NOTES AND PARALLELS TO MYTHS

A more special study of Cherokee myths in their connection with the medical and religious ritual of the tribe is reserved for a future paper, of which preliminary presentation has been given in the author’s Sacred Formulas of the Cherokees, in the Seventh Annual Report of the Bureau of Ethnology.

In this journey “the tribes marched separately and also the clans. The clans were distinguished by having feathers of different colors fastened to their ears. They had two great standards, one white and one red. The white standard was under the control of the priests, and used for civil purposes; but the red standard was under the direction of the war priests, for purposes of war and alarm. These were carried when they journeyed, and the white standard erected in front of the building above mentioned [the ark or palladium], when they rested.”

Fire of cane splints—Bartram thus describes the method as witnessed by him at Attasse (Autossee) among the Creeks about 1775. The fire which blazed up so mysteriously may have been kept constantly smoldering below, as described in number 111:

The missionaries Buttrick and Washburn give versions of the Cherokee genesis, both of which are so badly warped by Bible interpretation as to be worthless. No native cosmogonic myth yet recorded goes back to the first act of creation, but all start out with a world and living creatures already in existence, though not in their final form and condition.

Seven: The sacred numbers—In every tribe and cult throughout the world we find sacred numbers. Christianity and the Christian world have three and seven. The Indian has always four as the principal sacred number, with usually another only slightly subordinated. The two sacred numbers of the Cherokee are four and seven, the latter being the actual number of the tribal clans, the formulistic number of upper worlds or heavens, and the ceremonial number of paragraphs or repetitions in the principal formulas. Thus in the prayers for long life the priest raises his client by successive stages to the first, second, third, fourth, and finally to the seventh heaven before the end is accomplished. The sacred four has direct relation to the four cardinal points, while seven, besides these, includes also “above,” “below,” and “here in the center.” In many tribal rituals color and sometimes sex are assigned to each point of direction. In the sacred Cherokee formulas the spirits of the East, South, West, and North are, respectively, Red, White, Black, and Blue, and each color has also its own symbolic meaning of Power (War), Peace, Death, and Defeat.

3. Kana′tĭ and Selu: Origin of corn and game (p. 242): This story was obtained in nearly the same form from Swimmer and John Ax (east) and from Wafford (west), and a version is also given in the Wahnenauhi manuscript. Hagar notes it briefly in his manuscript Stellar Legends of the Cherokee. So much of belief and custom depend upon the myth of Kana′tĭ that references to the principal incidents are constant in the songs and formulas. It is one of those myths held so sacred that in the old days one who wished to hear it from the priest of the tradition must first purify himself by “going to water,” i. e., bathing in the running stream before daylight when still fasting, while the priest performed his mystic ceremonies upon the bank.

In his Letters from the Alleghany Mountains, written more than fifty years ago, Lanman gives (pp. 136, 137) a very fair synopsis of this myth, locating the game preserve of Kana′tĭ, whom he makes an old Cherokee chief, in a (traditional) cave on the north side of the Black mountain, now Mount Mitchell, in Yancey county, North Carolina, the highest peak east of the Rocky mountains. After his father had disappeared, and could not be found by long search, “The boy fired an arrow towards the north, but it returned and fell at his feet, and he knew that his father had not travelled in that direction. He also fired one towards the east and the south and the west, but they all came back in the same manner. He then thought that he would fire one directly above his head, and it so happened that this arrow never returned, and so the boy knew that his father had gone to the spirit land. The Great Spirit was angry with the Cherokee nation, and to punish it for the offense of the foolish boy he tore away the cave from the side of the Black mountain and left only a large cliff in its place, which is now a conspicuous feature, and he then declared that the time would come when another race of men should possess the mountains where the Cherokees had flourished for many generations.”

His wife was Selu, “Corn”—In Cherokee belief, as in the mythologies of nearly every eastern tribe, the corn spirit is a woman, and the plant itself has sprung originally from the blood drops or the dead body of the Corn Woman. In the Cherokee sacred formulas the corn is sometimes invoked as Agawe′la, “The Old Woman,” and one myth (number 72, “The Hunter and Selu”) tells how a hunter once witnessed the transformation of the growing stalk into a beautiful woman.

In the Creek myth “Origin of Indian Corn,” as given in the Tuggle manuscript, the corn plant appears to be the transformed body of an old woman whose only son, endowed with magic powers, has developed from a single drop of her (menstrual?) blood.

Sprang from blood—This concept of a child born of blood drops reappears in the Cherokee story of Tsulʻkalû′ (see number 81). Its occurrence among the Creeks has just been noted. It is found also among the Dakota (Dorsey, “The Blood-clots Boy,” in Contributions to North American Ethnology, IX, 1893), Omaha (Dorsey, “The Rabbit and the Grizzly Bear,” Cont. to N. A. Eth., VI, 1890), Blackfeet (“Kutoyis,” in Grinnell, “Blackfoot Lodge Tales”; New York, 1892), and other tribes. Usually the child thus born is of wilder and more mischievous nature than is common.

Storehouse—The unwadâ′lĭ, or storehouse for corn, beans, dried pumpkins, and other provisions, was a feature of every Cherokee homestead and was probably common to all the southern tribes. Lawson thus describes it among the Santee in South Carolina about the year 1700:

Rubbed her stomach—This miraculous procuring of provisions by rubbing the body occurs also in number 76, “The Bear Man.”

Knew their thoughts—Mind reading is a frequent concept in Indian myth and occurs in more than one Cherokee story.

Seven times—The idea of sacred numbers has already been noted, and the constant recurrence of seven in the present myth exemplifies well the importance of that number in Cherokee ritual.

Play ball against them—This is a Cherokee figurative expression for a contest of any kind, more particularly a battle.

Left an open space—When the Cherokee conjurer, by his magic spells, coils the great (invisible) serpent around the house of a sick man to keep off the witches, he is always careful to leave a small space between the head and tail of the snake, so that the members of the family can go down to the spring to get water.

Wolves—The wolf is regarded as the servant and watchdog of Kana′tĭ. See number 15, “The Fourfooted Tribes.”

From these have come all—In nearly every Indian mythology we find the idea of certain animal tribes being descended from a single survivor of some great slaughter by an early hero god or trickster. Thus the Kiowa say that all the prairie dogs on the plains are descended from a single little fellow who was too wary to close his eyes, as his companions did, when the hungry vagrant Sinti was planning to capture them all for his dinner under pretense of teaching them a new dance.

In one version of the Kana′tĭ myth the wheel is an arrow, which the wild boy shoots toward the four cardinal points and finally straight upward, when it comes back no more. When they get above the sky they find Kana′tĭ and Selu sitting together, with the arrow sticking in the ground in front of them. In the Creek story, “The Lion [Panther?] and the Little Girl,” of the Tuggle collection, the lion has a wheel “which could find anything that was lost.”

The twilight land—Usûñhi′yĭ, “Where it is always growing dark,” the spirit land in the west. This is the word constantly used in the sacred formulas to denote the west, instead of the ordinary word Wude′ligûñ′yĭ, “Where it sets.” In the same way Nûñdâ′yĭ, or Nûñdâgûñ′yĭ, the “Sun place, or region,” is the formulistic name for the east instead of Digălûñgûñ′yĭ, “Where it [i. e., the sun] comes up,” the ordinary term. These archaic expressions give to myths and formulas a peculiar beauty which is lost in the translation. As the interpreter once said, “I love to hear these old words.”

Struck by lightning—With the American tribes, as in Europe, a mysterious potency attaches to the wood of a tree which has been struck by lightning. The Cherokee conjurers claim to do wonderful things by means of such wood. Splinters of it are frequently buried in the field to make the corn grow. It must not be forgotten that the boys in this myth are Thunder Boys.

The end of the world—See notes to number 7, “The Journey to the Sunrise.”

Anisga′ya Tsunsdi′—Abbreviated from Anisga′ya Tsunsdi′ga, “Little Men.” These two sons of Kana′tĭ, who are sometimes called Thunder Boys and who live in Usûñhi′yĭ above the sky vault, must not be confounded with the Yûñwĭ Tsunsdi′, or “Little People,” who are also Thunderers, but who live in caves of the rocks and cause the short, sharp claps of thunder. There is also the Great Thunderer, the thunder of the whirlwind and the hurricane, who seems to be identical with Kana′tĭ himself.

Deer songs—The Indian hunters of the olden time had many songs intended to call up the deer and the bear. Most of these have perished, but a few are still remembered. They were sung by the hunter, with some accompanying ceremony, to a sweetly plaintive tune, either before starting out or on reaching the hunting ground.

One Cherokee deer song; sung with repetition, may be freely rendered:

O Deer, you stand close by the tree,

You sweeten your saliva with acorns,

Now you are standing near,

You have come where your food rests on the ground.

Gatschet, in his Creek Migration Legend (I, p. 79), gives the following translation of a Hichitee deer hunting song:

Somewhere (the deer) lies on the ground, I think; I walk about.

Awake, arise, stand up!

It is raising up its head, I believe; I walk about.

Awake, arise, stand up!

It attempts to rise, I believe; I walk about.

Awake, arise, stand up!

Slowly it raises its body, I think; I walk about.

Awake, arise, stand up!

It has now risen on its feet, I presume; I walk about.

Awake, arise, stand up!

4. Origin of disease and medicine (p. 250): This myth was obtained first from Swimmer, as explaining the theory upon which is based the medical practice of the Cherokee doctor. It was afterward heard, with less detail, from John Ax (east) and James Wafford (west). It was originally published in the author’s Sacred Formulas of the Cherokees, in the Seventh Annual Report of the Bureau of Ethnology.

