Chapter XXXVII: Part 2 (5)

She had just taken her seat, when suddenly she arose, saying: “ʼAʻʹhăʻ! Now comes my husband trailing me. Have courage now, oh, my friend! and help me. Hasten! Be quick! Go cut basswood poles, three in number, and you must sharpen them. You must be quick about it, too, for if he shall overpower us we two must perish.” The hunter’s wife ran out as swiftly as possible, and having cut the basswood poles and sharpened them, returned to the lodge. The other woman then said: “You must harden [425] their points in the fire by turning them over carefully; let them be burning. As soon as we meet at the doorway we shall fight, and we shall fight on the outside of the lodge. And, of course, there can be no doubt that he will overpower me, for he is very powerful. When he throws me and falls on the top of me, you must quickly take one of the burning poles from the fire and thrust it in anum ejus, turning it around therein vigorously, and then withdraw it. You must quickly do likewise with the other two burning poles. Thereupon, he will soon become weak, and then I shall overcome him. Just at present you must keep still and must watch carefully those poles, for they are our only hope of success. Now he is coming on the run close at hand. Have courage and aid me, oh, my friend!”

The stranger had barely uttered these words when she and her husband met in a death struggle at the doorway of the lodge; they fought outside so as to have more room in their struggles. In a short time the man tripped his wife, and they fell to the ground with the man uppermost. At once the hunter’s wife swiftly ran into the lodge, and seizing one of the burning poles thrust it in anum ejus, and having turned it round and round violently a moment withdrew it. Then she did likewise as quickly as possible with the second and third burning poles. This terrible treatment had its effect, and in a moment the strange woman was able to free herself, and struggling from under her weakened husband she strangled him to death. All this time she kept saying to her friend, “Have courage, oh, my friend! Stand near by and wait.” Then returning to the lodge, she said: “Oh, my friend, I am thankful indeed that you have helped me in my trouble.” Having recovered her breath, she added: “Now I will cast the body far away yonder, as far as one can see.” So saying, she dragged away the body of her husband, disappearing with it in the distance; but it was not very long before she returned to the lodge, whereupon she said: “I have left the body far away. Now we two unfortunate ones—myself and my child—will return to our home, departing from this place. All that I desired was that she should see her father. I thank you for what you have done for us. Our kinsfolk dwell far away from here in the forests; thither we two shall return. Now we depart.”

In a short time the strange woman and her child had disappeared into the forest. They had been gone a long while when the hunter returned to the lodge. He had nothing to say to his wife. Thereupon she resolved not to tell what had taken place while he was away hunting until she reached home. At first the husband and wife did not converse at all. But finally the former said: “Tomorrow we will start for home.” So the next day he made the necessary preparations for their journey, putting their belongings into two packs. When all was ready for their departure he placed the smaller pack on his wife’s back by means of the forehead strap, and the larger on his own back in the same way. Then they left their hunting camp for home much sooner than they had expected to do.

They kept traveling the entire day, and when the sun was low in the west they arrived at the place where the hunter was accustomed to camp when making his hunting trips in past seasons. Here they kindled a fire, and warming up cold meat and boiled corn bread, they ate their meal and then retired to rest. Early in the morning, as soon as they had eaten their meal and repacked their belongings, they continued their journey, arriving just before sunset in the lodge of the husband’s mother. She was very thankful for the meat which they had brought home in their packs.

It was not long after their return before the bride’s mother entered the lodge. After the usual greetings she said: “Let us two revisit our own clan.” The bride answered: “So let it be; we may go as you suggest.” They finally reached the bride’s former home, where her kinsfolk welcomed her. She then began at once to relate in great detail all that had befallen her during the time she had been absent on the hunting trip with her husband. Among other things she told them that her husband already had a child by some unknown mysterious being, whom he was accustomed to feed with raw meat; and that, when the strange woman had come to their hunting lodge, her husband did not share her couch, but that he lay alone at the feet of his wife and child. The young wife narrated, too, all that occurred in connection with the attack on his wife made by the strange woman’s husband at the doorway of the hunting lodge.

When the bride’s kinsfolk had heard all these things they said: “It seems certain that he has begotten a child by a woman Genonsgwa (sometimes erroneously called “Stone Coat”). You should separate from him lest you become enchanted by some evil power should you return to him again.” The bride and her child therefore remained with her own clan and kinsfolk, as they had advised her to do under the circumstances. This astonishing report soon spread among the tribe. All soon knew what had occurred on the hunting trip in the forest to the misogamist hunter and his bride. It produced a great sensation among the people. So it happened that all the women, as if by mutual consent, shunned the misogamist hunter, and would have nothing to do with him, privately or socially. This is what befell the man who was too proud and selfish to consent to marry any woman of his own people. Now, in so far as his standing is concerned, he is held as despicable beyond measure and of no account among men.

