Part 1 — LEGENDS

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Once there was a village in which it was the custom of the people to fight a great deal, for they were very warlike. A strange boy came to this village; he was small and perhaps 4 years old. No one knew whence he came. He could do nothing for himself, but he wandered around the village, staying here and there in the several lodges. First one family then another would keep him for a little while. The people did not care much for him, nor pay much attention to him. Finally he grew to be a young man. There was at this time a good deal of talk among the people about getting up a party to go on the warpath. At last 20 men were found who were willing to go. This young man, hearing about the party, asked permission to go, too. He asked one and then another, but all refused his request. Thereupon he said: “I do not care. I will go anyhow.” He was so peculiar that no one really liked him.

The 20 warriors started and he went along with them. When night came, fires were built; there were two men at each fire, but the boy built a fire for himself. Several days passed in this way. One night, however, when all were asleep, the young man had a dream. A man appeared to him, who said: “I have come to warn you that if you do not change your course somewhat you shall all perish tomorrow at noon. Tell this to the headman of the party and urge him to change his course.” They were then going northward. The boy told his dream the next morning to the headman, who scolded, saying: “I did not want this fellow; he is nothing but a hindrance, nothing but a coward. We have come to meet an enemy. Why should we turn back even if we know there is one in our path?” So, after eating their morning meal, they continued northward, paying no heed to the warning in the young man’s dream.

When the sun was near the middle of his path across the sky, the party, which was going in Indian file, noticed that the headman stopped, then the next one, then the next. The boy, who brought up the rear, found that they were looking at a track, saying: “It is Ganiagwaihegowa, which always kills the people it meets. Its magic power is so great that the instant anyone looks at its tracks, no matter how far off, Ganiagwaihegowa knows it, and returns to destroy that person.” As the boy listened, he said: “I am very anxious to see this bear. I have never seen such a thing.” The men said, “You do not want to see so terrible a thing;” but he insisted. The chief said: “If this is really your wish, you must not follow us. We shall turn off here and go in a different direction, and you can go on northward; but if you meet this bear you must run in some direction, some course different from ours.” They tried to make him go with them, but he would not do so.

The young man left the bear’s carcass after he had taken three hairs from its “whiskers” and one tooth out of its mouth. Then going back to the spot where he had left his bundle and getting it, he followed the trail of the twenty men. Running fast, he overtook them, whereupon he said, “I have killed Ganiagwaihegowa, of which you were so much afraid.” They were naturally greatly astonished, for no man had ever been able to kill this creature, so they said: “If he has done this, he must have great orenda. Let us go back and see.” So they turned back, and after traveling until sunset they came to the place where the body of Ganiagwaihegowa lay. They saw that it was of enormous size, and said: “We will burn up the body; we will keep up the fire all night until it is burned. Then each man shall take a little of the ashes and a few of the bones, just enough for medicine to give him its magical power.” After the fire had gone out, the men went to sleep; in the latter part of the night they stirred the ashes with sticks until each found a piece of bone. The chief said: “You must be very careful about taking the remnants of this bear. Let each one before taking up his bone say what gift he wants, what power he desires.” Most of the men desired to be good hunters and brave warriors and some to be fast runners. One man said, however, “I want to be admired by all women.”

The things the young man had chosen were good for every purpose, but he did not let the others know that he had taken anything. The headman said, “We will go on in the same direction; that is, toward the north.” The men had changed their opinion of the young man; they now looked on him with respect as a person of great magical powers. The party traveled many days.

Finally, the young man, snatching the stranger’s club, hurled it away and threw him down. When the enemy saw their chief man overpowered, they began to run. The youth kept on until he had killed the big man. A large number of the enemy were killed, but not one of the 20 men was injured. Having piled up the dead of the enemy, they burned them. The victors secured a great string of scalps (the big man was not a Genonsgwa; he was merely a very large and strong man with magical powers).

The warriors now had great respect for the young man, and when they came home and told everything, the respect of the people increased so that he was made a chief. The people thought of him as a Genonsgwa, though he did not look like one; they remembered only the big man’s words.

