Chapter XXXVI: Part 2 (4)

Again, the next day, when all the brothers excepting the recluse, and their sister, had left the lodge, the bride went to the bedside of the recluse, and after awakening him, coaxed and begged him to come to her own couch. Knowing her motive, the youth made no response to her importunities except to tell her that she should be satisfied with her own choice of a husband, reminding her that she had been satisfied to reject the speaker when she first came to the lodge, although she had been instructed to take a seat on his bed as a token of a marriage proposal. Completely baffled by the attitude of the youth and enraged by his conduct in refusing to gratify her desire, she returned at last to her own couch with a heart filled only with bitter thoughts of revenge on him. Then, in order to make her contemplated story appear true, she lacerated and bruised her neck and face and breasts and arms with her own hands and fingernails, in order to support her intended accusation against the youth of an attempted assault upon herself.

When the other members had returned to the lodge in the evening, and after they had eaten their suppers and had retired for the night, the young bride again told her husband with much simulated emotion that his recluse brother had made that day another attempt to assault her when the other occupants of the lodge were absent, showing her lacerated neck and arms and face in corroboration of this false story. Still the husband made no response to her accusations against his youngest brother. The next day, however, when he was out in the forest hunting with his other brothers he related to them the story which his bride had told him. They, too, received this information in silence.

On the third day after the arrival of the young woman in the family she still had hopes of entrapping the recluse by inducing him to share her bed with her. In fact, she had been sent by her notorious mother, Gahoⁿʻdjiʼdāʹʻhoⁿk, to marry this youth, not because the mother thought he would make her daughter a suitable husband, but rather because she wished to get him into her power, for, on her own account, she feared to allow him to grow to manhood without an attempt to destroy him, knowing well that all who were regarded as deanoäʹdoⁿʼ [423] were possessed of most potent orenda (magic power), which they would put into use as soon as they attained manhood—at the age of puberty. The recluse youth had foreseen for many months the events which would come to pass after the arrival of this dutiful daughter of Gahoⁿʻdjiʼdāʹʻhoⁿk. He knew well that the great witch had sent her for the express purpose of getting him into her power in order to destroy him before he could develop into manhood. Hence, he sturdily resisted all the wiles of the daughter to get him to embrace her, as he knew that such action would place him at the mercy of her mother. He feared being bewitched; he realized that he must exert to the full his orenda against that of the great witch, for he was aware that the penalty for being defeated was death. In order to carry out her scheme the young bride arose on the third day when all except the recluse and herself had left the lodge, and going over to the bedside of the youth, again entreated him tearfully to come to her couch. But he was obdurate, rudely repulsing her advances, until finally she returned to her own side of the fire. Despairing of accomplishing her purpose by gentle means, the young woman, whose anger was thoroughly aroused by the youth’s refusal to be seduced by her, went out of the lodge into a dense thicket, and, baring her legs, she plunged into the midst of briers and thorns, which lacerated them very badly. In this condition she returned to the lodge to await the coming of her husband. When her husband and his brothers and sister had returned the young woman kept her peace for a while, although she pretended to be troubled in mind. But after they had eaten their supper and had retired for the night she told her husband a story of another attempted assault on her by his youngest brother, and to confirm this she showed him in the ill-lighted room her torn and blood-stained legs and thighs. Her husband made no reply, although he had decided what to do.

The next day after their morning meal all except the young wife and the recluse left the lodge on their daily trips into the forest, the brothers to hunt and the sister to procure bark and fuel for the fire. When the brothers had reached their rendezvous in the forest the eldest told the rest what his wife reported to him, and also that she had shown him her bleeding legs and thighs in confirmation of her story. After a short parley, the brothers solemnly decided that it was their duty to kill their youngest brother; so they returned to the lodge that night with the firm determination to carry out their resolution. The next morning, after they had eaten their breakfast, they informed him of their decision to kill him in order to put a stop to his scandalous conduct toward his brother’s wife. The youth, knowing that he was innocent of the charge and that the young woman had falsely accused him to his brothers, calmly lay down on his couch in silence that his brothers might kill him.

First, the eldest brother solemnly approached the couch, and drawing his flint knife from his pouch he passed it across the throat of his youngest brother; whereupon he was astonished to see that the knife had made no cut. After sawing away with his knife until he had worn it out, he abandoned the attempt with grave misgivings that all was not well with his brother. Then the rest of the brothers tried in turn to cut the throat of the youngest, but in this they failed completely. When they fully realized that they had been foiled by some unknown power, the recluse said to his astonished brothers: “None of you possesses the orenda (magic power) to enable you to kill me. My sister alone possesses such potency; hence she can kill me. When she has done so, you shall build a log lodge of massive construction, and you shall put over it a roof of the largest logs, so that the lodge shall be entirely secure. But before putting in place the roof you shall lay my body in the lodge and also leave my sister alive therein. Further, you shall place my head in its correct position with relation to the rest of my body. Finally, seal up the lodge with the logs as I have said.”

