Part 1 — FICTION (continued 3)

The wily old uncle waited a while, and then assuming that his nephew was fast asleep, he decided to begin getting his own evening meal. Going to his bed and carefully searching among the skins with which it was covered, he drew forth a small kettle and a very small bundle. Then placing the kettle on the bench near the fire and opening the bundle, he took out of it some substance, a small quantity of which he scraped into the kettle. After putting water into the kettle he hung it over the fire. When the water began to boil the old man, taking a wand from its wrappings of skin, began to strike gently on the kettle while he sang the words, “Now, my kettle, I want you to grow in size.” Obedient to the words of the song, the kettle began to increase in size and its contents grew in bulk. Repeating the words and continuing to tap gently on the kettle, the old man watched it becoming larger and larger. He kept up the singing until he decided that the kettle would hold enough of the mush which he was making to satisfy his hunger; then he stopped singing and tapping on the kettle. Carefully replacing the rod, or wand, in its skin wrapping, he removed the kettle from the fire and sat down to eat. After finishing his supper he carefully washed his kettle; then he shook it until it decreased to the size it was when he took it from the hiding place under the bed, to which place he now returned the rod, the bundle, and the kettle.

The nephew, who was still feigning sleep, was watching his uncle through a hole in the bed covering. He decided to take breakfast with his uncle in the morning, and in order to do this he resolved to arise much earlier than usual. When he arose, however, the youth found that his uncle had finished breakfast and was preparing something for him to eat.

After the uncle had gone out to hunt the youth brought into the lodge a large quantity of bark to make a good fire. About midday he said to himself: “I am going to be very kind and good. My uncle will be tired when he returns, so I shall have his supper all ready for him. I think that I can prepare it just as he does.” For a long time he searched in his uncle’s bed for the bundle; at last he found it. On opening it he discovered that it contained a small fragment of a chestnut. Beside the bundle he found the kettle, which was very small. These were the only articles he found under his uncle’s bed. He wondered and wondered at what he had discovered, for he could not understand how it was that with this bit of chestnut and the tiny kettle his uncle could make enough mush to feed him. Finally he decided on his course of action, saying to himself: “Well, I must do this exactly as my uncle did. This chestnut must be enough for one more meal.”

Kindling a good fire, the youth carefully scraped all the chestnut into the kettle; and then he poured water into the kettle and set it over the fire. Then taking the wand from its skin wrapping, when the water began to boil he gently tapped on the kettle, saying, “I want you to grow, my kettle.” He was so much amused by the increase in size of the kettle that he kept on tapping it and repeating the magical words, until there was hardly room enough in the lodge for him, because the kettle and the mush which it contained had grown so large; so, climbing to the roof, he continued to tap the kettle until it touched the sides of the lodge. He was so busy that he did not see his uncle approaching. The latter from a distance saw him on the roof, and watched his actions. As he approached the lodge he heard the nephew say, “Oh, grow! my kettle. Oh, grow! my little kettle,” and then he knew that the youth had discovered everything. This made the uncle very sad and depressed. He called to his nephew: “What have you done now, my nephew?” The youth replied in delight: “Oh, I have so much pudding that we shall have a grand feast.” Then he told his uncle everything.

The uncle asked, “Did you use all the chestnut?” The youth replied, “Yes. There was only a small bit here.” Thereupon the poor uncle exclaimed: “By doing this you kill me. That is the only kind of food I can eat. I shall die of hunger now. That kind of chestnut does not grow everywhere, and only a person who has great orenda (magic power) can get it.” “Oh, pshaw!” replied the nephew; “I know where there are whole trees full of chestnuts of this kind. I can get a large bagful for you, my uncle. So do not worry.” The uncle, unconsoled, replied: “No, it is not possible for you to do so. This is a bad thing that you have done. This chestnut would have lasted me for years. Now I never can get another; I shall starve to death. I may as well tell you about it, for I must soon die.”

Then, shaking the kettle slightly to decrease its size so that he could get into the lodge, the uncle said: “There is but one tree in the world that bears such chestnuts. Seven sisters who are great sorcerers own that tree. Many men have lost their lives in trying to get these chestnuts.” The youth confidently replied, “I am sure that I can get you one.” The uncle answered: “No, you can not. You are yet only a small boy. You would lose your life. These seven women have a great eagle perched upon a very tall tree to watch it. Night and day he guards it. Not a living thing can come near the tree, for if even a man try his utmost the eagle would discover him and scream out a cry of distress. Thereupon the sisters would come forth and beat the intruder to death no matter who he might be. Men have often taken the forms of various birds and animals to try to deceive them, but so far they have all failed in their attempts. These seven sisters have beaten to death everything that has come near that chestnut tree.” But this kindly advice did not change the youth’s resolve to make the attempt to get some of these well-guarded chestnuts.

The next morning he said to his uncle, “You must tell me where the tree stands, for I am going to try to find it.” When the fond uncle saw that he could not repress his nephew’s desire to go, he replied: “Go toward the rising sun, and after you have passed through the forests intervening you will come to a large open space. In the middle of this great clearing you will see a very tall tree near which stands a lodge. On the top of this tree sits the eagle with his sharp eyes looking in all directions; and it is in this lodge that the seven sisters dwell.”

Taking a bag, the young nephew said: “Now, cheer up, uncle. I will bring you a whole bagful of chestnuts before you have finished eating the pudding in that kettle.” With this remark the youth started toward the sunrise. After traveling for some time he killed a deer, which he cut up, filling his bag with the venison.

Finally the nephew came to a place where he began to see through the forests to an opening, whereupon he resolved that he must put forth all his caution and craft. So, having the mole as his fetish, he called out “Now, my friend, I want you to come to me; come to me, you mole!” In a short time the leaves began to rustle at his feet, and a mother mole appeared and asked him, “What do you want of me?” The youth replied: “I have done a great mischief to my uncle by scraping away all his chestnut. Now I want you to help me get more for him. I shall enter your body and you will carry me underground to that tall tree yonder on which the eagle is sitting. When you are under the tree thrust out your nose a little so that I can see. I shall have to carry my bag with me. Do you think that you can bear me and it, too?” The mole answered, “Oh, yes! I can carry all.”

After reducing his size magically, the youth entered the body of the mole and then it made its way to the tree indicated. As the mole arrived directly under the tree, thrusting its nose out of the ground, it said, “The eagle is looking.” In a flash the youth, stepping out of the mole, scattered venison all over the ground under the tree. The eagle flew down and began to eat voraciously of the meat. In the meantime the youth stuffed his bag with the chestnuts, which he gathered in handfuls, and just as the eagle was finishing the last morsel, the mole was engaged in carrying the youth with his bag back to the forest. When the meat was all eaten the eagle uttered a loud scream, and out ran the seven sisters with their clubs. When they saw that the chestnuts were already stolen and that no one was in sight, they fell upon the eagle and beat it until they had nearly killed him.

Arriving in the forest, the youth said to the mole: “Now, I will hide my chestnuts here, and you must then take me back to the lodge of the seven sisters, so I can hear what they say, in order to learn whether they intend to follow us in an attempt to recover the chestnuts.” Having again entered the body of the mole, the youth told it to go under the ground until it came to the lodge. The mole obeyed him literally. When the mole reached the lodge, it thrust out its nose and mouth. The youth then stuck his ear out of its mouth and listened to what was being said in the lodge. He finally overheard one of the sisters say: “It must be a young man just grown. No one has succeeded since his uncle in stealing the chestnuts. Perhaps he has a nephew now who is as crafty as he used to be, and it may be that he, too, is going to live on chestnuts.” Another answered her, saying: “Well, they are stolen. We may as well let them go.” After hearing this last speech the youth asked the mole to bear him back to the forest at once. After reaching the forest the youth dismissed the mole with thanks for its aid, and then hurried home.

When the youth reached home he found his uncle sitting by the fire, singing his death song, “I must now die of hunger, for my nephew will never return to me.” Then the nephew rushed into the lodge, saying, “Oh, my uncle! I have brought you here a bag full of chestnuts.” The old man welcomed his nephew home and gave thanks to their guardian spirits for the latter’s success, and he was very, very happy. He is still making chestnut puddings. His nephew became a great hunter. He obtained whatever be desired, because he had the mole for his guardian spirit and aid.

[Note.—There are several versions of the foregoing story. In one version the tree is guarded by geese. The lad entered one of the geese, and as the seven sisters were bathing he slipped from the goose into the person of the youngest sister, and she thereby became pregnant. Being born of her, he became the master of the chestnuts.]

