Chapter XLV: Part 2 (13)

But the old man had not lived here long before trouble arose between him and the Wolf people. The lapse of time only emphasized the disagreements and the hostility of the Wolf people against the old man. Finally the Wolf people began to be very angry with the Wild Cat for his provocative acts, and then it was not long before the Wolf tribe fell upon the old man, Wild Cat, and tore him in pieces and devoured him. They left his bones gnawed clean on the ground.

At the time that the Eagle man visited the old man, Wild Cat, the old man had a grandson who was a mere boy—a child. But at the time the old man was devoured by the Wolf people the grandson of old Wild Cat had grown up to be a young man. And he still remembered his grandfather, Wild Cat, and at times he would wonder where his grandfather had gone and what had become of him.

So there came a day when the grandson said, “I will now travel to see what has become of my grandfather. I will seek for him in the lands toward the sunrise.” So, after making suitable preparations, he started on his quest for his grandfather.

He journeyed eastward for many days, when finally he met a man who questioned him, asking, “Where are you going? Where are you from?” The grandson replied, “I am traveling in search of my grandfather.” After this conversation each went on his way. The grandson continued his journey for some time when he met the second man, who asked, “Where are you going? Where are you from?” The grandson replied, “I am traveling in search of my grandfather.” Then the man said, “I have seen your grandfather living among the Eagle people.” The grandson continued his journey eastward until he finally came to the dwelling place of the Eagle people on the mountain. Here he was informed that his grandfather had been expelled from these people, and that he had been rolled down the mountain to the Wolf tribe. “What am I to do?” asked the grandson. “You had better go home,” said the old chief of the Eagle people, “for if you do not return home you shall lose your mind and the mind of your people; you shall become something else, someone else.” Then the grandson asked, “Can you change me now so that I may go to the place where my grandfather is?” They replied, “Yes; we can change you so that you can go thither with perfect safety.”

The grandson having given his consent to this proposition, he was soon changed into a panther and then rolled down the mountain into Wolf swamp, where many Wolf people lived. The presence of the panther aroused the bitter hostility of the Wolf people, who attacked him savagely in an attempt to kill him. But owing to his great strength they were unable to accomplish their purpose.

So he traveled from place to place in the Wolf country, where he was regarded as an open enemy, although he was engaged only in looking for his grandfather. There came a day when he found his bones, and placing together the bones under a large hickory tree he pushed against the tree, shouting “Arise, oh, grandfather. The tree is about to fall on you.” His grandfather heard his warning and at once sprang up. He recognized his grandson.

But the grandfather would not agree with his grandson as to how to live, where to go, or what to do. So, after much bitter fighting, they finally separated. The grandfather went in search of his own people and the grandson in quest of his.

When the grandfather met the acquaintances of his early life he was no more able to agree with them than he was before he left them; so, after much strife and fighting, the people finally became so enraged at him that they fell on him and for the second time he was killed and eaten up, and his bones were left bleaching on the ground where they had devoured him.

The grandson journeyed from place to place for a long time, and he encountered many difficulties and disappointments in his quest for people of his own tribe.

But one day he was pursued by a hunter with three dogs. When the dogs came within reach the grandson killed them one by one before the hunter could come to their assistance, and thus he escaped from death at the hands of the hunter.

So, passing beyond this place, he met one day a woman of his own tribe. He addressed her pleasantly and she replied in the same mood. This woman finally agreed to marry the grandson. As the years passed they became possessed of a large family, consisting of several boys and girls. It was not many years before these children were large enough to look out for themselves. In the meanwhile the father and mother quarreled bitterly, then these boys and girls quarreled among themselves, and lastly with their parents. The result of this condition of affairs was that the family dispersed, each one going off alone.

Again, the grandson was left alone, having no friends or family of his own. He was left completely to his own resources for providing the means of his living and for protecting himself from his enemies. He traveled many dreary days in solitude. But there came a day when he met a woman of the Panther tribe of people, who was cooking some deer meat for herself. As the grandson was very hungry he asked this woman to share some of the deer meat with him, but she refused absolutely to spare him a morsel.

So, hungry as he was, he had to pass on without anything to eat. Some time afterwards he was fortunate enough to kill a deer. So, after dressing it and preparing it properly and cooking it, he sat down to eat. And while he was enjoying his venison the woman who had refused him a portion of venison boldly came up and asked him for some of the venison. He showed his teeth and growled and snarled so fiercely that he finally drove the old woman away.

When he had finished his meal he packed up his belongings and departed. He traveled several days from place to place. Suddenly he became aware that several hunters with three dogs were pursuing him. So he fled from that place until he became wearied and then he climbed a very tall tree. There he hoped to escape his pursuers, but the dogs tracked him so well that soon the hunters were under the tree. Whereupon one of the hunters shot him, mortally wounding him, and he fell to the ground in a dying condition. The dying Panther man said to the hunters, “This, your act, shall cause bitter hostility between your people and my tribe, and many of both tribes will die in consequence.”

As the hunters were bearing the body of the Panther man homeward, a Panther man met them and saw the dead body of the Panther man—one of his own kindred. At once he returned to his people, telling them what he had seen. So with two other Panther men he retraced his steps to find the guilty hunters.