In the mythology of most Indian tribes, as well as of primitive peoples generally, disease is caused by animal spirits, ghosts, or witchcraft, and the doctor’s efforts are directed chiefly to driving out the malevolent spirit. In Creek belief, according to the Tuggle manuscript, “all disease is caused by the winds, which are born in the air and then descend to the earth.” It is doubtful, however, if this statement is intended to apply to more than a few classes of disease, and another myth in the same collection recites that “once upon a time the beasts, birds, and reptiles held a council to devise means to destroy the enemy, man.” For an extended discussion of the Indian medical theory, see the author’s paper mentioned above.

Animal chiefs and tribes—For an exposition of the Cherokee theory of the tribal organization of the animals, with townhouses and councils, under such chiefs as the White Bear, the Little Deer, etc., see number 15, “The Fourfooted Tribes.”

Kuwâ′hĭ mountain—“The Mulberry place,” one of the high peaks in the Great Smoky mountains, on the dividing line between Swain county, North Carolina, and Sevier county, Tennessee. The bears have a townhouse under it.

Ask the bear’s pardon—See number 15, “The Fourfooted Tribes,” and notes.

5. The Daughter of the Sun: Origin of death (p. 252): This is one of the principal myths of the Cherokee, and like most of its class, has several variants. The sequel has an obvious resemblance to the myth of Pandora. It was obtained in whole or in part from Swimmer, John Ax, James Blythe, and others of the eastern band. The version mainly followed is that of Swimmer, which differs in important details from that of John Ax.

As told by John Ax, it is the Sun herself, instead of her daughter, who is killed, the daughter having been assigned the duty of lighting the earth after the death of her mother, the original Sun. The only snakes mentioned are the Spreading Adder and the Rattlesnake, the first being a transformed man, while the other is a stick, upon which the Little Men cut seven rings before throwing it in the pathway of the Sun, where it becomes a rattlesnake. The seven rods or staves of the Swimmer version are with John Ax seven corncobs, which are thrown at the girl as she passes in the dance (cf. Hagar variant of number 8 in notes). The Little Men (see number 3, “Kana′tĭ and Selu,” and other stories) belong to the John Ax version. The others have only a conjurer or chief to direct proceedings.

This myth is noted in the Payne manuscript, of date about 1835, quoted in Squier, Serpent Symbol, page 67: “The Cherokees state that a number of beings were engaged in the creation. The Sun was made first. The intention of the creators was that men should live always. But the Sun, when he passed over, told them that there was not land enough and that people had better die. At length the daughter of the Sun, who was with them, was bitten by a snake and died. The Sun, on his return, inquired for her and was told that she was dead. He then consented that human beings might live always, and told them to take a box and go where the spirit of his daughter was and bring it back to her body, charging them that when they got her spirit they should not open the box until they had arrived where her body was. However, impelled by curiosity, they opened it, contrary to the injunction of the Sun, and the spirit escaped; and then the fate of all men was decided, that they must die.” This is copied without credit by Foster, Sequoyah, page 241.

Another version is thus given by the missionary Buttrick, who died in 1847, in his Antiquities of the Cherokee Indians, page 3: “Soon after the creation one of the family was bitten by a serpent and died. All possible means were resorted to to bring back life, but in vain. Being overcome in this first instance, the whole race was doomed to follow, not only to death, but to misery afterwards, as it was supposed that that person went to misery. Another tradition says that soon after the creation a young woman was bitten by a serpent and died, and her spirit went to a certain place, and the people were told that if they would get her spirit back to her body that the body would live again, and they would prevent the general mortality of the body. Some young men therefore started with a box to catch the spirit. They went to a place and saw it dancing about, and at length caught it in the box and shut the lid, so as to confine it, and started back. But the spirit kept constantly pleading with them to open the box, so as to afford a little light, but they hurried on until they arrived near the place where the body was, and then, on account of her peculiar urgency, they removed the lid a very little, and out flew the spirit and was gone, and with it all their hopes of immortality.”

In a variant noted by Hagar the messengers carry four staves and are seven days traveling to the ghost country. “They found her dancing in the land of spirits. They struck her with the first ‘stick,’ it produced no effect—with the second, and she ceased to dance—with the third, and she looked around—with the fourth, and she came to them. They made a box and placed her in it.” He was told by one informant: “Only one man ever returned from the land of souls. He went there in a dream after a snake had struck him in the forehead. He, Turkey-head, came back seven days after and described it all. The dead go eastward at first, then westward to the Land of Twilight. It is in the west in the sky, but not amongst the stars” (Stellar Legends of the Cherokee, MS, 1898).

The sky vault—See other references in number 1, “How the World was Made;” number 3, “Kana′tĭ and Selu,” and number 7, “The Journey to the Sunrise.”

My grandchildren—The Sun calls the people tsûñgili′sĭ, “my grandchildren,” this being the term used by maternal grandparents, the corresponding term used by paternal grandparents being tsûñgini′sĭ. The Moon calls the people tsûñkina′tlĭ, “my younger brothers,” the term used by a male speaking, the Moon being personified as a man in Cherokee mythology. The corresponding term used by a female is tsûñkită′.

The Little Men—The Thunder Boys, sons of Kana′tĭ (see number 3, “Kana′tĭ and Selu”). They are always represented as beneficent wonder workers, of great power.

Changed to snakes—The Cherokee names of the rattlesnake (Crotalus), copperhead (Trigonocephalus), and spreading adder (Heterodon) are, respectively, utsa′natĭ, “he has a bell” (?); wâ′dige′ĭ askâ′lĭ, “red-brown head”; and da′lĭkstă′, “vomiter,” from its habit of vomiting yellow slime, as is told in the story. For more concerning the Uktena see number 50, “The Uktena and the Ulûñsû′tĭ.”

Hand-breadth—See note to number 1, “How the World was Made.”

6. How they brought back the tobacco (p. 254): The first version of this myth as here given was obtained from Swimmer, and agrees with that of John Ax, except that for the humming bird the latter substitutes the wasulû, or large red-brown moth, which flies about the tobacco flower in the evening, and states that it was selected because it could fly so quietly that it would not be noticed. The second version was obtained from Wafford, in the Cherokee Nation west, who heard it from his great-uncle nearly ninety years ago, and differs so much from the other that it has seemed best to give it separately. The incident of the tree which grows taller as the man climbs it has close parallels in the mythology of the Kiowa and other Western tribes, but has no obvious connection with the story, and is probably either one of a series of adventures originally belonging to the trip or else a fragment from some otherwise forgotten myth. It may be mentioned that Wafford was a man of rather practical character, with but little interest or memory for stories, being able to fill in details of but few of the large number which he remembered having heard when a boy.

In his Letters from the Alleghany Mountains, pages 119–121, Lanman gives the story as he obtained it in 1848 from Chief Kâlahû (see p. 173), still well remembered by those who knew him as an authority upon tribal traditions and ritual. In the Kâlahû version the story is connected with Hickorynut gap, a remarkable pass in the Blue ridge southeast from Asheville, North Carolina, and a comparison with the later versions shows clearly how much has been lost in fifty years. The whole body of Cherokee tradition has probably suffered a proportionate loss.

“Before visiting this remarkable passage through the mountains [Hickorynut gap], I endeavored to ascertain, from the Cherokees of Qualla town, its original Indian name, but without succeeding. It was my good fortune, however, to obtain a romantic legend connected therewith. I heard it from the lips of a chief who glories in the two names of All-bones and Flying-squirrel, and, though he occupied no less than two hours in telling the story, I will endeavor to give it to my readers in about five minutes.

“There was a time when the Cherokees were without the famous tso-lungh, or tobacco weed, with which they had previously been made acquainted by a wandering stranger from the far east. Having smoked it in their large stone pipes, they became impatient to obtain it in abundance. They ascertained that the country where it grew in the greatest quantities was situated on the big waters, and that the gateway to that country (a mighty gorge among the mountains) was perpetually guarded by an immense number of little people or spirits. A council of the bravest men in the nation was called, and, while they were discussing the dangers of visiting the unknown country, and bringing therefrom a large knapsack of the fragrant tobacco, a young man stepped boldly forward and said that he would undertake the task. The young warrior departed on his mission and never returned. The Cherokee nation was now in great tribulation, and another council was held to decide upon a new measure. At this council a celebrated magician rose and expressed his willingness to relieve his people of their difficulties, and informed them that he would visit the tobacco country and see what he could accomplish. He turned himself into a mole, and as such made his appearance eastward of the mountains; but having been pursued by the guardian spirits, he was compelled to return without any spoil. He next turned himself into a humming-bird, and thus succeeded, to a very limited extent, in obtaining what he needed. On returning to his country he found a number of his friends at the point of death, on account of their intense desire for the fragrant weed; whereupon he placed some of it in a pipe, and, having blown the smoke into the nostrils of those who were sick, they all revived and were quite happy. The magician now took into his head that he would revenge the loss of the young warrior, and at the same time become the sole possessor of all the tobacco in the unknown land. He therefore turned himself into a whirlwind, and in passing through the Hickorynut gorge he stripped the mountains of their vegetation, and scattered huge rocks in every part of the narrow valley; whereupon the little people were all frightened away, and he was the only being in the country eastward of the mountains. In the bed of a stream he found the bones of the young warrior, and having brought them to life, and turned himself into a man again, the twain returned to their own country heavily laden with tobacco; and ever since that time it has been very abundant throughout the entire land.”

In the Iroquois story of “The Lad and the Chestnuts,” the Cherokee myth is paralleled with the substitution of a chestnut tree guarded by a white heron for the tobacco plant watched by the dagûlʻkû geese (see Smith, Myths of the Iroquois, in Second Annual Report Bureau of Ethnology, 1883).

Tobacco—Tobacco, as is well known, is of American origin and is sacred among nearly all our tribes, having an important place in almost every deliberative or religious ceremony. The tobacco of commerce (Nicotiana tabacum) was introduced from the West Indies. The original tobacco of the Cherokee and other eastern tribes was the “wild tobacco” (Nicotiana rustica), which they distinguish now as tsâl-agayûñ′li, “old tobacco.” By the Iroquois the same species is called the “real tobacco.”

