bird. Thus the youth made one after another all the birds of the air. Then he resolved to make a creature that would run on the ground. So forming a deer out of earth, he brought it to life. Thereupon, saying to it, “Now you shall run swiftly and go everywhere around the world,” he caused the deer to live by blowing upon it. In this manner he made all the various kinds of wild animals, and also formed a human being out of the earth.

The elder brother had a chosen place where he sat while making these things. When he formed the human being, his brother chanced to find him. Then the younger brother, deciding that he, too, would form a human being, went off by himself. Having formed a human being as best he could, he brought his creation to life, but it did not look like the human being his brother had formed; it was a strange looking creature. When he saw that it was not a human being, but an ugly-looking object, he said: “My brother has made a human being over there; you may eat the human being made by my brother.”

The elder brother, suspecting the younger, went near him and found him making animals of various kinds, and he also heard him instructing them to eat human beings. So, going back to his own place, the elder brother caught the cherry bird, and pulling out the hind leg of a grasshopper, he gave it to the bird, saying, “Go and scare my brother.” As the bird held the leg it became in form like that of a human being and bloody. Flying near the younger brother, the bird perched on a near-by bough and began to cry out, “Gowe! Gowe!” When the younger brother saw what the bird carried and heard what it cried, he left his work and fled home to his grandmother, to whom he said: “A bird came and perched just where I was at work. I believe my brother made it to frighten me, for I was afraid that it would pull my leg out, so I fled from there.” When the elder brother returned the grandmother said, “You should not frighten your brother.”

Finding that the first human being made was wandering around alone, the elder brother decided to make a companion for him in the form of his grandmother. So he did this, and when the new being was finished he breathed into her, telling her to walk, and then he took her to the man, saying to him: “I give you her. You must always go together.” During the night the human beings found that one of the man’s arms and one of the woman’s were in the way, so the man said, “We will cut them off,” and this they did. When their maker came along in the morning and saw what they had done he said: “This will not do. I shall give them blood and pain”;[360] so from himself he gave them a portion of blood and a measure of pain. He also put back the arms which they had severed from their bodies. Before this they had no blood nor pain. To the man he said: “I have made you two, and now you shall have children like yourselves. You may also hunt the animals which I have made for food. Kill them and eat their flesh; this will be your food. I have decided to go above in the sky. You will not live here forever. You shall die, and your spirit shall come up to me where I will live hereafter.” After the younger brother found that the elder brother had gone up into the sky he went forth and, seeing the man and the woman, he talked with them. Then he said to himself, “I am going to make a human being at any cost.” So, taking earth, he shaped it as best he could; and when it was completed he blew into its mouth and ordered it to arise and whoop. Thereupon it shouted, “Ho, ho!” He shoved it from behind and it took a great leap. It was a green frog which was as large as a man. The younger brother was now angry and said: “I can not make a man. My brother has made a human being and she-human being and many animals. May what I have made become man-eaters and eaters of animals—eaters of whatever my brother has made.”

The elder brother, looking down from the sky, saw that all the animals which his brother had made were trying to eat up the human beings and the animals which he had made. So he placed all these monsters of his brother’s creation down in the ground and ordered them to stay there so long as the earth remained. Having done this, he returned to his home in the sky.

When the younger brother learned that his animals had been placed underground by his brother, he was very angry, and exclaimed, “I shall try again to make a human being.” So he worked a portion of clay to make it pliable and responsive, going at times to take a look at the human being which his brother had made. But when his own human being was finished and he had brought him to life, he was indeed a horrid-looking creature. The younger brother told him to whoop, but he could only say, “Ho, ho!” This creature was Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa, who was told by the younger brother to go and eat up all the things that his elder brother had made. Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa started off to do this.

