ILLUSTRATION OF THE METHOD OF RECORDING INDIAN LANGUAGES.
Reading edition
HOW THE RABBIT CAUGHT THE SUN IN A TRAP.
An Omaha Myth, obtained from F. LaFlèche by J. Owen Dorsey.
Egi¢e mactciñ´ge aká iʞaⁿ´ ¢iñké ená-qtci
It came to pass rabbit the sub. his grandmother the st. ob. only
ʇig¢e júgig¢á-biamá.
dwelt with his own, they say.
Kĭ haⁿ´egaⁿtcĕ´- qtci-hnaⁿ´ ‘ábae ahí-biamá.
And morning very habitually hunting went thither they say.
Haⁿegaⁿtcĕ´- qtci a¢á-bi ctĕwaⁿ´ níkaciⁿga wiⁿ´
morning very went, they say notwithstanding person one
sí snedĕ´- qti- hnaⁿ síg¢e a¢á-bitéamá. Kĭ íbahaⁿ 3
foot long very as a rule trail had gone, they say. And to know him
gaⁿ¢á-biamá.
wished they say.
Níaciⁿga ¢iⁿ´ ĭⁿ´taⁿ wítaⁿ¢iⁿ b¢é tá miñke, e¢égaⁿ-biamá.
Person the mv. ob. now I-first I go will I who, thought they say.
Haⁿ´egaⁿcĕ´- qtci páhaⁿ-bi egaⁿ´ a¢á-biamá.
Morning very arose they say having went they say.
Cĭ égi¢e níkaciⁿga amá síg¢e a¢á-bitéamá.
Again it happened person the mv. sub. trail had gone, they say.
Égi¢e akí-biamá.
It came to pass he reached home, they say.
Gá-biamá: ʞaⁿhá, wítaⁿ¢iⁿ b¢é 6 aʞídaxe ctĕwaⁿ´
Said as follows, they say: grandmother, I—first I go I make for myself in spite of it
níkaciⁿga wíⁿ´¢e aⁿ´aqai a¢aí te aⁿ´.
person one getting ahead of me he has gone.
[K]aⁿhá, uʞíaⁿ¢e dáxe tá minke, kĭ b¢íze
Grandmother snare I make it will I who, and I take him
tá miñke hă.
will I who .
Átaⁿ jaⁿ´ tadaⁿ´, á-biamá wa‘újiñga aka.
Why you do it should? said, they say old woman the sub.
Níaciⁿga i¢át´ab¢é hă, á-biamá.
Person I hate him . said, they say.
Kĭ mactciñ´ge a¢á-biamá. 9
And rabbit went they say.
A¢á-bi ʞĭ cĭ síg¢e ¢étéamá.
Went they say when again trail had gone.
[K]ĭ haⁿ´ tĕ i¢ápe jaⁿ´-biamá.
And night the waiting for lay they say.
Man´dĕ-ʞaⁿ ¢aⁿ ukínacke gaxá-biamá, kĭ síg¢e
bow string the ob. noose he made it they say, and trail
¢é-hnaⁿ tĕ ĕ´di i¢aⁿ´¢a-biamá.
went habitually the there he put it they say.
Égi¢e haⁿ´+egaⁿ-tcĕ´- qtci uʞíaⁿ¢e ¢aⁿ giʇaⁿ´be
It came to pass morning very snare the ob. to see his own
ahí-biamá.
arrived they say.
Égi¢e 12 miⁿ´ ¢aⁿ ¢izé akáma.
It came to pass sun the cv. ob. taken he had, they say.
Taⁿ´¢iⁿ-qtciⁿ u¢á ag¢á-biamá.
Running very to tell went homeward, they say.
[K]aⁿhá ĭndádaⁿ éiⁿte b¢íze édegaⁿ aⁿ´baaze-hnaⁿ´ hă,
Grandmother, what it may be I took but me it scared habitually .
á-biamá.
said they say.