The three Panther men were not long in finding the camping place of the hunters and they quickly succeeded in killing the dogs and the hunters and in devouring them, leaving their bones to bleach on the ground.

The friends and kinsmen of the hunters waited many days for the return of the hunters and their dogs, but they waited in vain. So a number of them formed a party and went out in search of them. They found their bones on the path and also the dead body of the Panther man. In the thickets near by they also found other Panther men asleep. These discoveries were reported in the village of the dead hunters, and there was aroused a bitter feeling against the Panther people; and so all who were able to go out to hunt Panther people started out to destroy the Panther tribe.

This resulted in a bitter strife between the people of the village and the Panther tribe, and many of the bravest on both sides were killed without bringing any satisfaction to either side. During this struggle the bones of the grandson lay bleaching on the path in the forest. But it so happened that one of his sons one day passed along that path, and he recognized his father’s bones. So by gathering them together under a large hickory tree and setting them in order the son of the Panther man brought his father back to life by pushing against the hickory tree and shouting, “Father, arise lest the tree topple over on you.”

When the father arose he had the form which he had when he left his home in the village in search of his grandfather. This transformation frightened the son so much that he fled through the forest away from that place, and the grandson made his way home to the village of his own people. He entertained his friends and kindred with the recital of his adventures.

There came a day when the old Eagle, who had enticed away old man Wild Cat, was in a reminiscent mood, and so he wondered what had become of the old man whom he had left among the Wolf tribe. So he finally resolved to pay a visit to the country of the Wolf people. He left his home and traveled along toward the Wolf country. At last he was greatly surprised to find scattered around the bones of the old man, his friend. So he decided to aid his old friend by bringing him to life again. He therefore collected together the bones lying about and placed them in order under a great elm tree, and when he had gathered all the bones he stepped up to the elm tree and suddenly exclaimed, “Be quick, friend, arise, lest the tree fall on you.” At once the old man, Wild Cat, leaped up in his original shape and condition in form and mind, a man. So, after the usual greetings, the old Eagle chief led his friend home to his own people, whence he had taken him so long ago. Having arrived there, old man Wild Cat found his grandson, and to him he related all his adventures while away from his people. He declared, “We must highly esteem the Pigeon tribe of people.” (Then I left there.)

134. THE WEEPING OF THE CORN, AND BEAN, AND SQUASH PEOPLE

There was in the olden time a village of the Iroquois which was situated in a very fertile and beautiful country. They raised corn and beans and squashes, and for many years they were contented and prosperous. But there came a time when their crops began to fail them—the corncobs were bare of grains, the bean pods were empty, and the squashes would wither away before the time to harvest them. The people went hungry, for they had no food from their fields and game was very scarce.

One day a very old woman, who was Matron and Chief of her clan, was walking near her planted field, meditating on the misfortune of her people. As she walked she heard bitter weeping out in the field, and she at once decided that some one must be in deep distress. So, walking into the planted field, she was surprised to find that it was the corn that was weeping; and the beans were weeping too; and the squashes were weeping also. The old woman had great compassion for the corn and the beans and the squashes for their weeping. She stopped beside a hill of corn and asked, “Oh, you dear Corn, why do you weep? Tell me the reason.” The Corn between sobs said, “You place us in the ground to grow, but you do not perform your further duties to us. You do not cover us with sufficient earth as you know you should; and you do not hill up the earth about our feet so that we can stand firm; and you fail to dig up the earth sufficiently around us to give us water; so it is that many of us have remained only a few hours or a day or two and then have gone home; only a small number of us remain and now we are all dying because of your neglect. You even permit our enemies to strangle us to death.”

As the old Matron listened to this pitiful story she was bitterly grieved. She then went to the Bean people and to the Squash people, and from both she heard the same painful story of neglect by her people. She was deeply moved, and so she went to her lodge and wept along the path homeward. Having seated herself on her couch in her lodge, she kept on weeping. Her people having heard her sobbing were much puzzled by it, and they being moved by sympathy also began to weep with their Matron. Soon many persons had assembled at her lodge, and they all were mourning with the old woman.

Finally, the chief of the clan came to the lodge and addressing the people he told them to cease their weeping and to be of good cheer; and that he would ask their Matron what had caused her to return from the planted field with such grief. So the people ceased their weeping, and then the chief, addressing their Matron, who was still sobbing bitterly, asked, “Mother, what caused you to weep while you were in the planted field?” After somewhat composing herself she replied to this question by saying that she had heard bitter wailings in the planted fields and that on going there to learn the cause the Corn people, and the Bean people, and the Squash people had complained to her that she and her people had not properly cared for them by not covering them with sufficient earth to enable them to live and by permitting their enemies to grow up around them so that they had no more ground on which to stand. Then the Matron ceased talking, but kept on weeping.

Upon hearing this statement the people assured the chief that this was the first information they had received as to the reason why their Matron had been grieving so bitterly.

Thereupon the chief called a council of his clan and laid before it the remarkable statement of their Matron. The council upon hearing this recital resolved that in the future whoever planted either corn or beans or squashes must cover the grain with sufficient earth to give it sustenance, and must care for the growing plants by properly hilling them and by digging around them to loosen the earth to make it mellow, and lastly, by destroying their enemies (the weeds) who grew about them so luxuriantly.