Dagûlʻkû geese—The dagûlʻkû is the American white-fronted goose (Anser albifrons gambeli). It is said to have been of bluish-white color, and to have been common in the low country toward the coast, but very rare in the mountains. About the end of September it goes south, and can be heard at night flying far overhead and crying dugalŭ! dugalŭ! dugalŭ! Swimmer had heard them passing over, but had never seen one.

7. The journey to the sunrise (p. 255): This story, obtained from John Ax, with additional details by Swimmer and Wafford, has parallels in many tribes. Swimmer did not know the burial incident, but said—evidently a more recent interpolation—that when they came near the sunrise they found there a race of black men at work. It is somewhat remarkable that the story has nothing to say of the travelers reaching the ocean, as the Cherokee were well aware of its proximity.

What the Sun is like—According to the Payne manuscript, already quoted, the Cherokee anciently believed that the world, the first man and woman, and the sun and moon were all created by a number of beneficent beings who came down for the purpose from an upper world, to which they afterward returned, leaving the sun and moon as their deputies to finish and rule the world thus created. “Hence whenever the believers in this system offer a prayer to their creator, they mean by the creator rather the Sun and Moon. As to which of these two was supreme, there seems to have been a wide difference of opinion. In some of their ancient prayers, they speak of the Sun as male, and consider, of course, the Moon as female. In others, however, they invoke the Moon as male and the Sun as female; because, as they say, the Moon is vigilant and travels by night. But both Sun and Moon, as we have before said, are adored as the creator.... The expression, ‘Sun, my creator,’ occurs frequently in their ancient prayers. Indeed, the Sun was generally considered the superior in their devotions” (quoted in Squier, Serpent Symbol, p. 68). Haywood, in 1823, says: “The sun they call the day moon or female, and the night moon the male” (Nat. and Aborig. Hist. Tenn., p. 266). According to Swimmer, there is also a tradition that the Sun was of cannibal habit, and in human form was once seen killing and devouring human beings. Sun and Moon are sister and brother. See number 8, “The Moon and the Thunders.”

The Indians of Thompson river, British Columbia, say of the sun that formerly “He was a man and a cannibal, killing people on his travels every day.... He hung up the people whom he had killed during his day’s travel when he reached home, taking down the bodies of those whom he had hung up the night before and eating them.” He was finally induced to abandon his cannibal habit (Teit, Thompson River Traditions, p. 53).

In the same grave—This reminds us of the adventure in the voyage of Sinbad the Sailor, as narrated in the Arabian Nights. The sacrifice of the wife at her husband’s funeral was an ancient custom in the Orient and in portions of Africa, and still survives in the Hindu suttee. It may once have had a counterpart in America, but so far as known to the author the nearest approach to it was found in the region of the lower Columbia and adjacent northwest coast, where a slave was frequently buried alive with the corpse.

Vault of solid rock—The sky vault which is constantly rising and falling at the horizon and crushes those who try to go beyond occurs in the mythologies of the Iroquois of New York, the Omaha and the Sioux of the plains, the Tillamook of Oregon, and other widely separated tribes. The Iroquois concept is given by Hewitt, “Rising and Falling of the Sky,” in Iroquois Legends, in the American Anthropologist for October, 1892. In the Omaha story of “The Chief’s Son and the Thunders” (Dorsey, Contributions to North American Ethnology, VI, 1890), a party of travelers in search of adventures “came to the end of the sky, and the end of the sky was going down into the ground.” They tried to jump across, and all succeeded excepting one, who failed to clear the distance, and “the end of the sky carried him away under the ground.” The others go on behind the other world and return the same way. In the Tillamook myth six men go traveling and reach “the lightning door, which opened and closed with great rapidity and force.” They get through safely, but one is caught on the return and has his back cut in half by the descending sky (Boas, Traditions of the Tillamook Indians, in Journal of American Folk-Lore, Jan., 1898). See also number 1, “How the World was Made” and number 3, “Kana′tĭ and Selu.”

8. The Moon and the Thunders (p. 256): The story of the sun and the moon, as here given, was obtained first from Swimmer and afterward from other informants. It is noted by Hagar, in his manuscript Stellar Legends of the Cherokee, one narrator making the girl blacken her brother’s face with seven (charred?) corn cobs (cf. John Ax’s version of number 5 in notes). Exactly the same myth is found with the native tribes of Greenland, Panama, Brazil, and Northern India. Among the Khasias of the Himalaya mountains “the changes of the moon are accounted for by the theory that this orb, who is a man, monthly falls in love with his wife’s mother, who throws ashes in his face. The sun is female.” On some northern branches of the Amazon “the moon is represented as a maiden who fell in love with her brother and visited him at night, but who was finally betrayed by his passing his blackened hand over her face.” With the Greenland Eskimo the Sun and Moon are sister and brother, and were playing in the dark, “when Malina, being teased in a shameful manner by her brother Anninga, smeared her hands with the soot of the lamp and rubbed them over the face and hands of her persecutor, that she might recognize him by daylight. Hence arise the spots in the moon (see Timothy Harley, Moon Lore, London, 1885, and the story “The Sun and the Moon,” in Henry Rink’s Tales and Traditions of the Eskimo, London, 1875). In British Columbia the same incident occurs in the story of a girl and her lover, who was a dog transformed to the likeness of a man (Teit, Thompson River Traditions, p. 62). A very similar myth occurs among the Cheyenne, in which the chief personages are human, but the offspring of the connection become the Pleiades (A. L. Kroeber, Cheyenne Tales, in Journal of American Folk-Lore, July, 1900). In nearly all mythologies the Sun and Moon are sister and brother, the Moon being generally masculine, while the Sun is feminine (cf. German, Der Mond, Die Sonne).

The myth connecting the moon with the ballplay is from Haywood (Natural and Aboriginal History of Tennessee, p. 285), apparently on the authority of Charles Hicks, a mixed-blood chief.

Eclipse—Of the myth of the eclipse monster, which may be frightened away by all sorts of horrible noises, it is enough to say that it is universal (see Harley, Moon Lore). The Cherokee name for the phenomenon is nûñdă′ walâ′sĭ u′giskă′, “the frog is swallowing the sun or moon.” Says Adair (History of the American Indians p. 65): “The first lunar eclipse I saw after I lived with the Indians was among the Cherokee, An. 1736, and during the continuance of it their conduct appeared very surprizing to one who had not seen the like before. They all ran wild, this way and that way, like lunatics, firing their guns, whooping and hallooing, beating of kettles, ringing horse bells, and making the most horrid noises that human beings possibly could. This was the effect of their natural philosophy and done to assist the suffering moon.”

Sun and moon names—In probably every tribe both sun and moon are called by the same name, accompanied by a distinguishing adjective.

Rainbow—The conception of the rainbow as the beautiful dress of the Thunder god occurs also among the South Sea islanders. In Mangaia it is the girdle of the god Tangaroa, which he loosens and allows to hang down until the end reaches to the earth whenever he wishes to descend (Gill, Myths and Songs of the South Pacific, p. 44). For some unexplained reason the dread of pointing at the rainbow, on penalty of having the finger wither or become misshapen, is found among most of the tribes even to the Pacific coast. The author first heard of it from a Puyallup boy of Puget sound, Washington.

9. What the stars are like (p. 257): This story, told by Swimmer, embodies the old tribal belief. By a different informant Hagar was told: “Stars are birds. We know this because one once shot from the sky to the ground, and some Cherokee who looked for it found a little bird, about the size of a chicken just hatched, where it fell” (MS Stellar Legends of the Cherokee, 1898).

The story closely resembles something heard by Lawson among the Tuscarora in eastern North Carolina about the year 1700. An Indian having been killed by lightning, the people were assembled for the funeral, and the priest made them a long discourse upon the power of lightning over all men, animals, and plants, save only mice and the black-gum tree. “At last he began to tell the most ridiculous absurd parcel of lies about lightning that could be; as that an Indian of that nation had once got lightning in the likeness of a partridge; that no other lightning could harm him whilst he had that about him; and that after he had kept it for several years it got away from him, so that he then became as liable to be struck with lightning as any other person. There was present at the same time an Indian that had lived from his youth chiefly in an English house, so I called to him and told him what a parcel of lies the conjurer told, not doubting but he thought so as well as I; but I found to the contrary, for he replied that I was much mistaken, for the old man—who, I believe, was upwards of an hundred years old—did never tell lies; and as for what he said, it was very true, for he knew it himself to be so. Thereupon seeing the fellow’s ignorance, I talked no more about it (History of Carolina, page 346).

According to Hagar a certain constellation of seven stars, which he identifies as the Hyades, is called by the Cherokee “The Arm,” on account of its resemblance to a human arm bent at the elbow, and they say that it is the broken arm of a man who went up to the sky because, having been thus crippled, he was of no further use upon earth.

A meteor, and probably also a comet, is called Atsil′-Tlûñtû′tsĭ” “Fire-panther,” the same concept being found among the Shawano, embodied in the name of their great chief, Tecumtha (see p. 215).

10. Origin of the Pleiades and the pine (p. 258): This myth is well known in the tribe, and was told in nearly the same form by Swimmer, Ta′gwadihĭ′ and Suyeta. The Feather dance, also called the Eagle dance, is one of the old favorites, and is the same as the ancient Calumet dance of the northern tribes. For a description of the gatayû′stĭ game, see note to number 3, “Kana′ti and Selu.” In a variant recorded by Stansbury Hagar (MS Stellar Legends of the Cherokee) the boys spend their time shooting at cornstalks.

According to Squier (Serpent Symbol, p. 69), probably on the authority of the Payne manuscript, “The Cherokees paid a kind of veneration to the morning star, and also to the seven stars, with which they have connected a variety of legends, all of which, no doubt, are allegorical, although their significance is now unknown.”