116. THE ACTS OF THE SEVENTH SON, DJĔÑGOʹʻSEʻ

In the olden time there stood in a certain land a lodge surrounded by a dense forest, in which lived a very old man, his seven sons, and a daughter. The youngest son was very small, and he possessed a cur which was not larger than a gray squirrel and a very small bow and arrows to match it; the bow, it is said, was a half span in length.

This small boy and his diminutive dog played together daily, hunting fleas around the fireplace. The cur would track a flea, and just as the flea would leap up from its hiding place the small boy would shoot it with an arrow from his diminutive bow. Thus he amused himself all day and far into the night.

Now, the old man, the father of this family, forbade his sons from going to hunt in a certain direction from the lodge. In time, however, the eldest son, wearying of this seemingly unreasonable restraint, determined to hunt in the forbidden direction, in order to learn, if possible, what it was that caused his father to prohibit his brothers and himself from going into that region. So, following his resolve, he started for the region, but never returned home. Then the second son resolved to follow his elder brother, so he also started for the forbidden land; and he, too, never returned home. Finally, when six of the brothers had gone away and none had returned, the aged father said to his youngest son that he himself was going in search of his six lost sons. After carefully instructing his youngest son what to do for himself and his only sister in his absence, he started away. He, too, failed to come back, and the two young persons in the lodge became anxious about their own fate, as they were then dependent on themselves.

At last the youngest, the seventh, son informed his sister that she and he would have to follow the path of their father. The time was winter, but they started, following the trail in a light snow. As they set out, the young boy, seizing his diminutive cur, dashed it against the ground, whereupon it immediately arose in the form of a very large dog. At this the boy sent the dog away, as it was of no further use to him. The brother and sister traveled the entire day, and when they were nearly famished with hunger they came to a lodge just as it was growing dark. In this lodge they found, to their great delight and comfort, embers still burning and before the fire, which was nearly out, a large piece of broiled venison still attached to the sticks and skewers. By adding fuel to the fire they succeeded in building it up so that it would last during the night. Having eaten the broiled venison, and being very tired, they lay down near the fire and were soon fast asleep.

In the morning they ate the remainder of the venison and at once resumed their journey. They had no provisions to eat on the way, but they traveled onward until the darkness made it difficult for them to proceed farther, when, tired, hungry, and ready to drop from exhaustion, they reached another lodge. In this they found dying embers and a substantial piece of broiled venison. As on the previous night, they rebuilt the fire, and when they had eaten the venison they lay down to sleep beside the fire.

Next day the remains of the venison furnished their breakfast. Just before starting the boy found a flint and a stone ax, which he took with him. Toward nightfall a blinding snowstorm set in, but the little wanderers kept on their way. When it was quite dark they came to a rude covert formed by the interlocking of fallen trees, the united limbs of pine and cedar holding the snow in such wise as to form a very rude shelter. Under this retreat the two little wanderers found a place full of dry leaves. Outside of this shelter the snow had fallen to so great a depth that it overtopped their heads in many places. In this refuge they decided to remain for the night, although they had nothing to eat and no hope of getting anything. Nothing daunted by the cheerless prospect before them, the boy and his sister kindled a fire with dried twigs and other fuel. As soon as the fire began to radiate its heat a covey of quail came out from under the branches of the trees forming the shelter. The boy at once killed several of these, which he dressed and cooked for himself and his sister. After eating their supper the boy added to the fire enough fuel to keep it until morning; then they retired for the night, burrowing among the dry leaves, not far from the fire, for covering. Next morning the fire was built up again, after which the boy found and killed more quail for breakfast. After cooking and eating these, they awaited the abatement of the storm before starting out on the trail.

During the day an old woman, who lived alone in the vicinity and quite aloof from her people, left her lodge to look for hickory bark to keep up her fire in order to prevent the cold from freezing her to death. Noticing smoke issuing out of a great bank of snow at some distance, she went to see what kept the fire from going out, and she was astonished to find the small boy and his sister. Moved with pity, the little old woman took the children from their uncomfortable place and brought them to her lodge, where she placed before them what little food she had. They ate their fill. The children were indeed very glad to be with a friend. The little old woman told them that she desired to have them remain with her as her own children.

Next morning the little boy, having spat upon one of his arrows three times, cast it out of the lodge through the smoke-hole, saying to it: “Go thou, then, hunt for a deer and kill it for our food.” Obeying him, the arrow flew out of the smoke-hole and disappeared. After being absent for only a short time, it returned through the smoke-hole. The boy seized it, and, finding on it traces of fresh blood, he turned to the little old woman, saying: “Oh, grandmother! go out and look for the dead body of a deer; it lies not far from here.” Not far from the lodge she found, indeed, the body of a deer, which evidently had been recently killed. Having brought it to the lodge, she dressed it. Then she cooked some of the venison for herself and her adopted grandchildren, and while they were eating the little old woman continually uttered words of thanksgiving to the Master of Life [426] because she was again able to eat venison.

