Part 1 — FICTION (continued 6)

He left them, whereupon the two men went to the place where the Stone Coat army had been. Only piles of stone remained. The stones found all over the earth are remains of this battle and the killing of the Stone Coats. Thus, it was through the two transformed young men that our forefathers were saved from death and enabled to live to a great age. They foretold what was to be as it is today, and at the present time we hold to the teaching of these men, who had their religion from the upper world.

[

Contents

]

49. Dagwanoenyent

Once some men in a village were preparing to go on a hunting expedition. Now, in the old times, as far as can be traced back to the forefathers, some men had luck and others had not.

Now, in the village in which these men lived was a young man who was somewhat foolish—not strong in mind—as people thought. Knowing that the men were getting ready, he went to one and another asking leave to go with them, but no one would let him go, for they considered him foolish, and hence unlucky.

After all had left, a young woman, who took pity on him, went to him and said, “Let us be married and go hunting.” They got married and went to hunt, camping in the woods. The man could not kill any big game; only squirrels and such creatures. He made traps to catch deer, which he placed around so that the deer might get their feet into them. One morning when he went to look at his traps he heard some one crying like a woman. The sound came nearer and nearer. At last he saw a woman coming with two little boys. She was crying, and as they came up she said: “Help me! for we are going to die. One of my little boys stole a feather, which he pulled to pieces. Now we are going to die for that feather. I want you to kill that hawk on the tree over there, and when the person whose feather my little boy took comes, throw the hawk at him, saying, ‘This is your feather.’ ”

[

Contents

]

50. The Shaman and His Nephew

In times past a noted shaman and his nephew dwelt together in a lodge in the forest.

The nephew, wearing his uncle’s garments and feather headdress, started for the chief’s lodge. It was night when he drew near the village in which lived the chief, and thinking it would not look well for him to arrive at the lodge after dark, he decided to camp for the night in the forest. For this purpose he chose a fallen tree, near which he kindled a fire. Early in the night a man came to the fire, saying: “My nephew, I am traveling. I am going to the village near here, but it being now late, I think I will stop with you at your fire. In the morning we can go on together. So I will remain on this side of the fire, opposite you, and I will relate stories of what has happened to me during my life to pass the time away.” The young man unwarily agreed to this proposition of the stranger. Then the man who called himself uncle began to tell stories, and the young man would respond at times. But at last, growing sleepy, the latter stopped making responses, whereupon the self-styled uncle remarked, “Nephew, I think that you are asleep.” The young man did not make reply. Then the stranger stirred the fire, and blowing sparks from it on the young man, called out, “Nephew, I think that sparks of fire are falling on you.” But as the young man did not move, the uncle saw that he was fast asleep. Going over to the side of the young man the stranger shook him, saying, “You are asleep and sparks of fire are falling on your clothes; so you would better remove them so that they will be safe.” This awakened the young man, who arose and undressed himself, and laying his garments in a safe place, carefully covered them with hemlock boughs. The stranger had an old skin robe with the fur all worn off, which he told the young man to use as a covering for the night; this he did. Returning to his side of the fire, the self-styled uncle began again to tell stories, to which the young man responded for a while, after which he again became silent. Knowing that the young man was asleep, the stranger went to the place where he had concealed his garments and, after removing his own, put them on, leaving his own soiled things in their stead. The stranger knew where the young man was going, and knew also the orenda (magic power) of the garments and pouch belonging to the latter, so he had determined to secure them for his own use. In the morning when the young man awoke he discovered that he was alone, that his garments and pouch were gone, and that in their stead remained the well-worn and soiled things of the wily old stranger who had visited him the night before. Naturally, he was sad and deeply humiliated, but he determined to don the shabby garments of the stranger and to finish his journey to the lodge of the chief.

When the old man was dressed in the garments and headdress of the young man, he looked well, so when the sisters saw him coming, they said, “At last, our man is coming to us.” But on looking more closely at him, the younger sister, becoming suspicious, decided that he was not the man they had expected. Hence, when he entered the lodge, leaving the side of her sister, she went over to the other side of the fire. The man took his seat beside her elder sister, who said to her: “Why do you leave me now? You have been wishing that he would come, and now that he has come, you leave and go to the other side of the fire.” The younger sister, however, remained firm in her conviction that he was not the right man. The chief notified the people to go to the lodge of public assembly to meet his new son-in-law and to see him smoke. In response to this invitation all the people assembled. The man arrayed himself in the stolen garments for the purpose of convincing the people and the chief that he was possessed of great orenda; but for him the times were out of joint and ill-omened. A beautiful piece of buckskin was spread on each side of him to receive the expected wampum. But the duck that surmounted the stolen headdress appeared to be lifeless, for its head hung limp. Drawing the pipe out of the pouch and filling it with dried red-willow bark, the man told the manikin to bring an ember to light the pipe. The manikin, however, did not move. He spoke to it a second time, but it did not move. Then he said to the people, “My manikin is shy because of the great concourse of people.” Reaching out, the man took an ember which he placed in the hand of the manikin, but without result; finally he himself put it into the pipe. Then he began to smoke, but he spat no wampum, and merely soiled the piece of buckskin.

After the people had left the assembly lodge and returned to their homes, the chief’s younger daughter went out to gather wood. While walking leisurely along looking for fuel, she saw smoke arising in the distance. When she reached the spot, she found there what was apparently an old man, who was fast asleep with his head drooping against a log. Spittle was flowing from his mouth, which, when it fell on the ground, became wampum. Astonished, the younger daughter ran home to tell her father what she had seen. He at once sent her back to bring the strange man to the lodge. Carefully gathering the wampum, she informed the man that her father had sent for him, and that he must therefore accompany her to the lodge.

Soon after the elder sister and her husband reached home from the assembly lodge, they seated themselves on one side of the fire. In a few moments the younger daughter and the man, old in appearance, entered the lodge and took seats on the opposite side of the fire. Then the husband of the elder daughter said to his wife, “Your sister should be ashamed of herself for having that old man.” Thus all spent the night together. The next morning the husband of the elder daughter went to hunt. In the evening he returned with a dead bloodsucker rolled up in leaves, which he told his wife to cook. Slicing it into small bits, she did so, and prepared some burnt cornmeal to go with it. Her husband told her to take the fat from the top of the kettle and pour it on the meal. This she did, and then passed some of the meal to her sister; but as the latter was taking it, the elder sister drew it back, with the remark, “I would willingly give it to you, but I do not like the looks of your man.”

In the morning of the next day the husband of the younger daughter said to the other man: “I should like to change garments with you. I shall wear them only part of the time, and you part of the time. Hereafter you shall be called by my name.” The other person agreed to the proposition. As soon as the change was made, the husband of the younger daughter became a fine-looking man. He told his wife to have her father assemble the people in the lodge of assembly, for he was going to smoke. All the people gathered at their accustomed place of meeting. The floor was swept clean, for there was no buckskin to put down, as the other husband had soiled such pieces as were available, which were still hanging up to dry. The husband of the younger daughter sat down, with his wife on his left side and with his pouch leaning against the seat. As he threw back his head, his pouch came to life and held up its head, and he said, “Speak, my duck!” At once the duck came to life, and, holding up its head, began to sound its usual note. Then, taking his pipe from his pouch and filling it with dried red-willow bark, he sent the manikin to bring him an ember for a light. The manikin brought the ember, and after the pipe was lighted, the young man smoked. While doing so, he spat first on one side and then on the other; the spittle at once turned into beautiful dark wampum, which rolled all over the floor. The people scrambled after it, picking up as much as they could.

When the husband of the elder daughter, who had gone on a hunt, returned, the young man said to him, “I shall keep the garments, for tomorrow I shall take my wife and go to hunt.” So in the morning he went into the woods. After reaching his destination in the forest, he said to his wife, “I will show you something.” Having found her a fine place for a shelter, he bade her lie down and cover her head, and refrain from looking out at what was going on; for if she did so, something evil would certainly befall him. Obeying her husband, she covered her head. Then he sang, “Now, all you wild beasts, come here to this place.” In obedience to his song they all came—bear, elk, and deer—jumping, hurrying, and rushing on. All the young man had to do in order to kill them was to point his magical finger at any one he desired to secure, whereupon it fell dead. Then he sang another song, “Now, all you wild beasts, go to your homes”—all vanished as quickly as they had come. When they had gone, he said to his wife, “Now you may arise and uncover your head.” On getting up and looking around she saw on every side all kinds of game lying dead. Her husband said to her, “Now, let us go home. You may tell the people that they may have as much meat as they desire.”