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25. The Otter’s Heart and the Claw Fetishes

Once in the fall of the year in time long past, a prominent chief with six or seven families went on a hunting expedition far away from their village. Having arrived at their usual hunting grounds, they did not find any game for many days. At last the chief, whose fetish, or charm, was a fawn skin, calling the members of the party to his kanosʻha (temporary lodge), asked each person to lay hold of his pouch fetish, and to declare while touching the pouch what he or she intended to kill on the following day.

The first one to touch the pouch was a man who said that he intended to kill a bear; the next said that he intended to kill a deer, and so on; and finally the chief’s wife declared that she intended to kill geese. But, as the pouch passed around, the chief’s daughter requested her husband not to touch it by any means; when it was nearing them on its round she grasped her husband’s arm to keep him the more effectually from putting his hand on the pouch. As he showed a disposition to touch it, she pushed him over on the ground, but he arose again while she still clung to him. In spite of her he finally placed his hand on the pouch, saying, “Tomorrow, I shall kill two otters before daylight.”

At midnight the chief’s son-in-law, arising, went to a place where the neighboring stream made a very pronounced loop, and there he watched for the otters. Soon he saw two approaching and killed both. He was very hungry, and as it was not yet daylight he took out the hearts of the otters, which he roasted and ate. By doing this he unwittingly destroyed the power of the orenda (magic potency) of the pouch for those who had touched it; so that day all the other persons returned to the lodge without any game. The chief’s wife, who had said that she would kill geese, also returned empty handed. When she saw the geese on the wing and clapped her hands, shouting: “Let them fall dead! Let them fall dead!” the geese kept on flying; in fact the charm, or orenda, of the pouch had been broken or spoiled by some one. After these things had been reported to the chief, he examined the two otters slain by his son-in-law. When he saw that their hearts had been removed, he became very angry with him. His daughter, the wife of the culprit, becoming frightened for the welfare of her husband, concealed a piece of dog’s flesh and a knife, at the same time telling her husband where he could find them in case of need.

The chief said to his retinue, “My son-in-law has nullified the orenda of the pouch by eating one of the taboos, which is the earnest of the compact with it; so I think we would better kill him.” But his daughter exclaimed, “If you kill him, you must first kill me.” As the chief was quite averse to killing his daughter, he said, “Then, instead of killing him we will leave him here naked and without provisions and we will go far away to avoid the consequences of his act.” So the chief and the people stripped the son-in-law of everything, even of his weapons, and then departed, taking his wife with them.

At midnight, when all alone, the son-in-law heard some person approaching on snowshoes, for this was in the winter season. In a short time a man came to the lodge and said to the young man, “You feel that you are doomed to die, do you not?” The young man answered, “Yes; I do think so.” Then the stranger said: “You shall not die. I have come here to assist you. Tomorrow morning follow my tracks to a hollow tree. There you shall find a bear. Kill it and you will have plenty of meat and you can make yourself a robe and footwear from its skin.” Then the stranger went away. The next morning the young man could find no tracks other than those of a rabbit. These he followed to a large hollow tree, in which indeed he found a bear, which he killed. Carrying it home, he skinned and dressed it. From its skin he made himself a robe and a pair of moccasins.

Again about midnight the young man heard some person approaching on snowshoes, for the snow was deep. Soon a man’s voice from outside his lodge said to him: “I sent you help last night. Tonight I have come to tell you that your wife will be here tomorrow about midday. She believes that you are dead from hunger and exposure and she has run away from her father’s camp to come to look for you. As soon as she has rested, send her on the following day for her father and his people. Instruct her to tell her father that you are alive and well. Let her say to him, ‘My husband has meat enough for all.’ They will be glad to come back to you, for they have no meat and are hungry. They have been punished enough for abandoning you.” Then the stranger departed.

The next day about noontide the wife came and she was welcomed by her husband. After resting that night the young man in the morning sent her for her father. The night she was absent the stranger again came to the lodge and said to the young man: “Your father-in-law will be very glad to know that you have meat sufficient for yourself and for his people, and he will be very willing to come to you. When he has arrived here he will exhibit his fetishes, and ostensibly to repay you he will give you your choice. Among them is one which you must select; this is wrapped in bearskin. It is the claw which I lost when your father-in-law caught me in a trap. You must not pay heed to your father-in-law’s statement that it is not of much account. He will insist that you take some other which he will represent as of much greater potency than this. But take my advice and choose this one.” Then the stranger departed.

The next morning toward midday the chief and all his people returned to the lodge of the chief’s son-in-law, who welcomed them and offered them what he had in the way of food.

In a few days the chief unfolded all his fetishes, informing his son-in-law that he could take his choice. On his reaching over and taking the one wrapped in bearskin, his father-in-law said, “Oh, son-in-law! that is of no account; here is a better one.” But the young man, remembering the advice of his midnight visitor, replied, “No; I will keep this one,” so he retained the one wrapped in bearskin.

Some time afterward the young man went into the forest to meet the strange man who had befriended him and to whom the claw, or finger, belonged. He had not gone far when he saw what appeared to be a lodge standing in the middle of a clearing. On going to this lodge he found a man in it who received from him the claw or finger. Thanking him for its return, the man said: “I shall always be your friend for this favor. You shall succeed in all that you may undertake.” As the young man turned to go home the strange man bade him farewell. Having proceeded a short distance toward home, the young man turned to take a look at the lodge, but to his surprise it had disappeared. What he had thought was an opening in the forest was now a large body of water.

Ever after this circumstance the chief’s son-in-law enjoyed good fortune in all that he undertook. He became a great hunter and a great warrior. When his tribe waged a war against a neighboring people he took many scalps and many prisoners. Whatever he desired he obtained easily in abundance. It was said by those who knew the circumstances that his good luck came from the friendship of the otter, whose finger, or claw, the young man had so generously returned to it.

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26. The Seven Sisters Who Produced Wampum

In the long ago there lived seven sisters who were endowed through their orenda with great skill in sorcery. These sisters lived together in a lodge situated on a high mountain. From this advantageous situation they were able to see a long distance in every direction.

One of their chief occupations during berrying time was to gather large quantities of huckleberries for drying and storing. They would carry long baskets on their backs by means of the forehead strap and smaller ones in their hands, for collecting the berries from the plants and bushes. These berries they gathered in the neighboring patches which belonged to them and brought them home to dry in the sun.

Now, it so happened that these seven sisters were misanthropes, and they boasted that they hated men. Each one of them sincerely and frequently said, “I can not bear the odor of a man.” True to their animosity to men, they would not permit one to come near their domicile. They carried this aversion to the presence of men to the extent that they would have no relations whatever with married women, even turning up their noses at them, with the contemptuous remark, “Oh, they smell of men.” So they would not allow either men or women near their huckleberry patch.

Among the young men who heard of these peculiar sisters was one who determined to have a look at them. In order to see them he managed to conceal himself in their huckleberry patch about the time of their coming. When the sisters, therefore, came with their baskets into the berry patch the young man saw the youngest, with whom he immediately fell deeply in love, for she was very beautiful in face and attractive in figure. He then and there decided to approach stealthily the spot where she was picking berries by herself and to speak to her at all hazards. He did not get the opportunity until the next day.

On going again to the spot he had chosen as the best place to meet her, he concealed himself and awaited the coming of the seven sisters to their daily task of gathering berries. By good fortune the youngest sister came directly to the place near which the ardent gallant was concealed, and he lost little time in making his presence known by speaking to her in very low tones lest the other sisters should hear him. The sister addressed, turning around, saw him and at once fell in love with him, for he was a fine-looking young man. He said to her, “I greatly desire to speak to you, but I do not want your sisters to overhear me, for I am afraid of them.” So she stopped picking berries and listened to what he had to say to her. They conversed together for a long time. At last he remarked: “I must go lest your sisters discover me. I will meet you here tomorrow.”

After her lover had gone the youngest sister tried very diligently to fill her basket with huckleberries, but she did not have time to do so before the eldest sister called out, “Come, now, my sisters, our baskets are full, and we must go home.” They started toward their lodge, but missing their youngest sister, called her until she came. She acted shyly, being afraid to go very near them lest they should detect any odor which would let them know that she had been near a man. Then they asked her, “How is it that you have not filled your basket?” To deceive them she feigned illness, but the eldest sister, going near her, exclaimed in disgust: “Oh, pshaw! She emits the odor of a man. Indeed, she has been near a man.” The youngest sister attempted to deny this charge, for she was afraid of her sisters; but they would not believe her. Too well did they know the odor of a man. They were very angry, and they scolded and threatened her; but she was now thinking of the young man, and so did not care what they said or did.

