How a red feather pulled up some people in the town of Gu′nwa

[Told by Walter McGregor of the Sealion-town people]

After they had played for a while a red feather floated along in the air above them. By and by a child seized the feather. His hand stuck to it. Something pulled him up. And one seized him by the feet. When he was also pulled up another grasped his feet in turn. After this had gone on for a while all the people in the town were pulled up.

Then the one who was menstruant did not hear them talking in the house. She was surprised, and looked toward the door. There was no one in the house. Then she went outside. There were no people about the town. Then she went into the houses. She saw that they were all empty.

By and by, without having been married, she became pregnant. Soon she gave birth. Again she became pregnant. Again she bore a boy. After this had gone on for some time, the youngest came out with medicine in his mouth. He had a blue hole in his cheek. With a girl they were ten.

And she started to rear them. She brought home all kinds of food that was in the town. She gave this to her children to eat. Very soon they grew up. They began playing about the house.

By and by one of them asked their mother: “Say! mother, what town lies here empty?” And his mother said to him: “Why! my child, your uncles’ town lies here empty.” Then she began telling the story. “The children of this town used to go out playing skîtqꜝ′ā′-ig̣adañ. Then a red feather floated around above them. I sat behind the planks. There I discovered that the town lay empty, and I was the only one left. There I bore you.” Like this she spoke to them.

Then they asked their mother what was called “skîtqꜝā′-ig̣adᴀñ.” Then she said to them: “They smoothed the surface of a woody excrescence, and they played with it here.”

Then they went to get one. They worked it, and, after they had finished it, they played about on the floor planks of the house with it. While they were still playing daylight came. And next day they also played outside. The feather again floated about above them. Their mother told them not to take hold of the feather.

After they had played for a while the eldest, who was heedless, seized the feather. His hand stuck to it. When he was pulled up he turned into mucus. After it had been stretched out five times the end was pulled up. Another one seized it. He became a shaving. After he had been stretched out five times he, too, was pulled away.

Another one grasped it. He became a feather. After something had pulled him up five times he also left the ground. Another one seized it. He became a strip of cedar bark. After something had pulled him up five times he also left the ground. And again one seized it. He became mud. After he had been stretched out five times he left the ground. And another seized it. The same thing happened to him; and after this had gone on for a while they were nearly all gone.

Then again one seized it. He became a wild crab-apple tree. He was strong. And, while he was being stretched up, his sister went around him. She sharpened her hands. “Make yourself strong; [be] a man,” she said to her brother. When he had but one root left his sister climbed quickly up upon him. After she had reached the feather, and had cut at it for a while, she cut it down. A string of them fell down.

He who had medicine in his mouth stood over his elder brothers. Upon his elder brothers he spit medicine. Then they got up. And the bones of those in the town who had been first pulled up lay around in a heap. He also spit medicine upon them. They also got up, and the town became inhabited.

Then he who knew the medicine became a cinder, and he let himself go through the smoke hole. When he got outside, “Smoke hole, shut yourself” [she said]. That also sounded Xō-ō. Then he ran quickly to the place where they had torn up the djo′lgi and, gathering up the pieces, put them together and spit medicine upon them. The djo′lgi shook itself, and started for the house with him.

The djo′lgi tapped upon the door. “Grandmother, here I am.” And when she had said “Door, unlock yourself; smoke hole, open yourself,” so it happened. Then she began giving them food. She gave them all kinds of good food to eat. That was Cliff’s house, they say. She is the djo′lgi’s grandmother.

And they stayed all night in her house, and next day she again gave them something to eat. Then they started off. After they had traveled for a while, they came to where another woman lived. And, after she had given them food, they stayed in her house all night as well.

Next morning, after she had given them something to eat there, she called her daughter. She paid no attention to her, and she went to her. She lay dead. Then she began to weep. She composed a crying song, “My daughter I mistook.” Then they left her.

After they had gone on for a while they came to where a big thing stood. When they pushed it down it fell upon two of them. Seven escaped and went off.

After they had gone on for a long space of time they came to a small dog lying in the trail. One jumped over it. Right above it it seized him with its teeth. Another jumped over it. He was treated in the same way. It killed three and four escaped.

After they had gone on for a while longer they came to the edge of the sky. It shut down many times. Then they ran under. Two of them were cut in two and two escaped. They, however, saw Bill-of-heaven.

Gunwa being one of the Nass towns, this story would appear to be an importation. It is paralleled, however, by a Masset myth, the scene of which is laid in a Haida town.

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