[K]aⁿhá, man´de-ʞaⁿ ¢aⁿ ag¢íze kaⁿbdédegaⁿ
Grandmother, bow string the ob. I took my own I wished, but
aⁿ´baaze- hnaⁿ´i hă, á-biamá.
me it scared habitually . said they say.
Máhiⁿ a¢iⁿ´-bi egaⁿ´ 15 ĕ´di a¢á-biamá.
Knife had they say having there went, they say.
Kĭ ecaⁿ´- qtci ahí-biamá. Píäjĭ ckáxe. Eátaⁿ égaⁿ ckáxe ă.
And near very arrived they say. Bad you did. Why so you did ?
Ĕ´di gí-adaⁿ´ iⁿ¢ická-gă hă, á-biamá miⁿ´ aká.
Hither come and for me untie it , said, they say sun the sub.
Mactciñ´ge aká ĕ´di a¢á-bi ctĕwaⁿ´ naⁿ´pa-bi
Rabbit the sub. there went they say notwithstanding feared they say
egaⁿ´ hébe íhe a¢é-hnaⁿ´- biamá.
having partly passed by went habitually they say.
Kĭ 3 ʞu‘ĕ´ a¢á-bi egaⁿ´ mása-biamá
And rushed went they say having cut with a knife they say
man´dĕ-ʞaⁿ ¢aⁿ´.
bow string the ob.
Gañ´ki miⁿ´ ¢aⁿ maⁿ´-ciáha áiá¢a-biamá.
And sun the cv. ob. on high had gone, they say.
Kĭ mactciñ´ge aká ábáʞu hiⁿ´ ¢aⁿ názi- biamá
And Rabbit the sub. space bet. the shoulders hair the ob. burnt yellow they say
ánakadá- bi egaⁿ´.
it was hot on it, they say having.
(Mactciñ´ge amá akí- biamá.)
(Rabbit the mv. sub. reached home, they say.)
Ĭtcitci+, ʞaⁿhá, 6 ná¢iñgĕ-qti-maⁿ´ hă, á-biamá.
Itcitci+!! grandmother, burnt to nothing very I am . said, they say.
[T]úcpa¢aⁿ+, iⁿ´na¢iñgĕ´- qti-maⁿ´ eskaⁿ´+, á-biamá.
Grandchild!! burnt to nothing for me very I am I think, said, they say.
Cetaⁿ´.
So far.
NOTES.
ABBREVIATIONS USED IN THIS MYTH.
cv. curvilinear.
mv. moving.
st. sitting.
sub. subject.
ob. object.
TRANSLATION.
Once upon a time the Rabbit dwelt in a lodge with no one but his grandmother. And it was his custom to go hunting very early in the morning. No matter how early in the morning he went, a person with very long feet had been along, leaving a trail. And he (the Rabbit), wished to know him. “Now,” thought he, “I will go in advance of the person.” Having arisen very early in the morning, he departed. Again it happened that the person had been along, leaving a trail. Then he (the Rabbit) went home. Said he, “Grandmother, though I arrange for myself to go first, a person anticipates me (every time). Grandmother, I will make a snare and catch him.” “Why should you do it?” said she. “I hate the person,” he said. And the Rabbit departed. When he went, the foot-prints had been along again. And he lay waiting for night (to come). And he made a noose of a bow-string, putting it in the place where the foot-prints used to be seen. And he reached there very early in the morning for the purpose of looking at his trap. And it happened that he had caught the Sun. Running very fast, he went homeward to tell it. “Grandmother, I have caught something or other, but it scares me. Grandmother, I wished to take my bow-string, but I was scared every time,” said he. He went thither with a knife. And he got very near it. “You have done wrong; why have you done so? Come hither and untie me,” said the Sun. The Rabbit, although he went thither, was afraid, and kept on passing partly by him (or, continued going by a little to one side). And making a rush, with his head bent down (and his arm stretched out), he cut the bow-string with the knife. And the Sun had already gone on high. And the Rabbit had the hair between his shoulders scorched yellow, it having been hot upon him (as he stooped to cut the bow-string). (And the Rabbit arrived at home.) “Itcitci+!! O grandmother, the heat has left nothing of me,” said he. She said, “Oh! my grandchild! I think that the heat has left nothing of him for me.” (From that time the rabbit has had a singed spot on his back, between the shoulders.)