On their return home the younger daughter informed the people of her husband’s invitation to take all the meat they required. So many people went to the place of the hunt, where after skinning and cutting up the game which the young man had killed, they carried it home. Seeing every man in the village carrying meat and venison, the elder daughter asked her sister, “How does your husband kill so much game?” Her sister answered, “Your husband stole his garments, but now he has recovered them, and you see what he can do with their aid.” The elder sister replied, “I will turn my husband away and marry yours.” So when her husband returned she charged him, saying: “You stole this young man’s garments. Are you not ashamed of your conduct?” Then, taking a pestle used for pounding corn, she drove him out of the lodge.

When the people had eaten the meat the young man again went to hunt. The elder sister said, “I must go with him,” but the younger sister answered: “You are too careless; you would not obey him. You are too foolish. You took the other man when I knew that he was not the right one. So you should not go.” But when the young man was ready to start she cried like a child to be permitted to go; and finally her younger sister said, “Go, if you will obey him in everything.” Although he did not accept her as his wife, she followed him into the forest. He chose the place of their lodge. When it was ready he told her to lie down and cover her head, and not to look out until he should call her. Then he began to sing, “Now, all you wild beasts, come here to this place.” With a terrifying sound they came from all directions, leaping and gamboling as they rushed onward. The young man sang all the time. But the woman, becoming afraid of being trampled to death, peeped out to see what was going on. As she did so one of the larger animals, running up to the young man, said Ho, ho, ho! and then carried him off on its back. Frightened, the sister-in-law leaped up and ran home. When she arrived there her younger sister said, “Where is my husband?” “The animals carried him off,” came the answer. Thereupon the younger sister replied: “I told you that you are too foolish to go to such a place, and I did not want you to accompany him. Now see what you have done.”

[

Contents

]

51. The Horned Snake and the Young Woman

A woman living near Cayuga Lake had been asked many times by young men to marry her, but she would never consent. The knowledge that she was good-looking made her very proud and haughty.

During the warm weather the family slept out of doors. One night, however, the young woman remained inside the lodge. As was customary in those days, a skin mantle was hung up for a door. In the night the young woman, awaking, saw some one looking through the doorway, whose face glistened and whose eyes shone. The face disappeared and a man walked into the lodge; coming to the bed, he sat down at the side of the young woman and began to talk. His conversation was very enticing, and she could not help listening to him, but she did not answer. Thinking she was asleep, the strange man, shaking her, asked, “Are you asleep?” She did not answer. After putting sticks on the fire to make a light, he again asked, “Are you asleep?” She could not longer resist, and drawing the mantle down from her face, said, “No.” She saw that he was very handsome and that even his raiment glistened. He spoke of taking her for his wife, promising to give her all he had, and saying, “You will find plenty of fine things in my lodge and you shall have them all.” While he talked she was fast becoming of his mind, and at last she consented to be his wife. One man after another had failed to win her, but this stranger was so engaging that she was willing to go to him. When he left her, he said, “I will come for you in two days.”

The next morning the young woman’s family wondered why they did not see her, for she was usually the first to be up. Her mother said, “I wonder what the matter is.” Going to the lodge, she found her asleep. She shook her but could not arouse her. Her people came to see her from time to time, but still she slept. At last, on looking in, they saw her sitting with her head down, as though in deep thought. They wondered what her trouble was—had she had evil dreams? Finally she got up, but seemed sad, not as cheerful as usual. They saw that something serious was on her mind.

As the time approached for the husband to come, the young woman thought, “I will put on my best clothes that I may look as nearly as possible like him.” When the time came he appeared before her, saying, “I have come for you.” Arising, she followed him without hesitation. Pointing to a hill, he said, “I live on the other side of that hill.” On the way the young woman thought that she might be possessed of something evil and almost resolved to go back. The man seemed to know her thoughts, for looking at her he said, “You are mine, and we are on our way home.” So she continued to put her feet in his footprints. At last he said, as if in answer to her thoughts: “You have become my wife; you can not help yourself. My home is near.” They descended the wall of a precipice until they reached a large opening in the rocks. She was glad at any rate to be so near the lodge. Stopping again, she took council with herself and almost resolved to go back, but an inward feeling that she must keep on prevailed.

As they entered the hole in the rocks, which led into what seemed to her to be a lodge, she saw many fine things which she thought would be a comfort to her. In one corner was a beautiful skin couch; her husband said to her, “This is your couch.” She was well pleased with her new home.

Some time passed. She did not discover that the man was different from other men. As soon as the sun rose every day, he went away.

One day he told her that he was going a long distance, whereupon she thought: “Now he will be gone a good while. I will look around and see where I am.” On going out she found that she did not know where the place was, nor in what direction they had come. She went on and on, more for amusement than anything else, thinking perhaps that she should find the way out, and that then she could reach home. At last she decided to go back into the lodge. She had not gone far when she heard some noise behind her, at which she was greatly frightened. “You need not be frightened,” said a man; “I was looking for you. Stand still, my grandchild, and do not be afraid of me; I am sent to tell you of your danger; you must do my bidding, for I pity you. Your husband is a great horned snake. I am going to kill him and destroy his lodge. You must go up in that high place yonder; sit down and watch. Nothing will happen to you. When you see your husband, keep your eyes on him and learn to know what he is.” On going up into the place indicated and looking around, she could see no clouds in the sky—all was bright and clear. Suddenly, however, she saw beyond the place a large body of water rising, and soon it was as high as the hole in the rocks which led to her home. Then she saw approaching the rocks a great horned snake with glistening face. She was frightened when she looked on this creature and knew it was her husband. Just as its head was inside the rocks, she heard a terrible thunder clap; lightning struck the rocks and they were all blown to bits. Then the water subsided. After a while the old man came, saying: “Your husband is killed. There are three of us. We know that you are under evil influences now, but we will try to save you. You can go home, but you must be purified first.” While he was talking the other two came. The old man told her to take off her clothes. She knew that she had to do as he had requested. Taking up a small vessel, he gave her to drink a portion of what it contained, and then rubbed the rest of the contents on her back about the loins. In a short time three large snakes passed from her reproductive organs, whereupon the old man remarked, “You are now saved from the evil orenda with which you have been afflicted.” To purify her further he gave her a beverage which caused vomiting. The matter which she threw up consisted of worms, ants, maggots, and all kinds of foul creeping things. While living with her husband her mind had been so much under his spell that she had believed that the food which he gave her was good and wholesome. The three men, now satisfied, said to her: “You are at last thoroughly purified and freed from the evil power of your husband and his people; so you can return to your home, which is seven days’ journey from here” (when she made the journey with her husband it seemed to her but a short distance). Then the old man said to her: “I am he whom your people call Hinon. You must marry one of your own people, one who is older than you are, for the younger ones are filled with witchcraft; and you must tell your friends all that has happened to you, for if you do not do so, you will undergo the same misfortunes again.” Thereupon they took her home; while on the way it seemed to her that they were flying through the air.

The morning after returning home her people found her lying in the lodge. Her family were all delighted that she had returned to them safe. When they had found she was missing they had searched for her everywhere, but had never been able to find even a trace of her. She related to them her adventures, telling them how she had become the wife of a great horned snake, and how she had been rescued from it by Hinon, their grandfather.

When her grandfather, Hinon, had left her at the lodge doorway he had given her a basket, telling her to fill it with native Indian tobacco, saying, “For with this plant we cleanse ourselves.” He told her further that from time to time she should leave a small quantity of the tobacco in the woods, which he would get as a grateful offering to him.

[

Contents

]

52. The Man Pursued by His Sister-in-Law

Two brothers lived together in the forest. Every day the elder went out to hunt, but he never brought home game or flesh of any description. The younger brother noticed, however, that his brother’s back bore bloody stains just as if he had been carrying freshly killed game; so he decided to watch him, that he might see what he did with the game he killed.