The next day they started out again to gather huckleberries, and the youngest sister went directly to the spot where the young man had promised to meet her. She was more than delighted to see him there awaiting her coming. She sat down with him and they made love to each other. The other sisters, being very busy, forgot to watch her, as they did not expect that anyone would have the temerity to lurk, unwelcome, in their huckleberry patch. Finally she told him how angry her sisters were on the preceding day because her basket was not full, and so they began to pick berries together. When her basket was nearly full, the eldest sister again called out: “Come, sisters! our baskets are full. We must now go home.”

The youngest sister lagged behind as long as possible, and the other sisters waited for her until she came up to them. When she drew near they cried out in bitter anger: “Oh! she smells strong of a man. She can not deny that she has been talking again to a man.” Thereupon they threatened to turn her away and not to let her enter their lodge again. But she begged them not to do so, saying: “What if I do marry? I shall not bring my husband into this lodge, for he will take me away to his own lodge.” But they would not listen to her pleading, their only answer being, “Tomorrow we shall go once more to pick huckleberries, and if you again talk to a man we shall never permit you to come again into our home.”

All that evening and night she sat pensively thinking of her situation and of the young man. She could not bring herself to the point of giving him up. Finally she decided to cast her lot with his people, saying to herself, “Well, they may do as they like, but as for me I shall accept the young man as my husband.” Collecting a small bundle of her belongings, she carefully concealed them outside the lodge, so that in case they would not let her return to the lodge she could get them. During that same evening and night her sisters kept saying: “Oh! what a disgusting smell that is. How can she stand it?” and they made fearful grimaces at the odor.

The next day the seven sisters went again to gather huckleberries. The elder sisters were so incensed at their youngest sister that they paid little attention to her beyond murmuring continually against her reprehensible conduct.

On her part she went directly to the usual place, where she met the young man, who was impatiently waiting for her. After hearing how bitterly opposed his sweetheart’s sisters were to her love-making, he said to her, “If they do not let you go to your home, come to me, and I will be most happy to care for you.”

When the time came for the sisters to go home and they made the usual call, she would not go near them, telling them to go on and that she would make her way home by herself. Then they said: “She has been with that man again. She will indeed bring shame upon us.” At last some of the younger sisters, relenting a little, said: “What shall we do? She is our youngest sister. She is very proud. If we turn her away from home, she will never come back again. We shall then lose her forever”; and they were very sad and disconsolate. But the elder sister, more conservative than they, said, “We must turn her away from us, because if we do not do so, some other sister here will be doing the same thing as she has done.” She was able to bring them, as least outwardly, to her view, and so when the erring one came to the lodge, they said, “You must not come into this lodge any more.”

Deeply grieved, the youngest sister replied, “If you have thus deliberately cast me out from you, I will go away,” and true to her answer, she started away. Weeping bitterly thus to leave her sisters, whom she loved dearly, she walked along, hardly knowing whither she was going. But in her grief she instinctively started back to the young man, who had promised to care for her should her sisters cast her out. Suddenly, while she was thus pensively walking along, she heard the voice of the young man addressing her, saying: “Lo! I followed you near enough to see for myself how your sisters would treat you. Now that they have cast you out, I ask you to come with me to my lodge and be my wife.” Having no other present resource, she accepted his offer and the young man led her home in triumph. Now it so happened that the young man was an only son, and his mother was delighted to learn that he had obtained a fine-looking young wife.

For a time they were undisturbed in their happiness arising from their devotion to each other. But there came an evil day when the young man’s mother began to be jealous of her daughter-in-law, for she felt that the young wife had displaced her in her own son’s affections. She felt this the more keenly because up to the time of his marriage he had been devoted to his mother and had not passed his time in the company of other women and men. Now he was attentive to his wife and tried to grant her every wish, although he did not neglect his mother at all on this account. The young man and his wife were accustomed to go away on hunting trips for several days at a time, and on their return brought much game and meat. But the young man noticed that his mother’s manner had changed toward him and his wife, and this troubled him.

His wife, being a prospective mother, did not accompany him when her term was approaching; but when her husband left he would say to her: “You must be very wary, as I am afraid that my mother may do you harm, for she is very jealous of my love for you. Before knowing you I loved only her; but now I love you, and of course she feels that you have taken her place. I am afraid that she may do you harm, although I do not think that she will attempt to poison you. But you must be kind to her, and do not let her know what I have told you. Be on your guard at all times.”

At last, without telling his mother the reason, he took his wife away with him to the forest, where he built a lodge and remained. Soon a boy was born to them.

After a while the young man, wishing to know whether his mother was in need, went to visit her, carrying a large quantity of game. He was not long absent. He made several such trips to his mother. It was his practice to tell his wife just when she should expect him to return, and he did not fail to keep his promise. At last, however, he did not return. Time passed; his wife anxiously waited for him day after day, but he never returned. She told her son, who had grown to be quite a lad, that his father must be dead or that his mother had made him a captive in such manner that he could not escape to return to them.

Years passed and the boy grew into manhood. In looks and manner he was the exact double of his father. He had become a great hunter and was very fond of killing turkeys.

One evening on his return from hunting he found only the upper half of his mother’s body lying on her bed, while the other half was gone. She told him that while she was bending over a kettle, cooking, two men came into the room and, stealing up behind her, with a single blow cleft her body in two; that they then fled with the lower half, leaving her to die. She had crawled on her hands to her bed.

The youth, who was in terrible grief by reason of his mother’s misfortune, exclaimed: “Oh, mother! you can not live. Oh! you will surely die.” But she consoled him by telling him that she had healed her body and that she could live a long time as she was then; and that, if she could recover by any means the lower half of her body, she could cause the two parts to unite again, so that she would be as well as ever.

Moreover, calling her son to her side, she said to him: “Now you are old enough to know about such things, I will tell you all that you should know. This misfortune has come upon me through the machinations of my sisters, who are six in number. There were seven of us. When I was unmarried wampum beads of great value passed from me. This was true also of my sisters. But when I married your father this ceased, and my sisters were very angry with me. This is the reason why my sisters do not marry, for they are becoming very rich by selling the wampum beads which they obtain in this manner. Since your father went away I again pass wampum beads; and this is the reason that the lower part of my body has been stolen by the two men, who were sent here by my sisters. It now hangs in the lodge of public assembly, so that the wampum beads may be gathered from it. You shall bring back my body to me. I will give you the magic power to do it—the orenda which will enable you to call to your assistance any being or thing that you may need.” Placing her head upon his shoulder and her hand on his head, she continued: “You are my son, and I am one of the Seven Sisters. Whatever you wish to do you will now always be able to do by such aid as you may call on to assist you.”

After this annunciation she thrust her hand into her bosom and drew therefrom a tiny black dog. Giving it to her son, she said: “This little dog shall be a companion to you hereafter. It will aid you.” The youth exclaimed with delight, “Oh, mother! why did you not give me this beautiful little dog long ago?” The boy was delighted with the tiny dog, taking it up and caressing it in an exuberance of joy. When he put the dog down, it leaped around, trying to bark and seeming to be full of life. “Now,” said the mother, “I will show you what you have to do in this matter.” Taking a small wand from her bosom, she gently tapped the dog, accompanying the action with the words, “Grow! my dog. Grow! my dog.” With each blow of the wand the dog increased in size until he became an immense beast. Then she said to the boy: “Get on his back and you will see that he can carry you. You must be very kind to him and never neglect him. He will always fight for and protect you. Should you desire to make him small again, pull his ears and shake him gently, and he will assume any size you may wish, from a great dog to one so small that you can secrete him in your bosom.”

The youth willingly accepted his mother’s commission, saying: “Mother, I shall not wait another day to perfect my preparations. I will go after the lower part of your body at once.” His mother told him that the oil of a wild turkey was the only thing which could make the parts of her body grow together again; that it must come from a gobbler; and that he should prepare this oil before he went after the lower part of her body. She told him further that the oil must be rubbed hot on the raw flesh, and that then the two parts would grow together again, and she would be well. The youth said, “I will kill the turkey gobbler on the way.” But his mother said to him, “Oh, no! The turkey must not be killed until we are ready to use the oil, for it must live until the last minute.”