The corresponding Iroquois myth below, as given by Mrs Erminnie Smith in her Myths of the Iroquois (Second Annual Report of Bureau of Ethnology, p. 80), is practically the same so far as it goes, and the myth was probably once common over a wide area in the East:

“Seven little Indian boys were once accustomed to bring at eve their corn and beans to a little mound, upon the top of which, after their feast, the sweetest of their singers would sit and sing for his mates who danced around the mound. On one occasion they resolved on a more sumptuous feast, and each was to contribute towards a savory soup. But the parents refused them the needed supplies, and they met for a feastless dance. Their heads and hearts grew lighter as they flew around the mound, until suddenly the whole company whirled off into the air. The inconsolable parents called in vain for them to return, but it was too late. Higher and higher they arose, whirling around their singer, until, transformed into bright stars, they took their places in the firmament, where, as the Pleiades, they are dancing still, the brightness of the singer having been dimmed, however, on account of his desire to return to earth.”

In an Eskimo tale a hunter was pursued by enemies, and as he ran he gradually rose from the ground and finally reached the sky, where he was turned into a star (Kroeber, Tales of the Smith Sound Eskimo, in Journal of American Folk-Lore). This transformation of human beings into stars and constellations is one of the most common incidents of primitive myth.

11. The Milky Way (p. 259): This story, in slightly different forms, is well known among the Cherokee east and west. The generic word for mill is dista′stĭ, including also the self-acting pound-mill or ûlskwûlte′gĭ. In the original version the mill was probably a wooden mortar, such as was commonly used by the Cherokee and other eastern and southern tribes.

In a variant recorded in the Hagar Cherokee manuscript there are two hunters, one living in the north and hunting big game, while the other lives in the south and hunts small game. The former, discovering the latter’s wife grinding corn, seizes her and carries her far away across the sky to his home in the north. Her dog, after eating what meal is left, follows the pair across the sky, the meal falling from his mouth as he runs, making the Milky Way.

With the Kiowa, Cheyenne, and other plains tribes the Milky Way is the dusty track along which the Buffalo and the Horse once ran a race across the sky.

12. Origin of strawberries (p. 259): This myth, as here given, was obtained from Ta′gwadihĭ′, who said that all the fruits mentioned were then for the first time created, and added, “So some good came from the quarrel, anyhow.” The Swimmer version has more detail, but seems overdressed.

Another version of the Cherokee legend is given by Lanman in his Letters from the Alleghany Mountains, pages 73–74:

“The Cherokees relate that there once existed among those mountains [about Nantahala and Franklin] a very large bird, which resembled in appearance the green-winged hornet, and this creature was in the habit of carrying off the younger children of the nation who happened to wander into the woods. Very many children had mysteriously disappeared in this manner, and the entire people declared a warfare against the monster. A variety of means were employed for his destruction, but without success. In process of time it was determined that the wise men (or medicine-men) of the nation should try their skill in the business. They met in council and agreed that each one should station himself on the summit of a mountain, and that, when the creature was discovered, the man who made the discovery should utter a loud halloo, which shout should be taken up by his neighbor on the next mountain, and so continued to the end of the line, that all the men might have a shot at the strange bird. This experiment was tried, and resulted in finding out the hiding place of the monster, which was a deep cavern on the eastern side of the Blue ridge and at the fountain-head of the river Too-ge-lah [Tugaloo river, South Carolina]. On arriving at this place, they found the entrance to the cavern entirely inaccessible by mortal feet, and they therefore prayed to the Great Spirit that he would bring out the bird from his den, and place him within reach of their arms. Their petition was granted, for a terrible thunder-storm immediately arose, and a stroke of lightning tore away one half of a large mountain, and the Indians were successful in slaying their enemy. The Great Spirit was pleased with the courage manifested by the Cherokees during this dangerous fight, and, with a view of rewarding the same, he willed it that all the highest mountains in their land should thereafter be destitute of trees, so that they might always have an opportunity of watching the movements of their enemies.

As a sequel to this legend, it may be appropriately mentioned, that at the head of the Too-ge-lah is to be found one of the most remarkable curiosities of this mountain-land. It is a granite cliff with a smooth surface or front, half a mile long, and twelve hundred feet high, and generally spoken of in this part of the country as the White-side mountain, or the Devil’s court-house. To think of it is almost enough to make one dizzy, but to see it fills one with awe. Near the top of one part of this cliff is a small cave, which can be reached only by passing over a strip of rock about two feet wide. One man only has ever been known to enter it, and when he performed the deed he met at the entrance of the cave a large bear, which animal, in making its escape, slipped off the rock, fell a distance of near a thousand feet, and was of course killed. When the man saw this, he became so excited that it was some hours before he could quiet his nerves sufficiently to retrace his dangerous pathway.”

The Cherokee myth has a close parallel in the Iroquois story of the great mosquito, as published by the Tuscarora traditionist, Cusick, in 1825, and quoted by Schoolcraft, Indian Tribes, V, page 638:

“About this time a great musqueto invaded the fort Onondaga; the musqueto was mischievous to the people, it flew about the fort with a long stinger, and sucked the blood of a number of lives; the warriors made several oppositions to expel the monster, but failed; the country was invaded until the Holder of the Heavens was pleased to visit the people; while he was visiting the king at the fort Onondaga, the musqueto made appearance as usual and flew about the fort, the Holder of the Heavens attacked the monster, it flew so rapidly that he could hardly keep in sight of it, but after a few days chase the monster began to fail, he chased on the borders of the great lakes towards the sun-setting, and round the great country, at last he overtook the monster and killed it near the salt lake Onondaga, and the blood became small musquetos.”

U′laʻgû′—This is not the name of any particular species, but signifies a leader, principal, or colloquially, “boss,” and in this sense is applied to the large queen yellow-jacket seen in spring, or to the leader of a working gang. The insect of the story is described as a monster yellow-jacket.

14. The Deluge (p. 261): This story is given by Schoolcraft in his Notes on the Iroquois, page 358, as having been obtained in 1846 from the Cherokee chief, Stand Watie. It was obtained by the author in nearly the same form in 1890 from James Wafford, of Indian Territory, who had heard it from his grandmother nearly eighty years before. The incident of the dancing skeletons is not given by Schoolcraft, and seems to indicate a lost sequel to the story. Haywood (Nat. and Aborig. Hist. Tenn., p. 161) mentions the Cherokee deluge myth and conjectures that the petroglyphs at Track Rock gap in Georgia may have some reference to it. The versions given by the missionaries Buttrick and Washburn are simply the Bible narrative as told by the Indians. Washburn’s informant, however, accounted for the phenomenon by an upheaval and tilting of the earth, so that the waters for a time overflowed the inhabited parts (Reminiscences, pp. 196–197). In a variant related by Hagar (MS Stellar Legends of the Cherokee) a star with fiery tail falls from heaven and becomes a man with long hair, who warns the people of the coming deluge.

In one Creek version the warning is given by wolves; in another by cranes (see Bouton, cited above).

The same belief is noted by Chatelain in Angola, West Africa: “In African folk tales the animal world, as also the spirit world, is organized and governed just like the human world. In Angola the elephant is the supreme king of all animal creation, and the special chief of the edible tribe of wild animals. Next to him in rank the lion is special chief of the tribe of ferocious beasts and highest vassal of the elephant. Chief of the reptile tribe is the python. Chief of the finny tribe is, in the interior, the di-lenda, the largest river fish. Chief of the feathery tribe is the kakulu ka humbi, largest of the eagles. Among the domestic animals the sceptre belongs to the bull; among the locusts to the one called di-ngundu. Even the ants and termites have their kings or queens. Every chief or king has his court, consisting of the ngolambole, tandala, and other officers, his parliament of ma-kota and his plebeian subjects, just like any human African saba” (Folk tales of Angola, p. 22).

Asking pardon of animals—For other Cherokee references see remarks upon the Little Deer, the Wolf, and the Rattlesnake; also number 4, “Origin of Disease and Medicine,” and number 58, “The Rattlesnake’s Vengeance.” This custom was doubtless general among the tribes, as it is thoroughly in consonance with Indian idea. The trader Henry thus relates a characteristic instance among the Ojibwa in 1764 on the occasion of his killing a bear near the winter camp:

“The bear being dead, all my assistants approached, and all, but more particularly my old mother (as I was wont to call her), took his head in their hands, stroking and kissing it several times; begging a thousand pardons for taking away her life; calling her their relation and grandmother; and requesting her not to lay the fault upon them, since it was truly an Englishman that had put her to death.

“This ceremony was not of long duration; and if it was I that killed their grandmother, they were not themselves behind-hand in what remained to be performed. The skin being taken off, we found the fat in several places six inches deep. This, being divided into two parts, loaded two persons; and the flesh parts were as much as four persons could carry. In all, the carcass must have exceeded five hundred weight.

“As soon as we reached the lodge, the bear’s head was adorned with all the trinkets in the possession of the family, such as silver arm-bands and wrist-bands, and belts of wampum; and then laid upon a scaffold, set up for its reception, within the lodge. Near the nose was placed a large quantity of tobacco.

“The next morning no sooner appeared, than preparations were made for a feast to the manes. The lodge was cleaned and swept; and the head of the bear lifted up, and a new stroud of blanket, which had never been used before, spread under it. The pipes were now lit; and Wawatam blew tobacco smoke into the nostrils of the bear, telling me to do the same, and thus appease the anger of the bear on account of my having killed her. I endeavored to persuade my benefactor and friendly adviser, that she no longer had any life, and assured him that I was under no apprehension from her displeasure; but, the first proposition obtained no credit, and the second gave but little satisfaction.

“At length, the feast being ready, Wawatam commenced a speech, resembling, in many things, his address to the manes of his relations and departed companions; but, having this peculiarity, that he here deplored the necessity under which men labored thus to destroy their friends. He represented, however, that the misfortune was unavoidable, since without doing so, they could by no means subsist. The speech ended, we all ate heartily of the bear’s flesh; and even the head itself, after remaining three days on the scaffold, was put into the kettle.”—Travels, pp. 143–145.