So, in the following spring, when planting time returned, they were again admonished as to the proper methods of planting the corn, the beans, and the squashes. The people all agreed that they would follow the advice of the council in this matter because of the statement of their Matron as to the real cause of their withered crops.

So, in accordance with this resolution, the next springtime they did place the seed corn and beans and squashes sufficiently deep in the ground to give these grains sufficient covering of earth to grow well. The old chief stood by the planters while they were seeding their fields to see that the work was properly done. Later, when the tender sprouts of corn and beans and squashes had reached such height that they required more earth to support them, the people were called together and urged to hill up their growing crops and to destroy thoroughly the enemies (weeds) of these useful plants. These plants were growing luxuriantly and were strong, but toward harvest time something came and destroyed these growing crops. A certain nation of people came and carried away the corn and the beans, leaving only some squash shells. Again the people mourned their loss, confessing that they must have been guilty of some other form of negligence.

So the following spring they again took great pains in their planting and in their care for their crops; but just as soon as the green corn was becoming fine and fit to eat a certain nation of people began to steal the corn and beans and squashes. The people suspected what people had come and carried away their corn and beans and squashes.

So the chief of the people called a council to discuss the situation and to suggest means to meet it. It was finally resolved that several stout and alert warriors should be set to watch the planted fields to see who might come to steal the ripening crops. These watchmen went into the fields in the evening. Toward the dawn of day they discovered a number of persons who were tearing off the ears of corn and the bean pods, and also others who were stealing the squashes. These thieves they captured and held as prisoners. These prisoners were taken in the morning to the council lodge before the clan chief.

The chief, after looking the prisoners over, remarked that these thieves were their enemies because they had stolen their corn and beans and squashes. Then he asked one of the corn thieves, “Where do you live?” “A long way hence in the forest,” came the reply. “Are there many of your people?” continued the chief. “We are a large nation,” came the answer. In like manner he questioned the squash thief and the bean thieves, and these made replies similar to those made by the corn thieves.

They bound the corn thieves and daily they took them out of the lodge and all the chiefs and the people came to see them, and everyone was privileged to strike these thieves a blow with a staff, and the thieves would weep bitterly at this treatment. Then they would be taken back into the lodge. The bean thieves and the squash thieves were also daily punished in this way.

Daily the corn thieves wept loudly. After a long time had elapsed these thieves were told that if they would conduct the people to their own nation they would be set free. The corn thieves agreed to this proposition and the old chief selected a party of his warriors to lead the thieves back to their own nation.

The corn thieves led the warriors a long way into the forest. But at last they came to a settlement, and the thieves said this is a village of our people. The warriors killed many of the people, and then they set free the thieves whom they had brought back to their country. The people whom the warriors had killed were carried home.

Then some warriors were sent to the squash stealers with an order to split their upper lips so that they would not be able to eat squashes again.

It is said that the warriors whipped the corn thieves so much during their captivity that they wept so much that their faces were striped and their backs were striped and their tails were ringed, from the blows they received; and these marks have remained to this day. The corn thieves were raccoons. The squash thieves were rabbits (hares?), and their lips have remained split to this day from this punishment.

Tradition says that the ancestors of the Seneca thought that all trees and shrubs and plants were endowed with human life and were divided into families, having brothers and sisters, fathers and mothers. And that in like manner the Corn, and Beans, and the Squash have human lives, and that if one offended them they would grieve and would depart and would leave the people without food.

135. SʻHAGOWENOTʻHA, THE SPIRIT OF THE TIDES

In the long ago an uncle and his nephew, his sister’s son, dwelt together in a lodge. It so happened that the uncle, the elder man, had to keep a recumbent position. He had lain so long that the roots of a tree standing near their lodge had overgrown his body, so it was quite impossible for him to arise.

As time passed he called his nephew to him and said to the youth: “Go yonder in the distance to the clearings, where the logs are lying one on the top of another, and plant there beans, corn, and squashes. They make good eating, I assure you. And if these things should grow under your cultivation they will furnish us with something to eat in the future.” Thus spoke the old man.

In a short time he continued: “Bring forth from under the couch yonder a basket in which there is some seed corn, as it is called.” The youth brought the basket and placed it beside the old man. With the seed corn were the beans for seed and the squash seed.

Then the old man said to the youth: “Bring me from under the couch yonder the small baskets, 10 in number; I need them; for you must make a girdle of baskets around your body.” So the nephew brought the baskets to his uncle, who with his own hands placed in each of the baskets some of the several kinds of seeds, thus dividing the seed corn, the beans for seed, and the squash seed. He carefully completed his task.

Having done so, he addressed his nephew, saying: “Come, now! go yonder to the clearings where the logs are lying one on the top of another, and there you must plant these seeds.” The young nephew replied: “So be it, my mother’s brother. I will place beside you all the things which may be necessary for you while I shall be absent planting the seeds.” So the nephew placed beside his uncle a bark dish containing hominy, a fire poker and a knife, and a cake of boiled corn bread. Then he said to his uncle: “I am now going to plant the seeds.”