Then the sister of the youth, with her flint knife, beheaded her brother, afterward withdrawing in deep sorrow. Thereupon the six brothers of the dead youth set to work constructing the log lodge as they had been instructed to do, using the largest logs they could handle. When they had finished this task they placed their sister alive in the lodge with the body of the slain brother, just as he had directed, and covered the rude but strong structure with the largest logs it was possible for them to obtain and handle. Then they returned to their own camp.

When the brothers arrived there they were somewhat surprised to see that the bride of the eldest had mysteriously disappeared. They marveled greatly at this singular occurrence, which they could not explain, for there were no traces of her having been attacked by an enemy.

While they were thus perplexed there suddenly arose a terrific hurricane and windstorm, which was the work of the notorious witch Gahoⁿʻdji’dāʹʻhoⁿk, the mother of the missing bride. At the height of the tempest, within the lodge of great logs, the head of the youngest brother became reunited to his body, and the youth came to life. At once he said to his sister, possessed of potent orenda, “Oh, my sister! press with all your might both your hands over both my eyes and keep them there until I tell you to remove them.” The sister quickly obeyed her brother, for she knew that the storm maidens would snatch away the eyes of her brother if possible. The tempest swept the ground in all directions from the lodge as far as the eye could see, trees being torn up by the roots and tossed about as if they were grass stalks. The camp of the six brothers was swept away and they were destroyed with it.

Nevertheless the lodge in which the youngest brother and his sister were inclosed was left intact, and the two inmates were unharmed, except in one respect: When the rage of the storm had subsided, the brother said to his sister, “Now you may take your hands from my eyes, for it was of no avail for you to have held them there. Gahoⁿʻdjiʼdāʹʻhoⁿk has overmatched me in sorcery; her orenda has overcome mine.” From this speech the sister learned that the youth claimed to be a wizard, possessed of orenda of abnormal potency and efficiency. But she was greatly astonished and agitated to find that her brother’s eyes had been snatched out from under her hands during the storm and that consequently he was blind, for on removing her hands from his face she saw the eyeless sockets.

Without any ado the brother said to his sister, “Let us leave this place. Remove the roof of logs so that we may get out of this lodge.” Then the sister, who was abnormally strong for a woman, set to work removing these logs, and, when she had removed enough of them to enable her brother and herself to climb out, they regained their freedom. Thereupon the blind brother said, “Let us go home now; and in order to do this we must travel directly southward from here.”

The sister, agreeing with this proposition, at once set to work making preparations for the journey. In order to be able to bear her brother on her back she constructed a kind of harness or carrying-chair (gaʼnigoⁿʹʻhwāʼ). When she had completed her task she placed her blind brother in the “chair,” and by means of the forehead strap bore it on her back. Thus burdened, she started at once southward for their home.

Having traveled a long distance without stopping to rest, they finally came to a place in which the sister saw a covey of wild turkeys. She wished, mentally, it were possible for her to secure one of the birds for food for her brother and herself. The former, being aware of her thought, said, “Oh, my sister! make me a bow and an arrow, and I will kill one of the wild turkeys.” The sister, having done as desired, brought the bow and arrow to her brother, who said, “Oh, my sister! tell me where the turkeys are and turn me so that I may face them as I shoot.” As soon as his sister had placed him in the proper position, with one shot he killed a turkey. The sister, who was delighted with their good fortune, at once proceeded to dress and cook the turkey for their supper. But when she told her brother that the turkey was ready to eat he refused to partake of it, telling his sister that she would have to eat it by herself. At this, without asking him his reason for not eating his portion, she ate what she desired. Then she constructed a temporary lodge (kanoñsʻhäʼ) with boughs, strips of bark, and other suitable material, in which she and her brother remained for the night.

In the morning the sister ate what remained of the turkey and then, placing her brother on her back, resumed the journey toward the south. They traveled the entire day. When the sun was setting they again came upon a covey of turkeys, one of which they killed in the same manner as they had killed one the evening before. The devoted sister, having dressed the bird carefully, boiled it by putting hot stones into the water, but the young man again refused to eat any portion of it. When the sister had eaten what she desired she reserved what remained for breakfast. Then she made another temporary shelter in which they retired for the night.

Next morning after the sister had eaten her breakfast she again took her brother on her back in the carrying cradle and they resumed the journey southward. Nothing unusual occurred during the day. When the sun was setting they again came upon a covey of wild turkeys, one of which was killed, and after being dressed, was cooked and eaten, as the two other turkeys had been. Afterward the sister prepared a temporary shelter, as she had done twice before.