The Rabbit—The part played by the Rabbit or Hare and his symbolic character in Indian myth has been already noted (see “Stories and Story Tellers”). In his purely animal character, as an actor among the fourfooted creatures, the same attributes of trickery and surpassing sagacity are assigned him in other parts of the world. In the folktales of Angola, West Africa, “The Hare seems to surpass the fox in shrewdness,” and “The Hare has the swiftness and shrewdness of the Monkey, but he is never reckless, as the Monkey sometimes appears to be” (Chatelain, Folktales of Angola, pp. 295, 300). In farthest Asia also “The animals, too, have their stories, and in Korea, as in some other parts of the world, the Rabbit seems to come off best, as a rule” (H. N. Allen, Korean Tales, p. 34; New York and London, 1889).

The buffalo—Timberlake repeatedly remarks upon the abundance of the buffalo in the Cherokee country of East Tennessee in 1762. On one occasion, while in camp, they heard rapid firing from their scouts and “in less than a minute seventeen or eighteen buffaloes ran in amongst us, before we discovered them, so that several of us had like to have been run over, especially the women, who with some difficulty sheltered themselves behind the trees. Most of the men fired, but firing at random, one only was killed, tho’ several more wounded” (Memoirs, p. 101). According to a writer in the Historical Magazine, volume VIII, page 71,1864, the last two wild buffalo known in Ohio were killed in Jackson county in 1800.

The elk—This animal ranged in eastern Carolina in 1700. “The elk is a monster of the venison sort. His skin is used almost in the same nature as the buffelo’s [sic].... His flesh is not so sweet as the lesser deer’s. His hams exceed in weight all creatures which the new world affords. They will often resort and feed with the buffelo, delighting in the same range as they do” (Lawson, Carolina, p. 203).

Cuts out the hamstring—No satisfactory reason has been obtained for this custom, which has been noted for more than a century. Buttrick says of the Cherokee: “The Indians never used to eat a certain sinew in the thigh.... Some say that if they eat of the sinew they will have cramp in it on attempting to run. It is said that once a woman had cramp in that sinew and therefore none must eat it” (Antiquities, p. 12). Says Adair, speaking of the southern tribes generally: “When in the woods the Indians cut a small piece out of the lower part of the thigh of the deer they kill, length-ways and pretty deep. Among the great number of venison hams they bring to our trading houses I do not remember to have observed one without it” (History of the American Indians, pp. 137–138).

White animals sacred—According to a formula in the Tuggle manuscript for curing the “deer sickness,” the “White Deer” is chief of his tribe in Creek mythology also. Peculiar sacredness always attaches, in the Indian mind, to white and albino animals, partly on account of the symbolic meaning attached to the color itself and partly by reason of the mystery surrounding the phenomenon of albinism. Among the Cherokee the chiefs both of the Deer and of the Bear tribe were white. On the plains the so-called white buffalo was always sacred. Among the Iroquois, according to Morgan (League of the Iroquois, p. 210), “the white deer, white squirrel and other chance animals of the albino kind, were regarded as consecrated to the Great Spirit.” One of their most solemn sacrifices was that of the White Dog.

The bear—A reverence for the bear and a belief that it is half human is very general among the tribes, and is probably based in part upon the ability of the animal to stand upright and the resemblance of its tracks to human footprints. According to Grinnell (Blackfoot Lodge Tales, p. 260), “The Blackfeet believe it to be part brute and part human, portions of its body, particularly the ribs and feet, being like those of a man.” In a note upon a Navaho myth Matthews says (Navaho Legends, p. 249): “The bear is a sacred animal with the Navahoes; for this reason the hero did not skin the bears or eat their flesh. The old man, being a wizard, might do both.”

The Ojibwa idea has been noted in connection with the ceremony of asking pardon of the slain animal. A curious illustration of the reverse side of the picture is given by Heckewelder (Indian Nations, p. 255):

“A Delaware hunter once shot a huge bear and broke its backbone. The animal fell and set up a most plaintive cry, something like that of the panther when he is hungry. The hunter instead of giving him another shot, stood up close to him, and addressed him in these words: ‘Hark ye! bear; you are a coward and no warrior as you pretend to be. Were you a warrior, you would shew it by your firmness, and not cry and whimper like an old woman. You know, bear, that our tribes are at war with each other, and that yours was the aggressor [probably alluding to a tradition which the Indians have of a very ferocious kind of bear, called the naked bear, which they say once existed, but was totally destroyed by their ancestors].... You have found the Indians too powerful for you, and you have gone sneaking about in the woods, stealing their hogs; perhaps at this time you have hog’s flesh in your belly. Had you conquered me, I would have borne it with courage and died like a brave warrior; but you, bear, sit here and cry, and disgrace your tribe by your cowardly conduct.’ I was present at the delivery of this curious invective. When the hunter had despatched the bear, I asked him how he thought that poor animal could understand what he said to it? ‘Oh,’ said he in answer, ‘the bear understood me very well; did you not observe how ashamed he looked while I was upbraiding him?’”

The wolf and wolf killer—Speaking of the Gulf tribes generally, Adair says: “The wolf, indeed, several of them do not care to meddle with, believing it unlucky to kill them, which is the sole reason that few of the Indians shoot at that creature, through a notion of spoiling their guns” (History of the American Indians, p. 16). The author has heard among the East Cherokee an incident of a man who, while standing one night upon a fish trap, was scented by a wolf, which came so near that the man was compelled to shoot it. He at once went home and had the gun exorcised by a conjurer. Wafford, when a boy in the old Nation, knew a professional wolf killer. It is always permissible to hire a white man to kill a depredating wolf, as in that case no guilt attaches to the Indian or his tribe.

17. How the Rabbit stole the Otter’s coat (p. 267): This story is well known in the tribe and was heard from several informants, both east and west. Nothing is said as to how the Otter recovered his coat. It has exact parallels in the Creek myths of the Tuggle collection, in one of which the Rabbit tries to personate a boy hero by stealing his coat, while in another he plays a trick on the Lion (Panther) by throwing hot coals over him while asleep, at a creek which the Rabbit says is called “Throwing-hot-ashes-on-you.”

18. Why the Possum’s tail is bare (p. 269): This story was heard from several informants, east and west. In one variant the hair clipping was done by the Moth, and in another by the spells of the Snail, who is represented as a magician. The version here given is the most common, and agrees best with the Cherokee folklore concerning the Cricket (see number 59, “The Smaller Reptiles, Fishes, and Insects”).

In the Creek myth, as given in the Tuggle collection, the Opossum burned the hair from his tail in trying to put rings upon it like those of the Raccoon’s tail, and grins from chewing a bitter oak ball which he mistook for a ripened fruit.

The anatomical peculiarities of the opossum, of both sexes, have occasioned much speculation among the Indians, many of whom believe that the female produces her young without any help from the male. The Creeks, according to the Tuggle manuscript, believe that the young are born in the pouch, from the breathing of the female against it when curled up, and even Lawson and Timberlake assert that they are born at the teat, from which they afterward drop off into the pouch.

A council and a dance—In the old days, as to-day among the remote Western tribes, every great council gathering was made the occasion of a series of dances, accompanied always by feasting and a general good time.

19. How the Wildcat caught the Gobbler (p. 269): This story was heard from John Ax and David Blythe (east) and from Wafford and Boudinot (west). The version given below, doctored to suit the white man’s idea, appears without signature in the Cherokee Advocate of December 18, 1845:

“There was once a flock of wild turkeys feeding in a valley. As they fed they heard a voice singing. They soon discovered that the musician was a hare, and the burden of his song was that he had a secret in his breast which he would on no account divulge. The curiosity of the turkeys was excited, and they entreated the hare to tell them the secret. This he finally consented to do if they would procure for him the king’s daughter for his wife and go with him and dance around their enemy. They engaged to do all, and the hare led them to where a wildcat lay apparently dead. The hare prevailed upon them to close their eyes as they danced. The wildcat meanwhile silently arose and killed several of them before the rest found out what a snare they had been caught in. By this artifice on the part of the wildcat, seconded by the hare, the former had a sumptuous repast.”

20. How the Terrapin beat the Rabbit (p. 270): This story was obtained from John Ax and Suyeta and is well known in the tribe. It is sometimes told with the Deer instead of the Rabbit as the defeated runner, and in this form is given by Lanman, who thus localizes it: “The race was to extend from the Black mountain to the summit of the third pinnacle extending to the eastward” (Letters, p. 37).

In the Creek collection of Tuggle the same story is given in two versions, in one of which the Deer and in the other the Wolf is defeated by the stratagem of the Terrapin. The Southern negro parallel is given by Harris (Uncle Remus, His Songs and His Sayings) in the story, “Mr Rabbit Finds His Match at Last.” It seems almost superfluous to call attention to the European folklore version, the well-known story of the race between the Hare and the Tortoise.

21. The Rabbit and the tar wolf (p. 271): This story was obtained in the Indian Territory from James Wafford, who said he had repeatedly heard it in boyhood about Valley river, in the old Nation, from Cherokee who spoke no English.

The second version, from the Cherokee Advocate, December 18, 1845, is given, together with the story of “How the Wildcat caught the Gobbler,” with this introduction:

“Indian Fables. Mr William P. Ross: I have recently stumbled on the following Cherokee fables, and perhaps you may think them worth inserting in the Advocate for the sake of the curious. I am told that the Cherokees have a great many fables. If I understand the following, the intention seems to be to teach cunning and artifice in war. Æsop.” The newspaper paragraph bears the pencil initials of S[amuel] W[orcester] B[utler].