Every day thereafter, in the same manner, the boy sent out his arrow to hunt game animals for the food required by him and his little sister and their adopted grandmother. Sometimes the arrow would kill a bear, sometimes a deer; it killed game of all kinds, and the small family had plenty to eat and some to spare, in addition to their constant feasting. Thus they lived several years, and the boy grew to young manhood. During this time the youth did not go beyond the immediate neighborhood of the lodge in which he lived; and he had no friends except a certain young man, one of the people of the region, who came to see him frequently and who was his close friend.

At this time the presiding chief of the settlement offered to give his comely daughter to the best bowman and hunter among the young men of his people. So he appointed a day when all the young men should go out to hunt deer and bear to provide a suitable feast for the occasion. Now the friend of our future hero came to the lodge to tell him of the occasion, but he did not tell him, however, that the prize for the winner would be the chief’s daughter; he merely asked the young man to accompany him as his partner. So they started out together to hunt, but they did not exert themselves very much in killing game animals. The young man with the enchanted arrow occasionally sent it out to hunt for them. When finally they resolved to start for home, the arrow had killed in all twenty-four deer, so the share of each was twelve; but five or six deer apiece was the average of those who went out singly to win the prize for marksmanship. On the return of the hunters to the village they learned of the great success of the two youths who had gone as partners, and they could not repress a feeling of envy toward them. Notwithstanding the result of the hunt the chief said, still withholding his daughter from the winner: “I will fulfill my promise after we have made many feasts with all the deer which have been killed for this occasion.” Our future hero, however, still did not know what he had justly won as a reward of the efficiency of his enchanted arrow.

During the festivals the envious young men conspired to put this unsuspecting youth out of the way. In carrying out this resolution they invited him to accompany them to an island on which they assured him there was an abundance of game, and that they would return in time for the festivities on the morrow. So he consented to go with them to this place, in which they had agreed among themselves to leave him to die of hunger and exposure. On leaving the village they went to a large lake containing an island, from which the mainland was not visible in any direction. After landing on the island the party dispersed, ostensibly the better to hunt. Having previously agreed on their method of procedure, the conspirators waited until they saw that the youth had gotten some distance into the forest. Thereupon they returned at once to the landing place and stole silently away, leaving their victim to die from hunger or to be devoured by unknown monsters which, it was said, infested the island.

Their intended victim kept on hunting, however, and finding only two partridges, killed them and carried them along with him. When it became so dark that he could not see, he returned to the landing place to seek for his supposed friends, only to find that they had gone off, leaving him to his fate. Seeking the tallest pine tree that he could find, the young hunter climbed very high, to a point where the limbs were closely interlocked. Having cut off a number of overhanging branches, he placed them on the top of those on which he desired to rest, thus forming a fairly comfortable resting place. Seating himself on this perch of boughs, he soon began to doze.

Some time during the night he was roused from his slumbers by the barking of dogs, which were following his trail. These belonged to a Son of the Winter God, who was hunting for human flesh to eat. Finally the dogs came up to the tree in which the youth was concealed, whereupon he threw down to them at once one of the partridges which he had been fortunate enough to kill. Seizing this, the dogs went off fighting for it. Shortly they returned to the tree and began to bay at him. At this he threw to them the other partridge, with the result that they again went off as before. Seeing the dogs eating what he believed they had treed, the Son of the Winter God called them off to another part of the island, and they did not return hither.

In the morning the youth, descending from his lofty perch, went to the shore of the island at the point where the party had made a landing. Finding no boat there he struck his breast several smart blows, which caused his stomach to give up a canoe no larger than a plum pit, provided with a pair of oars. Several sharp blows on the diminutive canoe with his enchanted arrows immediately caused it to assume the proportions of an ordinary canoe. The same treatment made the pair of oars assume the size of ordinary oars. Placing his canoe in the waters of the lake and boarding it the young hunter soon rowed his way to the shore whence he had been kidnaped by the envious young men. On landing the young man drew the canoe ashore, and then striking it several sharp blows with his enchanted arrow, it quickly assumed its former diminutive size, and he in like manner restored the pair of oars to their former dimensions, after which he swallowed them again. Thereupon he wended his way at once to his own home with his adopted grandmother.

It was not long before it became village gossip that the young man had returned home. Then his friends sent for him, asking that he attend the shooting match and feast of venison given by the chief, whence he had been kidnaped and taken to the island to die. Notwithstanding this treatment, the young man consented to go to the chief’s entertainment.

Now, the tutelar deity of the presiding chief was a hen harrier called ʼnwiʻʹʼnwiʻ in the vernacular. This the chief caused to float in the air at double the height of the tallest tree, as the mark at which all must shoot who were invited to the feast.[427] All the young men who knew the nature of the prize that the chief had offered as the reward for the best marksmanship kept shooting daily at this bird floating in the air; but they were all shooting to no purpose, for some of the arrows would not attain the altitude of the hen harrier, while others which did so flew wide of the target.