Then the youth started on his quest for the lower part of his mother’s body. While on the way he encountered a flock of wild turkeys and contrived to take a fine gobbler alive. He fastened it to a tree where it would not be devoured by prowling animals of prey and where he would find it on his return.

When the youth drew near the lodge of public assembly, which was his destination, he heard loud laughing, screaming, and quarreling over wampum beads, which the people were getting from his mother’s body. This made him very angry and determined to accomplish his errand. Having made his dog very large, he said to it, “Remain here until I return”; then he went to the lodge of assembly. On his way there he called on the Chief of the Crows to come to his aid. In a moment the Black Chief was at his side ready for any command. To him the youth said: “Friend, my mother’s body is hanging on a post inside of the lodge and the people are getting wampum beads from it. Now, when the people stoop down to gather the beads I wish you to go in at the smoke-hole, draw up the body out of the lodge, and quickly bring it to me.” The Black Chief replied, “I will do your bidding at once.” Waiting until the people on the inside of the lodge began to scramble and fight for the wampum beads, he swooped down through the smoke-hole, and seizing the part of the body which he sought, he flew out with it to the waiting youth, who sat on the back of the monster dog. With an exclamation of thanks to his friend, the Black Chief of the Crows, the youth parted from him. The huge dog ran homeward with great speed, directing his way to the place where the turkey was fastened to the tree. Having obtained it, the dog soon brought the youth, the part of the mother’s body, and the turkey to the waiting mother, who hardly expected her son back so soon. At once the youth killed the turkey, and taking the oil from it, rubbed it on the severed surface of the lower part of the body.

After treating likewise the surface of the upper part he brought the two parts of her body close together, whereupon they joined of themselves. Then the woman with her hands rubbed the place of juncture. Becoming then entirely whole, she arose and, standing, said, “I am well now, and no one shall come to trouble us again. I am thankful to you.” This prediction proved true, for they two lived in peace and contentment.

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27. The Forsaken Infant and Gaha (the Wind)

A number of Seneca went hunting. When they had finished their hunting and were ready to return home, they did not know what to do with a little boy whose father and mother had died while they were at the chase. They had so much meat that they could not well carry him, and, owing to his infancy, he could not walk. Finally they decided to leave him in the hunting lodge, with plenty of wood and meat. Learning this, the child cried bitterly.

When the hunters reached home the report went around that a child had been left in the woods, and all feared that it would die. At once the chief sent a trusty man to see whether the child was alive. When he got outside the village the man turned himself into a great bear, so that he could run the faster.

Meanwhile the child kept a good fire and cooked meat and lived fairly well. One cold night he began to cry, for the meat was nearly gone and all the wood had been burned. At last he heard some one come to the door, making a sound as if shaking the snow off his feet, and call out: “Well, little boy, you think you are going to die, but you will not. I am going to help you. The chief has sent a man to see whether you are still alive, but he will not be here for some time yet. I will be your friend. When you want me to aid you all you have to do is to think of me and I will come.” Soon after that the boy fell asleep. In the morning he found a pile of wood at his door, and on a low limb of a near-by tree hung a piece of meat. Now he was happy. Building a fire, he cooked and ate some of the meat.

The next night this strange man came again. Stopping at the door, he shook his feet but he did not come in. He said: “The man who is coming will not help you; he is coming in the form of a great bear; he will be here tomorrow forenoon. In the morning you will find between the roots of the old stump in the dooryard a trusty knife. You must sharpen this knife to kill the bear. When he is near, you must run to the spring where the tall hemlock stands and climb the tree a little way; the great bear will follow you. Then slip down on the other side, and when he is coming down after you, stab him in the forefoot.”

The next morning the boy did as the voice told him. After he had killed the bear, he went to the lodge and was very glad.

The next night he awoke, and the stranger, knocking, said: “My friend, I want to say to you that men are coming for you; you must go with them for they will be fond of you. You must not be proud. The headman of the tribe will want you to stay with him. You will be one of the fastest runners among your people. Do not forget that I am your friend; you will not be able to see me, for I am the one whom you call Gaha. If you are in trouble just think of me and I will come and help you. Tomorrow afternoon four men will be in this lodge. They will ask you about the great bear, and you shall say, ‘I saw no great bear, but a strong wind went through the woods one morning.’ ”

The next day four men came to the lodge with food; they saw that the boy had wood and meat but no bow nor arrow. They took him home the next day. The chief ordered them to bring him to his lodge for the lad’s relatives were all dead. The chief said, “You shall be my grandson and you shall live with me.” The boy wanted a club instead of a bow and arrows. “What do want a club for?” asked the chief. “To kill deer with,” replied the boy. The chief had a club made for him. Owing to his great speed, the youth used to chase deer, which he struck in the forehead with his club; he also killed birds by striking them before they could rise to fly.

The last word that his friend Gaha said to him was: “Do not think that you are the swiftest runner living. Do not boast of your speed.” But the boy had this idea of running always in his mind; when he saw other boys running, he laughed, thinking, “That running is nothing; I can run faster than any other living man.”

One night he heard some one come and strike the door post near the bed. He did not speak. Then a second knock, and the visitor spoke, saying, “Who is there?” “I am here,” answered the boy. “Well, I challenge you to run a race with me, because you think that you are the swiftest runner living. We will start from the second mountain and run from sunrise to sunset,” declared the stranger.

In the morning the boy asked his grandfather whether he had heard a man talking in the night. “No,” came the answer. “Well, a man challenged me last night to run a race,” said the boy. “Oh! I do not believe it is a man. It is a beast. Perhaps you will get killed,” said the old man. “Well, I must be ready,” said the boy; “we run on the third morning from this.” The youth made ready ten pairs of moccasins, put flint on his arrows, and took prepared parched corn to eat.

On the third morning he went to the appointed place. As he drew near he saw there a great dark mass. When nearer he saw an immense creature, but he did not know what it was. When daylight came, he saw that it was a great bear. When the sun appeared the bear said, “Now, we will start.” At once he leaped straight across the valley to the next hill. The ground sank where he struck. He leaped from hill to hill all the time, but the boy had to run through the valley. At noon the great bear was ahead, and the boy was falling behind. The latter began to think, “I am lost; I wish my friend Gaha would come.” At that moment Gaha came in a whirlwind and carried the boy far ahead of the bear. Gaha threw all the trees down, and the bear was delayed jumping over them. The boy called to the great bear, “You must do better than that.” The great bear then gave up, telling the boy that he might have his life; so the boy killed him. Then he took some burned tobacco to his friend Gaha, and, after doing this, asked to be taken home. His friend, carrying him in a whirlwind, set him down in front of his grandfather’s lodge. The boy said: “I have come, grandfather. I have killed the great bear, and you must send and get his body.” The grandfather sent eight men to get his body. They were twenty days going and twenty days returning. The boy was not one day coming, for Gaha carried him over the woods and under the clouds.

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28. The Old Man and the Boy

In the past an old man and a small boy lived together in a lodge by themselves. With great affection they passed the time. Each called the other “friend.” They were not blood relatives, only cousins.

One day the old man dressed himself richly—sticking new feathers in his headdress, trimming his hair, and painting his face, and putting on new moccasins. The little boy, watching him, asked, “What are you going to do, my friend?” “Oh, I am going to see the world. I shall be gone a good while. I shall make a long journey,” the old man answered. “Can I not go with you?” asked the boy. “Well, if your father and mother will let you go, I will take you along,” said the old man.

Going to his mother, the boy asked her if he might go. After thinking a minute, she said, “Yes; you may go,” and gave him a new pair of moccasins to wear on the journey.

He returned to his friend, who washed him, trimmed his hair, painted his face, put new feathers in his headdress, and gave him a fine new bow and arrows. Then both set out together. They traveled until night, when they stopped and made their fire in the woods; then they ate their evening meal and slept.

They traveled in this way for five days, until they came to a lake so broad that they could not see the other shore. “How can we get across?” asked the boy. “Oh! we shall have to make a canoe,” said the old man. “Will it take long?” asked the boy. “About one day,” the old man replied. He looked around in the woods until he found a large bitternut hickory tree; stripping off the bark he made a large canoe.