The elder brother in the sky, seeing what was going on, came down to earth to place Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa under the ground. But the latter spoke first, saying: “I desire to live on the earth. I will be your servant and will help you. I will go around in the woods and rocky places. The ashes of the fires shall be my medicine for human beings. Should anyone be taken ill, I will scatter ashes over the patient, who shall be made well at once.” The elder brother could not put Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa underground, for he had spoken first, so he had to allow him to remain on the surface of the earth.

Now, the younger brother, going to his grandmother, said: “I have tried my best to make a human being, but have failed. I shall now cause people to be evil-minded. I shall go away and shall have a home, too. And all the evil people who die shall come to me and I shall torment them because I could not make a human being.”

If one who is good shall die, he shall go to the elder brother, in his home in the sky.

75. THE TWO BROTHERS AND THE MICE FETISHES

In times past there lived two brothers in a lodge which was built in a secluded place in the forest.

Most of the time the elder brother was lying down in order to mature some design which he was developing in his mind. From time to time he would say to his brother: “Now, my younger brother, be very careful of everything, and be on your guard against the evil that others may try to do us. Whenever some person comes here to see us, remember what I am now telling you. And do not forget that under my bed, in a secret place, are a human skull and some other sacred things, which it is not proper for you to show any other person.”

Some time afterward two young women came to the lodge of the two brothers to look around in order to learn what the two young men had. After showing them many things, the younger brother said, “I must tell you that there are some things which are sacred, and which, therefore, I cannot show you.” But after a while, as the two women appeared to be so kind and agreeable, and so much pleased with what they had seen, and as they shyly pleaded to be shown the things which the younger brother said he was not at liberty to show, at last yielding, he brought out the human skull. Snatching it out of the young man’s hands, one of the young women flew away quickly, while the other followed her at once. Thereupon the elder brother said, “Now, you must chase these women with the corn-pounder and see whether or not you can overtake them.” So he ran after them with the corn-pounder, and soon overtaking them, pounded them to death; then he carried the skull back to his elder brother. The latter asked him, “Have you recovered the skull?” The younger brother replied, “Yes, and I have also killed the women.”

Not long afterward, two other young women came to the lodge to see what the brothers had that was curious. The younger brother showed them various common articles, but the women said that these were not the articles they wanted to see. Finally he showed them the human skull, at which one of the women, snatching the skull away from the young man, flew out of the smoke-hole, the other woman following her at once. When the younger brother cried out at what they had done, the elder brother told him to bring his bow and quiver of arrows. The younger instantly obeyed, whereupon the elder brother shot an arrow up through the smoke-hole.

Some time after the woman had taken the skull away, the elder brother told the younger that he was going to the place to which the women had carried it. While on the way there the elder brother asked himself the question, “How shall I disguise myself?” He finally concluded to transform himself into an aged man; so, making the necessary change, he became a wretched-looking old man. On his journey he reached at last a place where there was a large assembly of people, some of whom came to him, saying, “We will aid you”; but he replied, “I do not want to mingle with the crowd, for I am too old to do so; but I shall lie down a little way from the assembly.” While lying there he discovered what he wanted—information concerning the woman who had carried off the skull. He learned that she was there, and that she was ill and suffering great agony. On inquiring casually what was the trouble with the woman, he ascertained from another woman that she had been shot with an arrow, which was still in her body, and that no one had been found who could draw it out. She was in terrible distress from it. Every one in the assemblage was asked to attempt to draw out the arrow, but no one was able to do it. Finally, the pretended old man was asked to make a trial of his power and reluctantly consented to make the attempt; but he only feigned to be averse to performing this act. So, bearing him to the place where the woman lay in a lodge, they brought her on a piece of skin and laid her near him. Thereupon the old man, seizing the arrow with his teeth, drew it out little by little. At this, some who stood by, exclaiming that it was almost out, seized the arrow to extract it the more quickly, but it shot back into the woman’s body as soon as they had touched it. With one accord they exclaimed, “We are sorry for what we have done.” Seizing it with his teeth, the old man again drew the arrow slowly forth. Each time that he stopped to rest he cautioned the people with the words: “Do not touch it. Keep your hands off of it.” Then he would say, “I will try again.” After a while he got the arrow out. Then he said, “This is my arrow.” The woman arose from the skin and was well.