Finally, the chief said to the Master of Ceremonies: “Now, after this, let each man try only once more and then let those who have failed to hit the target retire ... from the group of candidates, and place them in a separate place from those who have not made this last attempt.” This was ordered, and as quickly as a man took his last shot he was placed at a distance from those who had not yet made the trial, lest some mistake be made and someone be unwittingly given two or more chances. Finally, when all the candidates had shot, it was suddenly discovered that Djĕñgoʹʻseʻ had failed to take his chance. All had failed before him to hit the hen-harrier hawk, so his friend urged him to make the attempt, but he as steadily refused, saying, “I do not want to kill it.” Notwithstanding his positive refusal, his friend placed his bow and arrow in his hands, and with Djĕñgoʹʻseʻ resting his hand upon it, he pulled the arrow to its full length and then let it fly. The arrow shot upward and transfixed the body of the hen-harrier hawk, which fell to the ground. Then the chief himself informed Djĕñgoʹʻseʻ that in winning the contest for marksmanship he had also won his daughter as the prize of the victor in this contest.

Djĕñgoʹʻseʻ informed the chief that he had not known until then that there would be a prize for the winner in this contest for marksmanship, and that as he himself had been adjudged the winner of the contest and also of the chief’s daughter, he felt constrained to thank him for thus considering him worthy of these great honors. The chief replied by bidding him to repair to his lodge to claim his bride. This Djĕñgoʹʻseʻ did.

When the competitors and suitors saw that Djĕñgoʹʻseʻ had won the prize for which they had striven for so many days, they were greatly chagrined, and, moved by jealousy and malice, they went forth and secured the aid of sorcerers to compass the death of their more fortunate competitor. The sorcerers were asked to permit Djĕñgoʹʻseʻ to live with his wife until the dawn of the following day, when a messenger of death should pierce his heart so that he should die.

With a light heart Djĕñgoʹʻseʻ repaired to the nuptial bed of his newly won spouse and they two were very happy. But at the dawn of day on the morrow he expired in his wife’s arms. Stricken with grief, the widowed bride, divining the cause of her affliction, went out of the lodge to see how near daybreak it was and lest her lamentations would disturb the repose of the spirit of her dead husband. She was not afraid ... for she was alone in the yard adjoining the lodge. Presently she heard the door, which she had just closed after her, open, and looking back again she saw her husband come out of the lodge and walk briskly past her without speaking to her. At once she followed him as rapidly as she could, but she could not overtake him. She did not become weary in her pursuit, feeling no fatigue nor hunger. She kept up her pursuit all that night, all the next day, and all of the following night. Thus, for three nights and days she kept closely on the trail of her husband. He had, of course, outwalked her, and so she could not see him on the trail ahead of her.

At dawn on the fourth day she suddenly came to a narrow passageway [428] in which stood two men, who accosted her, saying: “What do you here? What brings you into this place, seeing that you are not dead? This is not the land of the living.” She quickly answered them: “I am following the tracks of my husband, which appear to lead through this passageway; I am seeking him.” As they seemed to be not satisfied with her reply, she related to them in detail what had happened to her and her husband. When the men had learned her story they decided at once to aid her, for no one who had not seen death could pass without their permission freely given. They informed her that some distance farther on there was another passageway, guarded by two fierce panthers, which would rend her in pieces unless she was provided with the usual toll. So they gave her two roasted pheasants, of enormous size, saying: “When you reach the next passageway throw one of these to each of the panthers and you may pass safely through. When you arrive at the third passageway you will there find a man who will instruct you as to what you must do further to accomplish your purpose.”

Taking the two pheasants and thanking the two men for their kindness, the woman again followed the trail of her husband. When she had gone a long distance she saw the couchant panthers guarding the way of death and the dead. Following the instructions of the two men, and throwing a pheasant to each, she quickly passed them. After following the trail a long time, she finally came to the third passageway. The man who guarded it said to her: “What do you here? What brings you to this place, seeing that you are not dead?” She answered him: “I am following the trail of my husband, which leads through this passageway.” Then she briefly related to him the events which had caused her to undertake the journey hither. The warder replied: “I will assist you in recovering your husband. You must take with you this gourd, which is closed with a tendon, for in this receptacle you will have to bring back the soul of your husband, carefully shut up. You must take also this small gourd bottle, which contains the fat or oil of man; you must take it with you for you will need it. When you reach a very large strawberry field stretching on both sides of the path, you must rub some of this oil on the palms of your hands. In this field you will see an elderly woman picking berries; she is the hostess of this country, and she will aid you in all things, telling you just what to do. After anointing your hands with the oil you must hold them up with the palms turned toward the berry picker. Now start on your way.”