Now, another expedition was spoken of and many volunteered, but only 30 were taken, for that was as large a party as was required. All were ready. The women had provisions prepared for them. Starting out, they went toward the north, as before.

On the third night the young man, now a chief, dreamed that some one came to him, saying: “Tomorrow night when you camp the enemy will be camped near by, and you will discover each other. (It was not the custom of Indians in those days to attack in the night, but always just at daybreak.) Now be you ready, all of you, as soon as daylight is dawning and attack the enemy. Be sure that you attack and not they.” The next morning Stone Coat, the chief, told his dream (he knew the warriors believed him then) word for word. That night when they camped, they discovered the enemy not far away, also arranging a camp. During the night few of the warriors slept, for they felt anxious, and some were afraid of an attack, though it was not the rule to attack in the night.

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60. The Grandmother and her Grandson

An aged grandmother and her grandson lived by themselves in a lodge in the forest. When the grandson had grown to be quite a large boy his grandmother said to him: “Here are a bow and a quiver of arrows. They were formerly used by your uncle, who was killed by a great witch. So take the bow and the quiver of arrows and learn to use them.”

The next morning the grandmother again gave her grandson parched corn to eat, and when he had eaten she cautioned him once more against going northward. By the middle of the day he had killed a larger string of birds than on the previous day, so he went home to his grandmother. She greeted him at the doorway with the words, “I thank you, grandson, for your success, for we are well off now and shall have plenty to eat.” That night, however, she talked seriously with him, cautioning him in these words: “My grandson, you must always hunt only to the southward from here. You must never go to the northward, for many dangers lurk there which may cut us both off, for you and I are the only persons of our family who are left from destruction by sorcery. So if you are obedient and listen to my words of caution to you, we shall probably live.”

The next morning she sent him off again, as she had done so many mornings before. But he had to go a long way this day before he was able to find any game. By the middle of the day, however, he again met with an Ohsoon, which he killed. Having secured it to his body with a bark sling, he started for home, remarking to himself, “Oh! how far away the game animals have gone from home.”

As usual, the next morning he started off to hunt. But after he had gone a short distance he began to think and wonder: “Why does grandmother forbid my going to the north? Yet game is getting scarce in the south?” Finally he came to the conclusion that he would then and there disregard the injunction of his grandmother. So he changed his course to the northward. Soon he found a large number of birds. But he had not gone much farther before he heard some one call: “Hallo, nephew! I have caught you.” Looking up, he saw a man sitting on a resting place formed of the tops of several trees, which had been drawn and tied together in a tuft or sheaf of branches. There the man sat as if he were in a basket. “Well, my nephew,” he continued, “what would you do if it should rain spears?” The young man replied, “Oh! we should be very thankful for them, for we need some.” Then the young man ran homeward as fast as he could. Having arrived there, grasping his grandmother by the hand, he dragged her along with the remark, “Oh! grandmother, we must run and hide.” She answered him, “Oh! my grandson, you have been to the north, where I told you not to go.” But he pulled her along as fast as she could go, until finally they came to a spring; leaping into this, they went along underground until they came to a rock. There they sat down and silently waited a long time. At last the boy said: “I think that the storm is over. Let us go home now.” When they reached home they found the lodge leveled to the ground. The poor old grandmother said, “This, indeed, comes of your going to the northward, where I told you not to go.” But the grandson coolly remarked: “Never mind. Oh! grandmother, I will soon have a lodge here.” Then walking around an area as large as he desired the lodge to be, he exclaimed, “Let a lodge at once fill this space of ground.” Hardly had his words died away before a lodge, complete in all its appointments, stood there. Then the grandmother and her potent grandson entered it and they two lived in it, more comfortable than they were before.