The old man was taken back to the spot where he had lain in the first place, although the people asked him to enter some lodge. He told them, however, that he preferred to remain outside in the place which he had first chosen. They brought him food and drink. Now, the woman who was cured went to her own lodge.

Then the old man asked the people to make him a present of corn, bean, and squash seed, which he desired to plant the next spring. So they brought to him the seed carefully wrapped in a skin. But he did not leave the place where he first lay down. After a while he opened the bundle and, calling the mice, said: “Little creatures, here is enough for you to eat. I desire to have you dig a tunnel underground to that woman’s lodge, so that you may go under her bed and get a skull which is there. Seize it and bring it through the tunnel to me.” Shortly an army of mice came to eat the corn, beans, and squash seed. When they had finished eating they began to tunnel, and they did not cease their work until they had made a hole through the ground to the lodge. There they found the skull, which they drew out slowly. Then the old man stealthily crept to the place where they had left the skull, and, taking it, after dismissing the mice with thanks, he started homeward. He had told the mice to eat all they desired, and so they did eat what they could in the lodge. As soon as the pretended old man was out of sight of the lodge, he again became a young man. Turning toward the village, he spoke a curse upon it, saying, “Let fire break out and destroy all that belongs to that wicked woman, the lodges, and the people.” Instantly the whole was in flames and was soon entirely consumed.

Then the young man resumed his journey toward home. When he arrived there he said: “Now, my brother, after much trouble I have recovered this skull; so do not permit any person to see it again. I have destroyed with fire the entire village and substance of that wicked woman. Hereafter we may live in peace and contentment. So heed my words.”

76. THE ORPHAN

In times past, in a certain village of the Seneca there was an orphan boy, about sixteen years of age, who went around among the people, going from lodge to lodge to live on the charity of owners, and living wherever people were willing to keep him. Sometimes he slept by a brush fire on the ground and ate whatever was given to him.

When the youth was about twenty years old he was still as much a boy as ever. A chief who was very rich lived in the same village. He had a daughter and two or three sons. One day the boy stopped near the chief’s lodge, where they were burning brush. One of the chief’s sons came out and said to him, “Oh, my friend! how long have you been here?” “Not long,” said the orphan boy. “Well, do you not feel poor and lonely sitting as you do?” was the next question. “No; I feel just as rich as you do,” replied the orphan. “Do you sometimes think that you would like to have a wife?” asked the young man. “Yes; I sometimes think that I should like to have one if I could get one,” answered the orphan. “Well, what would you think of my sister for a wife? Many men have tried to marry her, but she has refused all.” “Oh!” said the orphan boy, looking up, “I should as soon have her as anyone else; she is handsome and rich.” “I will go and ask her,” said the young man, thinking that he would have fun with his sister. Entering the lodge, he said to her: “There is a young man out here who says he would like to marry you. Will you have him?” “Why, yes! I would rather marry him than anyone else,” she replied. “Shall I tell him so?” her brother persisted. “Yes,” she answered. Thereupon he told the orphan boy, who said, “I shall be glad to marry your sister and live with her.” The brother in fun repeated this to his sister, who said, “I will go myself and ask him.” She asked the orphan, “What did my brother tell you about me?” He told her everything. She then said: “I will live with you as your wife. Come tomorrow night at this time and I will take you for my husband.” The next morning she hunted up leggings and moccasins for the orphan boy. As was the custom with youths, he had never worn moccasins in summer. The young woman made ready everything for him. In the evening she went to the meeting place, where she found him. She brought water with which he washed himself; he then put on the garments and she tied up his hair. This time she told him to come to her home and to go straight to her bed, without talking with any of the men, because one of her brothers was always playing tricks. He did as he was told. The waggish brother looked at him and laughed, and calling him by name, said, “Come and sleep with me.”