One day while the younger brother was watching he found that, when returning with game, a woman approached from a side path and took from the elder brother the game, which she carried away. So the next day the younger brother started off in the direction the strange woman had taken. He soon came to a lodge, and on entering he found a young woman, who smiled and began talking to him.

In the afternoon he started for home; but after he had gone some distance he saw that he was returning to the lodge which he had just left, and was greatly disturbed about himself. Thereupon he went in an opposite direction. While he was walking along, his elder brother, coming up behind him, said, “My brother, it is strange that you do not know that there is a fishhook caught in your neck.” Having removed the fishhook and fastened it to a near-by bush, the elder brother said to his younger brother: “Your only safe course now is to escape from this place as quickly as possible. I will aid you to escape.” Then the elder brother, causing the younger to become small, after opening one of his arrows introduced him into it, and after securing him there, told him, “When the arrow strikes the ground, quickly get out of this arrow and then run for your life.” Then he shot the arrow off into the air.

When the young woman came to the rock she could go neither through it nor over it. Finally she said, “I have never heard of this high rock; surely it can not extend across the country. I will go around it.” So she ran to the end of the country without success; then she ran to the other end of the country, but with no greater success in getting around the ridge of rocks. Coming back to the spot whence she had started, she stepped back a short distance and then, rushing forward, she butted her head against the solid rock to break it down; but she fell back seemingly dead. After a long time she recovered consciousness and, looking around her, Lo!—the rock ridge had disappeared; only a small stone lay there. “Oh! he is exerting his magic power,” she exclaimed, and again she hurried on after him.

When the youth once more heard her footsteps and knew that she was fast gaining on him he took a pigeon’s feather out of his pouch, and casting it down back of him commanded, “Let there be a pigeon roost across the country and let there be so many pigeons in it that their droppings shall be so deep and high that nothing can get through them.” Soon the young woman came to the roost and started to go through it, but could not do so; then she drew back, saying, “I never heard that a pigeon roost could extend across the world. I shall go around it.” Thereupon she followed the roost, first to one end of the world, then to the other, but was not able to go around it. Returning to the spot whence she had started she attempted to break through the mass of droppings by butting her head against it, but she fell back seemingly dead. After a long time she regained consciousness, and on opening her eyes found a small feather lying on the ground. The roost had disappeared. She was now very angry and took up the pursuit with great speed.

In his flight the young man came to a lake where he saw people bathing and playing in the water. Stopping there he said, “Let one of those men become just like me and let me become an old stump.” Presently the young woman came up to the stump, but hearing the laughter of the bathers she saw on looking at them that the man farthest out in the lake was the one she was following. Seeing her standing there the people called to her, “Come! help us catch this man who outswims us.” Quickly springing into the water, after a long chase she caught him, but the moment she had done so he took his own form, whereupon she knew that she had been deceived again. Going back to the shore she found that the stump had gone.

A young woman came out and, seeing the young man, lifted him up and took him into the lodge. “What is the trouble?” asked an old woman. He replied: “A woman is following me. I have long been trying to escape from her.” “Keep out of sight and I will help you,” said the old woman. Then the old woman, filling a kettle with bear’s oil, set it over the fire. Soon it began to boil, whereupon she said, “Let this young man’s face be looking up from the bottom of this kettle.” At that moment they heard a noise outside of the lodge door, which opened. In came the young woman, who asked, “Where is the man I am following?” The old woman said, “He ran into the kettle.” Looking into the kettle and seeing the face of the man, she exclaimed, “I knew I should conquer you at last;” and plunged into the boiling oil in order to seize him. But the boiling oil killed her. Then the old woman called the young man, saying, “The woman who was pursuing you is dead.” The daughter said to her mother, “I will have this man for my husband.”

In the course of time twin boys were born to the young people. When they were large enough to run around, their father said to them, “You must now go after your uncle.” After traveling a very long distance they reached a lodge, in which they found a man. One of the boys said, “Uncle, we have come for you.” The old man, after making ready, accompanied them. When they arrived at the home of the boys, the younger brother greeted his elder brother with, “I am glad we are able to see each other again.” Then one of the boys said, “Grandmother, we want you to marry this man, our uncle.” She replied, “So it shall be.” So they were married and all lived happily together.

[

Contents

]

53. The Story of Bloody Hand

According to tradition several tribes of the Iroquois claim the honor of having produced a great man, whose name was Bloody Hand, and whose fame as a hunter was not less than his reputation as a bold and resolute war captain.

According to a Seneca legend a number of Seneca warriors went on a warlike expedition against a tribe which was hostile to them, and it so happened that Bloody Hand was one of this warlike band. In an encounter with the enemy he and a number of others were killed and their remains were left on the ground. The body of Bloody Hand lay in the forest stark naked; the enemy, having scalped him, had borne away the scalp as a great trophy.

When the medicine was made they held a sanctifying council, in which part of the assembly sat on one side of the tree, and the other part on the opposite side. The wolves and the snakes attended, also other animals and birds of great orenda (magic power). The birds sang and the rattlesnakes rattled; all present made music, every one in his own way.

Above the clouds and mists of the sky dwells a bird who is the chief of all the birds. His name is Sʻhadahgeah. This assembly of bird and animal sorcerers chose the chief of the crows to notify him of all that was taking place. This is the reason, according to the tradition, the crow today sings the note “caw, caw.” The eagle is another chief who is under this great bird that dwells above the clouds and mists of the firmament.

The men who had seen him scalped and killed had related the story to their people, who believed him dead. So, when they saw him return alive, they quickly gathered around him, asking, “How has it come to pass that you have returned alive?” Then the man gave them, in detail, an account of how he had been killed, and how the birds and the animals, in return for the kindness which he had shown them at all times, had concocted the medicine which had brought him back to life. Then, selecting a small number of wise men of great experience, he taught them how to use this medicine and confided its preservation to their custody. He strictly enjoined them not to make light of the songs which belonged to it; should they so far forget themselves as to do so, they would suffer great misfortune, for the songs possessed great orenda, which would become active against them. He told them, further, that no one should sing the songs unless he had some of this powerful medicine (which is called nigahnegahah, “small dose”). This medicine is still held in great repute among the Iroquois. (See Medical Note, p. 491.)

[

Contents

]

54. The Seven Stars of the Dipper

Long ago six men went out hunting many days’ journey from home. For a long time they found no game. One of their number said that he was sick (in fact he was very lazy), so they had to make a litter of two poles and a skin, by means of which four men carried him. Each man had his own load to bear besides. The sixth member of the party came behind, carrying the kettle.

At last, when they were getting very hungry, they came on the track of a bear, whereupon they dropped their sick companion and their burdens, each running on as fast as he could after the bear. At first the track was so old that they thought merely, “We shall overtake the bear at some future time anyway.” Later they said, “The track can not be more than three days old,” and as it grew fresher and fresher each day, they finally said, “Tomorrow, it seems, we shall overtake the bear.” Now, the man whom they had carried so long was not tired, and when they dropped him, knowing that he was to be left behind, he ran on after them. As he was fresher than they were, he soon passed them, and overtaking the bear, he killed it.

His companions never noticed in their hurry that they were going upward all the time. Many persons saw them in the air, always rising as they ran. When they overtook the bear they had reached the heavens, where they have remained to this day, and where they can be seen any starlit night near the Polar Star.

The man who carried the kettle is seen in the bend of the Great Dipper, the middle star of the handle, while the only small star near any other of the Dipper stars is the kettle. The bear may be seen as a star at the lower outside corner.

Every autumn when the first frost comes there may be seen on the leaves of the oak tree blood and drops of oil—not water, but oil—the oil and blood of the bear. On seeing this the Indians say, “The lazy man has killed the bear.”

[

Contents

]

55. The Story of the Two Brothers

Two brothers living by themselves in the forest believed that they were the only persons in the world. They were greatly devoted to each other. The younger did the thinking and the planning for both, for whatever he said the elder brother did.