In the morning of the fourth day they again set forth on their journey southward. Toward midday the sister said, “Oh, my brother! I see a lodge in the distance ahead of us. Beside it stands a very tall chestnut tree. Shall I continue our journey?” The blind brother replied, “Yes; go on! It is the lodge in which we formerly lived. Yes; that is our lodge and home.” Thereupon the sister hastened her steps and they soon reached the lodge. Within they found everything that was common to the lodges of those ancient times, as clay pots, baskets, wooden mortars, tubs of corn and beans, and bundles of spicebush twigs for use in making a warm drink.

Nothing unusual happened to the blind brother or to his sister until the third day after their arrival at their old home. On the morning of that day, while the sister was out in the neighboring forest gathering fuel, she was surprised to hear some person, seemingly near to her, say, or rather whisper, “Chit!” Quickly turning in the direction whence the sound proceeded, she was startled to see a short distance away a handsome young man looking intently at her. After talking with her a few moments he made her a proposal of marriage, in reply to which she told him that she could not give him a definite answer without first consulting her brother. Then she asked him to meet her at the same time and place on the following day. The young man agreed readily to her proposition, whereupon they separated without further ceremony.

When the sister returned to the lodge she told her brother of meeting the young man, and asked his advice with regard to her acceptance or refusal of the offer of marriage. He replied that it was his wish, prompted by wise policy, that she should accept the offer, since the young man was a noted wizard, son of the notorious witch, Gahoⁿʻdji’dāʹʻhoⁿk; for, if she did not marry him, her refusal would be tantamount to a sentence of death on each; hence, they must accept the inevitable.

During the following night the blind brother explained in detail the reasons for his advice to her to marry the young man, who was the son of the great witch, Gahoⁿʻdji’dāʹʻhoⁿk, the relentless enemy of their family and kin.

The next morning the sister went into the forest to keep tryst with the strange young man, whom she found there awaiting her coming. She told him at once that her brother had been happy to consent to have her marry him. He seemed greatly pleased at her reply and merely said: “It is well. I will be at your lodge tonight. So, I go away now.” So they two parted in this abrupt way. That night, when darkness had come, the strange young man arrived at the lodge of the sister and her blind brother. He remained overnight with his wife, but left the lodge at the dawn. Before leaving, however, he assured his wife that he would return at night. Accordingly, he came to the lodge that night also and remained with his wife until the dawn, when he departed as he had done on the previous morning.

Thus he came and departed for seven nights. Then he said to his wife: “It is my wish that you return with me to my mother’s lodge—my home.” His wife, knowing well who he was and who his mother was, readily consented to accompany him; by so doing she was faithfully carrying out the policy which her blind brother had advised her to pursue toward him. On their way homeward, while the husband was leading the trail, they came to a point where the path divided into two divergent ways which, however, after forming an oblong loop, reunited, forming once more only a single path. Here the woman was surprised to see her husband’s body divide into two forms, one following the one path and the other the other trail. She was indeed greatly puzzled by this phenomenon, for she was at a loss to know which of the figures to follow as her husband. Fortunately, she finally resolved to follow the one leading to the right. After following this path for some distance, the wife saw that the two trails reunited and also that the two figures of her husband coalesced into one. It is said that this circumstance gave rise to the name of this strange man, which was Degiyanēʹgĕñʻ; that is to say, “They are two trails running parallel.” Not long after the two reached the husband’s home, the residence of the notorious witch, Gahoⁿʻdji’dāʹʻhoⁿk, who welcomed her daughter-in-law to her lodge.

In due course the wife of Degiyanēʹgĕñʻ gave birth to male twins. The great witch, who acted as midwife to her daughter-in-law, cast one of the children under a bed and the other under another, and then nursed her daughter-in-law and instructed her as to her conduct during convalescence.

Some days elapsed, when the inmates of the lodge were surprised to hear sounds issuing from beneath the beds under which the twins had been cast. At once the great witch, making two small balls of deer hair and buckskin and also two lacrosse ball clubs, gave a ball and a club to each of the twins. At once each of the twins began to play ball beneath the bed under which he lived, and it was not long before each of the little boys was seen to pass from under his bed beneath that of the other. Thus they amused themselves the entire day, but at night each of the twins returned under his own bed. Day after day the twins visited back and forth. There came a day, however, when one of the twins tossed his ball up in such wise that it flew out of the doorway of the lodge. Thereupon the two youngsters followed the ball so nimbly and swiftly that they were able to overtake it before it struck the ground. So they kept batting the ball high up into the air and overtaking it before it could reach the ground again. After playing thus for long hours, each would return to his own retreat beneath the bed under which he lived.

This outdoor sport was indulged in by the twins for a long time. One day, on being tossed into the air, the ball at once took a course directly toward the lodge of their blind uncle, but the twins kept up with it, hitting it with their bats before it could touch the ground. They did not notice that they were approaching a lodge, hence they were greatly surprised to see it finally fall into the smoke hole of the lodge. They cautiously approached the lodge and, peering through the crevices in its bark walls, they saw their ball in the hands of a man with eyeless sockets.