With a light heart the woman again took up the trail of her husband, with the firm resolve to follow the instructions of the warder of the last passageway. Finally she reached the large field of strawberries, and taking oil out of the small gourd bottle and rubbing it on the palms of her hands, she held them up toward the elderly woman, whom she hailed in a loud voice. The woman, who was picking berries, heard her call and stood attentive until the other woman came up to her, whereupon she said: “What do you here, seeing that you are not dead?” Answering the Mother [429] of Ghosts, the woman said. “I come here seeking my husband, whose trail comes into this place,” and so saying, she gave the two gourds to the Mother of Ghosts. The latter replied: “I will put your husband into this empty gourd bottle, so that you may take him back with you. Come then to the lodge.” The widow followed the elder woman to her lodge, which stood a short distance from the field of strawberries. When they reached it the elder woman concealed her guest under some bark in one corner, at the same time saying: “Now, keep very quiet, for all the people come here to dance every night, and they will flee from me should they discover that you are here.” So the woman lay quiet under the bark cover.

When night came the approaching whoops of the gathering ghosts could be heard. Finally, one by one they began to enter the lodge of the Mother of Ghosts. At once the hostess began to sing and to beat on the drum used in the Great Feather dance. Then the concealed guest heard the ghosts begin to dance. The ghost of her husband, however, had not yet entered the lodge. When they had danced through a number of songs there was a short recess, to give the dancers an opportunity to rest and to readjust their apparel and ornaments. At last, the hostess asked the bystanders: “Where is the newcomer?” They answered that he was outside of the lodge, being still bashful among so many strangers. The hostess then said: “Bring him into the lodge; let him, too, dance and be merry.” So they persuaded him to enter the lodge, and when the hostess again began to sing and beat the drum he joined in the dancing.

After dancing a short time the dancers, sniffing the air, said: “What now? We smell the odor of a human being!” At once they started to flee from the room, but the hostess chidingly said: “Oh, pshaw! It is only I that you smell, for I am now getting very old again.” So they did not leave the room, but began to dance again. When the ghost of the newly arrived husband approached quite close to the hostess, she attempted to grasp him, but he deftly eluded her hand, and the dancers all fled from the room. But the hostess remonstrated with them, saying: “Oh, pshaw! It is only I scratching myself. Why do you flee from me?”

The ghosts were finally persuaded to reenter the lodge and resume the dance. Before long another opportunity presented itself, and the hostess succeeded in seizing the ghost of the newly arrived husband, while all the other ghosts escaped from the room. Quickly uncorking the gourd bottle, the hostess soon compressed the ghost therein, and securely closing it with its tendon stopper she called the embodied guest from her place of concealment and hurriedly gave her the gourd containing the husband’s life, and also the small gourd which contained the oil of the body of man. Then she said to the now highly excited woman: “Be you gone now! Be quick, lest they see you; the man at the first passageway will fully instruct you what to do to have your desire fulfilled. So go.”

Hurrying from the lodge into the darkness the woman followed the narrow trail. When she reached the first passageway, its warder said: “When you arrive at your home stop up with fine clay the nostrils, the ears, and every other opening or outlet of your husband’s body, and then rub the oil of man over his body. When you have finished this task, carefully uncork into his mouth the gourd bottle containing his life, in such manner that his life can not escape, but will reenter his body and so reanimate it again.” The embodied woman agreed to follow these instructions. Then the warder, giving her two roasted pheasants, which were to serve as sops to the two couchant panthers guarding the middle passageway, wished her a safe and auspicious journey home, and bade her start.

The woman thereupon departed from the first passageway, walking as rapidly as possible. She hastened along until she came to the middle passageway. There she gave one of the roasted pheasants to each of the panthers, and, quickly passing through the passageway, continued her journey. Finally she came to the first passageway, through which she went, and then, after traveling for three days and nights, she safely reached home.

Here she quickly prepared the body of her husband as she had been directed to do, filling every opening and outlet with fine clay mixed with deer fat to soften it, and then she carefully rubbed it with the oil of man. As soon as she had completed the preliminary work she carefully and anxiously uncorked the gourd bottle containing the life of her husband into the mouth of the body thus prepared. In a few moments she was elated to see her husband’s body come to life again.

This experience rendered the body of the husband invulnerable to the spells and incantations of sorcerers and wizards. The faithful wife and her resurrected husband dwelt together in peace and health and happiness until, in the fullness of years, they died and went to the land of the Mother of Ghosts.

117. THE LEGEND OF HODADEÑON AND HIS ELDER SISTER

It is said that once there lived together all alone in a very long lodge an infant brother and his elder sister. The only remaining fire burned at the end of the lodge. In this place for some years abode these two, undisturbed by any unusual event.