One day the younger brother exclaimed, “Go yonder and kill that turkey, for I want its feathers.” “I will,” answered the elder. So going to the point indicated, the elder killed the turkey and brought its carcass to his brother, asking, “What do you want to do with its feathers?” “I want to wear them, because it will be a pleasure to know that I have them on my head,” declared the younger brother, plucking two feathers from the body of the turkey, for he required no more for his purpose. Then he ordered his brother to fasten these in a socket attached to a chin band, so that they would turn with the wind when worn on the head. Having done this, the elder brother placed the socket so fastened on his brother’s head. This gave the younger brother a distinguished aspect.

Every night before retiring the younger brother would remove the chin band with the socket containing the two plumes and hang it on the side of the lodge. When daylight came the first thing he did was to fasten on his head the chin band with the socket with its latchet of buckskin thongs, exclaiming, “I take pleasure in these feathers, for I am going to have a festival in their honor.”

One day the younger brother went into the forest adjoining the lodge. His brother, watching from a distance, saw him go back to a fallen tree. In a short time the elder brother heard singing and the sound of dancing, whereupon he said, “I verily believe that my younger brother is crazy,” for he had never seen such things done before. When the younger brother returned to the lodge his brother asked him bluntly: “What were you doing? Were you not dancing behind the tree? Why do you go so far away from the lodge? You should have your dance right here in this lodge. Why should you go off alone?” “You do not know the tune I sing, and so I must sing alone,” was the answer. The elder brother replied, “I should learn the tune, too, so that I could take part in the singing of the song.” “No,” declared the younger brother, “I know the tune, and if you want to take part with me, you may dance.” The elder brother rejoined: “No; it is not right that I should dance while I have no feathers in my headgear.” Answering, the brother said: “You may change places with me if you wish. Then you shall hunt the smaller game. I kill birds, and it is from them that I learn the songs. The animals which you hunt and kill do not sing; but, perhaps, I could not kill the large game because I am so small, and it may be that you could not kill the birds because you are so large.” “Well,” replied the elder, “you may have it all to yourself, and I will merely watch you sing and dance.”

So the elder brother continued to hunt large game, and at times he would hear the singing and the dancing as he came near their home. When the younger brother would hear him approaching he would pretend to be doing something quite different from dancing and singing. This conduct caused the elder brother to wonder and to fear that something peculiar was about to happen to both of them. Often he would say to his brother: “Why did you stop hunting? You do not go to hunt any more.” The younger brother answered: “I listen to the singing of the birds and so learn their songs; this is why I do not shoot them.” “It is well,” rejoined the elder brother, who continued to hunt such game as he required. But one day his younger brother said to him, “My feathers are nearly worn out, and I want you to kill another turkey for me.” So the elder brother killed the largest turkey he could find, and then said to his brother, “Skin this turkey instead of plucking its feathers.” He did as requested, and the elder brother having made a pouch of the skin, asked his brother, “Do you like this robe?” “I like it very much, and I am thankful to you, brother,” was the answer. As the skin of the turkey began to dry, the younger brother, getting into the pouch, would walk around looking just like a turkey, and he seemed to enjoy greatly this new form of dress. When he walked into the lodge, he would come out of the skin, which he would hang up among his belongings. The elder one said to him: “Brother, you must not go far from the lodge; it will not be safe for you to do so.” “No,” said the younger brother, “I will stay at home and take care of our things.” Matters continued thus for some time.

One day the younger brother said: “You must stay at home, not going to hunt today. Instead, you must learn to sing my songs. What I do now shall be the practice of our people hereafter, if we ever have any people or kindred; hence you must learn these songs.” So he made a rule that people of his tribe should wear feathers as insignia. The elder meditated on this matter, wondering how the younger brother could have such prophetic thoughts. “Now,” said the youth to his brother, “I am going to sing, and you must listen and must learn what I sing.” So he sang a war song. His elder brother asked him, “What kind of a song is that?” The youth replied: “It is a war song.”

From the time that the youth had commenced to study the singing of the birds he had begun to grow wise and had become experienced in the ways of the world (i.e., of the world of daimons). He kept saying, “These are songs which the people shall sing, and they, too, shall wear feathers on their heads.” The people had never heard anyone else sing, but the youth had studied out the matter from hearing the birds sing. He declared to his brother the dangers connected with singing the songs, saying, “You must be very careful about singing this song; if you are not, it will bring you senseless to the ground.” Then he added: “I am singing praises, for I have learned to sing from the birds. I give thanks as I have heard them given in my hunting expeditions. I dance to my own songs because I hear the birds sing, and I see them dance. You and I must do the same, for it will rouse a feeling of joy in our hearts.” Thus, the youth was the wiser of the two brothers.

Once when they were out hunting the younger brother saw a large bird sitting over them on a large tree. When the bird began to sing the elder brother knew that his brother must have learned a song from this bird, for he recognized a song which had been taught to him. “You are wise,” said he to the youth, “and now I shall believe that a higher magic power directs the birds to teach us songs which possess powerful orenda (magic power).” Thereupon he began to sing a song of his own, which was different from that of his brother. “Do you think that I can dance to your song?” asked the youth. “I shall try, at any rate.” Instead of singing it, the elder said, “I will tell you the words of the song, namely: ‘I am glad to see the day dawn. I am thankful for the beautiful sunbeams.’ ” “I know what that song is,” said the youth; “it is different from mine, and it has not so much joy in it; whenever we are sad we will draw our words from it; we will sing it and gain courage and strength thereby.”

Then the youth said, “You would better go to your hunting, and I will go to mine.” As the elder brother was starting off, the youth leaped into his turkey-skin pouch, saying, “Brother, let me go with you.” “I go so far away,” he replied, “that it would tire you out, so I do not think you should go.” But as the youth insisted on going, finally the elder said, “I will let you go part of the way, but I can not let you go all the way, for that would be too much for you to undertake.” So they started, the youth dressed in the turkey-skin garb following his brother far into the forest, whereupon the elder said, “I think this is as far from home as you should go; now you would better return thither.” So the youth, prancing around like a turkey, went home. The elder brother had noticed that lately the youth never removed his turkey-skin robe, wearing it even at night. Not liking to have the little fellow wear this robe all the time, he asked him to take it off when retiring for the night. But the youth replied, “You made it for me, and I like to wear it constantly.” He always gave this same answer. As he dearly loved his younger brother, the elder did not order him to take it off.

The youth played just as turkeys play, and when he saw wild turkeys he would imitate the noises made by them; he was learning all the habits of the turkey, and no longer wore feathers on his head; his voice began to change and it did not sound to his brother as it formerly had. The elder brother wondered about and worried over this conduct of the youth. At last he commanded the younger one to remove his turkey-skin robe. He replied, “I can not take it off, so you will have to take it off of me.” On trying to do this, the elder brother found he could not remove the robe, which had grown to the little fellow’s body, so he let it alone.

The brothers always ate together when encamped in the same lodge. One day the brother with the turkey-skin robe declared, “I will now go with you, but you must be strictly on your guard, for something strange is about to happen.” The youth was very wise; his counsel and advice seemed superior to the opinions of any other man and beyond the comprehension of his elder brother. Once when the elder brother, returning, failed to find his brother at home he went to bed. But in the morning he heard his brother on the roof of the lodge making the noises which turkeys make at the break of day, whereupon he was convinced that the youth had really turned into a turkey. This conviction made him feel very strange. Soon he heard his brother jump to the ground and come into the lodge. On entering he exclaimed: “Brother! brother! a woman is coming. I think she desires to see you, but you must be exceedingly cautious, for something may happen to us. By all means you must not accompany her if she asks you to do so; but if you do go I shall follow you.” That day when the woman came she saw in front of the lodge what she took to be a turkey, and eyed it carefully. Thereupon the youth acted as much as possible like a turkey in order to deceive her the more completely. On entering the lodge the woman found the elder brother, whom she had come to take away, and said to him, “I have come purposely to have you accompany me home.” In replying, he said, “I shall ask my brother, to learn what he will think about this matter.” Going out, he consulted with his younger brother, who had in appearance become a turkey, saying, “That woman has come. What is to be done?” The answer came: “Have I not told you that she would come? She is a great sorceress whose purpose is to destroy us. You must tell her that you are not ready to go today, but that you and your brother will go tomorrow. I foresee that if we go something evil will happen to us if we are not very cautious.” Going into the lodge, the elder brother said to the woman, “We will start as soon as we can get ready.” She did not once suspect that what she had taken for a turkey was the other brother. The brother with the turkey-skin robe decided to remain in the lodge that night, lest something evil might befall his elder brother; so he placed himself on a convenient perch, the woman thinking he was a tame turkey. The next morning neither of the brothers thought of eating anything. The elder said, “I think that I shall have to accompany this woman,” to which the Turkey Brother replied: “It is very wrong of you to go. She is a great sorceress, and we can not overcome her orenda.”

