Chapter XIX: Introduction (9)

Now Donya´dassi had once been a skillful hunter but his hunting charms had been stolen, and so with his wife, Gawīsas, he lived away from the village in a poor bark hut.

The mother of the lost daughters, whose children should some day be in the sachemship line, offered large rewards for their recovery and continually urged the young men to hunt for the girls, promising them as wives to the successful finder. They were most beautiful young women and there were many searchers, but when winter came, all returned without news.

Now, it happened that Gawīsas, the poor woman, was boiling corn over the fire in her lodge and thinking very intently about the lost daughters of her sister-in-law. She thought that their father, jealous of them, might have cast a spell over them and hidden them away. While thus thinking she heard a strange sound outside, a sound so unusual that it alarmed her. Her husband was absent on one of his not always profitable hunts. Soon someone knocked at the door, but Gawīsas failing to respond, a strange creature entered, looked into her face, and then advanced to the fire. This being was Bushy Head, a dwarf with an enormous bushy head. Upon its chin was a long white beard that dragged upon the floor. He seemed to be all head. The snow and ice had so caught and frozen in its beard that as he walked it dragged behind him like a log. Bushy Head stood before the fire, reeled up his beard and thawed out the ice. Gawīsas could not speak because she was so frightened, so she sat on her bed. The monster looked at her and then ran his cane into the fire, stirring up the ashes. The sparks flew upward and fell into the soup. Again the being looked at Gawīsas but she only stared blankly back. Grasping a ladle he filled it with ashes and threw them in the soup, and turning, eyed the frightened woman again but she did not move or speak. He kept looking at the woman until he had filled the kettle with ashes and then departed. After his departure Gawīsas recovered in a measure from her fright and dragging the kettle out of doors emptied and scoured it. To her dismay the creature, whom she had named Sogogo, returned on the next day and for six consecutive days, each time behaving as before and Gawīsas remaining silent to all proceedings. At last on the seventh day her husband, Donya´dassi, returned and she told him of all the strange happenings.

“Well, what did you say to him?” he asked, and when she replied, “Nothing,” he bade her speak the next time the Sogogo came. “He wants to tell you something,” he said. “So ask him what he wishes.” Having given this advice Donya´dassi departed on another hunting excursion, for he had come home empty-handed. He was a chief also, but could not rule, because his wife’s uncle was his enemy.

Sogogo returned soon afterward and peered into the face of Gawīsas who could only summon up enough courage to say, “Ä-ä-ä-ä-ä.”

“Ä-ä-ä-ä-ä,” replied Sogogo, and filled up the kettle with ashes again.

The next day passed with the same results, but on the third day Gawīsas tremblingly asked, “What do you wish, Sogogo?”

“At last,” he answered, you have spoken. “I can only speak as I am spoken to, and hoped, since you would not greet me, you would chide me when I spoiled your soup. Now let me tell you that I know where the chief’s daughters are and have chosen you and your husband as the ones to claim the reward. You are poor and plenty of wampum will make you powerful. Now tell your husband, and if he is willing to aid me bid him hang half the liver and half the lights of every animal he kills upon a low branch of the nearest tree. For a sign that I am telling the truth, let him chop down the big tree before your lodge and within it will be a bear.”

Sogogo departed and when Donya´dassi came back from his hunt, successful this time, he was told the news. He felled the tree as directed by his wife, killed the bear and hung half the liver and half the lights on the branches on the nearest tree.

The wife was cutting some choice pieces of bear meat to cook for the afternoon meal when in walked Sogogo, and greeting Gawīsas and her husband, sat down and began talking to the man. He explained his plan for rescuing the lost daughters of the chief. Donya´dassi was to go to the top of a certain mound and seat himself in a large basket which he found there. This basket would rest on Sogogo’s head and would bear him to the inside of the mound, where the chief’s daughters had been hidden.

Accordingly the next day Donya´dassi seated himself in the large basket which he found on the mound and sank down under the earth.

Arrived there, Sogogo lifted the basket from his head and proceeded to instruct Donya´dassi how he must rescue the daughters.

“Go to the first lodge on the right hand side of the trail,” he said. “There you will see one of the girls. Tell her you are her rescuer. Bid her sweep the floor as soon as she hears her captor approaching and continue to sweep until you depart with her. Her captor, who wishes to become her husband, has seven heads. You must kill the creature in order to gain the girl. He will ask you to drink berry juice with him. Poison will be in your cup but when he winks change the cups. Then he will want to fight. When you fight him use this short crooked knife, and rushing toward him thrust it between his seven heads and cut off the middle one. Previously instruct the girl to sweep it in the fire so that the flames will burn his eyebrows and lashes. That will destroy his power and all seven heads will die. When you have done all this return to me with the girl so you may know what to do next.”

Taking the sharp bent knife that Sogogo held toward him, Donya´dassi thrust it in his pouch and ran down the trail until he saw a large bark house at the right. Entering it he saluted the young woman whom he recognized as the eldest of the chief’s stolen daughters. He instructed her, as bidden, and had scarcely finished when the seven-headed man entered and spying the stranger he cried, “Kwē! Come, let us drink a little strawberry juice.” He placed two gourd cups on a bench and said, “Now drink.” Just as he winked Donya´dassi transposed the cups and when the monster lifted the berry juice to his lips and tasted it he exclaimed, “Ho ho!” meaning, his power was lessened.