The next morning, after having eaten his breakfast of parched corn, the youth again started off southward to hunt. But taking a circuitous course, he finally headed toward the north, remarking to himself, “I had some fun with my uncle yesterday, so I must go to see what he will say this time.” Soon he saw so many birds and was so much occupied in killing them that he had forgotten about the man in the sheaf of tree-tops. Suddenly he was halted with the challenge, “Oh, nephew! I have caught you. What would you do if I should send a shower of stones?” The youth replied, “We should be much pleased, for my grandmother often needs stones for pounding her corn for meal.” So saying, the young man fled homeward. Having arrived there, he grasped his grandmother by the arms and rushed her to the river, and then up the river to the spring. The grandmother scolded him as they fled, saying, “Oh! this is too bad, grandson; you have gone northward again.” Then she would weep bitterly. At last, coming to the spring and descending into it, they crept along until they came again to the rock under which they took shelter before. There they sat until finally the youth said, “I think the storm is now over; let us go home.” On reaching home they found their lodge in ruins again. But the youth encouraged his grandmother with comforting words and commanded the erection of another lodge as he had done in the first instance.

The next morning after he had eaten his parched corn, he started out again to hunt. Taking a southward course for a time, he soon turned toward the north. As he went along he soliloquized, “I shall not hunt, but I shall make it my business to catch my uncle.” After going some distance farther, he called a mole, to which he said, when it came to him: “I want you to take me to that tree yonder. You must go almost up to the man who sits on it. After I shall have spoken to him, you must bring me back to this place.” The mole at once agreed to aid him. By shaking himself the youth reduced his size until he became as small as a flea; then he got on the mole. The mole went to the foot of the tree indicated, whereupon the youth called out, “Oh, uncle! I have caught you.” The man looked all around but saw nothing. Again the youth shouted, “What would you do if a whirlwind should come?” The man pleaded, “Oh, nephew! do not be so hard on me as that.” The youth replied, “Oh! I did not beg that way when you asked me about spears and stones.” Then the mole ran back to the place where he had found the youth, and the latter, assuming his natural size, ran home. Grasping his grandmother’s arm, he rushed her to the spring. They both disappeared in its waters, going to their shelter under the rock. The grandmother kept scolding her grandson, saying, “It is too bad; you have been at the north again.” There under the rock they sat until the youth had calmed the whirlwind, when they came up out of the water. They found the trees uprooted and their lodge in ruins. But the youth soon had a lodge in the place of the other by merely commanding his fetishes and walking around the space of ground, as he had previously done.

The next morning, after his usual preparations, the youth started out southward from his home. When out of sight of the lodge he suddenly turned toward the north, with the remark: “I must see my uncle. I find the trees are all uprooted, and it must be that my uncle is buried under these fallen trees. So I can go to hunt in safety now.” After keeping on his journey for some time he found a large number of partridges, which he killed; then he started home. His grandmother was pleased to see him return quietly with game. After laying aside his weapons he remarked: “Well, grandmother, I have destroyed my uncle. He is no longer on the tree.” The grandmother replied, warmly, “Well, you need not think that he was alone in the world. He has a brother, who lives in a lodge farther north.” The youth made no reply, but resolved what he would do in the matter.

Then the youth went home and told his grandmother what he had done. Her only reply was: “My grandson, you still have a fourth uncle, who is more evil and more potent in orenda than the others. I advise you not to go near him, for I greatly fear that harm will come to you.” The grandson said, “I shall not go, grandmother.”

The youth now went home, where he told his grandmother what he had done. After hearing his story she said: “I am well pleased with what you have done, my grandson. You can now hunt with freedom in all directions, for there is now no one to harm you. You had a number of brothers, but their uncles destroyed them without mercy.”

She sent him to hunt, as usual. Being now quite a man, he could kill deer, bear, and other large game, but he had to go so far away to find them that he always returned late at night. Not liking this, he thought of a method by which this might be avoided. He went into the forest, after telling his grandmother that he was tired of going so far to hunt, that he would merely sing, and that the game would come to him. In the forest he made arrows, and by the time night came he had as many white-ash arrows as he could well carry.

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61. Heart Squeezing and the Dance of Naked Persons

A woman and her son lived together in a lodge situated not far from a small settlement. The boy began his career by hunting small game, but he soon killed such large game that everyone was astonished at his prowess. As he grew older, he went farther and farther into the woods. His mother, however, always warned him against going toward the northeast, saying that an evil woman lived there.