One of the boys said to the other, “Lo. Go in, and get the ball,” but the other replied, “I fear him. You go.” Finally they entered the lodge together to ask the man to give them back their ball. As they drew near the man, he said to them: “Do not be afraid of me. Fear not; I am your friend. It is I who have caused you to come here to my lodge. By sorcery I caused your ball to fall into my hand. Indeed, I am your uncle, your mother’s brother. I should very much like to see you two, but you observe I have no eyes, so I can not do so.” At this the twins exclaimed together: “Oh! maternal uncle, how did you lose your eyes?” The uncle replied: “Your grandmother, Gahoⁿʻdji’dāʹʻhoⁿk, overmatched me in sorcery, and as a penalty she took out my eyes, so I am blind.” The twins answered: “Oh, uncle! we desire very much that you see us.” To this the uncle replied: “As it seems to be an impossibility for me to see again, it would probably be useless for you to wish me to see you.” But the twins said: “We will try to make you able to see us.”

With this remark the twins left their ball and their lacrosse clubs and went into the neighboring forest. They had not gone very far before they met Degĕñsʹgē (the Horned Owl). They asked him to lend them his eyes for a short time, promising to return them to him uninjured. Complying with their request on this condition, he removed his eyes and handed them to the twins; then he sat down to await their return. Delighted with their success, the twins hastened back to the lodge to their uncle. Placing the borrowed eyes in his sightless sockets, they asked him whether he could see with them, whereupon he told them that he could see nothing. Disappointed with this result, the twins removed the eyes from their uncle’s head and returned them to the Degĕñsʹgē (Horned Owl) in the forest, thanking him for his kindness.

Going a short distance farther into the forest, the twins met Ke’kʹʻhowā (Barred Owl), whom they asked to lend his eyes to them for a short time. He readily consented on condition that they return them within one day. So the twins soon had his eyes, which they carried back to the lodge as swiftly as their feet could take them. But after inserting them into their uncle’s eyeless sockets, they were again disappointed to hear him say: “It is indeed too bad; I can not see anything with them.” So removing the eyes, the twins carried them back to Ke’kʹʻhowā, whom they thanked for his kindness.

The twins were not to be easily defeated, however, in their purpose, so they went still farther into the forest. There they met Odoñnyoñʹdăʻ (the Eagle), and they at once asked him to lend them his eyes for a short time. The Eagle readily consented to part with them for a day, and in a moment the twins were hurrying homeward with them. After they had placed these in their uncle’s sockets he told them that he could not see things clearly, merely faint outlines of them. So once more they removed the eyes and gratefully returned them to the Eagle.

Not to be thus baffled in the attempt to enable their uncle to see them, one of the lads proposed to the other that each lend their uncle an eye from his own head. To this proposal the other readily consented. Each of the lads having removed one of his eyes, the two started for the lodge of their uncle. When they reached his side they placed the eyes in their uncle’s head, who at once exclaimed in delight: “Oh! I can see. Oh! I am so glad to be able to see you two, my nephews.” Then, after taking a glance around the lodge, he returned the borrowed eyes to his wonderful nephews, who said to him: “We will now go away to get back your own eyes; so be of good cheer for a short time. We start now.”

But their blind uncle replied: “Knowing what I do, it seems impossible for you two lads to accomplish your purpose. So take courage and be brave.” Then, after a moment of silence, he added by way of advice: “Remember this: My eyes are partly bloodshot, and they are attached to the swaddling wrappings of a female child, who is still fastened to a cradle board, and whom they serve as breast ornaments. The lodge in which this child may be found has a fox skin as its clan mark and stands far away in cloudland. And, my nephews, no one can enter that land unseen by the sleepless eyes of the grim warder, who is called Haneʹʻhwăʼ,[424] and who on the approach of a stranger gives the alarm by three terrific shouts. So have courage, my nephews.”

Undaunted, the lads left the lodge, and going to a neighboring swamp they set to work industriously collecting a vast quantity of swamp grass, which they placed on a large pile. When they had collected a sufficient quantity they set the pile on fire, and when the flames leaped the highest the lads, casting themselves into their midst, were borne aloft on the huge billows of smoke, which mounted ever higher and higher, and were soon in cloudland, where they came down in the form of cinders.

Then one of the lads called two mice, which he instructed to creep cautiously under the leaves, grass, and rubbish to a certain lodge having a fox skin for a clan mark, and to emerge from the trail as near the lodge as possible without being apprehended by the warder, Haneʹʻhwăʼ. Then each lad entered one of the mice, and the two mice, burrowing along under the leaves and other rubbish, soon came out just where they had been directed to emerge. Notwithstanding their caution and ruse, Haneʹʻhwăʼ knew the purpose which the two mice had in coming, but before he could give the alarm one of the lads said to him: “Keep silence. We will give you a quantity of wild beans if you consent to our request.” Believing the lads to be harmless and to be on a mere sporting expedition to show their powers of metamorphosis, he readily consented to permit them unheralded to pass to their destination.