Having arrived at the clearings he set to work preparing the ground for planting the seeds which he had brought. He had been at work a considerable time and had already planted a number of hills when he heard the voice of his uncle singing. The words of the song were: “Now, now, now I believe that I have arisen, now indeed.” At this the youthful nephew ran back swiftly to the lodge to prevent his uncle from arising. Having arrived there the young man seized his uncle and repressed his desire to arise, asking him, “What has come to pass that you began to sing?” The uncle replied: “I became thirsty, and so I began to sing.” The young man brought his uncle water to drink, and after the latter had quenched his thirst the youthful nephew said to him: “You must now lie quiet, as I ask you to do.” The uncle answered: “Return again to the clearings to plant the seeds. As there are no more left in the lodge you must pick up those which you dropped from your baskets.” He referred to the 10 small baskets in which he had himself placed the various kinds of seeds.

So as soon as the young man had gathered up all the seeds which he had spilled along the path as he had hastened toward the lodge he again began to plant them in hills. Again, as he had nearly finished seeding, he heard the voice of his uncle singing: “Now, now, now I believe that I have arisen, now indeed.”

The nephew at once started on the run for the old lodge, but when he had gone only half the way he heard a loud report, băʹʻ! caused by the breaking of the roots which had been holding his uncle down. When he arrived at the lodge he found that his uncle was not there. This grieved him greatly, for he felt that he would become very wretched and poor without the aid and advice of his uncle. So he began to weep and mourn for his uncle, but at last he ceased to do so. He then entered the lodge to think upon his situation, and finally came out to see whether he could not learn whither his uncle had gone by noting the tracks he had left on the ground. For this purpose he went carefully around the lodge, examining the ground as he went. At last he found his uncle’s tracks, which showed the direction he had taken, for they had made very deep impressions in the ground as he fled in haste. From the tracks he learned that his uncle had taken a course directly westward. The young nephew then said: “So be it. I suppose it is for me to go to the place whither my uncle has gone. I will follow the tracks of my uncle, my mother’s brother.”

Thereupon the young nephew, having gotten his bow and arrows, at once started on a run on the trail of his uncle. He kept the trail in the forests for three days, when he reached the shore of a lake, and there indeed the trail ended so far as the nephew could see; so he stopped there and stood looking around; thus he stood for some time.

At last he was somewhat startled at seeing not far away a canoe,[461] which was being paddled toward him quite swiftly, and which contained what appeared to him to be a man. The canoe stopped at some distance from the spot where the young nephew was standing. He saw that a number of wild geese supplied the propelling power for the canoe, six wild geese being attached to one side of the canoe and six to the other side. Then he overheard the man who was in the canoe address the geese with these words: “My servants, you may now go forth to seek something to eat.” The wild geese at once obeyed and flew upward, making the sound stūmʻ.

The young nephew stood there silent for some time. Then the man in the canoe said to him: “Come hither.” The youth, replying, “So let it be,” went to the place where lay the canoe, in which stood the strange man. The stranger, addressing the youth, said: “I am thankful that you are well. Is it not true that Okteondon is your uncle? He is my uncle also. I am thankful, too, that you and I, who are brothers, have seen each other at this time. It so happens that you and I resemble each other and are of the same stature. It would be still more convincing if we should put this to proof by trial. As I have been saying, our bows and arrows are alike and are of the same length. Let us test my statement by a trial.” Thereupon the man took his bow and arrows out of the canoe. Held up together, they were found to be of the same kind of wood and of the same shape; their arrows were of the same kind of wood and of the same length.

Then the stranger said, “Come; let us see. We have the same speed, I believe.” He continued: “Let us now string our bows, as I am now stringing mine; let us stand here side by side.” While the two stood side by side again the stranger spoke, saying: “This we do in order that there may be a race between us and our arrows. Let us shoot our arrows, and as soon as we let fly our arrows then you and I must start to run.” Then they let fly their arrows, at the same time starting to run swiftly. They ran evenly, keeping well together. All that could be heard was the sounds made by the passage through the air of small stones picked up by their swiftly moving feet, for they were running at a rapid pace. Looking upward, the youth saw two arrows flying along together. In this trial of their fleetness of foot they caught the arrows before they fell to the ground, each one catching his own.

After this test the strange man said to his young companion, “Now, let us return to the place whence we started.” So they went back to the spot where the canoe lay. Then the strange man repeated what he had been saying again and again: “Have I not been saying that you and I are indeed brothers? We have the same fleetness of foot; we are of the same stature; our bodies are alike in form and condition; our bows are exactly alike; our arrows are also alike. These things indicate that truly you and I are brothers and that Okteondon is your uncle, as he is my uncle. Come, then, let us go hence. We will amuse ourselves. We will go to a distant place where I am in the habit of playing.”

The young man replied unsuspectingly: “So let it be.” Whereupon the strange man said: “Come, come hither, my slaves, you wild geese. Do you come hither at once.” He had hardly ceased speaking when the wild geese alighted beside the canoe and attached themselves to it. Then the strange man again got aboard of the canoe and invited his friend, the young man, to accompany him. When the latter had also boarded the canoe his companion said to the wild geese: “Come, now, do you go to the place where the island floats in the water.” At this command the geese began paddling, thus propelling the canoe very swiftly toward the place designated. Then the strange man began to sing: “Now, now, now, it seems true, I have started, indeed.” This song he kept singing as the canoe sped along toward the island of his promised sports.