About midnight the boy heard a rushing sound as of swiftly moving water, and it seemed to him that the canoe was moving rapidly. He thought that the wind must be blowing hard. On sitting up in the canoe he found that the weather was calm. Then he thought that the water must be running very fast, and putting his hand overboard he found this to be true. He roused the old man at once by shaking his feet and saying: “Get up, friend, and see what the trouble is. The water is running by very fast. Where is the lake going? What are we to do?” “Lie down,” said the old man, “no harm will come to you or me.”

The boy then lay down, but he could not sleep. Just at daybreak a voice spoke to him. Opening his eyes, he saw a fine-looking, middle-aged man, beautifully decorated with paint and feathers, standing at the bow of the boat. The boy saw, too, that the canoe was on dry land. Now the stranger roused the old man saying, “Come with me.” Taking up their bows and arrows and other equipage, they followed the man, who took them to a long lodge. They entered it. There were, they saw, many persons inside, some asleep, some awake. When the old man of the lodge met them he said to the guide, “Oh! you have brought them,” and then, turning to the two friends, he said: “I am glad that you have come. I know you have heard of us before. We are the people whom you call Hinon in your home. We bring rain to make corn and beans and squashes grow. We sent our young man to the island for you. It is we who put it into your mind to come east. We want you to help us, for you are more powerful in orenda than is anything else. The world was made for you. You are more powerful in orenda in some respects than we are, and we want you to help us to kill some of your and our enemies.”

Then they ate their morning meal. There were all kinds of food—corn, beans, squashes. “We have these things. We take a little from a great many fields,” said the old man. “When you see a small row of corn, or a withered squash, or bad kernels of corn on an ear, or dried-up beans in a pod, then you may know that we have taken our part from these. We have taken our part—that part is the spirit of these things—and we have left the shells, or husks. If you should see a whole field blasted and withered, then you would know that we had taken the whole field. But we seldom or never do that. We take only a little from each field.”

After they had eaten, the youngest warrior of the long lodge said: “Now we will go and try to kill the great porcupine. Off there on the hill stands an immense hemlock tree, the largest tree in the whole country. On that tree dwells a terrible porcupine, of such size that his quills are as large as long darts. These he hurls in all directions, killing all who approach him. We Hinon can not kill him, and we are afraid to go near the tree.” So they all agreed to go together.

As they went toward the tree the boy marched ahead with his little bow and arrows. The old man, his friend, and the Hinon laughed to see him, and the old man said in fun: “I think that our little friend might try his luck first.” “All right,” said the Hinon. The little boy was pleased with the suggestion. They stopped at a good distance from the great hemlock tree. No one would venture nearer.

Then, the little boy going down into the ground, went forward until he was directly under the tree in which the porcupine lived. Putting his head and arms out of the ground, and taking aim, he sent an arrow into the porcupine’s body. It moved a little. Then he sent another and still another arrow in quick succession. Feeling something hit him, the porcupine, raising his quills, shot them in every direction. To avoid them the boy hid under the ground. Then the porcupine groaned and, rolling from the tree, fell to the ground dead. Thereupon all the Hinon with the old man came up. Cutting open the great porcupine, which was very fat, they took out his entrails, and then dragged his body home; they saved his quills and ate his flesh. All wondered at the orenda of the little boy.

Old Hinon was delighted. “Now,” said he, “we have another enemy—a great and terrible sunfish, which lives in our river here and which lets no one come near for water; he devours everything, and he even springs up out of the water and catches birds as they fly over the river. The little boy said, “I can kill him without trouble, for he is in the water.”

The next day the Hinon and the old man went near enough to show him where the sunfish lived. The trunk of a great tree had fallen into the river, and it was under this that the sunfish used to lie in wait. He was in his lurking place when they arrived there. The little fellow at once saw him; he shot his arrow straight into the heart of the sunfish, which came to the surface and died. Springing into the water, the whole party of Hinon pulled the sunfish to land and dragged him off to the lodge of old Hinon, who was overjoyed at seeing his second enemy dead. “He is good eating,” said old Hinon, and they feasted on him that day.

The third day old Hinon said: “Now comes the turn of our last enemy. Every other day there flies past here an enormous butterfly, as big as a cloud. He brings sickness, and many of our people die because of him. If we could kill this butterfly, we should have good health and very few of us would die. He passes over here from the west early in the morning and goes back in the evening. Wherever he goes he carries sickness. He will come tomorrow morning.”

The next morning very early they went out in the high grass, where they waited. Soon the great butterfly appeared, flying toward them. He was almost over the place where they were concealed when the little boy, drawing his bow, let an arrow fly. This struck the butterfly, whereupon the hind part of his body immediately dropped, hanging toward the ground. All expected to see him fall. Instead of that he turned and flew back slowly in the direction from which he came. Hinon said: “I am very glad. I do not think that he will come again to this place. Our last enemy is destroyed.”

They then went back to the lodge and ate. As the day passed, the old man said to the two friends, “You may stay and live with us or go home, as you choose.” The old man said: “I am old and can not help you, but my young friend—the little boy—may stay. He is very powerful in orenda. He can do anything, and will be of great assistance to you.” “Well,” said the Hinon, “we are going to your place this evening. There will be a great dance there tonight. We will all go and have some sport, and will carry you as we pass along in the clouds.”

After dark, when the council lodge was full of men and women dancing, the old man, the boy, and the Hinon went in. As the Hinon entered, they began to dance. When they shook their heads the lightnings began to play around the lodge. The chiefs said, “Our grandfathers are here tonight. They should behave themselves or they may do us harm.” Then for a little while the Hinon quieted down. Later, again becoming excited in the dance, they shook their heads until the lightning flashed everywhere and the people were afraid.

After dancing as much as they wished the Hinon went home, leaving the old man but taking the boy with them, and today the little boy goes with them everywhere. “And after the great peals of thunder we hear the little fellow with his boyish voice, and we say, ‘That is the boy.’ We burn tobacco to him, saying, ‘This is all we have to give you,’ and we thank him for the rain that he and the Hinon bring,” say the Seneca.

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There was an old woman Yegondji of the Awaeh people with three daughters who had grown to young womanhood. One day she said: “My daughters, I have had a great deal of trouble in rearing you, and thus far I have not eaten anything but onehsa [moss]; now I should like to have some meat to eat. You are old enough to get married. There is a rich woman of the Donyonda people, named Doendjowens, who has a son, Tagonsowes. He is a good young man and a great hunter. I want two of you to go to her lodge and marry this son.”

The girls set to pounding corn for the marriage bread. The old woman baked 22 cakes in the ashes, which she wrapped in corn husks. The next morning she dressed the girls’ hair and painted their faces with red stripes. She told the elder to carry the basket, and cautioned them, saying, “Stop nowhere until you come to the lodge of Doendjowens, and do not inquire of anyone on the way, or speak to any man.” The elder daughter took the basket and the younger followed her.

About midday they saw a middle-aged man of the Ohohwa people running across the road, who was saying: “I have lost my arrow. I was shooting a fisher on a tree and the arrow has gone so far that I can not find it.” The elder daughter put her basket on a log and both girls hunted for the arrow. The strange man ran around the girls, and seizing the basket of marriage bread, carried it home. The younger sister did not like hunting for the arrow and reminded her sister of what their mother had said, but still she had to follow her elder sister. After a while, failing to find the arrow, they returned to the log; discovering that the basket was gone, both girls went home. The mother asked them what had become of the bread. The younger said, “A man asked us to look for his arrow, and I think that he stole it.” The old woman scolded them, saying: “You do not love me. You know that I am suffering for meat, and still you disobey me.” Then she said to the younger girl, “We will make more marriage bread to-morrow and you and your youngest sister shall go this time.”

The next day they made 22 loaves of marriage bread. The day following, after the old woman had dressed their hair and had given them the same cautioning as before, the two girls set out. Going by the same road, they again met the Ohohwa man, whom they asked how far it was to the lodge of Doendjowens. “Oh,” he said, “it is not so far. It is right over here,” showing them his own lodge. There they found Ohohwa’s wife and one little boy. The girls put down the marriage bread near the woman, thinking that she was Doendjowens.

When the man came home he sent his wife to the other side of the fire, telling her to pretend that he was her brother. She did so. He sat between the girls, talking to them. Soon the little boy began to say, “Father! Father!” Thereupon Ohohwa said: “This is my sister’s son. His father was buried yesterday and the boy is calling for him.” Then Ohohwa began to cry for his brother-in-law.