All the people were notified accordingly. The old man came, and one by one all the rest assembled. Then the old man asked whether all the guests were there who had been invited. The woman, the youth’s mother, after looking around, said, “Yes.” Telling the people to take off their garments, and to dance facing the wall, the old man, seating himself in the center of the room, began to sing. When he had finished the song, he said, “That will do.” Thereupon the dance broke up, the people dressing themselves and going home.

The young man felt better, but he was angry with the woman who had tormented him; so he decided to go again and say to her, “I have caught you,” before she had time to say it. The next morning he started off without telling his mother where he was going. When near the opening, halting, he called for a mole. In a short time the mole came, whereupon the boy said, “You must carry me to the spot where the woman is, but she must not see us.” Reducing his size until he was quite small, the young man entered the body of the mole, which went beneath the surface of the ground. After a while they peeped out, but the woman was still far off. They went on again, and when they looked out a second time, they were quite near the woman. She had large eyes, twice as large as those of anyone else, which were red as blood, and whenever she said, “I have caught you,” nothing had power over her.

The boy told the mole to go underground, so as to come out just beneath her feet. The mole did so, and then the boy, exclaiming, “I have caught you!” at that instant going into her body, squeezed her heart. She cried out with pain, “Do not squeeze so hard.” He answered, “I did not say, ‘Do not squeeze so hard,’ when you squeezed my heart.” Thereupon the woman hurried home. When near home she saw that her sisters were pounding corn for bread, and they noticed that she was crying, so one of them said, “I told you that that young man could not be beaten; you should not have touched him.”

One of the sisters, going to the same old man who had cured the boy, said, “Uncle, our youngest sister is very sick; she is singing, ‘I am going to have a dance of naked persons and a pot.’ ” The old man told her to invite the people to her pot. She did so, and when they were assembled the dance began. At the moment the old man said, “My song is finished,” the young man squeezed the girl’s heart so hard that she fell down dead. Coming out of her body, the young man went some distance before he became visible. He went home and was tormented no more. He could now hunt in any direction.

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One day a man while out hunting met Hotʻho and said to him, “You can not make me freeze, no matter how cold you can make it.” Hotʻho replied, “I can do that without much trouble.” They had a long discussion of the matter and at last agreed that they would have that night a trial of strength.

After reaching home the man carried in wood enough to burn all night; then building a huge fire, he made a large kettle full of hemlock tea. When night came he stood before the fire ready for the contest. All night long there he stood, turning first one side and then the other to the fire and often drinking a cup of the boiling hemlock tea. It was a terribly cold night and continued to grow colder until near morning. Just at the break of day Hotʻho, naked, and carrying his hatchet in a slit in the skin above his hip, came into the lodge, and sitting down on a pile of bark by the fire, said to the man, “You have beaten me;” and at that moment, growing warmer, it began to thaw.

This shows that man can conquer Hotʻho, the god of cold weather.

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There lived in a lodge in the forest Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa and three brothers. In their larder they had an abundance of oil, venison, and bear’s meat. Of the brothers Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa was the eldest. Not far from their lodge lived a brother and his sister. The brother, who was the elder, was also a turtle.

One day the youngest brother of Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa said to his brothers, “I am going over to the lodge where the Turtle lives.” His brothers, knowing the motive of the visit, replied: “It is well. You may go,” for they thought it best that he should get married. So after making suitable preparations, he started, and soon he arrived at the lodge of their neighbors. He found the Turtle’s sister at home. The visitor had slung over his shoulder a pouch that contained bear’s oil. Sitting down near Turtle’s sister, he said to her, “I want to marry you,” but she made him no answer nor any sign of recognition. While he sat there waiting for her reply, he would dip his finger into the pouch on his back, afterward sucking off the oil. He patiently waited all day for her reply, and when it was nearly night she answered, “I have decided not to marry you.” He did not press his suit, but said, “It is well;” then he went to his home. Having arrived there, his brothers asked him what success he had, and he told them. They answered, “It is well.”