Other Indian versions are found with the Jicarilla (“Fox and Rabbit,” Myths of the Jicarilla, by Frank Russell, in Journal of American Folk-Lore, October, 1898) and Sioux (S. D. Hinman, cited in Transactions of the Anthropological Society of Washington, I, p. 103, Washington, 1882). The southern negro variant, “The Wonderful Tar-Baby Story,” is the introductory tale in Harris’s Uncle Remus, His Songs and His Sayings. A close parallel occurs in the West African story of “Leopard, Monkey, and Hare” (Chatelain, Folktales of Angola).

22. The Rabbit and the Possum after a wife (p. 273): This specimen of Indian humor was obtained at different times from Swimmer, John Ax, Suyeta (east), and Wafford (west), and is well known in the tribe. Wafford, in telling the story, remarked that the Rabbit was the chief’s runner, and according to custom was always well entertained wherever he went.

23. The Rabbit dines the Bear (p. 273): This favorite story with the Cherokee east and west is another of the animal myths of wide distribution, being found with almost every tribe from Maine to the Pacific. Beans and peas in several varieties were indigenous among the agricultural tribes.

In the Creek version, in the Tuggle manuscript, “The Bear invited the Rabbit to dinner. When he came the Bear called his wife and said, ‘Have peas for dinner: the Rabbit loves peas.’ ‘But there is no grease,’ said the Bear’s wife, ‘to cook them with.’ ‘O,’ said the Bear, ‘that’s no trouble, bring me a knife.’ So she brought the knife and the Bear took it and split between his toes, while the Rabbit looked on in wonder. ‘No grease between my toes! Well, I know where there is some,’ so he cut a gash in his side and out, ran the grease. His wife took it and cooked the peas and they had a fine dinner and vowed always to be good friends,” etc. The wounded Rabbit is put under the care of the Buzzard, who winds up by eating his patient.

24. The Rabbit escapes from the wolves (p. 274): This story was obtained from James Wafford, in Indian Territory. Compare number 19, “How the Wildcat Caught the Gobbler.”

25. Flint visits the Rabbit (p. 274): This story was told in slightly different form by John Ax and Swimmer (east) and was confirmed by Wafford (west). Although among the Cherokee it has degenerated to a mere humorous tale for the amusement of a winter evening, it was originally a principal part of the great cosmogonic myth common to probably all the Iroquoian and Algonquian tribes, and of which we find traces also in the mythologies of the Aztec and the Maya. Among the northern Algonquian tribes “the West was typified as a flint stone, and the twin brother of Michabo, the Great Rabbit. The feud between them was bitter, and the contest long and dreadful.... At last Michabo mastered his fellow twin and broke him into pieces. He scattered the fragments over the earth....” Among the Iroquoian tribes, cognate with the Cherokee, the name is variously Tăwiskaroñ, Tăwiskară, and sometimes Ohaa, all of which are names both for flint and for hail or ice. Tăwiskară is the evil-working god, in perpetual conflict with his twin brother Yoskeha, the beneficent god, by whom he is finally overpowered, when the blood that drops from his wounds is changed into flint stones. Brinton sees in the Great Rabbit and the Flint the opposing forces of day and night, light and darkness, locally personified as East and West, while in the twin gods of the Iroquois Hewitt sees the conflicting agents of heat and cold, summer and winter. Both conceptions are identical in the final analysis. Hewitt derives the Iroquois name from a root denoting “hail, ice, glass”; in Cherokee we have tăwiskalûñ′ĭ, tăwi′skălă, “flint,” tăwi′skă, “smooth,” une′stălûñ, “ice.” (See Brinton, American Hero Myths, pp. 48, 56, 61; Hewitt, The Cosmogonic Gods of the Iroquois, in Proc. Am. Ass. Adv. Sci., XLIV, 1895.)

In one of the Cherokee sacred formulas collected by the author occurs the expression: “The terrible Flint is coming. He has his paths laid down in this direction. He is shaking the red switches threateningly. Let us run toward the Sun land.”

Siyu′—This word, abbreviated from âsiyu′, “good,” is the regular Cherokee salutation. With probably all the tribes the common salutation is simply the word “good,” and in the sign language of the plains the gesture conveying that meaning is used in the same way. The ordinary good-bye is usually some equivalent of “I go now.”

26. How the Deer got his horns (p. 275): This story was heard from Swimmer, Suyeta, and others, and is well known in the tribe.

In a parallel Pawnee myth, “How the Deer Lost His Gall,” the Deer and Antelope wager their galls in a race, which the Antelope wins, but in sympathy takes off his own dewclaws and gives them to the Deer. In the Blackfoot variant the Deer and the Antelope run two races. The first, which is over the prairie, the Antelope wins and takes the Deer’s gall, while in the second, which the Deer stipulates shall be run through the timber, the Deer wins and takes the Antelope’s dewclaws (Grinnell, Pawnee Hero Tales, pp. 204, 205).

27. Why the Deer’s teeth are blunt (p. 276): This story follows the last in regular sequence and was told by the same informants.

In a Jicarilla myth the Fox kills a dangerous Bear monster under pretense of trimming down his legs so that he can run faster (Russell, Myth of the Jicarilla, in Journal of American Folk-Lore, p. 262, October, 1898).

28. What became of the Rabbit (p. 277): This version was obtained from Suyeta, who says the Rabbit never went up, because he was “too mean” to be with the other animals. Swimmer, however, says that he did afterward go up to Gălûñ′lătĭ. The belief in a large rabbit still existing beyond a great river may possibly have its origin in indirect reports of the jack-rabbit west of the Missouri.

The myth has close parallel in the southern negro story of “The Origin of the Ocean” (Harris, Nights with Uncle Remus), in which the Rabbit by a stratagem persuades the Lion to jump across a creek, when the Rabbit “cut de string w’at hol’ de banks togedder.... Co’se wen Brer Rabbit tuck’n cut de string, de banks er de creek, de banks dey fall back, dey did, en Mr Lion can’t jump back. De banks dey keep on fallin’ back, en de creek keep on gittin’ wider en wider, twel bimeby Brer Rabbit en Mr Lion ain’t in sight er one er n’er, en fum dat day to dis de big waters bin rollin’ ’twix um.”

Kû!—A Cherokee exclamation used as a starting signal and in introducing the paragraphs of a speech. It might be approximately rendered, Now!

29. Why the Mink smells (p. 277): Obtained from John Ax.

30. Why the Mole lives underground (p. 277): This story, from John Ax, not only accounts for the Mole’s underground habit, but illustrates a common Cherokee witchcraft belief, which has parallels all over the world.

31. The Terrapin’s escape from the Wolves (p. 278): This story, of which the version here given, from Swimmer and John Ax, is admittedly imperfect, is known also among the western Cherokee, having been mentioned by Wafford and others in the Nation, although for some reason none of them seemed able to fill in the details. A somewhat similar story was given as belonging to her own tribe by a Catawba woman married among the East Cherokee. It suggests number 21, “The Rabbit and the tar wolf,” and has numerous parallels.

In the Creek version, in the Tuggle manuscript, the Terrapin ridicules a woman, who retaliates by crushing his shell with a corn pestle. He repairs the injury by singing a medicine song, but the scars remain in the checkered spots on his back. In a variant in the same collection the ants mend his shell with tar, in return for his fat and blood. Other parallels are among the Omaha, “How the Big Turtle went on the Warpath” (Dorsey, Contributions to North American Ethnology; VI, p. 275), and the Cheyenne, “The Turtle, the Grasshopper, and the Skunk” (Kroeber, Cheyenne Tales, in Journal of American Folk-Lore, July, 1900). The myth is recorded also from west Africa by Chatelain (“The Man and the Turtle,” in Folktales of Angola, 1894).

Kanahe′na.—This is a sour corn gruel, the tamfuli or “Tom Fuller” of the Creeks, which is a favorite food preparation among all the southern tribes. A large earthern jar of kanahe′na, with a wooden spoon upright in it, is always upon a bench just inside the cabin door, for every visitor to help himself.

32. Origin of the Groundhog dance (p. 279): This story is from Swimmer, the supplementary part being added by John Ax. The Groundhog dance is one of those belonging to the great thanksgiving ceremony, Green-corn dance. It consists of alternate advances and retreats by the whole line of dancers in obedience to signals by the song leader, who sings to the accompaniment of a rattle. The burden of the song, which is without meaning, is

Ha′wiye′ĕhi′ Yaha′wiye′ĕhi [twice] Yu-u

Hi′yagu′wĕ Hahi′yagu′wĕ [twice] Yu-yu.

33. The migration of the animals (p. 280): This little story is given just as related by Ayâsta, the only woman privileged to speak in council among the East Cherokee. A similar incident occurs in number 76, “The Bear Man.” According to one Cherokee myth concerning the noted Track Rock gap, near Blairsville in upper Georgia, the pictographs in the rocks there are the footprints of all sorts of birds and animals which once crossed over the gap in a great migration toward the south.

34. The Wolf’s revenge: The Wolf and the Dog (p. 280): These short stories from Swimmer illustrate the Cherokee belief that if a wolf be injured his fellows will surely revenge the injury. See also note to number 15, “The Fourfooted Tribes,” and number 3, “Kana′tĭ and Selu.”

In a West African tale recorded by Chatelain (Folktales of Angola, 1894) the dog and the jackal are kinsmen, who live together in the bush until the jackal sends the dog to the village for fire. The dog goes, enters a house and is fed by a woman, and thereupon concludes to stay in the village, where there is always food.

Timberlake says that the Cherokee held the tail of an eagle in the greatest esteem, as these tails were sometimes given with the wampum in their treaties, and none of their warlike ceremonies could be performed without them (Memoirs, p. 81). The figurative expression, “a snowbird has been killed,” used to avoid offending the eagle tribe, is paralleled in the expression, “he has been scratched by a brier,” used by the Cherokee to mean, “he has been bitten by a snake.” Professional eagle killers existed among many tribes, together with a prescribed ceremonial for securing the eagle. The most common method was probably that described in a note to number 98, “Gana’s Adventures among the Cherokee.” A detailed account of the Blackfoot method is given by Grinnell, in his Blackfoot Lodge Tales, pp. 236–240. The eagle, being a bird of prey, as well as a sacred bird, was never eaten.