The woman had come from the west, where the two brothers had never been. When the Turkey Brother saw the woman and his brother leave the lodge together, he followed them for some time, noting that they went westward. He said to himself, “I do not see why you agreed to go.” The Turkey Brother was now alone. Toward evening he felt very lonely, and he spent an anxious night. In the morning he mused with a heavy heart, saying, “My poor brother! The woman has taken him away; and if anything happens to him, I shall dream of it.” After the lapse of some time he said, “Well, I must go after my brother.” Traveling westward, the Turkey Brother came to an opening in the forest in which stood a lodge, whereupon he said, “This must be the place.” The old woman of the lodge said: “There is a turkey outside. Perhaps it has come to stay with us; it is very tame.” The elder brother now knew that his Turkey Brother had come after him, and going out of the lodge, he met him. The sorceress took a fancy to the Turkey Brother and did not think of killing him. Toward night one of the women sought to place the Turkey Brother by himself for the night, but he perched on an open gable end of a lodge in order to be able to see and hear what was taking place on the inside. After the two women had gone a short distance from the lodge, the Turkey Brother said: “Brother, how can you endure the abuse which these women heap upon you? They never give you a mouthful to eat, for they intend to kill you. I have come to tell you this, for I have discovered what they are going to do. I am going home now, but I will take you away from them.” So saying, he started eastward. As his captive brother watched him, he remarked, “It is fortunate that he can go where he likes.”

On the way homeward the Turkey Brother became so anxious about his brother that be grew enraged at the woman. When he reached home he thought of some scheme by which he might be able to cast off his turkey-skin robe, for he had definitely decided in his own mind that he had worn the disguise long enough. But how to get rid of it was the question, for it had grown to him. At last, however, he was able to free himself from the garment. Hanging it up, he put his plumed chin-band on his head. While eating his meal he kept thinking of his brother. Finally, he exclaimed, “Now is the time!” and being in his human form, he called on his tutelary, the Moose, for aid. The words of appeal had scarcely left his mouth before the Moose stood before him, awaiting his pleasure. He said to the Moose: “You must go westward to the place where live the old woman and her daughters, who hold my brother captive. This is the time of day that he goes out of the lodge. I want you to save him—you can do so by carrying him in this way (jumping on the Moose’s back)—and when you have him on your back, you must run with all your speed, being careful not to let my brother fall off. You must also take off your plumes (meaning his horns), put mine in their place; yours are too heavy for running swiftly.” Thereupon the Moose said, “Let us try it,” and after running with the little fellow on his back and completing a large circle, the Moose returned to the starting point. Then the Moose held down its head and the little fellow, taking off the horns, placed in their stead his own plumed chin-band, saying: “When you return I will put back your plumes. Now, my brother has come out of the lodge and is looking for a place in which to die, for he has determined not to die in the lodge of the old woman. So go!” With a bound the Moose was off in the direction of the lodge, and the little fellow remarked to himself, “The Moose will soon be back with my brother.” Before very long he heard a noise outside his lodge, and looking out, saw his brother hanging on the neck of the Moose, so weak that he could scarcely get him off. The little fellow pulled him by the feet until he dropped to the ground. Although he landed on his feet, he could not stand, but the younger brother managed to get him into the lodge. Coming out, he gave back to the Moose his horns, receiving in return his own plumes; thereupon he dismissed the Moose. Then he chided his brother, saying: “I told you not to go with that woman, but you would not listen to me. Now you have suffered a great punishment, but I am glad that you are back home. Your journey has caused me great trouble. We are now free from the woman and can now live happily together.”

[

Contents

]

Sʻhodieonskon went on a journey to distant places in visits of adventure. In the first place he came to he found a large number of lodges. Here he told the people that in his village everyone was ill of a certain disease; that the same disease would come to them, too; and that his people had discovered but one cure for it—all persons who were married slept with other men’s wives and other women’s husbands, and this saved them. Believing this, the people did as he had told them.

Then Sʻhodieonskon started off in another direction. When he came in sight of the second village he began to call out according to the custom of runners, Goʹweh! goʹweh! so the people knew that news of some kind was coming. As they gathered around him after his arrival, he told them that a plague was upon the place from which he had come, and that if they wished to prevent or cure this plague they must cut holes in the bark walls of their lodges and close these by putting their buttocks into them, and that all the families must do this. Going home, the people defecated into their lodges through these holes in the walls, whereupon Sʻhodieonskon mocked them for being fools, and thrust his walking-stick through the holes as he went, jeering at them, from lodge to lodge, before his departure.

In the next adventure he met a crowd of men; this time he wore long hair reaching to the ground. All looked at his hair, wondering how he got it. When they asked him, he said that he had climbed a tree and, after tying his hair to a limb, jumped off. In this way the hair became stretched as much as he wanted. Further, they could do likewise if they wished. After Sʻhodieonskon had gone his way one of the men, saying, “I am going to make my hair long,” climbed a tree and, having tied his hair to a limb, jumped down. His scalp was torn off, and, falling to the ground, he was killed. The other people, enraged, said, “That man is Sʻhodieonskon; we must overtake and kill him.” Running after him, they soon came in sight of a creek, in which they saw a man spearing fish. Every little while, raising his foot, he would pull off a fish, for he had sharpened his leg and was using it for a spear. They watched him take several fish from his leg. When they reached the bank he came up out of the water. They were astonished at the number of fish he had caught and asked him how he had taken so many. “You can all see,” he replied, “I have sharpened my leg and use it for a spear; when I get all the fish I want I spit on my leg, and it becomes as well as before.” Then he showed them how he did it. He put the fish he had speared on a string. Then the men wanted to spear fish, so they asked him, “Can not you sharpen our legs, so that we may spear fish?” After he had sharpened their legs, entering the water, they went to work, while he disappeared. Presently they began to feel sore and had caught nothing. So they all came up, and sitting on the bank, they spat on their legs and rubbed them, but this treatment was of no efficacy in healing their wounds. Meanwhile Sʻhodieonskon was far out of sight on his way to a new village.

When Sʻhodieonskon drew near to the third village he called out, Goʹweh! goʹweh! The people gathered around him, asking what had happened. He told them that in the place whence he had come the young men were killing all the old ones, who could be saved only if the women would give themselves to the young men; so the women did so, and nothing happened to the old men.

Sʻhodieonskon then hurried to another place. When he arrived there, all asked what the matter was in his place. “Another sickness,” he said, but he had the medicine to cure it. This medicine was bear’s oil, which he carried in a bark bowl (it was his urine). He sold it to the villagers to be drunk with their food. When warm it crackled like salt. Although they knew it was not oil, they drank it. As he left the village he said that he had never seen such stuff eaten before, and ridiculed them.

Continuing his journey, Sʻhodieonskon met a man, and they sat down by the trail. He offered the man a cake which corresponded to the oil he had just sold, but the man refused to eat it and went his way.

Sʻhodieonskon, not to be baffled, called up a couple of bears. When they came to him he said: “I want you to carry me. I will rest one foot on one of you and the other foot on the other. We will go in this direction, running around until we meet a man. I will tell this man that I will give you to him to mount, and when he places one foot on each of you his feet will become fastened to your backs, whereupon you must go in opposite directions, tearing him apart.” Having agreed to do this, they soon ran around ahead of the man, to whom Sʻhodieonskon said, “I have ridden these bears so long that I am tired of them; if you would like, I will give them to you.” They seemed so tame and were so fine-looking that the man gladly took them and jumped on their backs, whereupon his feet grew fast to them in a moment. After running together a little way the bears ran in different directions. The man, badly injured and half dead, finally became free from the bears. He said to himself, “Well, I have found Sʻhodieonskon.”