Then the next elder brother said, “It must be I about whom she is thinking.” The next morning he said, “I shall now go there;” so he started. He found the sister of Turtle at home, and sitting down beside her, he said: “I have come for the purpose of marrying you. Will you consent to be my wife?” Like his younger brother, he waited the entire day for her reply. When it was nearly night she made him the same answer as she had given his brother; he then went home. Having reached there, his brothers asked him what success he had, and he told them. They answered, “It is well.” Then the third brother said, “It must be I of whom she is thinking. I shall go there tomorrow.” So the next morning he went to the lodge of Turtle, and finding the sister at home, he sat down beside her, saying, “I am here to know whether we can become man and wife.” She acted toward him just as she had toward his brothers; so he returned to his home, where he related to them how she had answered him.

Then Turtle, her brother, said: “I think that we are now about to die. The next man who will come is Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa, the eldest of the four brothers. You have made a great mistake. You should have accepted the youngest brother. I would have consented had you asked me. The youngest brother is a good man, and he possesses great orenda. But the time is now past. Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa has volunteered to come to ask you tomorrow to be his wife.”

The next morning Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa, saying to his brothers, “It has become evident that it is I of whom she is thinking,” started to call on her at the lodge of Turtle. Finding her at home, he said, “My wife, I have come after you, so you must go home with me;” thereupon, seizing her arm, he attempted to pull her along with him. Being very angry, she bitterly resisted him. Turtle, her brother, was at one end of the fire, concealed under the ashes. While Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa was struggling with the young woman as he held her by the arm, she managed her defense in such manner as to cause her captor to step on her brother, who at once bit his toe, causing him to release her. Then Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa said, “Brother-in-law, let go of my toe,” but Turtle still hung to it. At that moment the visitor, taking his staff and putting his foot on the end of the firelog, struck Turtle on the head with the staff. As he did so, Turtle at once grew magically in size and in the strength of his bite. As Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa struck him again Turtle increased in size as before and his bite grew more painful. But Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa kept on pounding him, seemingly unaware that Turtle’s size increased with his blows. Turtle continued to grow larger and larger and continued drawing in Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa until he had swallowed his entire body.

After the expiration of 10 days, as Turtle had predicted, Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa regained consciousness and, looking around, saw no one there. Then finding the young woman’s tracks, he pursued her. The fugitives had gone a long way when Turtle said to his sister, “Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa is fast overtaking us and is now near us.” So the sister kept on in her flight, and as she got over a fallen tree Turtle said to her, “Leave me here, and you continue your course.” Obeying her brother, she hastened on her way.

Not long after her departure Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa came along. As he walked over the fallen tree he stepped on Turtle without seeing him, whereupon Turtle promptly bit him again. At this Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa exclaimed, “Brother-in-law! let go of my foot; you are greatly delaying me on my course.” But as Turtle gave no heed to what his brother-in-law had said to him, Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa decided to kill him, and raising his foot with Turtle hanging to it, he beat him against the fallen tree. But as before, striking Turtle only caused him to grow in size, until he finally became large enough to swallow his enemy again. Turtle waited there for two days until he had excreted Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa; then he started on his way again. While the sister was walking along she was surprised to find her brother, Turtle, on a fallen tree. He had arrived there ahead of her by means of his orenda.

After the expiration of 10 days Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa regained consciousness, and arising, said to himself, “I have now been asleep a very long time and must continue my hunt”; so saying, he started in pursuit once more. The young woman was now growing faint and exhausted, and her brother said to her as she carried him along in the basket: “Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa is again overtaking us, and is now very near to us. Once more drop me by the first fallen tree that we come to.” She obeyed and, leaving her brother near a fallen tree, kept on her way.

When Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa came along in due time the orenda of Turtle caused him to pass within reach of the latter, who again seized his foot in his teeth. At this Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa said to his brother-in-law, “You are indeed hindering me greatly in my journey, so let go of my foot,” but Turtle paid no attention to this remonstrance. So Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa decided again to beat him to death against the fallen tree. So he began to do this, but Turtle only grew in size until he was again able to swallow his brother-in-law. Turtle waited there for two days, and then having gotten rid of Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa as before, he went on in his flight.