The shifting of responsibility for the killing to a vicarious victim is a common feature of Indian formulas for obtaining pardon, especially for offenses against the animal tribe or the spirits of the dead. A remarkable parallel to the Cherokee prayer, from the Quichua of Peru, is given by Dr G. A. Dorsey. Having started, with a party of Indian laborers and a Spanish gentleman who was well acquainted with the native language, to examine some cave tombs near the ancient city of Cuzco, they had arrived at the spot and he was about to give the order to begin operations, when the Indians, removing their blankets and hats, knelt down and recited in unison in their own language a prayer to the spirits of the dead, of which the following translation is an extract:

“Chiefs, sons of the sun, you and we are brothers, sons of the great Pachacamac. You only know this, but we know that three persons exist, the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost. This is the only difference between you and us.... Chiefs, sons of the sun, we have not come to disturb your tranquil sleep in this, your abode. We come only because we have been compelled by our superiors; toward them may you direct your vengeance and your curses.”

Then followed sacrifices of coca leaves, aguardiente, and chicha, after which they called upon the snow-capped mountain to witness their affection for their ancestors, and were then ready to begin work (Dorsey, A Ceremony of the Quichuas of Peru, in Journal of American Folk-Lore, October, 1894).

Night birds—Says Adair of the Southern tribes (History of the American Indians, p. 130, 1775): “They reckon all birds of prey, and birds of night, to be unclean and unlawful to be eaten.” The mixed feeling of fear and reverence for all night birds is universal among the Western tribes. Owls particularly are believed to bring prophetic tidings to the few great conjurers who can interpret their language.

The hawk—This, being a bird of prey, was never eaten. The following incident is related by Adair, probably from the Chickasaw: “Not long ago when the Indians were making their winter’s hunt and the old women were without flesh meat at home, I shot a small fat hawk and desired one of them to take and dress it; but though I strongly importuned her by way of trial, she as earnestly refused it for fear of contracting pollution, which she called the ‘accursed sickness,’ supposing disease would be the necessary effect of such an impurity” (Hist. Am. Indians, p. 130).

Chickadee and titmouse—Adair speaks of having once observed a party of Southern Indians “to be intimidated at the voice of a small uncommon bird, when it pitched and chirped on a tree over their camp” (op. cit., p. 26). At a conference with the Six Nations at Albany in 1775 the Oneida speaker said: “We, the Six Nations, have heard the voice of a bird called Tskleleli (Tsĭkĭlilĭ′?), a news carrier, that came among us. It has told us that the path at the western connection, by Fort Stanwix, would be shut up by either one party or the other.” In reply, the commissioners said: “We apprehend the bird Tskleleli has been busy again; he seems to be a mischievous bird and ought not to be nourished or entertained” (New York Colonial Documents, VIII, pp. 612, 628, 1857). The bird name is in the Oneida dialect. Bruyas gives teksereri as the Mohawk name for the tomtit.

36. The ball game of the birds and animals (p. 286): This is one of the best-known animal stories and was heard with more or less of detail from John Ax, Swimmer, Suyeta, and Aʻwani′ta in the east, and from Wafford in the Territory.

The Creeks and the Seminoles also, as we learn from the Tuggle manuscript collection, have stories of ball games by the birds against the fourfooted animals. In one story the bat is rejected by both sides, but is finally accepted by the fourfooted animals on account of his having teeth, and enables them to win the victory from the birds.

The ballplay—The ballplay, aʻne′tsâ, is the great athletic game of the Cherokee and the Gulf tribes, as well as with those of the St Lawrence and Great lakes. It need hardly be stated that it is not our own game of base ball, but rather a variety of tennis, the ball being thrown, not from the hand, but from a netted racket or pair of rackets. The goals are two sets of upright poles at either end of the ball ground, which is always a level grassy bottom beside a small stream. There is much accompanying ceremonial and conjuration, with a ball dance, in which the women take part, the night before. It is the same game by which the hostile tribes gained entrance to the British post at Mackinaw in 1763, and under the name of lacrosse has become the national game of Canada. It has also been adopted by the French Creoles of Louisiana under the name of raquette. In British Columbia it is held to be the favorite amusement of the people of the underworld (Teit, Thompson River Traditions, p. 116). In the southern states the numerous localities bearing the names of “Ballplay,” “Ball flat,” and “Ball ground,” bear witness to the Indian fondness for the game. Large sums were staked upon it, and there is even a tradition that a considerable territory in northern Georgia was won from the Creeks by the Cherokee in a ball game. For an extended description see the the author’s article “The Cherokee Ball Play,” in the American Anthropologist for April, 1890.

Won the game—On account of their successful work on this occasion the Cherokee ballplayer invokes the aid of the bat and the flying squirrel, and also ties a small piece of the bat’s wing to his ball stick or fastens it to the frame over which the sticks are hung during the preliminary dance the night before.

Gave the martin a gourd—The black house-martin is a favorite with the Cherokee, who attract it by fastening hollow gourds to the tops of long poles set up near their houses so that the birds may build their nests in them. In South Carolina, as far back as 1700, according to Lawson: “The planters put gourds on standing holes [poles] on purpose for these fowl to build in, because they are a very warlike bird and beat the crows from the plantations” (History of Carolina, p. 238).

37. How the Turkey got his beard (p. 287): This story is well known in the tribe and was heard from several informants.

According to a Creek myth in the Tuggle collection the Turkey was once a warrior and still wears his last scalp from his neck. In another story of the same collection it is a man’s scalp which he seized from the Terrapin and accidentally swallowed as he ran off, so that it grew out from his breast.

38. Why the Turkey gobbles (p. 288): This story was first heard from John Ax (east) and afterward from Wafford (west). The grouse is locally called “partridge” in the southern Alleghenies.

39. How the Kingfisher got his bill (p. 288): The first version is from John Ax, the other from Swimmer.

Yûñwĭ tsunsdi′—“Little People,” another name for the Nuñnĕ′hĭ (see number 78). These are not to be confounded with the Anisga′ya Tsunsdi′, “Little Men,” or Thunder Boys.

Tugălû′nă—A small slender-bodied spotted fish about four inches in length, which likes to lie upon the rocks at the bottom of the larger streams. The name refers to a gourd, from a fancied resemblance of the long nose to the handle of a gourd.

40. How the Partridge got his whistle (p. 289): This little story is well known in the tribe.

Whistles and flutes or flageolets are in use among nearly all tribes for ceremonial and amusement purposes. The whistle, usually made from an eagle bone, was worn suspended from the neck. The flute or flageolet was commonly made from cedar wood.

41. How the Redbird got his color (p. 289): This short story was obtained from Cornelius Boudinot, a prominent mixed-blood of Tahlequah, and differs from the standard Cherokee myth, according to which the redbird is the transformed daughter of the Sun (see number 5, “The Daughter of the Sun”).

Red paint—Much sacredness attaches, in the Indian mind, to red paint, the color being symbolic of war, strength, success, and spirit protection. The word paint, in any Indian language, is generally understood to mean red paint, unless it is otherwise distinctly noted. The Indian red paint is usually a soft hematite ore, found in veins of hard-rock formation, from which it must be dug with much labor and patience. In the western tribes everyone coming thus to procure paint makes a prayer beside the rock and hangs a small sacrifice upon a convenient bush or stick before beginning operations.

42. The Pheasant beating corn: The Pheasant dance (p. 290): The first of these little tales is from John Ax, the second from Swimmer. The pheasant (Bonasa umbella; Cherokee tluñti′stĭ) is also locally called grouse or partridge.

43. The race between the Crane and the Hummingbird (p. 290): This story is a favorite one in the tribe, and was heard from several informants, both East and West. The sequel may surprise those who have supposed that woman has no rights in Indian society.

In a Creek story under the same title, in the Tuggle collection, the rivals agree to fly from a certain spot on a stream to the spring at its head. The humming bird is obliged to follow the windings of the stream, but the crane takes a direct course above the trees and thus wins the race.

Fly around the world—Not around a globe, but around the circumference of a disk, according to the Indian idea.

44. The Owl gets married (p. 291): Told by Swimmer. The three owls of the Cherokee country are known, respectively, as tskĭlĭ′ (i. e., “witch,” Bubo virginianus saturatus, great, dusky-horned owl), waʻhuhu′ (Megascops asio, screech owl), and uguku′ (Syrnium nebulosum, hooting or barred owl). There is no generic term. The Cherokee say that there is almost no flesh upon the body of the hooting owl except upon the head.

45. The Huhu gets married (p. 292): This story was heard at different times from Swimmer, John Ax, and Ta′gwadihĭ′. The first named always gave in the proper place a very good imitation of the huhu call, drawing out the sau-h slowly, giving the hŭ, hŭ, hŭ, hŭ, hŭ, hŭ in quick, smothered tones, and ending with three chirps and a long whistle. From this and one or two other stories of similar import it would seem that the woman is the ruling partner in the Cherokee domestic establishment. Matches were generally arranged by the mother, and were conditional upon the consent of the girl (see notes to number 84, “The Man who Married the Thunder’s Sister”).

The huhu of the Cherokee, so called from its cry, is the yellow-breasted chat (Icteria virens), also known as the yellow mocking bird on account of its wonderful mimic powers.

46. Why the Buzzard’s head is bare (p. 293): This story was told by Swimmer and other informants, and is well known. It has an exact parallel in the Omaha story of “Ictinike and the Buzzard” (Dorsey, in Contributions to North American Ethnology, vi).

47. The Eagle’s revenge (p. 293): This story, told by John Ax, illustrates the tribal belief and custom in connection with the eagle and the eagle dance, as already described in number 35, “The Bird Tribes,” and the accompanying notes.