“Come, let us fight now,” he cried. “Here are the clubs; take your choice. How does that fine new one suit you?”

“No, I’ll take that old one,” said Donya´dassi pointing to a half decayed stick. “I’ll fight you left-handed,” he continued, “So ready!”

The daughter began to sweep and the men to fight. Rushing upon the monster so close that no club could hit him he thrust his knife between the heads and with a quick jerk of his arm cut off the middle one. The girl swept it into the fire and when the eyelashes and brows had been singed the swaying body and six howling heads crashed to the floor. The girl dropped her broom and followed Donya´dassi as he ran out and down the trail.

Sogogo was waiting for them and after listening to the story of the successful fight said, “On the left hand side, the fourth lodge down, is another lodge. Go there and rescue the other daughter. A seven-headed monster is keeping her prisoner. Instruct the girl as the first. The monster will enter and ask you to eat. When he winks change the spoons, for there is poison in the wood. Then he will challenge you as the first. Chop off his ear with your knife and when the daughter sweeps it into the fire the creature will begin to die.”

Donya´dassi obeyed and events occurred exactly as Sogogo had predicted. When in the fight Sogogo had cut off the left ear from the seven-headed man and the ear had been swept into the fire, all seven heads began to whine and the middle one said, “You have plotted to kill me! You have been unfair! The woman has planned it. Oh you wicked woman, you have been a traitor to me.”

“It is untrue,” shouted Donya´dassi. “Your own rule has been to fight all who enter your door and now you are defeated. Before our fight you boasted you would grind me in your mortar and commanded me to do the same with you and feed your body to the birds.”

“Agē, agē, agē!” moaned the monster and died.

“Shall I smash his body?” said Donya´dassi, but the maiden did not know. “Go, then,” said he, “and ask Sogogo.”

When she returned she told him to grind the body to a pulp in the corn mortar and hasten back to Sogogo who awaited him. Donya´dassi pounded the monster heads and flung the mass to the big crows that already had clustered about the lodge.

Running up the trail, with the girl following him, Donya´dassi found Sogogo waiting. The two girls and Donya´dassi seated themselves in the basket, Sogogo lifted it upon his head and in a short time they emerged from the top of the mound and breathed the outside air once again.

Sogogo led the three to his lodge far back in the forest where he told all his history and then bade Donya´dassi run to the lodge of the great chief and tell him to call a great council at which important news would be revealed and presents given.

When the chief had listened to Donya´dassi he asked, “What news can you bring and what presents can you give?”

“I have luck now,” was the answer.

The feast day came and people flocked from distant villages to hear the news and receive the presents.

Donya´dassi arose and said, “I have come to tell our great chief that his daughters have been found and are now safe and near here and shall be restored on one condition, that he remove his spell from a certain young man whom he has conjured.”

The chief was greatly angered that any condition should be given and refused to grant it.

Meanwhile Donya´dassi was arranging long strings of wampum and piles of skins in piles on the council house floor, one for each person present.

“These cannot be distributed until our chief grants my condition,” he said.

The chief remained obdurate. The people were anxious for their feast and gifts. The chief’s wife begged him to consent and regain his lost children. So, fearing the anger of his people and fury of his wife, he at last asked that the young man who rested under the spell be brought to him. Sogogo entered. The chief looked ashamed and then frowned in anger. “Come,” he said and led the way to a small dome-shaped lodge, pushed Sogogo in and then entered himself. Heating some round stones he threw a handful of magical herbs upon them. Then taking his rattle chanted a song. The smoke from the herbs enveloped Sogogo and when the song ended he had become a handsome young warrior. The chief and the transformed Sogogo reëntered the council.

“Where are the daughters!” shouted the people.

Drawing out a red bark box from his pouch he opened it and out fell the two girls. There was a great shout and the chief’s wife rushed forward and embraced her children.

Donya´dassi distributed his presents.

Donya´dassi then advanced to the chief who gave him the reward, but so small was it in comparison with Donya´dassi’s liberal gifts that it seemed a mere trifle.

The chief soon lost his influence but Donya´dassi, who had grown rich and successful, succeeded him in the hearts of the people but Sogogo, the transformed, was happy with his two wives, the chief’s daughters. He took both, that was all right in those days.

29. THE FLINT CHIP THROWER.

Long ago Tĕg´wandă’[37] married a beautiful maiden and went far away with her to his hunting grounds.

Tĕg´wandă’ was famous as a successful hunter but his wife’s family had “dry bones”,[38] so her elder sister and mother took council together and said, “Come, let us go and live with Tĕg´wandă’ and we shall ever be filled.” The prospect of a never failing supply of venison and bear was tempting to those who had long subsisted on tubers and maize.

The wife of Tĕg´wandă’ was kind and never questioned his actions. He never went long from the house, yet he ever had game in abundance and skins piled high in his stores. This made her marvel, but she never made inquiries. The lodge was divided in two compartments but the couple lived only in one. The other was almost empty, but Tĕg´wandă’ often went there. She would hear him singing alone in the room, then there would come a crash like a splintering tree and soon afterward Tĕg´wandă’ would bring in a new pelt and the carcass of some beast. This made her marvel but she never questioned.