One day the brother said to his sister: “Oh, elder sister! what truly is the reason that we two live here alone in a lodge which is so very long?” In answer his sister said: “Indeed, we have been quite numerous in the not distant past; our relations, who have lived and are now dead, filled this lodge on both sides of the fire pits, to the doorways. The sorcerers have caused them all to perish; and this explains why you are called Hodadeñon, for you are the last one not under enchantment.”

It was evident that the young boy would become powerful in the exercise of orenda (magic power). It happened one day that he said: “Elder sister, you must make me a bow and an arrow.” She had great compassion for him, so she answered: “Let it be so.” Then she made a bow and an arrow, using on them her best skill. Having completed her task, she gave them to him. “Thank you, elder sister,” he said; “now I will hunt. Hereafter you and I will regularly feed on meat. Now I will go to hunt.” She said: “Let it be so.”

Then the boy went out of the lodge. His voice continued to break forth as he went murmuring right there round about the lodge. He did not go far away. In the evening he entered the lodge, saying: “Ho, my elder sister, I come, having killed nothing. Tomorrow, very early in the morning, you must arise and prepare food for me. Then I will go to hunt, for very early in the morning game wanders about in the clearings.” In the evening they became quiet and slept.

At the dawn of day the boy spoke, saying: “Elder sister! come now, arise. You must prepare food for me. As soon as I finish eating I will go to hunt.” Arising, she prepared food, which was soon ready for him. As soon as he finished eating, he said: “Now, elder sister, I will go to hunt.” “Let it be so,” she said in reply, thinking that he would not go far away, as he was still so very small.

He went out of the lodge early in the morning. After a long time his voice was no longer heard. Thereupon his sister went out, wondering, “Where has he gone?” She looked around, going from place to place, but nowhere was he to be found. Then she thought, “He will get lost.” Soon after she had reentered the lodge, the sun being nearly set, it happened that all at once a noise again arose, as if something had struck the door—then suddenly Hodadeñon pushed his body against it and entered the lodge. He said: “Elder sister, it is a fact that I have been to hunt for game. I have killed a something, I know not what [it is]. Blacklegs, perhaps, it is called; banded-tail, perhaps, it is called, this thing that I have killed. So to the spot you and I must go, and you must take along the ‘burden cradle,’ for in that will the body be brought, as it is of great size.” “Let it be so; go on,” she said. “You would better take the burden cradle,” he said again. “Wah, I will carry its body easily,” she said. “Wah, you must be very strong,” he replied. “Go; let it be so,” she admonished him.

Then the two started. Having arrived at the place, he told her: “Right there I stood, and there it walked. Thus [I did] with my arrow, saying, ‘sî, sî, sî, sî, stop thou, first.’ So it did stand, forsooth. From here I shot, so that I hit it right in the center [of its body], whereupon it fell backward, saying, ‘daʻ, daʻ, daʻ, daʻ.’ Toward it I ran, crying, ‘Do not break my arrow that I prize so highly,’ while it rolled itself about in the dust.” While they slowly made their way along Hodadeñon did not cease telling what had happened. At times his sister would say: “Come, go thou on.” Suddenly he said: “Right there it lies. Do you think you can indeed carry it back?” “Wah,” she said, seizing it by the neck and starting homeward, adding: “Come; go thou on.” “Goh, it is true, thou art strong, elder sister,” he said.

“What thing is it named, the thing that I have killed?” “Djoqgweyani [430] it is called,” she said. “Djoqgweyani is it named, elder sister?” he asked. “That is its name,” she replied. “Does it taste good?” he asked. “It tastes good,” she answered. “Dumplings are what it requires, for dumplings are what people put with it.” After reaching home she plucked the game, after which she “set up” the kettle and put in dumplings [with the meat]. Constantly did Hodadeñon stand around about the fire saying, “So it will indeed taste good to us?” “Ho, it certainly does taste good,” she said. When it was done she removed the kettle [from the fire] and placed the mess on pieces of bark, and the soup and dumplings in a bark bowl. Then they ate. Hodadeñon kept saying constantly, “It is so good, is it not, elder sister?” “Oh, yes! it is good,” she would reply. “Djoqgweyani—is it not true that is the name of the thing I killed?” he would say. “That is its name,” was her answer. When they finished eating, he said, “Tomorrow again will I go to hunt. Then indeed a large game animal will I kill.”

It was a usual thing in the evening that this boy did not go to sleep at once. Continually in the dark noises were heard here and there; then, again, under the bed these noises were heard. What he was doing was not known. So the elder sister said: “My younger brother, what are you usually doing making noises in the dark, yes, even under the bed, for long periods; and, too, you go about laughing?” “Well,” said he, “I will tell you. It is this. I am engaged in hunting fleas. They are very palatable, tasting good to me. I have now told you. Whenever one escapes I laugh. So never ask me this again.” He added, “Now again I will go to hunt.” “Let it be so,” she said in reply.