At last somebody was heard running. He came and kicked at the door, calling, “Ohohwa, they want you at Doendjowens’s long lodge.” Ohohwa said to the girls: “They are always using nicknames here. My real name is Tagonsowes.” He continued: “They are holding a council and can not get on without me, so I must go. You lie down here whenever you like, and I will come home soon.” Then he went away to attend the council.

The younger girl whispered: “Let us go out. This is not Tagonsowes’s lodge. If we could get the basket we might go on.” When Ohohwa’s wife fell asleep the younger girl took the basket of marriage bread out of doors, saying: “We must go on. Let us put two elm logs in the bed.” They did so, and started away.

Soon they came to an open place in the center of which stood a council lodge. They stood near the lodge and, peeping through a crack in the side of it, saw Doendjowens, a fine-looking woman and her son, who sat near her, a splendid young man. There were two fireplaces in the lodge. There were also many people, men and women. Ohohwa was in the lodge, and the people were singing for him to dance. As he danced they threw pieces of meat into his mouth and struck his blanket with fat. He was a sight to look at. The girls recognized him.

The younger daughter now went into the lodge followed by the elder, who put the basket of marriage bread near Doendjowens. The two sisters sat on each side of the young man, and Doendjowens was glad, for she liked the two girls. All sat and looked at Ohohwa. Just as he looked at Doendjowens he had his mouth full of mush, and he saw the sisters there. Dropping his blanket in astonishment, he ran out. The people wondered what the matter was with him. Ohohwa ran home. There he saw, as he thought, the two girls in bed, so he sat down on the couch and smoked a while. As he sat there, he was pinched several times by black ants. Turning to the bed he said, “Wait a while. I shall be there soon.” At last, having finished smoking, he undressed; then he discovered that what he had taken for the girls were two logs.

The daughters of the Awaeh Yegondji lived with Tagonsowes and were contented. He was a good hunter and they had plenty of everything to eat.

After a time Doendjowens said to the wife, her daughter-in-law: “You must go home and take your mother some meat. She is suffering for it, I know.” So making ready a pack of meat, she caused it to become small. On reaching home she threw down the pack, and it became as large as ever. Before the sisters set out for home Doendjowens said: “You must bring your mother here. I will give her one fire in the lodge as her own to use.” After Awaeh Yegondji had eaten enough meat and was glad, her daughters brought her to Doendjowens’s lodge, where she lived happy and contented.

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30. The Creation of Man

(MODERN FOLK EXPLANATION)

God at first created the sun and the moon. One day while walking about on the earth, becoming lonely, he said, “I will make a human being to keep me company.” He held his way until he came to an uprooted hemlock, which had raised a great pile of earth with its upturned roots. Now, the roots of the hemlock are very numerous and slender and are covered with tufted rootlets for, as the tree grows on thin, pale, sandy soil, it needs many feeders to provide the necessary sustenance. God made a human being from the earth piled up among the roots of this tree. There were so many small fibers in this earth that the human being was seemingly hairy, and the soil was so poor and light-colored that he had a pale, sickly complexion. God breathed on him and he stood up and walked. Then God looked at him from behind the roots of the tree, but being not pleased with his creation, he resolved that he would try again.

God soon came to a walnut tree lying uprooted, which had pulled up with its roots a mound of black earth. From this earth God made another human being. As he looked at him, he saw that, being black, he had too much color. So God was not satisfied with this piece of work, either.

Going on farther, he came at last to an uprooted sugar maple. There the earth had a fine deep color; so out of this God made the third human being, whose body was smooth and firm and of a full rich tint. And God, pleased with his looks, said, “He will do; he looks like me.” This last human being was an Indian; thus the Indian was the native human being.

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31. Ganiagwaihegowa

Once a Seneca warrior was missing from his village. It was thought that his disappearance was due to witchcraft in the neighborhood. A party of skilled men was formed to find out the cause of his unexplained disappearance. They discovered great tracks near the village, which they followed to a cave in the woods. Making a large fire, they threw burning brands into the cave. In a short time a Ganiagwaihegowa came out. They shot arrows at the beast, but none of these injured him, for he was full of evil orenda. But, while the bear was rushing around, he happened to raise his fore feet, and when the men shot him there, he died instantly, for it is said that the life of the Ganiagwaihegowa is in the soles of his fore feet, and that this bear is vulnerable in no other spot.

The Ganiagwaihegowa used to eat common bears. No bear but this would eat a bear and no other kind of bear could be killed by being shot in the feet.

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32. The Man Who Became a Fish, and a Ganiagwaihe

Two young warriors, who were cousins, started on a hunting expedition. Having arrived at their destination, they constructed a temporary camp.

Some time after camping they heard a very peculiar noise, and one of the cousins said, “I am going to see what is making that sound.” On investigation he found that the sound came from a hollow tree, so he concluded naturally that it was caused by a bear. Going back to the camp, he said to his companion, “There must be a bear in that hollow tree, although the noise which it makes is like that of a whirlwind.” Then they both went to the tree to investigate further the cause of the peculiar sounds. One climbed the tree to take a look into the cavity. At first he could see nothing, but finally he saw at the bottom of the hollow cavity a spotted trout, which was leaping around swiftly in water collected there. Crawling into the hole, he captured the trout with his hand. On getting out, he threw the fish down to his cousin, who said: “This is a curious fish. Let us take it back to camp.” The other replied, “No! Do not touch it; it may be something that will bring us harm.” But the other young man would not heed this advice. Taking the fish to camp, he cleaned, cooked, and ate it. When he had finished eating, he began to be very thirsty, and said to his companion, “Go and get me some water, cousin.” The cousin brought him water, and the other drank and kept on drinking, seeming to be unable to get enough water.

Then his cousin said to him, “Do you not think that the fish is making you ill?” The only reply was, “Oh! get me more water. Take my moccasins and get me plenty.” He brought both moccasins full of water, which the thirsty man drank at once. At last the man who was not ill said, “I am tired of getting water for you; go to the spring and there you can drink all you want.” Visiting the springs he drank until he was tired of drinking; then he rested, and then he began to drink still more.

The cousin, being busy around the camp, did not pay much attention to the sick man, but after a while he went to the spring to look after his cousin. Arriving there, he was frightened when he saw him, for his mouth had become like that of a fish. He asked the sick man how he felt. The other replied, “Oh, about as usual.” Then came the query, “Does not your mouth feel queer?” Putting up his hand, the afflicted youth found that his mouth had grown large, but still kept on drinking. His companion hurried back to the camp in sorrow. The next time he went to the spring he found that his cousin had become a fish to the waist. Later, when he went again to the spring, his cousin had completely changed into a fish, and had gone into the spring. The following morning his cousin had become a great fish, dwelling far under the water, and the spring had grown into a large pond.

The man sat down on the bank of the pond. Soon the great fish, raising its head out of the water, said: “My poor cousin, you see how I have turned into a fish. Go home and tell my parents what has become of me. When you need fish, come to this pond and you shall get all you want. This pond will always be full of fish.”

The man went home, where he told everyone what had befallen his companion. The people then visited the pond, whereupon the great fish, lifting its head above the surface, said, “I shall not long be a fish, for I shall soon become a Ganiagwaihe.” Then the people departed.

In a short time the great fish became a Ganiagwaihe, having hair only on its back and feet. It remained around the lake, and of those who came there to fish it always killed and ate one. The people did not see this done, but always missed one of their number at that place. They did not like this at all, knowing that if the fish continued to live there long it would kill many persons. The people therefore assembled in council to decide how to get rid of the great fish. At last two or three young men agreed to go there and try to kill the Ganiagwaihe; but they never returned. Men who went to find them recovered only their garments.

Finally the cousin of the man who had become a Ganiagwaihe said: “I shall now go. Perhaps I may be able to kill it.” So they prepared for him parched corn, new moccasins, and a very good bow and twelve fine arrows. Having arrived at the pond, he camped there. That night he dreamed that his cousin, appearing to him in the form of a man, asked him: “Why did you come? I can kill you.” The other answered, “I have come to kill you because you are doing great harm to our people.” Then Ganiagwaihe said, “I shall start at daylight, and you pursue me and see if you can catch me.”