Sʻhodieonskon, having journeyed farther, met a party of young women. Stopping them, he said: “It is not best for you to continue on that road—it is dangerous, for when you meet a man dressed in hemlock boughs you must not be afraid, but must do everything he wants you to do, so as to keep on friendly terms with him.” Going on through the woods, the women soon saw something moving in front of them, which they noticed was covered with hemlock boughs. They were frightened, but after a while one of them, saying “I will not be afraid,” went straight up to him and talked with him some time behind a tree. Then she came back, telling the others to go, that there was nothing to be afraid of. So they went, one by one, and after all had been there he went away. One of the women whistled out his name and called him, but he had gone after fooling them all. Sʻhodieonskon and the man in the hemlock boughs were one.

Sʻhodieonskon went on again, soon coming to an opening where there was a number of bark lodges. Going into the lodges he said, “There is a man coming to destroy all the people, and to escape him they must cover all the smoke-holes, for he has a long spear which he thrusts into them to spear the people.” Then he invented a name for the man. All went to work covering the smoke-holes of their lodges. The chief of the village had two beautiful wives. Sʻhodieonskon coveted them and did not tell the chief the story of the man with the spear. When all the other lodges were covered and full of smoke, Sʻhodieonskon ran over the roofs, frightening everybody almost to death; not daring to go out, all remained half stifled in the smoke. At last Sʻhodieonskon, climbing the roof of the chief’s lodge, speared him to death and took his wives and all he had.

In due time the funeral of the chief was held, and all came to bury him. Sʻhodieonskon, appearing among the mourners, cried, saying: “I am sorry for the chief; he was a friend of mine, and now he is dead and gone. I am so sad. I do not wish to live. You must bury me with him.” So they put Sʻhodieonskon in the ground beside the chief. The next day some boys who were out at play heard a man calling for help, his voice seeming to come from the graveyard, whereupon they went to the spot. The voice seeming to come out of the grave, they ran and told the people. The people agreed to dig him up. When they had done so Sʻhodieonskon, standing on the ground, said: “There is a very important thing to be done. I came back because the chief had two wives; they mourn for their husband, and I feel sorry for them. I am sent back to marry the two widows.” After talking over the affair the people said it was a great thing that a man should be sent back from the other world to marry the widows of their chief, so they consented to the arrangement, and Sʻhodieonskon, having married them, settled down.

[

Contents

]

57. The Cannibal Uncle, His Nephew, and the Nephew’s Invisible Brother

An uncle and his nephew dwelt together in a forest, subsisting by hunting. They lived in a lodge which had a partition through the middle and a door at each end. Neither one ever entered the part occupied by the other, all communication between them being held by means of conversation carried on through the partition. Each went in and out of his own part of the lodge whenever he liked, but never dared to cross the threshold of the other’s room.

After a time the nephew, a handsome young man, discovered his uncle’s true nature—he was a man-eater, an Ongwe Ias.

One day a woman came to the nephew’s room. The next morning at dawn the uncle exclaimed, “My nephew has two ways of breathing.” The young man, speaking to himself, said: “My uncle is mistaken. I am only talking to myself.” “Oh!” said the old man, “My nephew can not deceive me. There are two in his room, and I am glad that some wild game has come to visit him.”

The old man then said that he was going out to hunt. When the uncle had gone the young man said to his wife: “My uncle knows that you are here, and now you must heed my words, or he will kill and eat you. Three other women have been here before you. He killed and devoured them all, for they disregarded my warnings. Now, before I go, I will bring water and wood and everything else you want, so you will not need to go out. I will also get a vessel for your use. If you go out you are lost; my uncle will surely kill you. As soon as I leave the lodge, he will come back, for he knows you are here.” After he left the door, the young man turned back and again warned his wife not to disobey him.

The moment the husband was out of sight in the woods the uncle came to the door. Having the power of commanding things to be done which he did not see, the uncle said, “Let it be necessary for the woman to go out.” When he saw that she did not come out he said, “Let the water with which she is cooking boil away.” The water boiled away, but as she had plenty more she did not go out. Seeing this, the uncle became terribly angry, and said, “I will get her out in one way or another.” Now the old uncle was a man-eater, and the nephew had discovered that instead of hunting beasts and birds he hunted human beings, and that every man or woman he met, he killed, and having brought home the body on his shoulders, he cooked and ate the flesh. The nephew hunted game, for the uncle had always made him find his own food.

This day, as the young man was returning, he saw smoke rising from his end of the lodge, whereupon he thought, “All is well; my uncle has not been able to kill my wife.” When he entered he thanked her for her obedience. In the evening about dusk they heard the old man come in and knew that he had brought nothing. He called out: “What luck has my nephew had to-day?” “I have had good luck,” replied the nephew. The uncle said, “I found nothing.” Now he muttered to himself about his nephew, blaming him for hiding his uncle’s game in his part of the lodge, and saying that he would have his own. He heard the two breathing and could not be deceived. Determined to have something to eat, the old man pounded bones into small pieces and putting them into a large kettle which he filled with water, he made soup. The husband and wife on the other side of the partition did not talk.

The nephew decided to leave the place. As he had been thinking of doing so for some time, he had his plans well laid. Unobserved by his uncle he had walked in circles around the lodge, going farther and farther each day. When he had made paths three days’ journey in circuit he told his wife what he intended to do. That night the uncle said: “I am going to be absent two or three days. I can find no game in all this country about here.” “Well,” said the nephew, “hunters go where they can find something to kill and are often gone many days. I, too, am going farther. Game is getting scarce in our neighborhood.”

The nephew remained in his part of the lodge, waiting, and in three days the old man appeared without game. When he came in, talking with himself, he said: “What luck has my nephew had?” “Very good. I have plenty to eat,” answered the nephew. The old man continued: “I found nothing; this hunting ground is barren, and my eyes see no more game. But though I have no fresh food, I have plenty of bones here in this pile, which I shall break up and have a soup.” Then the young man heard his uncle breaking up the bones; there was a terrible racket and crushing. At last the young man said, “My uncle makes too much noise.” “My nephew would not find fault if he were in my place. I am trying to get something to eat,” came the retort, and the old man, paying no heed to what his nephew said, kept hard at work. The next morning at daybreak he said, “I am going to hunt, and I shall be away for three days.” “I am glad,” thought the nephew; he was very angry with his uncle and ready to fight.

One day the invisible brother saw an arrow come into the dooryard; striking the ground, it burst asunder and a woman came out. She went into the lodge, where she saw her bother-in-law, who said: “I knew you were coming. I am glad you obeyed your husband, for your obedience has enabled you to accomplish this great journey.” He continued: “You have never seen me before; no one but my brother has ever seen me, and he only two or three times. I know what will come to us from the wrath of our uncle; he will pursue us and if possible will destroy you.” The husband was six days making the journey to the lodge where his brother was, which was situated near a lake.

When uncle got home and was talking to his nephew in the other room he received no answer; at this he grew very angry. Making up his mind that his nephew was not at home, he went out to look for his trail in order to learn which way he had gone. Finally, on striking the trail, he found it was some time since he had left; the footprints looked about as old as his own made three days before. Going back to the lodge he muttered: “I will follow him tomorrow; the world is so small that he can not escape me. I will follow him everywhere.” Now, the invisible brother, though a great way off, heard the uncle talking to himself, heard his threats: “My daughter-in-law will never get out of my reach. I will go to the outskirts of the world very quickly. I do not see why he takes her away, thinking she can escape; he will never succeed, for I will have her flesh.” The invisible brother told his brother what the uncle said.

After the old man had traveled one day, the nephew said to his wife: “Now, we must go; our uncle is on our trail, and he is determined to have your life. Therefore be cautious. Do exactly as I bid you.” As the uncle followed on the ground the trail that he saw in the air, he muttered to himself. The invisible brother heard him. All started for the beach, the woman taking the lead, and the husband stepping in her footprints. As they looked across the lake they could see smoke. The husband said, “We will go yonder to that lodge and stop there for the night.” As they were going along the beach he halted, and, taking a clamshell from his bosom, threw it toward the other side of the lake. At once the banks came so close together that the woman could step over. After they had crossed, on looking back they could scarcely see the other shore. The nephew had crossed to a new lodge in order to delay his uncle, thinking that when the old man came to the water he would be long in crossing and would lose the trail. Telling his wife to say nothing, the young man left her, to hunt.