Drying pole—A pole laid horizontally in the forks of two upright stakes, planted firmly in the ground, for the purpose of temporarily hanging up game and fresh meat in the hunting camp, to protect it from wolves and other prey animals or to allow it to dry out before the fire.

48. The Hunter and the Buzzard (p. 294): Told by Swimmer. The custom of lending or exchanging wives in token of hospitality and friendship, on certain ceremonial occasions, or as the price of obtaining certain secret knowledge, was very general among the tribes, and has been noted by explorers and other observers, east and west, from the earliest period.

49. The snake tribe (p. 294): Rattlesnake—The custom of asking pardon of slain or offended animals has already been noted under number 15, “The Fourfooted Tribes,” and number 35, “The Bird Tribes” (eagle). Reverence for the rattlesnake was universal among the Indians, and has been repeatedly remarked by travelers in every part of the country. To go into a dissertation upon the great subject of serpent worship is not a part of our purpose.

The missionary Washburn tells how, among the Cherokee of Arkansas, he was once riding along, accompanied by an Indian on foot, when they discovered a poisonous snake coiled beside the path. “I observed Blanket turned aside to avoid the serpent, but made no signs of attack, and I requested the interpreter to get down and kill it. He did so, and I then inquired of Blanket why he did not kill the serpent. He answered, ‘I never kill snakes and so the snakes never kill me; but I will tell you about it when you next come to see me.’” He kept his word soon after by relating as a personal experience (probably, in fact, an Indian dream) a long story of having once been conducted by a rattlesnake to an underground council of the rattlesnake tribe, where he found all the snakes lamenting over one of their number who had been recently killed by an Indian, and debating the method of punishment, which was executed a day or two later by inflicting a fatal bite upon the offender while engaged in the ballplay (Reminiscences, pp. 208–212). As told by the missionary, the story is very much dressed up, but strikingly resembles number 58, “The Rattlesnake’s Vengeance.”

Adair, evidently confusing several Cherokee snake myths, speaks of some reputed gigantic rattlesnakes in the Cherokee mountains, with beautiful changing colors and great power of fascination, by which they drew into their jaws any living creature coming within their vision, and continues: “They call them and all of the rattlesnake kind, kings or chieftains of the snakes, and they allow one such to every different species of the brute creation. An old trader of Cheeowhee told me that for the reward of two pieces of stroud cloth he engaged a couple of young warriors to show him the place of their resort; but the headmen would not by any means allow it, on account of a superstitious tradition—for they fancy the killing of them would expose them to the danger of being bit by the other inferior species of the serpentine tribe, who love their chieftains and know by instinct those who maliciously killed them, as they fight only in their own defense and that of their young ones, never biting those who do not disturb them.” He mentions also an instance of a Chickasaw priest who, after having applied to his hands the juice of a certain plant, took up a rattlesnake without damage and laid it carefully in a hollow tree to prevent Adair’s killing it (History of the American Indians, pp. 237–238).

Of the Carolina tribes generally, Lawson, in 1701, says: “As for killing of snakes, they avoid it if they lie in their way, because their opinion is that some of the serpents’ kindred would kill some of the savage’s relations that should destroy him” (History of Carolina, p. 341).

Bartram says of the Seminoles, about 1775: “These people never kill the rattlesnake or any other serpent, saying, if they do so, the spirit of the killed snake will excite or influence his living kindred or relatives to revenge the injury or violence done to him when alive.” He recounts an amusing incident of his own experience where the Indians sent for him to come and kill a rattlesnake which had invaded their camp ground, and which they were afraid to disturb. Their request having been complied with, the Indians then insisted upon scratching him, according to the Indian custom, in order to let out some of his superabundant blood and courage, but were finally, with some difficulty, dissuaded from their purpose. “Thus it seemed that the whole was a ludicrous farce to satisfy their people and appease the manes of the dead rattlesnake” (Travels, pp. 258–261).

The trader Henry (Travels, pp. 176–179) narrates a most interesting instance from among the Ojibwa of Lake Superior in 1764. While gathering wood near the camp he was startled by a sudden rattle, and looking down discovered a rattlesnake almost at his feet, with body coiled and head raised to strike.

“I no sooner saw the snake, than I hastened to the canoe, in order to procure my gun; but, the Indians observing what I was doing, inquired the occasion, and being informed, begged me to desist. At the same time, they followed me to the spot, with their pipes and tobacco-pouches in their hands. On returning, I found the snake still coiled.

“The Indians, on their part, surrounded it, all addressing it by turns, and calling it their grandfather; but yet keeping at some distance. During this part of the ceremony, they filled their pipes; and now each blew the smoke toward the snake, who, as it appeared to me, really received it with pleasure. In a word, after remaining coiled, and receiving incense, for the space of half an hour, it stretched itself along the ground, in visible good humor. Its length was between four and five feet. Having remained outstretched for some time, at last it moved slowly away, the Indians following it, and still addressing it by the title of grandfather, beseeching it to take care of their families during their absence, and to be pleased to open the heart of Sir William Johnson [the British Indian agent, whom they were about to visit], so that he might show them charity, and fill their canoe with rum. One of the chiefs added a petition, that the snake would take no notice of the insult which had been offered him by the Englishman, who would even have put him to death, but for the interference of the Indians, to whom it was hoped he would impute no part of the offence. They further requested, that he would remain, and inhabit their country, and not return among the English; that is, go eastward.”

He adds that the appearance of the rattlesnake so far north was regarded as an extraordinary omen, and that very little else was spoken of for the rest of the evening. The next day, while steering across Lake Huron in their canoe, a terrible storm came up.

“The Indians, beginning to be alarmed, frequently called on the rattlesnake to come to their assistance. By degrees the waves grew high; and at 11 o’clock it blew a hurricane, and we expected every moment to be swallowed up. From prayers, the Indians now proceeded to sacrifices, both alike offered to the god-rattlesnake, or manito-kinibĭc. One of the chiefs took a dog, and after tying its forelegs together, threw it overboard, at the same time calling on the snake to preserve us from being drowned, and desiring him to satisfy his hunger with the carcass of the dog. The snake was unpropitious, and the wind increased. Another chief sacrificed another dog, with the addition of some tobacco. In the prayer which accompanied these gifts, he besought the snake, as before, not to avenge upon the Indians the insult which he had received from myself, in the conception of a design to put him to death. He assured the snake, that I was absolutely an Englishman, and of kin neither to him nor to them. At the conclusion of this speech, an Indian, who sat near me, observed, that if we were drowned it would be for my fault alone, and that I ought myself to be sacrificed, to appease the angry manito, nor was I without apprehensions, that in case of extremity, this would be my fate; but, happily for me, the storm at length abated, and we reached the island safely.”

The Delawares also, according to Heckewelder, called the rattlesnake grandfather and refrained from injuring him. He says: “One day, as I was walking with an elderly Indian on the banks of the Muskingum, I saw a large rattlesnake lying across the path, which I was going to kill. The Indian immediately forbade my doing so; ‘for,’ said he, ‘the rattlesnake is grandfather to the Indians, and is placed here on purpose to guard us, and to give us notice of impending danger by his rattle, which is the same as if he were to tell us, ‘look about.’ ‘Now,’ added he, ‘if we were to kill one of those, the others would soon know it, and the whole race would rise upon us and bite us.’ I observed to him that the white people were not afraid of this; for they killed all the rattlesnakes that they met with. On this he enquired whether any white man had been bitten by these animals, and of course I answered in the affirmative. ‘No wonder, then!’ replied he, ‘you have to blame yourselves for that. You did as much as declaring war against them, and you will find them in your country, where they will not fail to make frequent incursions. They are a very dangerous enemy; take care you do not irritate them in our country; they and their grandchildren are on good terms, and neither will hurt the other.’ These ancient notions have, however in a great measure died away with the last generation, and the Indians at present kill their grandfather, the rattlesnake, without ceremony, whenever they meet with him” (Indian Nations, p. 252).

Sălikwâyĭ—“The old Tuscaroras had a custom, which they supposed would keep their teeth white and strong through life. A man caught a snake and held it by its head and tail. Then he bit it through, all the way from the head to the tail, and this kept the teeth from decay” (W. M. Beauchamp, Iroquois Notes, in Journal of American Folk-Lore, July, 1892).

Send torrents of rain—The belief in a connection between the serpent and the rain-gods is well-nigh universal among primitive peoples, and need only be indicated here.

50. The Uktena and the Ûlûñsû′tĭ (p. 297): The belief in the great Uktena and the magic power of the Ûlûñsû′tĭ is firmly implanted in the Cherokee breast. The Uktena has its parallel in the Gitchi-Kenebig or Great Horned Serpent of the northern Algonquian tribes, and is somewhat analogous to the Zemoʻgu′ani or Great Horned Alligator of the Kiowa. Myths of a jewel in the head of a serpent or of a toad are so common to all Aryan nations as to have become proverbial. Talismanic and prophetic stones, which are carefully guarded, and to which prayer and sacrifice are offered, are kept in many tribes (see Dorsey, Teton Folklore, in American Anthropologist, April, 1889). The name of the serpent is derived from akta, “eye,” and may be rendered “strong looker,” i.e., “keen eyed,” because nothing within the range of its vision can escape discovery. From the same root is derived akta′tĭ, “to look into,” “to examine closely,” the Cherokee name for a field glass or telescope. By the English-speaking Indians the serpent is sometimes called the diamond rattlesnake. The mythic diamond crest, when in its proper place upon the snake’s head, is called ulstĭtlû′, literally, “it is on his head,” but when detached and in the hands of the conjurer it becomes the Ulûñsû′tĭ, “Transparent,” the great talisman of the tribe. On account of its glittering brightness it is sometimes called Igăgû′tĭ, “Day-light.” Inferior magic crystals are believed to be the scales from the same serpent, and are sometimes also called ulûñsû′tĭ.