Thereupon Hodadeñon went out. For a short time his voice was heard around about outside the lodge; then again nowhere was his voice heard by his elder sister. On going out of doors and looking around without finding traces of him, she reentered the lodge. Not very long after, all at once she heard approaching footsteps; then something struck the door, which opened, and there stood her younger brother, Hodadeñon. He said: “My elder sister, get the burden cradle right away; forsooth, I have killed a large animal, and you are not able to bring it without the burden cradle. I wonder what the animal is called. Perhaps Baldheaded is its name; perhaps Snot-nose is its name; perhaps Tasseled-with-Hemlock-bough [431] is its name.” “Come, go on! let us go back there,” she replied. “But you will take the burden cradle,” he added. She answered: “Oh! I am fully prepared to bring it. Go thou on. Let us then start.”

Thereupon the two started. She followed him a long distance, when at last he stopped and she did likewise. He said: “Right here I stood when suddenly yonder there walked a very large animal, and when I said, ‘Tci, tci, tci, tci, tci. Stop thou first.’ Just this way [indicating] I did with my arrow. I shook my arrow. The animal stopped. Then I said, ‘What, indeed, is thy name? Bald-head, it may be, you are named; Snot-nose, it may be, you are named.’ Then I shot it there so that the arrow fixed itself just in the center of the body, making it fall backward, saying [with its wings] du, du, du, du; it fluttered loudly its wings as it fell backward. Thereupon then I ran thither, saying as I went, ‘Do not break my arrow’; which I prize so much. Then I went near the place where it lay. So right there it lies.”

Hodadeñon then asked: “Gwe. What is its name?” She replied: “O’soont it is called.” Seizing it by the neck and throwing it on her shoulder she started homeward bearing the body, and said: “Come, go thou on; let us go home.” So they started homeward. They had not gone far when he said: “O’soont, is it not the name of what I have killed?” “That is it,” she said. Soon afterward he again said: “O’soont, is it not the name of what I have killed?” “That is it,” she again replied; “go thou onward; so be it.”

Once more they started forward. It was troublesome to answer him as they went along, for every little while he would stop again, saying: “My elder sister, what is the name of what I have killed?” Her answer was always: “O’soont is its name. Come, do you go on.” She became thoroughly provoked with him because at short intervals during the day he kept asking her the same question over and over.

When finally they reached their home, he asked: “Does it taste good?” She replied: “Hoh, it tastes good. It must be accompanied with hulled-corn mush.” After plucking the animal and cutting it up, she boiled it in a kettle over the fire. While it was cooking she exclaimed: “Hoh, how fat it is,” for the oil came bubbling up in the kettle. Again Hodadeñon stood around and kept saying: “My elder sister, does it taste good?” She would reply, “Woh, it does, indeed, taste good.” Then she hulled corn and made meal, from which she prepared mush to go with the boiled meat. Having removed the kettle from the fire and skimmed off the fat, she mixed it with the corn-meal mush. Next pouring the meat into a bark bowl and the corn-meal mush into another, the sister said: “Come now, let us two eat together.” While they ate the boy still kept saying: “Elder sister, I do think that the thing I killed tastes good. It is called O’soont, and it certainly does taste good.” They finished their meal, whereupon the boy said: “Tomorrow again I shall go to hunt. This time perhaps I shall kill something which will indeed be much larger than what I have killed already.” Soon it became night, and they lay down to sleep. But as for Hodadeñon he spent the night going about hunting fleas, laughing when one would escape him.

When morning dawned the boy said: “Come, my elder sister, arise now. The game animals habitually go about the open spaces very early in the morning.” The sister having warmed up things [to eat], they ate their breakfast. When they were through the boy said: “Now I shall go out to hunt.” With these words he went out of the lodge. After going around the lodge murmuring for a long time, all of a sudden his murmurs ceased. He was now nowhere about the lodge, for he had gone to some unknown place. It was a long time before the sister heard the footsteps of a person who was approaching—the sounds, dih, dih, dih, dih. Again Hodadeñon struck the door, making it fly open, at which the boy leaped into the lodge, exclaiming: “Elder sister, let us go back right away. I have killed a very large game animal, but I do not know what animal it is. It may be that its name is Great Eyes; it may be that its name is It Has Two Long Ears; it may be that its name is White Tail. Now it is that you must take the burden cradle; otherwise you can not bear its body, for it is so great in size.” Answering, she said: “So be it. I will take the burden frame.”