They finally arrived at the island, and the two men having landed the strange man said to the wild geese: “Come, now, my servants, go now to find something for food for yourselves”; thereupon they flew away. He continued: “Whenever I say to you ‘Come hither’ you must return here at once. But it must be I who shall say this.”

Drawing the canoe up on the shore he said to his young companion: “Now, we will go to the place where I am accustomed to amuse myself,” and they two started. Having arrived at the spot, the young man saw lying there a very large white stone. His companion said: “It is, indeed, here that I have my playground; and now you shall see what I will do.”

Then the stranger undressed, making himself entirely naked. Then raising the great white rock he cast it into the water, which was very deep. Down it went with the sound bubʻ, bubʻ, bubʻ, bubʻ. The strange man next dived into the lake after the rock and remained under water for a long time. The youthful nephew of Okteondon was watching anxiously what his strange companion was doing. Finally, the youth was surprised to see his companion come to the surface of the water bearing the great white rock in his arms. When he had got on dry land he set the rock down, saying to the young man: “Thus now you, too, must do as I have shown you.” The latter replied: “So be it. I will try at once. After removing all his raiment and being naked he took up the great white rock and going to the edge of the lake he cast it far from shore into the depths. Again the rock sank with the sound bubʻ, bubʻ, bubʻ, bubʻ, as in the first instance, and the young man dived after it.

As soon as the young man had plunged into the waters of the lake the strange man, taking up not only his own garments but also all those belonging to his companion, returned to the point where the canoe had been left. Arriving there, he called out: “Come, now, my servants. Come you hither,” and shoving the canoe into the water he boarded it. The wild geese soon alighted alongside of the canoe and attaching themselves to it began to paddle it along. Their master merely said to them, “Go directly back to the place whence we started,” and the geese obeyed him, causing the canoe to move swiftly thither.

In a short time thereafter the young nephew of Okteondon rose to the surface of the water bringing with him, as did the stranger, the large white rock, which he cast aside as he came out of the water. He found no one around and he saw that his garments were missing, so he ran to the place where he remembered the canoe had been beached. When he arrived there he found that the canoe, propelled by the swift feet of the wild geese, was far out on the lake. As he reached the shore he overheard the strange man in the canoe say in a loud voice: “To you who feed on flesh and who dwell in the waters of the lake I offer this flesh to eat.” These flesh eaters were highly pleased with the idea that they would soon have more flesh to eat. By flesh the stranger signified the flesh of the young man whom he had entrapped on the island. The name of the strange man was Sʻhagowenotʻha.

Then the youthful nephew of Okteondon started away, going from place to place in a hopeless effort to find some way of escape. When he found that he had been victimized by Sʻhagowenotʻha, he began to cry, and he went about crying and saying to himself, “Now I know that I am about to die.”

In his wanderings around the island he found, scattered in numerous places, many bones of human beings in different degrees of decomposition. Among these decaying bones he was surprised to find the half-decayed body of a man lying on the ground, and he was still more astonished to hear this half-dead man say to him,[462] “My sister’s son, Oh, nephew! come to me.” The youth, in his surprise, obeying the voice, went to the spot where the man lay stretched out; there he stopped and stood waiting the pleasure of the man who had addressed him as “my sister’s son.”

Then the man continued to address him, saying, “Oh, my sister’s son, you will now become very wretched, for Sʻhagowenotʻha has now shut you in on this island. Take new courage and exert yourself, for, though you may not know it, you are endowed beyond measure with orenda. You must now put it forth by taking courage to overcome these deceptions of Sʻhagowenotʻha. Moreover, you must take the following measures for this purpose. When the sun is near setting you must run to and fro all over the island, from one end to the other. You must cover it with your tracks. As soon as it becomes night and darkness is here, then you must return to the place where the canoe was beached at the canoe landing of Sʻhagowenotʻha. When you have arrived there you must dig a trench in the sand sufficiently large to hold your body. In this you must conceal yourself by covering yourself with sand, but you must leave a small aperture for your mouth. Your enemy, of course, will come to visit you, as is well known; he will come at about midnight. Do not under any circumstances become impatient and do not fear at all. He will bring with him his dogs, and as soon as he lands he will urge them to find you by saying, Twūʹăʻ, twūʹăʻ, twūʹăʻ. They will then begin to follow your tracks from place to place, smelling and sniffing as they run, and ever at their heels will be Sʻhagowenotʻha. Just as soon as you know by the faintness of the sounds of these pursuers that they have gone to some distant part of the island, you must come forth from your hiding place.

You must also make out of rough bark and soft wood three dolls or figures resembling the human body. When you have completed these you must make for each one a bow and arrows suitable for their size. When you have finished this work you must place one of these figures high up in some convenient tree crotch, and you must fix in the hands of the figure, in the attitude of shooting, the bow and the arrows. This you must do with the three figures.

After taking breath, for he was, indeed, very weak, the man who lay there a mere pile of bones said: “Yonder in the distance under that prostrate old rotten log you will find my skin-pouch of fisher skin, which do you bring me at once.” The young man brought the pouch of fisher skin to his uncle, who took from it a knife, a flint for striking fire, and a piece of punk. The knife he gave to the young man.