Early the next morning the young man started in the direction the Ganiagwaihe had indicated it would flee, and, running as swiftly as he could, he kept up the pursuit until midday, when he saw the tracks of the Ganiagwaihe. Thereupon he shouted in triumph: “Now I shall kill you. I shall soon overtake you now.” Then he ran faster than he had been running before. He ran until night, when he camped and built a fire. On looking at his bundle of corn flour he found that it had become ants; so he had nothing to eat. This mishap was caused by the Ganiagwaihe in order to deprive the man of food. It was now night. While the young man sat there thinking about his situation he heard the approach of footsteps. He knew that it was his cousin, the Ganiagwaihe, and he was ready to take aim when the Ganiagwaihe called: “Stop, cousin! Hold, until I can have a talk with you. If you will permit me to escape this time, I will start early in the morning and will leave this part of the country forever, and I will injure your people no more.” The young man replied: “If you are in earnest in what you have just said, I will spare your life. You know that too many have already been killed by you, and you must stop killing our people at once.” Thoroughly frightened, the Ganiagwaihe agreed to this; and, having bade each other farewell, they parted.

The next morning the young man went home, where he told the people what had occurred, adding: “You can now fish in the pond as much as you desire; there is no one to give you trouble now.” So it came to pass that the Ganiagwaihe kept his word to his cousin.

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33. A Dead Man Speaks to His Mother through the Fire

An old woman and her son lived in a lodge in a certain village, and a brother and his sister in another. The old woman’s son and the brother were of the same height and looked so much alike that they could scarcely be known from each other; they were great friends.

The son often visited the brother and sister, and the brother found out that he thought of marrying his sister, who was yet very young, when she became old enough. The brother was not pleased with this prospect, so he made up his mind to kill his friend. The next time the latter came the brother killed him. Digging a deep hole under the fireplace and putting the body therein, he covered it with earth, and made a fire again over the spot.

The mother waited for her son, but he did not come home. Then she went to the other lodge and asked, “Where is my son?” “He left here to go home. It may be he is in the woods now. He said he was going to cut wood for arrows,” answered the young man.

When the woman went out the brother started off and, cutting wood, quickly ran to her lodge, where he sat down and began to whittle arrows. Soon afterward she came in. Turning to her, he asked, “Where have you been, mother?” “Oh! I have been over at your friend’s lodge.” She failed to detect any difference between her son’s voice and his. He said, “Well, mother, I am going over there a while.” Putting up the arrows and running home, he said: “I am afraid, my sister, that there is impending danger and that we are going to die. Hurry to the spring and leave your pail there: then run around in every direction so as to make many trails and come back to the lodge.”

Going to the spring, the girl covered the ground with tracks and returned. The brother said, “I am now going to put you into the head of my arrow and send you off to a safe place.” Taking hold of his sister’s arm, he shook her until she became very small; then opening the arrowhead, he put her into the cavity, and after carefully securing her there, said: “I am going to shoot you toward the east. When the arrow strikes the ground you must jump out and run. I will soon overtake you.” Standing by the fireplace, he shot the arrow out of the smoke-hole. In due time it came down on a stone far off in the east, when the arrow burst and the girl came out and ran off.

After running around in circles and making many tracks around the lodge, the brother then went up the smoke-hole and stood on the roof. There was visible a long streak, or trail, which the arrow had made through the air. Running under this trail, he soon came to the spot where the arrow had struck the stone, and then he followed his sister’s tracks.

The old woman, the murdered man’s mother, growing tired of waiting for her son, went over to the neighboring lodge to see what he was doing. She found the lodge empty. While sitting there by the fire, a voice spoke to her out of the flames, saying: “My friend has killed me. My friend has killed me.” Thereupon she dug down under the hearth until she found her son’s body. On reaching home she became a Ganiagwaihegowa. Then she followed the girl’s tracks to the spring and back again to the lodge. She could find no one in the lodge. At last, looking up through the smoke-hole, she saw the trail of the arrow through the air. Hurrying out, she ran toward the east.

In the meantime the young man had overtaken his sister before she had gone far from the stone. After a while they heard the roaring of Ganiagwaihegowa. The girl trembled from great fear and grew weak. Her brother encouraged her. Stopping at night, they lay down and slept a little. The young man dreamed that a woman came to him, saying: “You think you and your sister are about to die, but you are not; here is a stone with which to defend yourself. Tomorrow about noon throw this piece of stone behind you, with the words, ‘Let there be a ridge of rocks across the world so high that nothing can climb over or pass it.’ ”

In the morning he saw near the brush lodge the very stone he had seen in his dream. He took this piece of stone with him. Before midday they heard the roaring of Ganiagwaihegowa. At noon the young man threw the piece of rock behind him, and at that moment a ridge of rocks, rising so high that no living thing could climb over it, stretched itself across the world.

On coming to the ridge the Ganiagwaihegowa saw that the tracks of the brother and sister went through the wall. She clambered up and then fell backward, howling terribly and crying, “I will overtake and eat them both.” The young man’s sister heard the words of the monster. The Ganiagwaihegowa ran toward the north, but could find no end to or opening in the wall of rocks. Then, coming back, the monster ran to the south, but could find no end there. Once more returning, she lay down near the tracks by the wall. It was now night. The Ganiagwaihegowa staid there until morning. On rising she was greatly surprised at finding nothing but a small stone in her way. Picking up the stone, she ground it to powder in her mouth, and then, roaring terribly, went on.

The brother and sister had now gone far ahead. Toward noon they heard the roaring of the Ganiagwaihegowa and knew that she was drawing near. Taking a pigeon feather from his pouch, the young man threw it behind him, saying, “Let there be a thick rampart of pigeon droppings across the world, so high that nothing can pass over it or go through it.” Then he hurried on with his sister. Soon the bear rushed up to the rampart in a fearful rage. She tried to climb the rampart, but could not do so. Then she tried to push through it, but went out of sight in the filth, nearly smothered, and had hard work to get out. Then the monster ran as fast as possible to find an opening, but without success; so, coming back at night, she lay down and slept until morning, when she found nothing in the way but a feather. This she bit and chewed to pieces.

The brother and sister came to a great wood, all the trees of which were dried up and leafless. They found a lodge, which they entered. An old man, who was their uncle, was sitting inside. They told him their trouble; whereupon he said, “I will do all I can for you, but you have another uncle living not far from here who can help you much better than I can.” The old man was engaged in chipping flints. When he got a handful of flint chips he would fling them out at the trees; in this way he had killed the whole forest, for he had great powers of witchcraft.

The brother and sister then went to the next lodge. The old uncle whom they had left had a heap of flint chips piled up near him. When he heard the Ganiagwaihegowa coming he struck it again and again with the chips. But the Ganiagwaihegowa did not turn away; coming up to the door, she asked the old man, “Have you seen a couple of persons pass here?” “No,” said he, “I pay no attention to anyone who comes.” Thereupon the monster crushed his head, thus killing him. Then, discovering the tracks, the Ganiagwaihegowa said, “They have gone ahead; it is too bad that I have killed the old man.” Roaring loudly, she rushed on. “I will overtake you and eat you,” she said.

Soon the brother and sister came to the other uncle. After hearing of their troubles he said, “I will help you all I can, but hurry on until you come to another uncle.” Then he made a trap on the trail, and near that a second and a third. When the Ganiagwaihegowa came up, she rushed into the first trap, where she struggled a long time. Finally, breaking through this trap, the monster went on until she got into the second trap. After a longer struggle she broke through this, only to fall into the third trap, from which also she escaped at last. Coming soon to the third old man, the Ganiagwaihegowa asked, “Have you seen a couple of persons pass this way?” “I have not,” was the reply, whereupon the monster, seizing the old man, ground him to pieces with her teeth. Then, finding the tracks of the young couple, she said: “Here are the tracks again; they have passed on. I am sorry that I killed the old man.”

The brother and sister went to the third uncle. Rushing into his lodge, they found him making a net. His eyes were closed and filled with matter, but still he was at work. He had long upper eyelids hanging down on his cheeks. Raising the lids he cleaned his eyes; then with a piece of buckskin he tied the lids across his forehead. When the brother and sister rushed in, they said, “Uncle!” but he did not hear them. They called again, “Uncle! we are running away and want your assistance,” but he did not stop, for he failed to hear them. Then the brother hit him on the head with a corn pounder, whereupon, raising his eyelids, he said, “I heard a voice.” The brother and sister exclaimed, “We are closely pursued by a Ganiagwaihegowa.” “I will help you as far as I can, but your grandfather, who lives near here, will do more than I. Run to him,” was his answer. They hurried on.

The Ganiagwaihegowa came nearer and nearer. The old man laid a long net across the trail, in which the Ganiagwaihegowa was caught. After struggling somewhat, she cleared herself. On coming to the old man’s door she asked, “Have you seen two people pass this way?” “No!” said he. The old man had told them to run to their grandfather, and they had done so.