Then the two started, and having arrived at the place, the boy suddenly stopped, saying: “Just here is the place where I was when I was surprised to see this animal running along there. Only my arrow I held out and said to the animal, ‘Tci, tci, tci, tci. Stop, first,’ and it stopped. Thereupon I asked it: ‘What is thy name? Perhaps Thy-Two-Eyes-are-Large is thy name; perhaps Thy-Two-Ears-are-Long is thy name; perhaps Thy-Tail-is-White is thy name?’ Then I shot, hitting the animal in the very center of its body. It ran along farther, and I pursued it. At a long distance from here I suddenly found its body lying there, with the arrow protruding very little, so deep had it penetrated into the middle of the creature’s body.” The two went on to the place where the game animal lay, and on reaching it, the boy said: “Here it lies.” His sister was surprised to see the body of a deer lying there, and she exclaimed: “My younger brother, I am thankful that now you have killed a large game animal. I have been in the habit of pitying you, hoping that perchance by the risks you have taken you might grow up to be a good hunter. Now I think you are immune to the orenda (magic power) of the neogen, for you have killed an animal bearing this name.” In a short time the boy exclaimed: “Oh, elder sister! does it taste good?” She answered: “Yes; indeed, it tastes good, and I shall now skin it.” When she completed this task she quartered the deer, after having cut off the legs, which she placed aside in a pile by themselves. Then she proceeded to arrange a package of the meat on the burden cradle, securely binding it with cords of bark. Having finished her own load, she next proceeded to make a load for the boy of the four legs of the deer. Deftly fashioning a pack strap of bark, she fastened the load on his back, saying: “Come now, you take the lead.” At this he started ahead, and kept on while she gathered up her utensils and made ready to follow. Her load being very heavy, she could hardly manage it. In order to get it on her back she had to place it first on a log, from which she was able to raise it to her back. Then, with the sister following the lead of her younger brother, both went along with their burdens. A long distance was covered when she saw him sitting on a log with his burden resting on the log, too. He said: “I am resting because the load is so heavy. Come, do you also rest yourself here.” So, setting her load also on a log, she, too, rested. Again the boy asked: “My elder sister, what is the name of the thing that I killed?” She answered: “Neogen is its name.” He asked: “Does it taste good?” “Hoh, it tastes good,” she replied, “if it is cooked in the right way. Come now, let us go on homeward.” Of course she helped him get his burden on his back. When she readjusted her own load, she followed her brother. On reaching home, she found that he forsooth had arrived there too. As she entered their lodge her forehead strap broke, letting her burden fall, with the sound, pumh! It was very heavy.

Unwrapping and untying the packages of meat, the sister hung the various pieces around the interior of the lodge; the meat nearly filled the small room. Next she stretched the skin. For this purpose she made a large hooplike frame, telling the boy to watch her carefully while she did so. Then she attached the skin around the edges to this frame by means of bark cords. “In this way do people generally do this thing, which is called ‘stretching the hide,’” said the sister, “and you must ordinarily do it in the same manner, for I believe that you will live a very long time.” “So be it,” said the boy, “I will follow your instructions. Come now, do you prepare the food. I will try it to learn how good it is.” The sister answered: “So be it. I will make a dish of meat cut into small pieces boiled down. I will prepare it.” So she set up the pot [over the fire]; and around the place the boy hung, continually saying: “Perhaps this will taste exceedingly good to us. It tastes good indeed, I suppose.” “Oh! it tastes good,” she replied. So things went on until the food was cooked, when the sister removed the pot from the fire. Then she put the meat into a bark bowl, and the soup also. The deer’s liver had become by this time of the consistency of bread, so the brother and elder sister began to eat. While at their meal the lad exclaimed three times: “Ho, my elder sister, what I killed tastes exceedingly good.”

When the two were through eating the boy said: “My elder sister, I shall now take a rest because I am tired out. Just now we have an abundance of meat.” Then he rested. Indoors he walked around, and indoors, too, he seated himself at times, and for a long time he went about hunting fleas. The sister went to fetch wood for fuel, taking the burden frame with her, so the boy was left by himself.

Suddenly he was startled by the sound of some one singing in the loft above: “My younger brother, tobacco. Once more I want to enjoy a smoke, my younger brother.” Climbing up into the loft, the boy was surprised to find a male person lying there, having a very large head and an enormous suit of hair. Hodadeñon said: “Gwe, what ails you?” The man replied: “My younger brother, I desire to smoke. Yonder lies a pouch made of skunk skin; in it there is a very small quantity of tobacco and there is also a pipe.” Having found the pouch as said, Hodadeñon took out of it a very small piece of tobacco; also a pipe. Next he proceeded to cut up all the tobacco, and kept saying, “I shall use it all, as it is my custom to do, for it is abundant seemingly.” Having completed his preparations, he took from the pouch the fire flint and the punk, and struck off sparks that set fire to the tobacco. Then, placing the pipe in the man’s mouth, he said: “Now you shall smoke.” Replying, “I thank you, my younger brother,” the man drew in the smoke, and smoke settled all over his head. Thereupon mice in large numbers came out of his hair because of the tobacco smoke that settled into it. Hodadeñon then ran away because he was choking with the smoke.