The young couple lived contentedly and never quarreled. No trouble or sorrow came to mar their happiness until one day, unheralded, came two women to the door of the lodge. These were the wife’s mother and sister. When the unbidden guests had eaten their fill of good and mealy nut pudding they began to seek the excuse for complaint. Then, oh the railing, the endless rebukes, the sneers and sarcasm! At last the matters turned from the lodge to the couple themselves.

“How does Tĕg´wandă’ obtain his meat? Surely he must be a wizard and likely to eat all of us women when his charms fail. He is evil, he is lazy! Let us drive him away.” These and other things the mother said to her daughter. So it came to pass that the sister insisted she must go with the husband wherever he went and learn something of his habits.

“If you must go,” said the wife, “obey him implicitly, else evil will occur.”

The husband was downcast but would not yield to his fear of the woman. Taking a basket of salt he sprinkled the white crystals upon a flat rock and entered the closed room with the woman.

“Do not move or touch a thing,” he commanded. “Let no fear, let no surprise cause you to stir!”

Then he commenced to sing. The woman looked about critically. In one corner was a pile of quarry flakes, beside them a bench and in a heap before it was a pile of keen edged flint chips. A sudden sound drew her attention from the lodge. Tĕg´wandă’ ceased singing. Outside some creature was snorting, “swe-i-i-i-sh, swe-i-i-i-sh!”

Picking up a handful of flint chips the man flung them with all his strength against the wall nearest the flat rock. The woman was now curious to find what was outside and pushed aside the curtain to get a glimpse of the mysterious things. Instantly the entire door curtain was torn from its fastenings and a monstrous elk rushed in and trampled upon Tĕg´wandă’. Then tossing him upon its antlers, bounded out and fled through the forest. The frightened woman ran after the elk, but fell back dispairing. Moaning she crept back to the lodge and confessed to the wife.

The wife burst into tears and then bitterly chided her sister for her meddlesome ways. Throwing on her robes she hastened to rescue her husband. Carefully she tracked the elk and after many days journey she heard a low trembling song. She knew her husband was near, so cautiously advancing she came to a spot where she could see a herd of elks feeding in an open. A deer was grazing near by. Gently she whispered. “Come, good brother, lend me your coat. You can do me good service thereby.” “Certainly,” responded the deer with alacrity, and, walking inconspicuously into the bushes, she removed her coat and threw it upon the woman. In her new habiliments the wife bounded off into the midst of the elks. In the middle and surrounded by the rest was a large reclining elk whose antlers held the emaciated form of Tĕg´wandă’. In a feeble whisper the husband sang.

Walking toward the elk she made a sudden dash and inserting her horns beneath her husband’s body lifted him off and dashed away before the astonished animals could remonstrate, and indeed, they were too frightened to do so. Galloping breathlessly into the thicket she set down her husband, removed the deer’s skin and gave it back with expressions of gratitude. Then lifting her husband upon her shoulders, she carried him homeward.

On her journey she pondered how she could restore him. He was exhausted and covered with bruises and wounds, his body had wasted away to a skeleton covered with skin and his mind was turned with his sufferings. Sitting down upon a hollow log she pondered. A sudden inspiration came. Quickly she pushed her husband into a hollow log and gave him a shove with her foot that sent him sliding through. When he emerged from the other end he was completely restored.

Together they tramped back home happy to be together once more. Entering the lodge the husband cast out the inquisitive sister and quarrelsome mother and sent them running down the trail.

“One woman is sufficient female company for any man,” he said. “More in one house make great trouble.”

VII.
HORROR TALES OF CANNIBALS AND SORCERERS

HADUI MASK OF THE FALSE FACE COMPANY.
]

30. THE DUEL OF THE DREAM TEST BETWEEN UNCLE AND NEPHEW.

There was a great long house built of poles and bark. This long house was in a secluded place where men were not accustomed to come, but there were sorcerers who knew its location, but shunned it, for there lived Shogo^n‘´gwā‘s and his nephew Djoñiaik. The nephew was young when the uncle assumed charge of him, and he had no real regard for the boy, for he had slain by sorcery all his near relatives, and knew that he must some day overcome the orenda (magic) that had accrued to the boy, or he himself would be undone.

Djoñiaik was carefully reared, for the uncle wished to make him suffer at the end and cry out his weakness, thereby more greatly enjoying the triumph over him.

When the boy had grown to the age just before he became eligible for his dream fast, the uncle said, “Now my nephew, the time has come when you should hunt for yourself without me. Go into the forest and bring me meat.”

Thereupon Djoñiaik took his small bow and after a time found a partridge which he shot. Bringing it to the lodge of his uncle he presented it to the elder man. “Oh now, my nephew,” said Shogo^ngwas, “what is the name of this thing?”

“Oh my uncle,” replied the boy, “I have never known the name of this kind of a thing.”

“Ho!” exclaimed the uncle, “How then do you expect to be able to eat it?”