On reaching their grandfather they found Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa there, who had rattles. When the brother and sister came up Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa told them to go on and that they would come to a lodge, and that the people in that lodge were very strong in sorcery, having great orenda.

The Djogeon woman stood near the first kettle when the Ganiagwaihegowa came rushing along asking, “Are the two persons here who made these tracks?” “Yes; they are in the lodge,” was the reply. The Ganiagwaihegowa started to go around the kettles, but the woman said, “No, you must go the way they went, right through the fire, kettles and all; you must do the same as they did.” On starting to do so the Ganiagwaihegowa got her paws in the boiling oil and overturned the first kettle. Badly burned, the monster fell back, growling. In making for the second kettle, that too was upset in the same way and she was burned still more. Then the boys killed the Ganiagwaihegowa with their red-willow arrows, and, building a fire, they burned her bones to powder, so that the monster could not come to life again.

The old Djogeon told the brother and sister to stay two or three days at her lodge and rest; then her sons would take them home. She told her sons that this old Ganiagwaihegowa woman stole a young boy and girl from them and took them away, wishing to make the girl marry her son. The boys took the brother and sister two days’ journey, which was as far as they could go. Then they directed the former fugitives so that they got home.

It is said that the Ganiagwaihegowa woman’s boy had a tuft of yellow hair hanging down his back, and that when he was killed, his companion, having cut off this tuft, fastened it to the top of his own head. When the Ganiagwaihegowa woman’s boy went hunting, he would send his arrows home and they would go into the lodge just where they belonged; but after the other man obtained the hair, his arrows would go home in the same way, for the orenda was in the tuft of yellow hair.

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A man and his wife lived together in an ugly looking lodge in the woods. They had a son four or five years old.

After a time the woman gave birth to another boy, not longer than one’s hand, who was very bright and lively. Wrapping the little fellow carefully, the father, thinking he could not live, placed him in a hollow tree outside the lodge. Then he burned the body of the mother, who had died when the baby came into the world.

The man went hunting every day as before. The older boy played around the lodge by himself and was lonely. After some time had elapsed he heard the baby in the hollow log crying, for he, too, was lonely and had nothing to eat. The elder boy found his little brother and, making soup of deer intestines, gave it to him to drink. He drank the soup with great relish and became much strengthened. The brother gave him plenty of it. At last the little fellow came out of the log and the two boys played together.

The elder brother made the little one a coat of fawn skin, which he put on him. This made the baby look like a chipmunk as he ran around. They went to the lodge and played there. Noticing a decrease in the stock of provisions, the father asked the boy what he did with the deer intestines. “Oh,” said the boy, “I ate a good deal of them.” Then looking around the fire and seeing a small track and very short steps, the father said: “Here are the tracks of a boy. Who is it?” The boy told him how he had found his little brother in a hollow tree, and that he had given him soup and had made him a fawn-skin coat, and that they had played together. “Go and bring him,” said the father. “He would not come for anything, for he is very timid,” was the answer. “Well, we will catch him. You ask him to go to hunt mice in an old stump there beyond the log. I will get him.” Catching a great many mice, the man put them in his bosom, in his clothes, and all around his body and, going beyond the log, turned himself into an old stump full of mice.

Going to the hollow tree, the boy said, “Come, let us play catching mice.” The little fellow came out and running to the stump rushed around it, catching many mice. The little boy, wild with excitement, laughed and shouted with joy, for it seemed that he had never known such fun. All of a sudden the stump turned into a man, who, catching him in his arms, ran home. The boy screamed and struggled, but it was of no use; he could not get away, and he would not be pacified until his father put a small club into his hand, saying, “Now strike that tree.” He struck a great hickory which stood near. The tree fell. Everything he struck was crushed or killed; he was delighted and cried no more. The little boy stayed now with his brother and played with him while their father went hunting. “You must not go to the north while I am away,” said the father; “bad, dangerous people live there.” When the father was gone the little boy said, “Oh, let us go north; I should like to see what is there.” Starting in that direction, the boys went on until they came to wooded, marshy ground. Then the little boy heard many people call out, “My father! My father!” “Oh, these people want to hurt my father,” said he. Making ready a pile of red-hot stones, he hurled them at these people and killed all of them. They were frogs and sang nohqwa. When the boys came home their father was very angry and said, “You must not go again, and you must not go west; it is very dangerous there, too.”

When their father had gone hunting the next day the little boy said, “I should like to see what there is in the west; let us go there.” Traveling westward, they went on until they came to a very tall pine tree. In the top of the tree was a bed made of skins. “Oh!” said the little boy, “that is a strange place for a bed. I should like to see it. I will climb up and look at it.” Up he went. He found in it two little naked children, a boy and a girl; they were frightened. On pinching the boy, the child called out: “Oh, father, father! some strange child has come and he has frightened me nearly to death.” Suddenly the voice of Thunder was heard in the far west. It came nearer and nearer, hurrying along until it reached the bed in the tree top. Raising his club, the little boy struck Thunder, crushing his head so that he fell dead to the ground. Then, by pinching her, he made the little girl call: “Mother, Mother! some strange boy has come and is playing with me.” Instantly the mother Thunder’s voice was heard in the west, and presently she stood by the nest. The boy struck her on the head with his club, and she, too, fell dead. Now, thought the boy: “This Thunder boy would make a splendid tobacco pouch for my father. I will take him home.” So, striking him with his club, he threw him down, and the little girl also. When the boy with the club reached the ground, he said to his brother, “Now, let us go.” On getting home, he said, “Oh, father! I have brought you a splendid pouch.” “What have you done?” said the father. When he saw the dead Thunder baby he said: “These Thunders have never done any harm. They bring rain and do us good, but now they will destroy us all in revenge for what you have done.” “Oh! they will not hurt us. I have killed that whole family.” The father took the skin for a pouch. “Now, my boy,” said the father, “you must never go north, to the country of the Stone Coats.” The elder brother would not go, so the little one went off alone. About noon he heard the loud barking of Stone Coat’s dog, which was as tall as a deer, so he knew the master was near. He jumped into the heart of a chestnut tree, where he found a hiding place.

Presently Stone Coat came up, and, looking at the tree, said, “I think there is nothing here;” but the dog barked and looked up, so that finally he struck the tree with his club, splitting it open. “What a strange little fellow you are,” said Stone Coat, looking at the boy as he came out; “you are not big enough to fill a hole in my tooth.” “Oh! I did not come to fill holes in your teeth. I came to go home with you and see how you look and how you live,” said the boy. “All right. Come with me,” said Stone Coat. Stone Coat was of enormous size. He carried in his belt two great bears, which to him were as two squirrels to an ordinary man. Every little while, looking down, he would say to the little fellow running by his side, “Oh! you are such a funny little creature.”

Stone Coat’s lodge was very large and long. The little boy had never seen anything like it. Stone Coat skinned the two bears; he put one before his visitor and took one for himself, saying to the boy, “Now you eat this bear, or I will eat you and him together.” “If you do not eat yours before I eat mine, may I kill you?” asked the boy. “Oh, yes,” said Stone Coat. The little boy cut off mouthfuls, and cleaning them as fast as he could, he put them into his mouth. He kept running in and out, so as to hide the meat. In a short time all the flesh of his bear had disappeared. “You have not eaten yours yet; I am going to kill you,” said the little fellow to the Stone Coat. “Wait until I show you how to slide down hill”—and Stone Coat took him to a long hillside, which was very slippery and which ended in a cave. Putting the little fellow in a wooden bowl, he sent him down at a great rate. Presently he ran up again to the place where he started. “Where did you leave the bowl?” asked Stone Coat. “Oh! I do not know; it has gone down there I suppose,” replied the little fellow. “Well, let us try to see who can kick this log highest,” said Stone Coat. “You try first,” said the little one. The log was two feet in diameter and six feet long. Putting his foot under it, Stone Coat lifted the log twice his own length. Then the little boy, placing his foot under the log, sent it whistling through the air. It was gone a long time; then it came down on Stone Coat’s head, crushing him to death. “Come here,” said the little fellow to Stone Coat’s dog. The dog came and the boy got on his back and rode home, saying, “Now my father will have a splendid hunting dog.” When the father saw the dog he cried out, “Oh! what have you done? Stone Coat will now kill us all.” “I have killed Stone Coat. He will not trouble us any more,” replied the Potent One.