DETAILS OF A CONJURER’S PRACTICE.
In the Klamath Lake Dialect. Obtained from Minnie Froben, by A. S. Gatschet.
Máḵlaks shuákiuk kíuksash ḵá-i gû´l’hi húnkĕlam ládshashtat,
Indians in calling the conjurer not enter his into lodge,
ndéna sha’hmóknok; kíuksh toks wán kiukáyank
they halloo to call (him) out; the conjurer red fox hanging out on a pole
mû´luash m’na kaníta pî´sh.
as sign his outside “of him.”
Kukíaks tchû´tanish gátp’nank wigáta tchélχa mā´shipksh. 3
Conjurers when treating approaching close by sit down the patient.
Lútatkish wigáta kíukshĕsh tcha’hlánshna.
The expounder close to the conjurer sits down.
Shuyéga kíuks, wéwanuish tchīk winóta
Starts choruses the conjurer, females then join in singing
liukiámnank nadshā´shak tchûtchtníshash.
crowding around him simultaneously while he treats (the sick).
Hánshna mā´shish hû´nk hishuákshash, tátktish î´shkuk,
He sucks diseased that man, the disease to extract,
hantchípka tchī´k kukuága, wishinkága, mû´lkaga,
he sucks out then a small frog, small snake, small insect,
ḵáḵo gî´ntak, káhaktok nánuktua nshendshkáne.
bone afterwards, whatsoever anything small.
Ts’û´ks toks ké-usht tchékĕle ítkal; lúlp toks mā´shisht 3
A leg being fractured the (bad) blood he extracts; eyes but being sore
tchékĕlitat lgû´m shû´kĕlank ḵî´tua lû´lpat,
into blood coal mixing he pours into the eyes,
kû´tash tchish kshéwa lúlpat pû´klash
a louse too introduces into the eye the white of eye
tuiχámpgatk ltúiχaktgi gíug.
protruding for eating out.
NOTES.
Kálak. THE RELAPSE.
In the Klamath Lake Dialect by Dave Hill. Obtained by A. S. Gatschet.
Hä náyäns hissuáksas mā´shitk kálak, tsúi kíuks
When another man fell sick as relapsed, then the conjurer
nä´-ulakta tchutánuapkuk.
concludes to treat (him).
Tchúi tchúta; tchúi yá-uks huk shläá kálak a gēk.
And he treats; and remedy this finds out (that) relapsed he.
Tchí huk shuî´sh sápa.
Thus the song-remedy indicates.
Tsúi nā´sh shuī´sh sáyuaks hû´mtcha kálak,
And one song-remedy having found out (that) of the kind of relapsed (he is),
tchúi 3 nánuk hûk shuī´sh tpä´wa hû´nksht
then all those remedies indicate (that) him
kaltchitchíkshash heshuampĕlítki gíug.
the spider (-remedy) would cure.
Tchúi hû´k káltchitchiks yá-uka; ubá-us hûk
Then the spider treats him; a piece of deer-skin
káltchitchiksam tchutĕnō´tkish.
of the spider (is) the curing-tool.
Tsúi húkantka ubá-ustka tchutá; tätáktak
Then by means of that deer-skin he treats (him); just the size of the spot
huk 6 kálak mā´sha, gä´tak ubá-ush ktû´shka
that relapse is infected, so much of deer-skin he cuts out
tä´tak huk mā´sha.
as where he is suffering.
Tsúi hûk káltchitchiks siunóta nä´dsḵank hû´nk ubá-osh.
Then the “spider” song is started while applying that skin piece.
Tchû´yuk p’laíta nétatka skútash, tsúi sha hû´nk udû´pka
And he over it he stretches a blanket, and they it strike
hänä´shishtka, tsúi hû´k 9 gutä´ga tsulä´kshtat;
with conjurer´s arrows, then it enters into the body;
gä´tsa lû´pí kiatéga, tsúi tsulē´ks ḵ’läká,
a particle firstly enters, then (it) body becomes,
tchúi at pushpúshuk shlē´sh hûk ubá-ush.
and now dark it to look at that skin-piece.