The boy then was given the task of cleaning the bird for soup, and when it was ready the older man put it in a clay kettle and boiled it with a gruel of corn meal. Then he lifted out the meat and placed it with the fat gravy in a bark bowl which he laid aside for himself. Taking another bowl he filled it with the thin soup from the middle of the kettle and handed it over the fire to the boy. The boy reached from his seat, stretching his arms and finally grasped the bowl, but as he did so the uncle pulled on the bowl and the boy fell face forward into the fire, scorching his chest and burning his hands. At this the uncle roared and called him clumsy, asking moreover, “Where is your soup? You have tried to put out the fire with it!”

With great gusto the uncle devoured the partridge, picking the bones clean and casting them into the fire. Djoñiaik had nothing for his meal and was very hungry. Wearily he wandered out into the thicket, coming at length to an unfamiliar spot where there was a low mound, as if a mud hut had fallen down and become overgrown. As he looked at the spot he heard a sound, “Ketcuta, ketcuta!” Peering more closely in the snow-covered moss he saw the face of a tcis´gä (skull) looking at his with open mouth.

“I am your uncle,” said the skull. “Give me tobacco.”

Djoñiaik obeyed, and when the skull had smoked a pipeful, it coughed and said, “I am your uncle, bewitched by my brother who has stolen you in order to work vengeance on you for the power you inherit from your relatives who have been killed by sorcery. You must remember the names of the animals you kill and the next one you shall find will be a raccoon. Remember its name and when your guardian asks you its name tell him ‘raccoon’.”

In time the boy went hunting again and finding a raccoon shot it. Greatly excited he began to repeat the name raccoon over and over. “Raccoon, raccoon, raccoon, raccoon,” he shouted as he bore it to his uncle’s lodge. But so rapidly was he running that he fell over the door-sill and sprawled into the lodge.

“Oh now nephew, what have you this time?” inquired the uncle, but so excited and chagrined was the boy that he totally forgot the name. “Wa!” exclaimed the old man, “If you cannot speak the name of this thing you shall not eat of it. Dress it for me and I will cook it as a soup.”

When the raccoon was cooked the old man skimmed off the fat and poured out some thin soup for Djoñiaik, who by this time was very hungry. Uncle and nephew sat on seats opposite each other with the lodge fire between. Passing over the bowl of soup the uncle gave a quick jerk as the boy grasped the rim and again pulled him into the fire.

“Oh nephew, I am sorry,” said he, laughing, “I am always in a hurry.” But Djoñiaik was sadly burned about the face and made no reply. With hungry eyes he watched his uncle stow away the uneaten portion of the raccoon. He had not a mouthful.

That afternoon he again visited his skeletal uncle and related all that had happened. He was thoroughly afraid now for his uncle was most ugly. But the skull, when it had smoked, only advised him to remember the names of the animals killed. “Today, I believe, you will shoot a turkey. Remember the name and begin to use your power to retaliate,” said the skull.

After watching quietly Djoñiaik saw a turkey,—a very large and fat turkey, which he shot. Tying its feet together he held it to his back by a burden strap and lugged it home, rushing into the lodge saying, “Turkey, turkey, turkey, turkey.”

This time the uncle asked no questions, but with a frown watched his nephew pluck the turkey and prepare it.

“This time I shall prepare a roast of meat,” said the boy. “I shall not make soup as my uncle does.” So he cooked the turkey in a pot and when done he divided the meat in two portions, putting each in a bark bowl. “Now come eat, Uncle,” said the boy handing the bowl over the fire to his uncle.

As the old man’s hand grasped the bowl, Djoñiaik gave it a quick pull, overbalancing his uncle and pulling him into the fire.

“Oh nephew!” exclaimed the uncle. “You have purposely abused me and burned my face and stomach. My hair is on fire. You have distressed me.” But the boy said only, “Oh I was in such a hurry.” And then he fell to eating the turkey, putting the uneaten portion on the shelf over his bed. This time the old man ate nothing.

The next morning very early the boy said, “I shall now arise and hunt game which comes to feed early in the morning.” So saying he arose, dressed and took his bow and went out. The old man was awake and looked very angry.

So Djoñiaik went directly to the skull and gave it tobacco. When it had smoked it said, “You shall hunt today and shoot a deer, but when you go back to the lodge your uncle will say, ‘It will be a cold night and I will gather large logs for a night fire.’ He will awaken at midnight with a dream and you must hit him on the head to awaken him, when he will relate his desire, it being to barter meat for fat bear casings. You must prepare yourself by taking a grape vine and transforming it as desired.” So instructed the boy went upon his hunt and killed a deer, bringing it home saying, “I have furnished a deer for the larder.” That night after they had eaten of the deer, the old man looked very angry.

“This will be a very cold night, I think,” said the old man. “I shall gather logs to burn during the night.” And so saying he made a roaring fire and went to bed.

Cautiously the nephew arranged his buffalo skin coverlet so that he had a peep-hole through a worn spot. At midnight the uncle arose and walking on his knees to the fire began to utter a worried sound, “Eñh, enh, enh, enh!” Then he threw one of the burning logs upon Djoñiaik, his nephew. Immediately the boy leaped up, being awake, and threw the log back into the fireplace, at the same time crying, “What is your dream, my uncle?” and then tapping the old man on the head with a club.