At once the young man began to fashion the three dolls which his uncle had advised him to make. He made also the three bows with arrows, to be held by these dolls or counterfeit men, which he had been counseled to fix in the crotches of trees to deceive the great man-eater Sʻhagowenotʻha, when he should come looking for the young man to devour him.

When the youth had completed this task he began to run over the island in such manner as to mislead the enemy and his dogs. The elder man cheered him in his undertaking, saying: “Have courage, my nephew; if you will perform my instructions with care you shall live, as I have said.” The young man replied: “So shall it be as you have instructed me.”

Then, going forth with the three dolls, he selected for each one a suitable place in which to secure the doll, choosing invariably a tree standing far from the landing place of the enemy. With some difficulty he fastened the doll in a fork of the tree in such manner that from the ground one might be misled into thinking that a person was hiding in the tree.

When it became dark he started for the spot near the landing place which he had selected for his own hiding place. Having arrived there he began to dig a trench large enough to hold and fully conceal his own body, and in time he had quite effectively concealed himself in the sand. When night came he lay there quite still, awaiting the return of his enemy, Sʻhagowenotʻha. He lay in such a way that his mouth was not entirely covered with the sand, so he was able to breathe without much difficulty. He thus waited patiently many long hours, knowing from his uncle’s counsel that he had to contend with a crafty old cannibal, who was a past master in deluding his victims into a false feeling of security, the more easily to destroy them at his leisure.

It was some time after midnight when the alert young man heard peculiar sounds approaching the island. He was not long in recognizing the voices of the wild geese that had propelled the canoe which had left him a prisoner on the island. He heard also the then distant yelps of impatience of the dogs as they hungrily anticipated a bloody meal when they should reach the island. They were eager to pursue their prey, for they well knew the habits of their master. Finally the attentive ears of the young man heard the sounds which told him of the landing of his pursuers; and it was not long before he heard Sʻhagowenotʻha saying to his dogs: “Go you to find the person of the man. It may be that he lies now somewhere a heap of bones.” Then after releasing the dogs the old man shouted, “çtuäʻʹ, çtuäʻʹ, çtuäʻʹ” signifying, “Go, go, go ye” (usually applied only to dogs, much like the familiar “sick’em” in English).

With their keen noses the dogs soon took up the tangled trail of the young man, and followed it from place to place over the entire island. Sʻhagowenotʻha was overheard by the young man to say to the wild geese: “My servants, do you now go to seek for your food,” at which command they flew away. Thereupon Sʻhagowenotʻha followed his dogs in the direction they had taken. Just then he heard in the distance the barking of the dogs, Wau, wau, wau, as they seemed to say. When the old man arrived near the place where the dogs were barking, he heard one of them burst out, crying, Kwĕñʻ, kwĕñʻ, kwĕñʻ. Having arrived there, he found one of the dogs lying dead from the effects of an arrow which had fallen down its throat. Sʻhagowenotʻha was grieved to lose one of his dogs, which he highly valued, and he exclaimed: “Oh! it is discouraging. It would seem that his body is, indeed, in a measure possessed of orenda.” In a short time he again heard in the distance the barking of his dogs, and he at once started on the run toward the place. On drawing near the place he again heard one of the dogs utter loud cries, Kwĕñʻ, kwĕñʻ, kwĕñʻ. Once more he found one of his dogs lying there, also with an arrow protruding out of its mouth, into which it had fallen from the second doll in the tree. Again the old man loudly exclaimed, “Oh! discouraging, discouraging, is this. He is, I think, somewhat of a sorcerer.” By that time the last dog was heard barking in the distance and the old man started on the run for the place. As he neared the spot, he heard the last dog crying Kwĕñʻ, kwĕñʻ, kwĕñʻ. Thereupon fear came over the old cannibal, who exclaimed: “Now I shall flee from this place, for he has now killed them all, my dogs. He is indeed a great sorcerer.” At once Sʻhagowenotʻha ran toward the canoe landing, which was some distance away.

In the meanwhile the young man, who was on the alert, saw his opportunity, and arising from his place of concealment in the sand, he went to the shore of the lake. Pushing the canoe into the water, he called loudly, “Do you come hither, my servants, you wild geese.” The geese with the sound dauñʻʹ all came to the side of the canoe and at once attached themselves to it. Then the young man, boarding the canoe, said to the wild geese, his servants: “Let us go back to the place whence we started, and you start at this time.” Obeying his command, the wild geese at once began to paddle and the canoe moved swiftly in the water, the paddling of the wild geese sounding sŭʻ, sŭʻ, sŭʻ, sŭʻ.

When Sʻhagowenotʻha reached the shore and found the canoe moving away with the young man in it, as its master, he called out to him: “Oh, my brother! Turn back hither. I had come back here after you, be it known to you.” To this appeal the young man paid no attention, for he had been thoroughly informed of the character of his enemy by his uncle. So he kept on his way. He tauntingly said, for the benefit of his enemy, to the monsters of the deep: “I devote food to all of you who live on meat—to you who live in the depths of the lake.” Hearing this, these watery monsters rejoiced and were happy, for they desired meat, on which they fed. In their glee they uttered the sounds, Hĭst, hĭst, hĭst, hĭst, hai, hai, hai. Then Sʻhagowenotʻha again called to the young man: “Oh, my brother! have mercy on me; take pity on me and turn back. Is it not possible for you to agree to turn back and come to me? I am indeed not Sʻhagowenotʻha; I am only a servant to him. He, of course, is at his home.”