Tsúi mā´ns tánkĕni ak waítash hû´k pûshpúshli at
Then after a while after so and so many days that black (thing)
mā´ns=gîtk tsulä´ks=sitk shlä´sh.
at last (is) flesh-like to look at.
Tsí ní sáyuakta; 12 túmi hû´nk sháyuakta
Thus I am informed; many men know
hû´masht=gîsht tchutī´sht; tsúyuk tsúshni wä´mpĕle.
(that) in this manner were effected cures; and he then always was well again.
NOTES.
SWEAT-LODGES.
In the Klamath Lake Dialect by Minnie Froben. Obtained by A. S. Gatschet.
The lake people two (kinds of) sweat-lodges have.
Ḵúḵiuk ḵĕlekapkash spû´klishla yépank käíla;
To weep over the deceased they build sweat-lodges digging up the ground;
stutílantko spû´klish, käíla waltchátko.
are roofed (these) sweat-lodges with earth covered.
Spû´klish a sha shû´ta kué-utch,
(Another) sweat-lodge they build of willows,
kítchikan’sh stinága=shítko; skû´tash a wáldsha 3
a little cabin looking like blankets they spread
spû´klishtat tataták sĕ spukliá.
over the sweating-lodge when in it they sweat.
Tátataks a hû´nk wéas lúla, tatátaks a híshuaksh tchímĕna,
Whenever children died, or when a husband became widower,
snáwedsh wénuitk, ḵû´ḵi ḵĕlekátko, spû´klitcha
(or) the wife (is) widowed, they weep for cause of death go sweating
túmi shashámoks= lólatko; túnepni waítash tchík
many relatives who have lost; five days then
sa hû´uk spû´klia. 6
they sweat.
Shiúlakiank a sha ktái húyuka skoilakuápkuk;
Gathering they stones (they) heat (them) to heap them up (after use);
hútoks ktái ḵá-i tatá spukliû´t’huīsh.
those stones never having been used for sweating.
Spúklish lúpĭa húyuka; ḵélpka a át,
Sweat lodge in front of they heat (them); heated (being) when,
ílhiat átui, ḵídshna ai î ámbu, kliulála.
they bring (them) inside at once, pour on them water, sprinkle.
Spû´kli a sha túmĕni “hours”; ḵélpkuk 9
Sweat then they several hours; being quite warmed up
géka shualkóltchuk péniak ḵō´ḵsh pépe-udshak
they leave (and) to cool themselves off without dress only to go bathing
éwagatat, ḵóḵetat, é-ush wigáta.
in a spring, river, lake close by.
They will sweat for long hours.
Shpótuok i-akéwa kápka,
To make themselves strong they bend down young pine-trees
skû´tawia sha wéwakag knû´kstga.
(they) tie together they small brushwood with ropes.
Ndshiétchatka knû´ks a sha shúshata. 12
Of (willow-)bark the ropes they make.
Gátpampĕlank shkoshkî´lχa ktáktiagi
On going home they heap up into cairns small stones
hû´shkankok ḵĕlekápkash, ktá-i shúshuankaptcha î´hiank.
in remembrance of the dead, stones of equal size selecting.
NOTES.
No Klamath or Modoc sweat-lodge can be properly called a sweat-house, as is the custom throughout the West. One kind of these lodges, intended for the use of mourners only, are solid structures, almost underground; three of them are now in existence, all believed to be the gift of the principal national deity. Sudatories of the other kind are found near every Indian lodge, and consist of a few willow-rods stuck into the ground, both ends being bent over. The process gone through while sweating is the same in both kinds of lodges, with the only difference as to time. The ceremonies mentioned 4-13. all refer to sweating in the mourners’ sweat-lodges. The sudatories of the Oregonians have no analogy with the estufas of the Pueblo Indians of New Mexico, as far as their construction is concerned.