In the fall the sons of the chief were ready to go on a deer hunt, and the young married woman thought that she, too, would like to go, inasmuch as she had a youthful husband, who, perhaps, would become a good hunter. The husband said, “Yes; I will go and try,” for he had never hunted. When they had traveled some distance, they camped and began hunting. The husband, having found a place where there were wild grape vines, made a swing. There he swung all day, never hunting, as the others did. At night he would go home without game, but he did not tell what he had seen in the woods. The brothers killed many deer. One day one said to the other: “Our brother-in-law gets no game.” The other replied: “Perhaps he does not hunt.” So they agreed to watch. On following him, they found him swinging, and they noticed that the ground was worn smooth around the swing. Thereupon they said: “We will not live with this man and feed him. We will leave him and camp a day’s journey away.” So they started, leaving the man and woman only one piece of venison.

The boy never ate much, so his wife had most of the meat. When all was eaten she began to fear starvation. One day while the boy was swinging he saw a great horned owl alight in a tree near by. Having shot it, he put the body under the swing, where he could look at it as he swung. His wife was getting very hungry, and when he went home that night she said, “If I have nothing to eat tomorrow, perhaps I shall be unable to get up; you ought to kill something.” “Well, maybe tomorrow I shall kill something,” replied the orphan.

The next day he went as usual to the swing. While swinging he heard a sound like the crying of a woman. He was frightened and stopped swinging. Soon he saw a female panther coming toward him with three cubs. As they approached he heard a great noise in the north, the direction from which the panthers had come, and a Dagwanoenyent appeared, tearing down all the trees in his path. He stopped on a tree near the swing. “There! you know what harm you have done,” said the Dagwanoenyent. (The old panther and cubs had been in Dagwanoenyent’s lodge on the rocks and had run away.) “Why are you so angry at the panthers?” asked the young man; “what have they done to you?” “They have torn up my best feather cap,” replied Dagwanoenyent. “What makes you think so much of your cap? It must be very fine,” said the orphan. “Yes; it was fine,” replied Dagwanoenyent. “Of what kind of skin was it made?” was the next question. “It was made of the skin of a horned owl,” said the Dagwanoenyent. “What would you think if I gave you another one?” queried the orphan. “How can you get one?” asked Dagwanoenyent. Going to the foot of the tree, the young man tossed up the owl which he had killed. The wind had stopped blowing as soon as Dagwanoenyent lighted on the tree. The old mother panther stood at hand, listening to what Dagwanoenyent and the young man said to each other. As he tossed up the owl, Dagwanoenyent caught it and said, “I thank you; this is better than the old one;” so saying he flew away. The panther thanked the young man, saying: “I am very glad you had this owl. You have saved my life and the lives of my children; now I will try to help you. Go to that knoll yonder, and just behind it you will see a couple of buck deer fighting. You must try to kill both. The one you shoot first will not run; they will fight until they die.” Running over to the knoll, the orphan found the two bucks and killed both. Taking a large piece of the venison, he went home to his wife, for she was almost starved to death. “I have brought you meat,” said the husband. “I have killed two buck deer today.” Jumping up, she threw the venison on the fire to broil, and hardly waited for it to cook before she began to eat it. The young man and his wife dragged the two deer home, and having skinned and dressed them, had plenty of venison. The young woman also dried the meat and tanned the skins. The panther told the orphan that now he must hunt, and that he must never swing, because he would kill much game.

When they had a great deal of meat the young man said: “I should go to see your brothers now. Probably they have a large quantity of meat, for they are good hunters.” He started on his journey, which took an entire day. Having killed a deer on the way, he carried along the venison. He found the lodge of his brothers-in-law, which looked very desolate. Peeping in, he saw all the brothers, who appeared weak and miserable; so he walked in, saying, “How are you, my brothers-in-law?” One said, “There is our brother-in-law.” They answered, “We are nearly starved; we have found nothing to kill.” “Well,” was the response, “we have plenty at our place. Come and live with us. I have meat here on my back. Eat and then go with me.” Thereupon he gave them the venison, which they ate almost raw. The food made them strong, so they started with him for his home.