The young man, however, did not answer this appeal of his great enemy, but said to the wild geese which were propelling his canoe: “Go directly to the place whence you started.” The young man and his geese arrived at the landing place, at their home, just as day was dawning. After landing, he said to the wild geese: “My servants, you may now go to seek for your food.” Thereupon they flew away with the sound dauñʻʹ. He had already said to the geese: “Hurry back as soon as I recall you.” Drawing the canoe ashore, he departed. Climbing the steep bank and going aside a short distance, he came to a lodge, which he entered. Within he found a very young woman. As he entered the lodge, without his garments, the woman arose, and going forward, embraced him, saying: “You are indeed in a wretched situation here. I am your younger sister, for verily your uncle is one who is called Okteondon.” The young man answered her: “He is, indeed, my uncle, as you say.” She continued: “He is, too, my uncle, this Okteondon is; for this reason you and I are brother and sister. Very long ago he stole me from our lodge. Now dress yourself again; your garments hang yonder where he hung them when he brought them back.” So the young man dressed himself again in his own garments. Then his sister said: “Here are your bow and your arrows.” The young man took them, for they indeed belonged to him.

Thereupon the young woman said to her brother: “You and I must now return home. I will lay down bark in strips, and on these you must step to conceal your tracks until you reach the canoe; for you and I shall surely die if my husband should meet us before we reach the canoe. They carried out faithfully this precautionary device for concealing the brother’s footprints. When they reached the shore the brother pushed the canoe into the water and then called out to the wild geese: “Come hither, my servants.” When they arrived he continued: “You must go directly to the place where my racing ground is.” Having said this, the brother and sister boarded the canoe, and the wild geese began to propel it rapidly through the water, making the sounds sŭʻ, sŭʻ, sŭʻ, sŭʻ as they propelled it. Then the young man began to sing his song of triumph: “Now, now, now, I am certain that I am on my way homeward.” Turning to the wild geese he said: “Have courage [463]; be brave and do your duty, my servants.”

After going some distance it seemed to the two that the canoe kept the same position, although the wild geese were paddling with great vigor, making the sounds sŭʻ, sŭʻ, sŭʻ, sŭʻ. Turning her head, the young woman saw a fishhook attached to the end of the canoe, and she saw also that her husband, who sat on the opposite shore, was steadily pulling on the line, causing the canoe to move backward toward him. Taking up a stone hatchet from the bottom of the canoe she struck the hook a blow which broke it. At this the canoe again shot forward very swiftly, and they went a long distance, while the young man kept saying: “Have courage, my servants. Exert yourselves to the best of your power.”

But in a very short time thereafter they again noticed that the canoe was seemingly going backward, although the wild geese were still paddling with all their might. Turning her head and looking back across the lake the sister saw her husband lying prone on the shore, rapidly drinking up the water of the lake, and the canoe was now moving swiftly toward him. His mouth was enormous and his belly was likewise of incredible capacity. His whole body had swollen to huge proportions, owing to the floods of water he was drinking. The canoe and its occupants were fast being drawn into his open mouth, although the geese were paddling with all their might.

When they drew quite near to the point where Sʻhagowenotʻha was lying the young man, stringing his bow, made ready to shoot at the great, swollen body lying on the shore, which was indeed stupendous in size. When within bowshot the young man, taking good aim, sent an arrow with great force into the body, which caused it to give out a loud sound, b-uʼʻ! as the waters burst forth through the wound. The outrush of the waters sent the canoe flying back toward the shore whither it was bound. Then the young man vehemently urged the wild geese to exert themselves in paddling the canoe onward, and finally he arrived with his sister at the place whither they were bound—at the racing place of Sʻhagowenotʻha.

When they arrived there he said: “Now, you wild geese shall be free henceforth. Sʻhagowenotʻha has made you his slaves and servants—an act which was indeed, as you know, a great wrong. Now you are again free and independent. It was not the intention of Sʻhoñgwadiĕñnuʼkdăʼon, our Creator, that anyone should be a slave or a servant.[464] As is well known, it was his intention that every one and everything among the animals and the birds and the fowl should be in all things independent and free. He did not will that anyone should hold any being in bondage, even among the animal kingdom. Now you must depart hence and go your ways. It shall continue to be your custom in advancing across the earth to go to and fro in the form of a wedge. Thus you shall be seen by those who shall be born hereafter howsoever long the earth may continue its existence. This is all. So now depart, and when you go you must follow one another.” Thereupon the wild geese started away in freedom.

Then, turning to his sister, the brother said: “Now, let us depart hence.” Started on their way, they went along slowly as they two traveled homeward. When night overtook them they would encamp; and in the morning after breaking their fast they would resume the journey. They camped for five nights before they reached their home. They were unmolested on their journey by the sorcerers, who commonly infested the way on such occasions.