Having thus easily passed the warder of the lodge of Gahoⁿʻdji’dāʹʻhoⁿk, the two lads, assuming the form and size of fleas, at once entered the portico or porch of the lodge, in which several of their aunts, sisters of their father, were pounding corn in wooden mortars with wooden pestles. As fleas the lads, unnoticed, quickly crawled up the legs of these women, and by vicious bites soon caused the corn pounders to fall to fighting among themselves, believing that they had been cruelly pinched by their mates. By crawling on and biting the legs of all the women the lads were able to make all of them fight. In fighting, the women, influenced by the orenda of the boys, employed their wooden pestles in striking their opponents on the head, fracturing their skulls. Thus, in a short time the women had destroyed one another.

After all the women were either dead or stretched out unconscious with fractured skulls, the lads cautioned the warder, Haneʹʻhwăʼ, not to inform Degiyanēʹgĕñʻ, their father, what he had seen them do, should he come there inquiring about his sisters. They told him to sing for their father the following song:

Yekĕⁿnĕⁿnéʹʻhoʻ skahetchonăʼ otiʹʼsĕñ.
Oekĕⁿnĕⁿnéʹʻhoʻ skahetchonăʼ otiʹʼsĕñ.

The warder consented to do what his boy friends had asked him to do. Thereupon the lads quickly entered the lodge to which was attached the fox skin clan badge. They soon found the cradle board on which was fastened the female child, even as their uncle had told them, but they were greatly astonished when they saw that the eyes of many persons adorned the swaddling clothes (wrappings). Quickly but carefully examining these eyes, which served as the breast ornaments of the child, they soon found the eyes of their uncle, which were partially bloodshot. When they had secured these they removed also the others, in pairs, and, tossing them up into the air, said to them: “Return to the place whence you were taken by stealth.” At once these eyes took flight and returned to their owners. After killing the female child and compassing the death of the treacherous Haneʹʻhwăʼ, the lads started for home with their uncle’s eyes.

When the boys reached the point whence they must descend they assumed the size and form of fleas, and, using the seed heads of the dandelion as parachutes, they easily floated down from cloudland to the earth. Going directly to the lodge of their uncle, they returned to him his eyes. He was delighted beyond measure when he found that his nephews had been successful in their expedition and had so speedily brought back his eyes.

The lads had killed the baby in cloudland by means of potent drugs given them by their uncle while they were still on the earth. Before starting their uncle had told them not to fail to put this deadly drug on the baby, for he knew that the child was the life itself of the great witch, Gahoⁿʻdjiʼdāʹʻhoⁿk. Through its death the witch herself necessarily died, because the child was her life, not her baby, as it appeared to be. Thus, Gahoⁿʻdjiʼdāʹʻhoⁿk was destroyed and the young deanoäʹdoⁿʼ man at last was revenged on her, partly through the potent orenda of his nephews and partly by means of the potent “medicine” with which he had armed them before they had started on their expedition into cloudland.

115. THE LEGEND OF THE MISOGAMIST

In ancient days, it is said, there lived a good mother and her son in a lodge that stood alone. Now, the son was a very successful hunter; in the chase of all kinds of game animals he had no competitor. The possession of an overflowing larder and of rare and excellent furs and skins gave him an enviable prestige among his people.

It was natural among a hunter people that the prowess of the young man in the chase should make him an attractive figure in the eyes of all the mothers among his people who had marriageable daughters. So these thrifty mothers urged their daughters to make the usual marriage bread and to go to his lodge with proposals of marriage. Each of these obedient daughters would say: “Indeed, I believe that thou and I should marry.” This was the address made to the young man after the young woman had set her basket of marriage bread before him, seated, to receive her. In replying, the young man would say to each: “In so far as I am concerned it is my settled purpose not to marry anyone, as I have no desire to do so.” Thereupon the young woman, having failed in her suit, would return to her home.

This pursuit of the young man by the marriageable daughters of the community continued for many seasons. As each maiden came with her proposal of marriage the youth invariably made the same answer. During all this time his mother continued to remonstrate with him on account of his firm resolution not to marry, telling him repeatedly that it was a well-known fact that one who acted as he was doing would surely be punished for his attitude by some great calamity. He refused, however, to listen to her remonstrances.