A DOG’S REVENGE.
A Dakota Fable, by Michel Renville. Obtained by Rev. S. R. Riggs.
Śuŋka waŋ; ḳa wakaŋka waŋ waḳiŋ waŋ taŋka hnaka.
Dog a; and old-woman a pack a large laid away.
Uŋkan śuŋka ḳoŋ he sdonya.
And dog the that knew.
Uŋkaŋ waŋna haŋyetu, uŋkaŋ wakaŋka iśtiŋmaŋ kećiŋ
And now night, and old-woman asleep he thought
ḳa en ya: tuka wakaŋka kiŋ sdonkiye
and there went: but old woman the knew
ć̣a kiktahaŋ 3 waŋke, ć̣a ite hdakiŋyaŋ ape ć̣a kićakse,
and awake lay, and face across struck and gashed,
ć̣a nina po, keyapi.
and much swelled, they say.
Uŋkaŋ haŋḣaŋna hehaŋ śuŋka tokeća waŋ en hi,
And morning then dog another a there came,
ḳa okiya ya.
and to-talk-with went.
Tuka pamahdedaŋ ite mahen inina yaŋka.
But head-down face within silent was.
Uŋkaŋ taku ićante niśića heciŋhaŋ omakiyaka wo, eya.
And what of-heart you-bad if me-tell, he-said.
Uŋkaŋ, Inina yaŋka wo, wakaŋka 3 waŋ teḣiya omakiḣaŋ do,
And, still be-you, old-woman a hardly me-dealt-with,
eya, keyapi.
he-said, they say.
Uŋkaŋ, Tokeŋ nićiḣaŋ he, eya.
And, How to-thee-did-she, he-said.
Uŋkaŋ, Waḳin waŋ taŋka hnaka e waŋmdake ć̣a
And, Pack a large she-laid-away I-saw and
heoŋ otpa awape: k̇a waŋna haŋ tehaŋ k̇ehan,
therefore to-go-for I waited: and now night far then,
iśtiŋbe seća e en mde ć̣a pa timaheŋ 6 yewaya,
she-asleep probably there I went and head house-in I-poked,
uŋkaŋ kiktahaŋ waŋke śta hećamoŋ: k̇a, Śi,
and awake lay although this-I-did: and, shoo,
de tukten yau he, eye, ć̣a itohna amape,
this where you-come, she-said, and face-on smote-me,
ć̣a dećen iyemayaŋ ce, eye ć̣a kipazo.
and thus she-me-left he-said and showed-him.
Uŋkaŋ, Huŋhuŋhe! teḣiya ećanićoŋ do, ihomeća waḳiŋ kiŋ
And, Alas! alas! hardly she-did-to-you, therefore pack the
uŋtapi 9 kta ce, eye ć̣a, Mnićiya wo, eya, keyapi.
we-eat will, he-said and, Assemble, he-said, they say.
Ito, Minibozaŋna kićo wo, ḳa, Yaksa taŋiŋ śni kico wo,
Now, Water-mist call, and Bite off not manifest call,
Tahu waśaka kico wo, ḳa, Taisaŋpena kico wo, eya, keyapi.
Neck strong invite, and, His-knife-sharp call, he-said, they-say.
Uŋkaŋ owasiŋ wićakićo: ḳa waŋna owasiŋ en 12 hipi
And all them-he-called: and now all there came
hehaŋ heya, keyapi:
then this-he-said, they-say:
Ihopo, wakaŋka de teḣiya ećakićoŋ će; miniheić̣iyapo,
Come-on, old-woman this hardly dealt-with; bestir-yourselves,
haŋyetu hepiya waćonića wakiŋ waŋ teḣiŋda ḳa on
night during dried-meat pack a she-forbid and for
teḣiya ećakićoŋ tuka, ehaeś untapi kta će, eya, keyapi. 15
hardly dealt-with-him but, indeed we eat will he-said, they say.