“It has now ceased,” answered the uncle, rubbing his head and becoming awake.

“The roof must be removed,” said the uncle, meaning that he had dreamed that the two must engage in a duel of wits. “Tomorrow we must barter, and I shall give, and you, Oh nephew, shall repay me with that which I must not tell you, but which you must guess, and failing great calamity will befall us.”

“That is very easy,” answered the boy. “Go to sleep; in the morning I will be ready.”

Morning came and the old man began to sing. “Yoh heh, yoh heh, yoh heh, I shall trade with my nephew Djoñiaik, and he shall give me my desire.” So did he sing continually.

It was a song that only a sorcerer would sing and its sound traveled far, so much so that all the wizards heard it and said, “Shogo^n‘´gwā’s is singing again and this time has chosen his own nephew as a victim.” So they all came and perched about in the house, being invisible, to watch the duel of orendas (magic powers).

Djoñiaik was bidden sit at the end of the long house, and it was very long indeed, there being many abandoned fireplaces in it. Far at the end he sat on the far side of an old fire bed. His uncle began to sing again, and walked forward with a bark tray in which were pieces of meat. “I offer these to you,” he said. “You shall give me what I am thinking about.”

“Only give me a clue, uncle,” begged the boy. “How can I divine what is in your mind?”

“Torture by fire awaits you if you guess not by mid-sun,” sang the old man still holding out the meat, while the boy pretended to be thinking deeply.

“Oh, uncle,” said the boy, “you desire raccoon meat.”

“No, not raccoon meat. Oh nephew, you must divine my word.”

“Oh uncle, you want turkey.”

“No not turkey. Oh nephew, you must divine my word.”

“Oh uncle, you want partridge.”

“No not partridge. Oh nephew you must divine my word.”

Again the boy sought to evade his uncle by exclaiming, “How can you expect me to guess your dream unless you give me some clue to your desire?”

Again the uncle fell to singing the charm song that conjures up flames, and suddenly they burst forth from the ground with a loud sound enveloping the poor nephew who wrestling with them, cried, “Oh uncle your desire is for the bear casings enclosed in deep fat.”

“Niio‘!” exclaimed the uncle, and the flames died down, whereupon Djoñiaik brought forth his grape stalk which he had conjured to look like the casings of a bear. Then was the uncle satisfied.

That afternoon the boy retired to the forest and sought his skeletal advisor, telling him all that had happened.

“Once more,” said the skull, “your uncle will make a demand and all the circumstances will be similar. This time he will desire a bear’s liver. Go to a log in the swamp, pluck a red tree fungus and rub it with your hands until it becomes a liver.”

So instructed the boy was ready for his wizard uncle. As before the logs were gathered and a great fire made, and in the middle of the night the old man flung fire upon the boy again.

When the dialogue was over the boy found that once more a test was to come. “It is nothing,” said he. “Go to sleep.”

Morning came and the old wizard sang his charm song. The boy took his seat as before and when pressed by the flame he cried out, “You wish a liver of a bear, Oh uncle.”

The uncle was not at all pleased with his nephew’s power for he wished to consume him with fire, after the manner prescribed for torture, but he could not.

Reporting the event to the skull, the boy asked for further help. “Tonight you must dream, and when your guardian has struck you with a club to awaken you, you must crave the guessing of your word, which shall be one of the squashes that grow in a sand box under your uncle’s bed. It is a great prize. Have no mercy but get what you demand.”

That night the boy gathered firewood, remarking that he expected the night to be very cold and wanted to warm the lodge. The uncle only scowled.

Midnight came, and the invisible wizards and sorcerers were watching. Stealthily the boy arose, and creeping on his knees, he approached the fire, grasping a blazing log and throwing it upon his uncle, as sleeping persons do. Then he began to grunt, “Eñh, enh, enh, enh,” as if in distress.

The uncle awoke, being severely scorched and his bed set afire. “Oh nephew,” he called as he gave the boy a knock on the head to awaken him. “What do you wish?”

“It has now ceased,” said the boy. “Oh uncle, I have dreamed that you and I must exchange gifts, and that you must give me what I desire.”

“It shall so be,” answered the uncle. “This is nothing.”

The two then retired and early in the morning the boy awoke and took his seat. In a tray he had some turkey meat.

Commencing his song he called out, “I am trading a gift with Shogo^n‘´gwa‘s, my uncle. He shall give me in exchange what I most desire.” So saying he sang the charm song that conjures flames from the earth.

The old man took his seat and when approached said,

“I shall divine your word if you will give me a clue.”

“Any clue would spoil the intention of the dream, uncle.”

“Then tell me at once what you wish,—be quick about it!”

“To utter one word would be fatal to my desire.”

“Then the word is deer meat.”

“No not deer meat, uncle. Hurry for I shall sing.”

“Then you wish moose meat.”

“No not moose meat, uncle. Hurry or I shall sing.”

“Then you wish my coonskin robe.”

“No not your coonskin robe. I now commence to sing.”

“Then you wish my otterskin robe,” hastened the uncle, naming one of his prized possessions.