Now, it was his custom to go every autumn to hunt in the forest, and he would return home with great quantities of venison and other meat, and furs and skins. All the people who had none of these things came to the lodge where the mother and son lived together because they wished to trade for some of the meat or for some of the furs or skins, each one bringing therefor something of value. One would bring a bracelet, saying: “For this cut me off a small portion of meat of the bear, of venison, or of some other kind.” Another would bring a burden strap, saying: “For this give me the skin of a beaver, or a small portion of bear’s meat, for I have come to buy.” This trading continued for some years, and all kept saying of the young man: “He is indeed immune to adverse orenda.”

After a while another autumn came, and again he started alone on a hunting trip into the forests where he knew game was always abundant and in which it was his custom to camp for the season. Having reached the place where his hunting lodge stood, he proceeded at once to repair it and to supply it with suitable fuel and other necessities. Then he went forth to hunt, as was his custom. He was very successful, returning every day to camp with the game he had killed.

After a certain number of days thus spent he lay down one night to rest, as usual. But in the middle of the night it so happened that he moved about in his bed, and he was greatly surprised by feeling what seemed to be a woman lying beside him. No one had ever slept with him before, man or woman. Thereupon the surprised misogamist said: “Lo, who are you?” The young woman, for such she was, in a fascinating voice which thrilled the heart of the young man, replied: “Oh! I desired to visit the place where you are only because of the love which I have for you.” Saying this softly, she threw her arms around his neck and fervently embraced him. He remained perfectly quiet, making no protest against the fondling of the beautiful maiden. Without further ceremony the young woman joyously exclaimed: “Come now! let us two go to sleep again.” But the young man lost consciousness at once, and the last thing he remembered were the words of the young woman. It was after the dawn of day that he awoke. Uncovering his head, he found that he was quite alone, and that, in fact, the young woman was not anywhere around. He was greatly astonished at what had happened, and said to himself in wonder: “What is this that has befallen me? Now, indeed, has come to pass perhaps what my dear mother has been saying to me, for has she not kept telling me that I would be punished sooner or later for my unreasoning attitude toward those who have desired to marry me. Now I shall start for my home, for I am seized with fear.”

He set to work at once making up his pack and putting the lodge in order for his departure. When he had completed his preparations he started for home.

At the end of the day’s journey he camped for the night in the place where he usually stopped for this purpose. After kindling a hot fire in the temporary shelter he set to work warming some pieces of cold meat which he had brought with him, and then sat down to eat his supper. When he had finished his meal he made ready to rest for the night. It was quite dark, for the evening was then far spent. As he sat resting he was suddenly surprised to hear noises that seemed to draw nearer and nearer. He could plainly hear the sounds, sāʻʹ, sāʻʹ, sāʻʹ, and also sounds caused by the moving aside and breaking of sticks and small twigs, and the branches of trees falling. Seized with a great fear, he at once added small dry sticks to the fire, which blazed up, giving a great light, which enabled him to see whether anything was approaching his shelter. Suddenly he saw standing at the end of the illumined space a very large woman. After a moment’s hesitation she came up to the opposite side of the fire and, addressing the now thoroughly frightened young man, said: “It is just this: I have come here with the desire that you should give me a portion of meat.” To look at her one would have thought that she was in all respects a human being, as she stood gazing toward the youth. As quickly as possible he took from his pack a quarter of meat, which he heaved over the fire toward the woman, who caught it. Then she began to eat it, while the blood dripped down on her breast and over her garments. Thus she ate up a quarter of meat. When she had finished she said: “The only thing for you to do is to return to this place in the autumn, when the season changes again.” So saying, she turned at once and started away, leaving the young man more astonished than ever. Soon she was lost to view in the darkness.

Thereupon the youth was seized with great fear, and he kept saying to himself: “Now indeed has been fulfilled the saying of my dear mother; I am suffering the penalty which she told me would befall for my refusal to marry some of the marriageable daughters of my people. But with it all, I think that when I have returned home I shall not relate what has befallen me on this trip. Moreover, in case some shall say to me, ‘Let us marry,’ I will consent at once.” Of course he did not fall asleep during the entire night. Very early in the morning he ate some cold meat, and then taking up his pack, he started for home. Having arrived there, he hung his pack on the wall of the lodge. His mother said: “I am thankful for this.” Noticing a changed expression on his face, she said to him: “Lo, pray what has befallen you, since you have returned so soon after your departure?” The son replied: “Something unusual happened, it would seem. I became homesick; this is the reason that I returned home at once.”

During the time that the son was away hunting many women visited the mother, who were continually asking her consent to a marriage with him. So now the mother said to him: “I will tell you that three maidens paid me visits, who proposed marriage with you; these maidens you know well, as they are the three who have been the most insistent on marrying you. So now it is for you to choose which of these three, or if not one of these, then whom are you willing to marry? I do not know what may happen should you again find it impossible to consent to marry one of these maidens.” At once the son replied: “I will consent to taking one of these maidens in marriage. I will marry without further ado.” He then informed his mother which of the maidens he would marry, for he well knew the names of all those who had come to his mother’s lodge with their baskets of marriage bread. This answer greatly pleased his mother, who said to him: “It is indeed the right thing for you to do, for many women have come here to ask you to marry them. Now I will bring here the chosen one.” So saying, she went at once to the lodge of the maiden of his choice.