The young man got home very quickly and told his wife, “Your brothers are badly off; they are worse off than you were.” During the night the brothers arrived. They were satisfied, and afterward lived with their sister and brother-in-law. Soon all went back to the village, loaded with skins and venison. Now the man and his wife were rich. They lived in the Genesee Valley.

77. THE GREAT WORM [361] AND HINON

One day a boy was wandering about hunting in the woods. While he was looking around for birds he noticed on the limb of a tree a large, many-colored worm. He thought it very beautiful and he watched it for some time. The next day he went to the woods again, thinking all the time of the worm and wondering whether it still would be there.

When he came to the tree he saw the worm on the branch, but in another place. The boy had a string of birds which he had killed that morning. Tearing off a small bit of the flesh of one and fastening it to a stick, he tried to feed the worm. It ate a little and the boy was greatly amused. The following day the boy again found the worm and fed it. The worm always remained near the place where he had first discovered it. Each day the worm ate a little more and larger portions. After a while the boy gave it a whole bird at a time; then soon two birds, feathers and all. The worm had now become very large, too heavy for the limb of the tree on which it had been staying, so it fell to the ground. It never looked for food, but seemed to wait for the boy to bring it.

One day the youth was out with a number of boys hunting. When they started for home he said, “I shall give all my birds to the worm.” Thereupon the other boys questioned him about the creature and wanted to see it, so he led them to the worm, and they had great sport seeing it eat. At every turn it seemed to change color and grow more beautiful. The boys were delighted to throw birds at the worm that they might see it snatch and eat them. Finally they said, “Let us go hunting tomorrow and bring it all the birds we can find.” This they did.

For a long time the boys brought the worm birds, then rabbits, all of which it ate. The worm grew very rapidly, became very long and thick—a huge monster. The boys never told their parents or relations about the worm, for they were afraid of losing their sport. They would go early every morning to see the worm. The creature swallowed everything that came within its reach.

One day while the boys were throwing the worm food they began to wrestle, and in the excitement the youngest boy was thrown near the creature. In an instant the boy was swallowed. At this the rest of the boys were terribly frightened. When the child was missed the parents looked for him everywhere; they went among the boys to see whether he had not spent the night with one of them. But they could not get the slightest clue to the whereabouts of the boy. The other boys said that they had seen him the day before; that was all they pretended to know.

After this the boys pushed two or three others of their number near the worm, which devoured them, too. It had become very large and ferocious, and ruled the boys by a spell. One day they found that the worm had killed and eaten a deer. Thereupon they were seized with great fear, for the creature had grown so immense, and they ran away without having their usual sport.

Now the village was built on a large mound-like hill, sloping on all sides. The morning after the boys had failed to feed the worm the people were alarmed to find the village surrounded by a terrible monster. They were afraid to go near it, although they knew that they must die if they remained shut up in the village. At last the greater number, having found on one side what seemed to them to be an opening, all rushed in. It was the mouth of the worm and all were swallowed. Then the boys told those who remained that it was this worm that had eaten the missing children.

When they saw that all who had tried thus to escape were devoured they were terrified, and counseled together to save themselves. Only a few were left. These decided to appeal to their grandfather, Hinon. So, burning tobacco, they called on their grandfather, Hinon, the Thunder god, imploring him to save them from this awful worm. As soon as the tobacco was burning, they heard him approaching in a great black storm cloud with terrific noise. With his lightning he struck the worm, tearing it to pieces. These pieces rolled down the hillside into the valley below, which became a lake.

78. THE CHIPMUNK AND THE BEAR

The Bear thought herself a very powerful creature in the exercise of orenda (magic power), and hence was always trying to exhibit this power before other animals.