“No uncle, not your otterskin robe. I now sing.”

With a burst of the conjurer’s song, the boy began to sing, “Yoh heh, yoh heh, yoh heh. My uncle and I are exchanging. He shall give me what I most desire.” As he sang his flames leaped from the ground, for Djoñiaik was now an adept in magic. Surrounding the uncle the flames began to singe him. With a shriek he leaped to the platform above his bed, but the flames followed, until he called out, “Oh nephew I yield!”

Descending he said, “You desire the squash beneath my bed,” and the boy exclaimed, “It is so.”

With great reluctance the old wizard opened the bed, lifting up the bottom boards like the top of a chest. Beneath in boxes of sand were vines with squashes growing upon them, though it was winter outside. Taking a look at the largest, the old man shut down the cover and exclaimed:

“Oh nephew, it is the custom to simulate what is desired in a dream. I shall now carve you from wood a squash that you may preserve as a charm.”

“Only the real object desired shall satisfy me,” answered the boy. “Must I sing again?” And he started his song which brought forth flames that enshrouded the old man, causing him to cry out, “Oh nephew, I yield!”

This time the boy obtained the squash and with it the injunction to take care of it, for it was a great prize.

Reporting the episode to the skull, the boy received further instruction. He was to dream again and was to demand as the satisfying word, his hidden sister who was concealed in a bark case beneath the wizard’s bed. This was a great surprise to the boy, for he had not dreamed that he had a sister concealed, this being the treatment given children born with a caul. They were hidden by day and only allowed to go out by night.

“The wizard hopes to keep the child,” said the skull. “It is his greatest prize and unless you are very firm he will cause you to err, thereby escaping your demand. Have no pity but push him to the uttermost with your demand.”

Again the boy built the lodge fire and as midnight came, he crept from his coverings and crawled along the floor of the great cavernous lodge. Slowly creeping to the fire he seized a blazing log and with a cry flung it upon his sleeping uncle, at the same time grunting, “Enh, enh, enh, enh,” as if in distress.

With a whack of his club the old man awakened the boy, who called out, “It has ceased,” meaning the vision.

“Oh uncle,” he said. “I have dreamed that you must give me something in exchange for the gift I shall offer you tomorrow.”

“It shall be done,” answered the uncle with a dark frown.

Morning came and with it the test. Long the old man sought to cause the boy to make one small slip in the custom but he failed. Mid-day came and as the sun beat down through the smoke hole the boy began his charm song, causing flames to arise as torture for the old wizard.

After much haggling the old man opened his bed once more and revealed a bark case beautifully decorated. He removed this and placed it on a mat, after which he opened the case and unwrapped a small woman, beautifully white, and perfect in form, though only as long as a man’s arm.

“Oh nephew,” said the uncle, “Now that you have seen your sister, I will replace her and give you what is customary in such instances, a carved imitation. You will be greatly pleased with the doll I give you.”

In reply the boy gave his charm song and again the magic flames circled about the uncle like a clinging garment. “Oh nephew, I yield,” he cried and handed over the case.

After much haggling the old man opened his bed once assured that success would come if he withstood one more test,—that of bodily torture by cold. “Your uncle will dream tonight and his word will be satisfied only by causing you to be divested of all clothing and tied to a bark toboggan and dragged ten times around the long house where you dwell. I know not that you will endure, for your magic is equal.”

As predicted the old man dreamed that his nephew strip the next morning, though the weather was extremely cold. “I must drag you around the lodge ten times,” said the uncle, but first I must bind you securely with thongs.”

“It will be very easy,” said the boy. “Really, it is nothing at all.”

Emerging from the door the boy stood in the intense cold and stripped himself, throwing his garments back into the lodge. “Now I am ready,” said he, and his uncle then bound him tightly with thongs, placing him on the bark toboggan.

After the first trip around the uncle called out, “Oh nephew, are you still alive?” And the boy answered, “Yes, uncle,” in his loudest tones.

For a second time the uncle made a circuit of the long house, which was the longest in the world, and again called out, “Oh nephew, are you alive?” receiving an answer just a bit fainter, “Yes, uncle.”

Each time around the uncle asked the same question and each time the answer was fainter until the ninth time his nephew’s voice was scarcely audible. So he made another circuit, thinking as he made it, “This time he is frozen as stiff as an icicle.”

So when he had completed his tenth round he spoke again, “Oh nephew, are you alive?” And to his great surprise the boy called in the most sprightly tones, “Yes uncle,” whereupon he was released of the cords and entered the lodge.

All this the boy reported to the skull who said, “On this night you shall dream, and you shall demand that your wizard uncle submit to the same ordeal. Allow him no mercy, for if he gains in one point all is lost.”

Midnight came and with it the episode of the dream demand. The old man weakly yielded and then both slept until morning. The test then began, but the old man begged, saying, “I am old and if you will allow me to retain my clothing you will be satisfied.” But the nephew answered, “Oh no, uncle, I must be satisfied according to my desires. What you say has nothing to do with the event.”

“Then do not bind me, for the cords will cut my flesh and this is not a part of the demand.”