On entering the lodge of the maiden she greeted her and her mother, and, after informing them of the purpose of the visit, said to the former: “I have come after you to bring you to our lodge and fire. My son has consented to marry you; so you will accompany me home, and you it will be who will dwell with her spouse’s people.” The maiden, agreeing to the proposition, said: “So let it be; I am willing to marry him.” Thereupon the two returned to the lodge of the mother of the young man, the misogamist. They reached the lodge, and, on entering it, the mother said to her son: “I have brought with me her who is my daughter-in-law. Now I will speak a few words: Oh, my child! you must continue to love her; you must have compassion for her; never vex her in mind or body; never let it be said that you are one of those who kill their spouses. Some grasp them by the hair of the head to abuse them; never do you thus. I am through.” This speech she addressed to her son.

The maiden remained there one entire year, and she properly fulfilled the duties of a good wife. A little later she gave birth to a daughter. The child was very handsome, and she was also very large and healthy and strong. In all respects she was of the size and hardiness of a child who was large enough to be borne on the back in a cradle board.

Now the time had arrived in which the men who were capable of doing so severally went out to their hunting grounds—autumn had come. One day the young man said: “My dear mother, you will prepare provisions for a journey, for I am again going out to hunt, and I am thinking of having my wife accompany me, as the child is sufficiently strong and hardy to be borne on her mother’s back in a cradle board. I will bear by means of the forehead strap the provisions that we will take with us.”

Then the mother proceeded to prepare the corn bread in the usual way, and the parched corn meal sweetened with honey or maple sugar. When the bread was cooked she removed it from the boiling water and set to work preparing the pack, in which she placed all the bread, making what was called a wrapped pack. When she informed her son that she had completed the task of preparing the food for the journey, he said: “Tomorrow, very early in the morning, we two will start on our journey.”

Accordingly next morning the husband and wife set out. The wife bore their child on her back by means of the cradle board and forehead strap, and the husband carried the wrapped pack, containing boiled corn bread and parched corn meal mixed with sugar and honey, by means of the forehead strap. After traveling all day, in the evening they reached a spot where it was the custom of the husband to camp for the night; this was a good day’s journey from their lodge. He set to work at once repairing the temporary shelter and kindling a large fire. Meanwhile the young wife warmed up some cold meat and the boiled corn bread which they had brought in the pack. Their evening meal prepared, the two ate heartily. When they had finished their supper they made ready a rude couch of bark and boughs on which they lay down for the night. The wife’s mind was contented.

In the morning the husband rekindled the fire, and the wife warmed up more of the cold boiled corn bread. When they had eaten their fill the husband at once repacked their belongings. He also closed the temporary shelter in order to preserve it for their return. Then he said to his wife: “Now let us depart. Our journey will require fully the time of the entire day, and we will arrive at my hunting camp in the evening.” As predicted, they reached their journey’s end as the sun was sinking low in the west. Its crimson rays shot upward through the treetops and along the western sky.

The husband quickly began to make his hunting lodge ready for occupation and also kindled a large fire. While the wife was warming up the meats and the corn bread the husband kept on repairing the lodge by filling up the crevices with moss and replacing such pieces of bark as had fallen off. He desired to make the lodge warm and comfortable, especially on account of their baby. When it was too dark to continue his work the wife called him to their supper. They were happy and contented. After finishing their meal they prepared their rude bed and retired for the night. Before falling asleep the husband said to his wife: “Tomorrow I will go out to hunt again.”

Next morning, as soon as they had finished eating breakfast, the husband said to his wife: “I am about to start out to hunt now, and you two will remain alone. Perhaps I may not return until just before sunset. Of course, should I have very great success, I will return home at once.” So saying, he left the lodge. Just before sunset he returned, carrying by means of the forehead strap the entire body of a fine deer. He set to work at once skinning the carcass. When this task was completed he quartered the animal and hung up the parts to cure, but not before he had selected some choice pieces for their supper. These the young wife quickly prepared, and they ate their evening meal in peace and quiet. The wife was, of course, very much pleased to have fresh venison to eat; she was indeed happy. Then they retired for the night and were soon asleep. In the morning the husband again started out to hunt, saying to his wife: “You two will remain at home alone,” assuring her that he would return as soon as he was successful in his hunting.

Thus many days passed. The hunter was very successful in his hunting, always bringing home large quantities of venison, bear, moose, and elk meat and various other kinds of game. He and his wife had a great quantity of meat hanging around the sides of their lodge to cure, and also many fine furs and skins.