The lake had now expanded to its proper width. Taking off her raiment, the old man threw it into his nephew’s lodge, saying, “Be you a helpmate to my nephew.” He then cut the body open, finding that it contained twins. He hid the children with the head and breast of the mother in a hollow tree, and gave thanks that his nephew had preserved the game so long, for he would have a second meal at another time. After washing the bloodstains from the body in the lake he put the body on his back and then threw the shell. When the banks closed together, he stepped over, and as he looked back, he saw the lake spread out again.

On coming home soon after, the nephew expected to see smoke rising from his lodge, but saw none. “There! my word has come true; she has forgotten my warning.” Looking around, he saw his uncle’s tracks, whereupon he said, “Such is my luck. I can not help it.” Then he began to cook his meal. Shortly he discovered his wife’s clothing. Having become accustomed to his uncle’s behavior, he was not much astonished, nor did he feel very badly because his uncle had now killed his fourth wife. While cooking supper he had to go for water. As he stooped down to get it, he heard a voice say, “Your uncle has killed me. Your uncle has killed me, has killed me.” On looking toward the willows out of which the voice came, he saw them bespattered with his wife’s blood, whereupon he knew that she had been murdered. He had two proofs now—his uncle’s tracks and the speaking blood. Becoming disheartened, he decided never to go back to his uncle’s lodge. He continued hunting with two dogs, and being successful, took pleasure in doing this. On returning to camp one day he discovered tracks around his fire—two little trails. For some time he paid no attention to these, though he found them whenever he came home. They looked like children’s tracks, but he could not believe they were such, thinking that perhaps some little animal had gotten into the lodge. At last, looking at his store of meat, he saw that one of the pieces was gone from the row; he thought some animal must have taken it. Things continued in this way until finally the meat was carried away at such a rate that he resolved to find out what was going on at home. The next day still more meat was taken. He found that the stolen piece had struck the ground, and having been dragged out of doors, had been drawn along. He followed the trail until he came to a big hollow log, at the opening in which the trail disappeared. While sure that some animal lived in the tree, he made no further discovery.

The next day the nephew started off to hunt, but after going a short distance into the woods, he stopped to watch his lodge. Looking down from a hill near by, he saw two little children run into the lodge. Thereupon, hurrying back, he continued his watch. He soon saw them come out, dragging a piece of meat. (They used to go to where the meat was hanging, and climbing up as best they could, throw it to the ground.) They had all they could drag, for two pieces were tied together. Going straight to the farther end of the log, they disappeared, dragging the meat after them. He thought, “Tomorrow I will catch them.” He had learned that they could talk, for as they pulled the meat along, he heard one say, “Hurry up; father will soon come.”

The next morning, after going a short distance, he hid himself and waited. The time seemed long. At last the children came from the log, and entering the lodge, closed the door. Then the father ran up and went in himself, fastening the door after him. The moment the children saw him, they began to cry. “Why do you cry,” he asked, “I am your father. Do not cry.” At this they stopped crying. Then he said, “You will stay here with me.” As he had overheard them calling him father, he asked, “How do you know that I am your father?” As he questioned them, sitting by the fire, he on one side and the two children together on the other, one of them, who was slightly larger than the other, said: “Your uncle came over here and killed our mother, cutting off her head and her breasts. Then he threw her intestines into a hollow log. We were among the intestines, and as the breasts were there, we drew milk from them and so were able to live. Her head is there with us now. As the boy answered readily, the father asked him what they did with the meat they took from the lodge. “We come,” said the boy, “to get the meat to feed our mother.” The father said, “You must now live with me.” He then made little ball clubs and a ball for them to play with in the dooryard; he was so kind that they were willing to stay.

Whenever their father went hunting they would go and feed their mother. Once when the father came home, one of the boys said to him, “Our mother is very hungry, for we have not fed her today.” The father replied: “Feed her; give her all she will take. I have no objection. As you know, we always have plenty of meat, so you may take as much as you please to feed your mother.” He was very kind to the children, because he loved them, and to keep them from running away, he let them do as they liked with what was in the lodge. He soon discovered, however, that his stock of meat was disappearing very fast, faster than he could bring in more. This continued until he began to feel discouraged and frightened. The boy said to his father when the latter returned one day, “My mother eats all the time,” telling how much she ate, and asked his father to go and see her. The father went to the tree with the boys, and on looking in, saw two great eyes in a skull from which the teeth were projecting and the flesh had disappeared, and the bones of which were somewhat bruised.

The boys asked, “Now, father, what do you think?” “I am afraid,” he answered, “that after she has eaten all our meat she will eat us.”

“Let us go to some other part of the world, so she will have to travel far to overtake us,” said one of the boys; “we can not feed her any longer, for she never gets enough now, and we are tired.” The man saw that, do what they might, she would not be satisfied. The boys said, “We will go away first if you like.” The father answered: “You may go. Your mother has become a man-eater. You may escape.” The next morning the boys started westward with the dogs. The father said he would not go just then, but that he would follow. He had to go in another direction and therefore would go southward first. When the children were a short distance from the lodge the dogs looked at them, and thinking how hard it was for them to trudge along, the larger dog said to the larger boy, “Come! get on my back;” and the smaller dog said to the smaller boy, “Come! get on my back.” Both mounting the dogs, away they went. The dogs ran so swiftly that the hair of the boys’ heads streamed backward, and they enjoyed the ride so much that the woods were full of their laughter. After they had gone a long distance, for the dogs went like the wind, they saw traces of human beings. There were places where the trees had been cut down. The dogs said, “Now you would better slip off and go on foot to the settlement.” The boys were unwilling to go, but the dogs were determined, and shaking themselves, as if they had just been in water, the children tumbled off. Telling the children again to go on to the settlement, the dogs went back to their master. He had told them that he would leave in two days, for then the Head would come out of the tree and go into the lodge; then climbing up to the place where the meat was kept, the Head would eat it all.

The boys had told their father that by going southward he would find uncles who might help him escape, for they were just such powerful men as his old uncle was. When the dogs got back to their master they said that he must make every effort he could to escape; that they would remain until the last piece of meat was gone, but that he must go at once. The lives of all were in danger, for when the meat was all eaten the Head would fly in the direction of her people, although they (the dogs) would stay and detain the Head as long as possible. “In three days all the meat will be devoured: flee for your life; go south toward your other uncles, for she will follow you,” the dogs said.

The man did as the dogs advised, starting off southward and going with great speed, for he was a good runner. Two days after he had left home one of the dogs overtook him and said: “The meat is all gone and she is now trying to find the trail of her children. She can follow it as far as they walked, but no farther, for we took them on our backs at a certain distance from the lodge and carried them far away. They are now in the west. Be on your guard. She will soon strike your trail and pursue you. Follow me! The Head is very angry.” As the dog looked back he said: “The Head has started and is coming. We have never seen so great witchcraft as she has, although we have seen much, but this we are not able to comprehend. As you have always said, there is no one living who can outrun you; now use all your strength.”

When the Head started, the dogs left behind did all they could to delay her, biting her whenever she turned to pursue them, and dodging into the ground. As the Head went on again they would spring at her; and when she turned on them they would again escape into the ground. Her track could be seen plainly, for the bark was all bitten from the trees, where the dogs kept her back and prevented her from flying ahead.

As the man ran on, nearly exhausted, he saw a lodge, and running into it, he called to his aunts, “Help me! Help me! Something is after me to take my life.” “Poor man,” said his aunts, “hurry on; we will do what we can to delay the Head. Go to the next lodge, where your mothers live; if we can not detain her, perhaps they will be able to help you.” He was not out of sight when he heard his aunts call to their children to have courage, and then he heard a great tumult. When the Head flew into the lodge, it bit at everything with which it came in contact, tearing it to pieces. The women attacked the Head with clubs, and there came to his ears the sound of the blows of the clubs on the skull. When halfway to the other place, all was still at his aunts’ lodge.