Uŋkaŋ Minibozaŋna ećiyapi ḳoŋ he waŋna maġaźukiye
Then Water-mist called the that now rain-made,
ć̣a, aŋpetu osaŋ maġaźu ećen otpaza; ḳa wakeya
and, day all-through rained until dark; and tent
owasiŋ nina spaya, wihutipaspe olidoka owasiŋ taŋyaŋ ḣpan.
all very wet, tent-pin holes all well soaked.
Uŋkaŋ hehaŋ Yaksa taŋiŋ śni wihutipaspe 18 kiŋ owasiŋ yakse,
And then Bite-off-manifest-not tent-fastenings the all bit-off,
tuka taŋiŋ śni yaŋ yakse nakaeś wakaŋka kiŋ sdonkiye śni.
but slyly bit-off so that old-woman the knew not.
Uŋkaŋ Tahuwaśaka he waḳiŋ ḳoŋ yape ć̣a maniŋkiya
And Neck-strong he pack the seized, and away off
yapa iyeya, ḳa tehaŋ eḣpeya.
holding-in-mouth-carried and far threw-it.
Hećen Taisaŋpena waḳiŋ ḳoŋ 21 ćokaya kiyaksa-iyeya.
So His-knife-sharp pack the in-middle tore-it-open.
Hećeŋ waḳiŋ ḳoŋ haŋyetu hepiyana temyaiyeyapi, keyapi.
Hence pack the night during they-ate-all-up, they say.
Hećen tuwe wamanoŋ keś, saŋpa iwaḣaŋić̣ida
So that who steals although, more haughty
wamanoŋ waŋ hduze, 24 eyapi eće; de huŋkakaŋpi do.
thief a marries, they-say always; this they-fable.
NOTES.
588, 24. This word “hduze” means to take or hold one’s own; and is most commonly applied to a man’s taking a wife, or a woman a husband. Here it may mean either that one who starts in a wicked course consorts with others “more wicked than himself,” or that he himself grows in the bad and takes hold of the greater forms of evil—marries himself to the wicked one.
It will be noted from this specimen of Dakota that there are some particles in the language which cannot be represented in a translation. The “do” used at the end of phrases or sentences is only for emphasis and to round up a period. It belongs mainly to the language of young men. “Wo” and “po” are the signs of the imperative.
TRANSLATION.
There was a dog; and there was an old woman who had a pack of dried meat laid away. This the dog knew; and, when he supposed the old woman was asleep, he went there at night. But the old woman was aware of his coming and so kept watch, and, as the dog thrust his head under the tent, she struck him across the face and made a great gash, which swelled greatly.
The next morning a companion dog came and attempted to talk with him. But the dog was sullen and silent. The visitor said: “Tell me what makes you so heart-sick.” To which he replied: “Be still, an old woman has treated me badly.” “What did she do to you?” He answered: “An old woman had a pack of dried meat; this I saw and went for it; and when it was now far in the night, and I supposed she was asleep, I went there and poked my head under the tent. But she was lying awake and cried out: ‘Shoo! what are you doing here?’ and struck me on the head and wounded me as you see.”
Whereupon the other dog said: “Alas! Alas! she has treated you badly, verily we will eat up her pack of meat. Call an assembly: call Water-mist (i.e., rain); call Bite-off-silently; call Strong-neck; call Sharp-knife.” So he invited them all. And when they had all arrived, he said: “Come on! an old woman has treated this friend badly; bestir yourselves; before the night is past, the pack of dried meat which she prizes so much, and on account of which she has thus dealt with our friend, that we will eat all up”.
Then the one who is called Rain-mist caused it to rain, and it rained all the day through until dark; and the tent was all drenched, and the holes of the tent-pins were thoroughly softened. Then Bite-off-silently bit off all the lower tent-fastenings, but he did it so quietly that the old woman knew nothing of it. Then Strong-neck came and seized the pack with his mouth, and carried it far away. Whereupon Sharp-knife came and ripped the pack through the middle; and so, while it was yet night, they ate up the old woman’s pack of dried meat.
Moral.—A common thief becomes worse and worse by attaching himself to more daring companions. This is the myth.