Nevertheless the boy bound his uncle and threw him on his toboggan. With the completion of each circuit he would ask his uncle if he were alive, and each time would be assured that he was. Upon finishing the ninth trip he again asked, “Uncle, are you alive?” but there was no reply and drawing the toboggan to the door he felt of his uncle and found him frozen as stiff as an icicle.

He thereupon, lifted the toboggan high, and his uncle was upon it. With a mighty fling he threw it afar and when it came down with a crash his uncle broke into bits like an image of ice.

Reporting the event to the skull he was praised for his endurance. “Now we shall all live again and those who have been overcome by magic will be set free,” said the skull. “Cover me with a bear skin and when I call lift me from the ground.” Soon he called and Djoñiaik grasped the skull and lifted it from the earth and with it the cramped body of the tcisga. Rubbing it with his hands and anointing it he restored it to the form of a normal man.

“I am your uncle, restored,” said the former skeleton. “Let us now search for your father and mother.” Together they set off and found another mound from which they conjured the skeletons of a man and a woman, and restored them by rubbing and by oil.

All with great joy returned to the long house where they attended to the little sister, Djoñiaik rubbing her as was his custom and restoring her to a full grown maiden.

Everyone was now happy, and the roosting wizards silently departed, leaving the great long house habitable for the restored family, and soon more men and women and children came to live in the long house and it became a dwelling where all were happy.

31. THE VAMPIRE SIRENS WHO WERE OVERCOME BY THE BOY WHOSE UNCLE
POSSESSED A MAGIC FLUTE.

There was a long bark lodge, alone by itself in a small clearing. Here dwelt an elderly man and his nephew. Hadno’´sĕ^n, the uncle, possessed a marvelous flute, which he kept in his war bundle, wherein also were all his charms for luck in warfare and in hunting. The flute possessed great power, and it was the oracle most consulted by the old man. Misfortune had befallen the people through the machinations of certain sorcerers, and the flute remained the only potent charm left by which the old man might foretell events.

As the uncle grew older he began to worry about the future, for he was reaching the age when men cease to go on hunting excursions. Now his nephew, Hauñwa^n´dĕ^n’, was at the age when it was considered that a boy is not yet ready for the rigors of the chase. Therefore, the old uncle was perplexed.

On a certain night the old man came home to the great empty bark lodge and threw down a deer. “This is my last hunt,” he exclaimed. “My nephew, you must soon learn to shoot.”

“Oh I can shoot as well as any one,” said the boy with great assurance, and so the old man gave him his bow and an arrow. “Shoot the spot where I have hit that stump with an arrow,” said the old man, and the boy taking the big bow and long arrow, pulled the cord back and shot. His arrow struck the very spot where his uncle had pointed out an arrow mark. “Tcă‘, tcă‘!” exclaimed the old man. “You are now able to shoot. Tomorrow you may go hunting, but first wait, I will tell you what animal you will be able to kill.”

So saying the uncle took his flute from its bundle and examined it. Then he blew a few notes of a charm song upon it. In another moment the flute itself uttered notes though nobody blew upon it. “This indicates that you will kill a deer,” announced the uncle.

The next day Hauñwandeh went into the forest alone and shot a deer, which he brought home to his uncle. “This is good,” said the uncle. “Now let me consult my flute again.”

Once again he blew the notes of the charm song upon his flute, waited a moment and then heard it call out, “Two deer shall be killed tomorrow.”

“Now, my nephew,” said the uncle looking very grave, “I must tell you that while you must in the future hunt for both of us, you must never go south. Listen to what I say, never go south.”

On the morrow the boy returned dragging two deer and threw them on the ground outside his uncle’s doorway. Again the uncle expressed his satisfaction, and again he consulted his flute. “My nephew,” he announced after listening to the oracle, “tomorrow you shall kill a deer and a fat bear. Again I warn you never to go south.”

The boy that night had troubled dreams and through his mind the question was repeated over and over, “Why may I not go south, Oh why may I not go south?”

The hunting continued each day as before, but the boy was greatly troubled about his uncle’s command. Nevertheless he obeyed until he saw that the lodge was well supplied with meat which hung in the smoke from every rafter, curing for winter’s use. Then he thought that come what might to him he would go south, and if he died his uncle would have plenty to eat for a long time.

So resolved he went on his hunt, and by taking a circuitous route, he went from east to south. Soon he found the trail of an elk which he followed southward for a very long ways. Greatly fatigued by the chase he still kept up the pursuit, until he came to a little open place in the forest, where to his great surprise he saw a young woman sitting on a log at the side of the trail. She looked up at him with a bewitching smile and said, “Come sit on the log with me, you look tired.”

MAGIC WHISTLE.

This whistle, used in shamanistic ceremonies, is made from an eagle’s
wing bone.
]

Hauñwandeh looked at her, found her pleasing, and so went to the log and sat down, saying nothing. Soon the girl spoke again. “It is not customary,” said she, “for young people to sit so far apart when they meet as we have done. Draw close to me and rest your head on my lap, for you are very tired.”

The boy therefore sat closely to her and then placed his head in her lap. Thereupon the girl fell to stroking his hair and scratching his head, looking the while for wood lice. As she did this the boy began to feel sleepy and fearing something of evil might befall him tied one of his hairs to a root beneath the log, which act the girl did not notice. Then he fell into a deep sleep.