Suddenly he heard his brother calling out, “Run! or we are lost.” The invisible brother who urged him forward pushed him by the neck whenever he was near, and then they seemed to run faster. They were in a great hurry to reach the lodge, and he pushed him on until they were there. Thereupon the man called on his mothers, saying, “Mothers, help me! help me!” “Oh, poor son! you are in trouble; go on—we will do what we can.” He hurried through the lodge. The Head came in as he went out, and the dog, running around the lodge, urged him on. The brother was invisible when they passed through the lodge. The mothers called out to all their children, “Kill the Head if you can!” All got their most deadly and potent weapons, and the two brothers heard the old mothers urge their children to fight with all their strength. The dogs remained outside the door, ready to fly at the Head when she came out. One of the women stumbled and fell, whereupon the Head, after catching and hurling her out, devoured her in an instant.

All wishing to give thanks, the mothers said: “We ought to have a game of ball. Your brother is free. It is our duty to give thanks. The ball shall be this Head.” Picking up the Head, she carried it out, calling in a loud voice, “Here, warriors! is a ball you can have to play with.” Soon a great crowd of people came together with their netted clubs and began to play. All the players were wild beasts of the woods. The man stood near and saw the wild beasts playing ball with his wife’s head. All tried to get the ball, and in this way they wore it out.

The dog now came up to his master and told him that his wife was dead; and when it said “Your wife is dead,” his strength seemed to leave him; his arms dropped down, and he was sad. The invisible brother said: “You feel grieved; for my part I am glad. I do not see why you should be sad; she would have devoured you if they had not killed her. Now there is nothing to harm us. Your old uncle has gone back to his own home and will not trouble us now that he has eaten your wife’s flesh.” He added: “Your children are living in this direction (pointing westward); be of good courage, and go after them. I shall return. You will continue in one direction with your dogs until you reach the boys. You need never fear to suffer such hardships again.” So saying, he went home, and when the brother looked after him he had disappeared.

The man and his dogs went toward the west. The dogs had left the children in a place near a village where an old woman lived with her granddaughter. While the young girl was in the woods gathering fuel she heard the sound of voices. On listening, as the wind came directly to her, she discovered that they were human voices, and thought, “I will ask grandmother what to do.” When she reached home with her wood she told the old woman that she had heard children crying and asked her to go to the woods to hear for herself. The old woman asked: “In what direction were the voices? It is a pleasure to know that there are children yet alive; they must be for us.” They went to the place. “Now listen!” said the girl. “True,” said the grandmother. “Look everywhere and find these children; they may be sent to us, as we are alone.” The girl followed the sound, which she could hear distinctly as coming from the ground. She kept on until she found the two children, seemingly a year old, one slightly larger than the other. Going up to them she told them to stop crying; that she would be their mother. As she stood there talking her grandmother came, who pitied the children; she found that they were clothed with skins. The grandmother said: “Now stop crying. You shall be our children. I will be your grandmother and my granddaughter will be your mother.” The girl added: “All we have shall be yours. I will love you as a mother.” The boys stopped crying. Each had his little bow and arrows and ball club. The children went home with the women. The old woman said: “We will take care of these children. There are many people in the village, but not a child among them all. I lived here a long time, but have never seen a little child.” The children soon seemed larger and sometimes would go to hunt birds. They were never gone long at a time, and never went out of sight of the lodge. “Grandmother,” called one of the boys one day, “come and see what we have killed; it is all spotted and lies yonder in the weeds.” “Where is it? Where is it?” she asked. The boys led the way, but she could hardly keep in sight of them, as the weeds were tall. On reaching the spot she found a fawn, a few hours old, which they had killed. She carried it home, saying to herself: “I am thankful to have these children; they will be great hunters in time; their game is getting larger. First they kill birds, now a fawn.” When they did not feel like hunting they would play out near the lodge and then go in and sit down.

One day one of the boys said, “Our father is coming.” The other said, “I hardly think our father is alive.” The old grandmother overhearing this, told the boys to go out and shoot birds, for she wanted some to roast and eat. The next day while the children were out a man came into the lodge. The invisible brother had told him where he would find his children, and that he must say when he came to the old woman’s lodge, “Grandmother, I am thankful to see you,” and to the girl, “Sister, I am very glad to see you.” As he went in he saw the old woman and saluted her as grandmother; to the girl he said, “Sister.” One of the boys outside said, “Our father has come.” The other replied: “I do not believe this is he, for our father had two dogs. There are no dogs with this man.” As the boy was bound to know, raising the doorflap slightly, he saw his father sitting with his elbows on his knees and his face in his hands. Noticing a red spot on his jaw, the boy said further: “Look for yourself; see, he has a mark on his face; it is really he. Let us go and see which way he came; we can tell his trail, and we will follow it and see whether we can find the dogs.”

They had gone but a short distance when they found that the dogs had gone in another direction, whereupon one of the boys said: “Let us follow their tracks; father loves those dogs; let us find them.” In the evening they found one dog sitting on a fallen tree. The larger boy said: “There sits one of the dogs.” “Let us go and see if it is really father’s dog,” said the other. On hearing the children’s voices the dogs were as much pleased to see them as the boys were to see the dogs. The boys now said, “Let us all go home.” The boys did not know the way, however, so the dogs took the lead. It was late at night and very dark, and the people at home were frightened and very anxious about the children, not knowing where to look for them. When the boys came back, the grandmother asked: “Why were you gone so long? Why did you frighten us so?” “We were looking for our father’s dogs,” said they. Thereupon they went into the lodge, the dogs following. The man was lying down, so all went to sleep. All were now together again.

The young woman was the man’s own sister and the grandmother was his grandmother. They all lived very happily together. And this is the story.

[

Contents

]

One morning Doonongaes said to his servant: “I am going on a long journey, and I want you to be faithful in the performance of your duty. If you find a trespasser, kill and eat him.” “Very well,” replied Skahnowa, “it shall be done as you say.”

Doonongaes, who was running all this time with great speed, said at last, “I do not hear anyone talking.” Then his neck began to feel tired, and he said, “This lodge wearies me,” and jerking his head, off went the lodge, falling some distance away. On going up to it he found it empty. “Very well. We shall soon see about this,” thought he: “No one has ever been able to get away from me. I will put these two out of the way.” Thereupon he ran back as fast as he could, saying, “When could they have escaped? Oh! my neck is sore.” As he went he snuffed the air to find the women. Halting and looking around he saw tracks where they had jumped from his tail, for the earth was torn up. “Ha, ha! you think you are going to escape me,” he said, starting with lightning speed on their track. He ran until night. Toward morning he said: “The pain in my neck is increasing. I wonder if I should better go back. No; I can not give up this chase. I have always thought I could allow no one to overpower me, so I will keep on.” At midday he came to the end of the women’s trail, and could track them no farther. Now, he thought, “What shall I do, for I am determined to put them out of the world?”

Standing up, he became taller and taller until at last he stood on the tip of his tail with his head high in the air. He saw a smoke far off on one side, so he came down and shot off in that direction, reaching the place in a few moments. Halting by the lodge, he thought: “I hear some one inside. Very likely magically powerful people live here.” On peeping in, he saw a very old man sitting down smoking, with his head bowed. Doonongaes watched him for some time; at last the old man, looking up, said: “Hwu, my nephew has come! Well, nephew come in. Why do you stand outside?” “This is my uncle’s lodge; it seems he knows me,” thought Doonongaes; so he went in. “Well, nephew,” said the old man, “I am glad to see you. I have been expecting you for a long time.” “Well, I have come. What do you want?” said Doonongaes. “Oh! you and I will fight against each other,” replied the old man. “That suits me exactly,” answered Doonongaes; “it is the very game I amuse myself with.” “We will wait until noon tomorrow, when the fight will begin; you can stay here with me until then,” said the old man. This old man was the grandfather of the two women who were trying to escape. His name was Gwidogwido. The next day the old man said, “Now, let us go.” They went through the woods until they came to an opening, whereupon the old man said, “Here is where I always fight.” Seeing the ground was covered with bones, Doonongaes became greatly frightened and asked, “Is there not some way to annul our pact, for I want to continue my journey?” “No,” replied the old man, “we have agreed to it.” “What would happen if I should refuse to play?” said Doonongaes. “Well, if you do not want to fight, give yourself up to me, and I will do what I like with you,” answered the old man. “If I do that I suppose you will kill me; so we may as well fight,” replied Doonongaes.