Toward sunset one day the young wife went out of the lodge to procure fuel for the fire while the child lay asleep. As she was walking around, she heard sounds made by some one approaching through the woods; thereupon she hastily gathered an armful of wood and, quickly reentering the lodge, took a seat near her sleeping baby. In a short time, as she looked out through the openings in the forest, she saw suddenly a very large woman approaching, bearing on her back an unusually large child. At once she became fearful, exclaiming: “What shall I do to save us? Perhaps we two shall now die?” So saying, she quietly awaited the coming of the strange woman. In a few minutes the latter entered the lodge and, standing in the doorway, said to the frightened woman: “Do not have any fear of me, for I come with no ill feeling in my mind toward you and yours; there is no evil in my mind, so, above all, do not fear me.” With these words, she walked to the opposite side of the fire and took a seat there. The young wife noticed that the two children were exactly the same size. Although the stranger kept comforting her by telling her not to be afraid, that she had not come to the lodge for any evil purpose, her hostess was so fearful that she made no replies, but she kept thinking: “It is certainly unfortunate that my husband does not return at once. I wish he would come. This is ill-omened.” Meanwhile the strange woman continued to remain quiet. Looking at her face, one would think that she was human, although she was so tall and so stout that she appeared uncanny.

Now there came sounds from a distance, as the sun was low in the west, and the expected husband returned home. He entered his lodge, bearing by means of the forehead strap the entire carcass of a deer. He cast the burden down, giving merely a passing glance at the woman seated on the opposite side of the fire, without saying a word. The young wife then set to work getting his supper. When she had set the food before him he said to her: “You would better give some food to the woman sitting on the opposite side of the fire.” His wife willingly obeyed this suggestion, carrying to her in a bark bowl a generous supply of food, and saying: “This is for you to eat.” But the woman (or what seemed to be one) refused to accept it, answering: “I do not eat that kind of food.” At this the wife, of course, went back to her side of the fire. Her husband sat with his back toward the strange woman and studiously refrained from saying a word, but kept on eating. In a few minutes the strange woman spoke, saying: “He knows what kind of food I am accustomed to eat.” At once he rose, and, reaching up, took down a quarter of venison, which he threw over the fire back of him toward the strange woman. She caught this as it came to her. The wife was intently watching what was taking place. The stranger proceeded at once to eat the raw venison, and in a short time she had devoured the entire quarter. While eating, the strange woman kept saying: “I am very glad indeed. My wish has been fulfilled, for I desired to come here on a visit.” When night had come and they were ready to retire to rest, the husband prepared his mat at the feet of his wife and child, while the strange woman and her child lay on the opposite side of the fire, which was the guest’s side according to custom. The young wife of the hunter, who was thoroughly frightened, kept thinking: “I just do not know what may befall us that is untoward.”

In the morning the husband arose, and having rebuilt the fire, his wife proceeded quite early to prepare breakfast for them. When they two were about to begin eating the husband again took down a quarter of venison, which he threw over his shoulder across the fire to the strange woman, who caught it and began to eat it raw, the blood even dripping from her mouth, so ravenously did she eat. When they had eaten breakfast the strange woman said: “Now, my wish has been fulfilled—my wish to visit this place.” All remained there in the lodge. After a while, however, the strange woman arose, carrying her child, and, walking over to where the hunter was seated, said to him: “Lo, take this child, for it is but your own child. Here it is.” Shrinking away, the husband drew back his hands, but the woman, preferring that he should have the child, gave it to him, so he had to accept it. Thereupon, the woman said, “I desired that he should just look on his child, and it was for this reason that we two came hither.” So saying, she returned to the opposite side of the fire, where she again seated herself. The husband sat still, holding his child, dubious as to its real character. After a while he arose, and going over to the place where the woman sat, on the opposite side of the fire, he gave the child back to its mother. Then returning to his own side of the room, saying, “I am now going out to hunt again,” he started from the lodge.

In the meantime the two women remained in the lodge with their children of the same size. The strange woman said to her companion in a comforting way: “You must not have any fear of me.” When her child fell asleep she laid it down on her couch and carefully covered it with a skin robe. Then, turning to her hostess, she said: “I will fetch some fuel, because it is so difficult and trying for you at all times to have to bring it.” With these words she left the lodge in quest of wood. She was absent a long time, when suddenly there came a sound, dā—h, which drew nearer and nearer, as if one were dragging some great object along the ground. On looking out to see the cause of the noise, the hunter’s wife saw the strange woman approaching with a huge tree in her arms, which she threw down just outside the doorway; it was a whole dead tree, which was dry and hard. She proceeded at once to break up the tree, and when she had finished her task there was a great pile of wood—fuel for the lodge fire. The wife of the hunter was greatly astonished at the enormous strength of the strange woman, and she again was filled with great fear. Then the other woman, entering the lodge, said: “I have now supplied you with a quantity of fuel.” Thereupon, she seated herself on the opposite side of the fire.