When the young woman saw that he was fully asleep she began to pat his body with her hand, and the boy shrunk in size with every pat until he was so small that the young woman placed him with ease in the basket she carried. Then she leaped into the air and flew away, as witches do. In a short time, however, she came to a halt and was slowly drawn back to the log from which she had started. The hair had stretched its limit and drew her back. She took the boy out of the basket and struck him with a small paddle and he became restored. “I will fix him next time,” thought she.

Hauñwandeh was now in the power of the witch-girl and stayed all day with her, until he became sleepy again, when she stroked his head once more, putting him to sleep. Making him small by patting, she again placed him in her basket and flew through the air to a river bank. Taking him out she asked, “Do you know where you are?” Hoping to destroy her magic he answered, “Oh yes, I know where I am. This is the place where my uncle and I catch our fish.” So she put him in her basket and flew to an island in a large lake. Taking him out she questioned him further, “Do you know this place?” Still hoping to deceive her he answered, “Oh this is the place where my uncle and I come with our canoe.”

Angry that she could not take him to an unfamiliar spot the witch-girl replaced him in her basket and leaped high in the air, this time taking him to a far distant place. Descending she alighted on the edge of a great precipice, so deep that the tops of the trees below were only faintly visible. She gave a shriek and threw the basket over the cliff.

Now Hauñwandeh, being attacked by the powers of witchcraft, began to develop his own magic power, and when he went over the cliff and felt himself falling, he desired to fall as an autumn leaf, and so he fluttered down to the bottom without injury. He tumbled out of the basket and saw that he was in a deep hole in the earth and that there was no means of escape. Looking about him he saw the skeletons of numerous men, and not far away he saw two men who were alive but partially eaten.

They spoke to him. “Oh miserable youth,” said they. “We are of the opinion that you have not long to live.”

“How did you get here?” asked the boy.

“We met a young woman,” said they, “who lured us to be friendly with her, and she stroked our hair, then took us in a basket and threw us down the cliff. A great bird comes and bites our bodies and we are being eaten and yet cannot die.”

As they spoke, a gigantic bird flew by, and darting at the youth, took a large bit out of his arm. He looked at the wound and licked it, and it immediately healed.

* * * * *

When the uncle missed his nephew he became greatly distressed. Taking out his flute he looked at it and found that the mouth of it was stained with a smear of blood. “Agi‘,” he exclaimed. “My nephew has disobeyed and now is wounded.”

* * * * *

The next day the big bird returned and took a mouthful from the boy’s arm, but as before he placed the wound to his mouth and healed it by his own power.

That night the waiting uncle looked at his flute again and found it very bloody. “Agi‘,” he exclaimed, “some direful thing has happened and I shall never see my nephew again.”

On the following day the bird swooped at him and tore his body cruelly, eating large chunks of it, but as before he healed himself.

As he lay pondering over his misery he heard a voice and looking up saw a little old woman. Very small was she and stooped over. “I have taken pity on you,” she said. “I have a medicine for you. Take it and if in the morning you find a green sprig coming from your mouth, snatch it quickly, for it is a quickly growing tree. Pull up the plant that you find beneath your feet and put the green sprig into the hole. It will grow to the top of the cliff and you may escape. If you have strong power within you there can be no failure.” So saying she handed the boy a small white root which he swallowed. Seeing this the little old woman vanished.

The next morning Hauñwandeh felt a pain in his stomach and soon he felt a scratching in his throat. Out came a green sprig which he snatched quickly and, pulling up a small withered plant he thrust the sprig into the hole and waited.

For a very long time the uncle awaited the return of his nephew, and mourned greatly. Not once did he leave the lodge but sat within with his face covered with the white ashes from the lodge fire. Each day a sound would be heard and a voice would call, “Hail Uncle, I have returned!” Leaping up with gladness the uncle would look out, but see only a scampering fox or mocking screech owl, or perhaps a wild goose. So he fell to answering all calls by saying, “Depart quickly, I know that you are deceiving me.” So, in mourning he sat, covered with ashes and growing thinner and weaker every day.

Hauñwandeh watched the green sprig, and noticed that it had begun to grow. This pleased him greatly and he called all the bones in the valley saying: “I will gather you together in one pile. I will cause your resurrection and you shall escape with me for I have a growing tree which we may climb.” So saying he gathered the bones in a pile and called quickly, “Hurry now, for you shall arise. Quickly, for the tree is growing. Hasten, for I am now thrusting a tree upon you, and you must arise before the tree falls upon you.” Then he kicked over the tree and it fell, but before it touched the ground all the skeletons arose looking like men. The two partly eaten men recovered and said, “We are your relatives.” Now two men who had been restored fell to quarreling, because each had taken the other’s legs in the haste of arising, but the boy commanded them to be still and follow him up the tree. So all followed, and he further ordered all to look upward and not downward, for one look downward meant destruction. The tree was very tall and it took a long time to climb it, and when the company had climbed a long ways the two quarreling men looked down to see how far they had gone, and as they looked they turned to skeletons again and their bones rattled through the limbs of the tree and past the others who were climbing.