One day she got into a hot dispute with a Chipmunk. Finally the Chipmunk said: “Why do you boast so much? You have no remarkable orenda.” At this sally the Bear, becoming very angry, asserted that she had so great magic power that she could, if she wished, prevent the sun from rising in the morning. The Chipmunk retorted, “No, you have not; you can not do that.” “Wait and see,” replied the Bear. The Chipmunk, not to be fooled, declared he would wait, saying, “We shall have the sun at the usual time.” When the sun rose, as usual, the Chipmunk, laughing, made sport of the Bear and her boasting. Finally, the Bear got so terribly angry that she turned on the Chipmunk, who made his escape by flight, for fortunately his burrow was near; but as he reached it, the Bear was so close upon him that she stretched out her paw to clutch him, and the Chipmunk just slipped from under it into the hole. The next day the Chipmunk appeared with three marks on his back—marks of the Bear’s claws, which the Chipmunk carries to this day.

79. THE GREAT WHITE BEAVER AND THE LAKE OF THE ENCHANTED WATER

Once in old times there lived a grandfather and his grandson in a lodge in a forest far from any village. All the other people of their tribe had been carried away through sorcery practiced by their enemies. The grandfather therefore carefully guarded from witches and wizards his grandson, who was the only hope and comfort of his declining years.

One day the little grandson, almost breathless, ran into the lodge exclaiming: “Oh, grandfather! I have heard something which is very wonderful, crying out, Kidjiʹde.” “Oh!” answered the grandfather, “that is the bird which is called Chickadee; it is the first kind of game that a young hunter kills.” Taking his cue from this reply, the lad, seizing his bow and arrows, went out and after many fruitless attempts killed the chickadee and brought its body into the lodge to his grandfather. Thereupon the grandfather set up in the ground in front of the fire two small forked sticks and laid across another stick in the two forks. Having dressed the chickadee, he hung it on the cross stick to broil, singing and dancing with great joy, saying, “Now my grandson will become a great hunter.”

At another time the grandson ran into the lodge, crying out: “Oh, grandfather! I have seen something with four legs, a black face, and with four stripes around its tail; it was large and fat.” “Oh!” answered the grandfather, “that is what is called Dju’äʹkăʼ;[362] it is the second kind of game that a young hunter kills. It has good meat and fine fur.” Renewing his hunting, the lad soon killed the Dju’äʹkăʼ and brought its body into the lodge. The grandfather sang and danced again, saying, “Oh! my grandson will be a great hunter.” After dressing the body of Dju’äʹkăʼ he hung it on the cross-stick before the fire to broil. When it was cooked both ate the flesh of Dju’äʹkăʼ.

A few days later the lad ran into the lodge, exclaiming, “Oh! grandfather, I have seen a very strange thing, which was walking on two legs; it had red skin on its head, a black coat, and made a great deal of noise.” The grandfather told the lad what this new thing was, saying: “Oh! that is Ohsoon. It makes the best kind of soup, and it is the third kind of game that a young hunter kills.”

Running off into the forest, the lad soon saw a flock of the Ohsoon and ran after them until he had caught one. He thought that the soup of which his grandfather spoke must be in its legs. But after examining them thoroughly and finding no soup, he exclaimed, “My grandfather must have tried to deceive me”; with that remark he let the bird go free. Then he ran back to his grandfather, complaining that he had caught one of the Ohsoon and, after carefully examining its legs, had found no soup in them, and that therefore he had let the bird go free. His grandfather pityingly said, “Oh! you foolish boy. The soup is not in its legs but in the body. You must kill, dress, and cook Ohsoon, and then you will have very fine soup.” With this information the lad again went out into the forest, and, having caught another of the Ohsoon, brought it home. The old man was highly delighted with the success of his grandson, so he himself killed, dressed, and cooked Ohsoon. Again he sang and danced, frequently saying, “Now, my grandson will be a great hunter.” When the bird was cooked, they ate their fill and were both satisfied.