When they had reached their home the young man said to his sister: “Oh, my sister! I do not know you, because, perhaps, I was so small when you went away. We have now arrived at our home. I know now that Okteondon is your and my uncle. When I started away from this place I followed the tracks of our uncle until they led me to the lake. I verily believe that he was killed by the man with the great mouth. Now you and I must love and respect one another, as we are brother and sister. I shall greatly respect you, and you yourself must greatly respect me. Now I, myself, will go to hunt, and you shall keep the camp.” The brother proved himself a great hunter, and they had an abundance of meat for food in their camp.

This is the length of the story.

136. SʻHAGOWEʹNŌTʻHĂʼ, THE SPIRIT OF THE TIDES

Neʼʹ ōʹnĕⁿʻdjiʻ hodiʹnoⁿʻsot neʻʹ yadadīwăʹdĕⁿʼ neʻʹ ganoⁿʻsăʼoñʹweʻ.
That (it is) ancient time-very their (an.)-lodge-stands the they-two-uncle (and), nephew the it-lodge, large-(was).

Neʼ ʹgwā diiutʹgon hayăsʹʻnĕⁿʼ neʻʹ hagĕⁿʹdjiʻ, neʼʹ diiuiʹwăʼ
That-yet (But) always, (ever) he (an.)-lay-supine the he (an.)-ancient-one (was), that it-reason (was)

neʼʹ hoʻ gäʹit gaĕñdăsʹdĕñʼ okdeʹoñdoⁿʼ neʻʹ hayăʼdăʼʹgeʻ, neʼʹ
there (in that place) it (n.)-tree-stands it (n.)-tree-large-(was) it (n.)-root-had-several the his-(an.)-body-on, that

nāʹeʻ dăʼaʹoñʻ wĕñʹdoⁿʻ āatʹkĕⁿʻ.
truly-(verily) not it-able (be) ever (sometime) could he arise.

Neʼʹhoʻsʻhoñ deʻhniʼʹdyoⁿʼ, oʼyonisʻheʼt. Dyĕñgwăʻsʻhoñ neʻʹ hagĕⁿʹdjiʻ neʻʹ
There-only (alone) two-they (masc.) abode, it-long-time-was. Suddenly-just the he (an.)-ancient one (was) the

haoñwāʹdĕⁿʼ, wooʻtʻhāʹhăs waiʹĕñʼ, “Hoñʹweʻ hoʼʹse heoñʹweʻ his-nephew he-him-talked to he it said “Yonder (over there) thither-thou-go there-where

tgayăʼsāʹoñnyoⁿʼ. Neʼʹhoʻ nāʹeʻ ĕⁿʻsyĕñʹtʻhoʼ neʻʹ oʻsăeʼʹdăʼ, neʼʹkhoʻ
there-it-one- tiered-many (logs) has. There truly wilt-thou -it-plant the it (neut.) bean, that-and (that-too)

onĕñʹoⁿʼ, neʻʹ onyoⁿʻʹsăʼ-khoʻ. Okăʼʹoⁿʻ neʹʻhoʻ, gaʹnyoʼ
it (neut.) corn, the it-squash-and . It savory, delicious (is) indeed (in fact), (if it-rules)

ĕⁿwadoñʹnĭʼ ĕⁿwatchiʻsʻăʼ-khoʻ. Dāʹ neʼʹ ĕⁿʹhnik, neʼʹ
will it grow (will it-itself make) will it itself ripen and. So (there) that (it is) will thou-I-it eat, that

ĕⁿʻniʻnheʻʹgoʹoñk gaʹnyoʼ gowāʹnĕⁿʻ ĕⁿʻsyĕñtʹʻhwakuʼ.&rdquo ; Neʼʹ
will thou-I-it use ever to live if (= if-it rules) much (great amount) thou will it harvest (= unplant).” That (it was)

waiʹĕñʼ neʻʹ hagĕⁿʹdjiʻ. he-it-said the he-old-one (ancient one).

Deʼaonisʻheʼʹoñʼ oʹnĕⁿʻ waiʹĕñʼ neʻʹ hagĕⁿʹdjiʻ, “Dāʹ oʹnĕⁿʻ
Not-it-long-tim e-(was) now (then) he-it said the he (an.) ancient-one (was), “So (there) now (then)

hoʼseʹgoʻ hoñʹweʻ ganaⁿktāʹgoñ, neʼʹhoʻ gaʹyĕⁿʼ neʻʹ găʼăsʹʻhāʼ, neʼʹhoʻ
thence do thou-it-fetch (over there) yonder it (n.)-bed-under, there it-lies the it (n.) basket, there

igaāʼʹ nāʹeʻ neʻʹ ganĕñʹgweⁿʼ gayāʹsoⁿʻ.”
it is-contained truly the it (n.) seed-grain one-it-has named.”

Dāʹ oʹnĕⁿʻ neʻʹ haksăʼʹgowā waāʹgoʼ neʻʹ găʼăʻsäʼ neʼʹhoʹ
So (there) now (then) the he (an.)-youth (= great child) thence-he-it did fetch the it (n.) basket there

waāʹyĕñʼ heoñʹweʻ hayăsʹʻhĕⁿʼ neʼʹ hagĕⁿʹdjiʻ.
did he-it lay there-where he (an.) lay supine the he (an.) ancient one (was).