At the expiration of 10 days Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa, on regaining consciousness, said to himself, “I have now been asleep a very long time, and I must continue my hunt”; so he resumed at once pursuit of Turtle and his sister. In time the young woman again grew faint and exhausted, so her brother said to her as she carried him along in a basket: “Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa is again overtaking us and is now quite near us. Still again drop me beside the first fallen tree to which you come on our way.” She was willing to obey him, so she did as he said, and kept on her way. Once more, when Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa came along, Turtle, by means of his orenda, causing his adversary to pass within reach of his teeth, again seized him by the foot. Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa thereupon said to his brother-in-law, “You are indeed greatly hindering me from continuing my journey in peace; so let go of my foot.” But Turtle did not free him, holding fast to his foot. Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa therefore decided to kill him. Raising his foot with Turtle hanging to it, he beat Turtle against the fallen tree; but as he beat him, Turtle grew so rapidly in size that he was soon large enough to swallow him again. Then Turtle waited there two entire days, and when he had excreted Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa he continued his journey.

At the expiration of 10 days, when Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa had again regained consciousness, he arose, saying, “I have been sleeping now a long time and must continue my journey”; so he once more resumed his pursuit of Turtle and his sister. When Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa was again overtaking the woman, and while she was running onward, she saw a light ahead, which seemed to indicate that there might be an opening there. But she soon learned that this was a lake; and, having arrived on its shore, she looked over the water but could see nothing on the farther side. So she said to herself, “It seems that I have got to die; therefore I might as well die here.” With this remark she seated herself on a stone.

In a short time Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa reached her, and seeing her sitting there, he exclaimed, “My wife, you are waiting for me,” and he seemed to be very glad. He took out his pouch, from which he obtained a quantity of tobacco; this he began to burn as an offering to the stone on which the young woman was seated. Moreover, he addressed the stone, saying, “I thank you, because you have been the cause that has made my wife wait for me here.” He kept on thanking the stone as he went back toward the forest, also burning tobacco to the other stones.

Just then a man arose out of the waters of the lake, and addressing himself to the young woman, said, “Be quick! Come with me!” She immediately followed him into the water. When Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa turned toward the lake again, he saw at once that the woman was gone; all he found were her tracks, which led into the water.

Now, the strange man and the young woman soon came to a lodge in the depths, which they entered. The strange man had a sister, who lived in the lodge. The young woman hung up her basket, which contained Turtle. Whenever she ate anything she would drop pieces of food into the basket for her brother, Turtle. Noticing this, the young man’s sister said, “Why do you place food in there?” The young woman replied, “My brother is in there; that is why I place food there.” Then came the question, “Can I see him?” The newly arrived woman said: “Wait two days, and you can see him; then he will come out as a full-fledged man. He shall be a Turtle no longer.” This lodge was situated at the bottom of the lake. The young woman’s brother did come out a full-grown man. Afterward he lived with the strange man’s sister as her husband, and his sister became the wife of the strange man who had rescued her from Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa on the shore of the lake.

[It is not known by the story-teller who this man and his sister were, nor who the four brothers were, with the exception of one, Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa. These four brothers are Whirlwinds.—Editor.]

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64. The Moose Wife

A young man living alone with his mother concluded to go into the forest to hunt for a whole year, collecting and drying meat, and intending at the end of that period to return to visit his mother. So he traveled a long way into the forest to a region in which he thought there was plenty of deer and other game. There, having built a cabin, he began housekeeping by himself. His daily routine was to make a fire, get breakfast, and then start off to hunt. He would stay away hunting all day. Often when he got home at night he was so tired that he would not take the trouble to prepare supper, but throwing himself on his couch, he would go to sleep. He was collecting a great quantity of cured meat.

One evening when he was returning from a long tramp he saw as he neared his cabin smoke issuing from the smoke-hole in the roof. At this he became greatly troubled, for he thought that the fire may have spread and ignited his lodge. Running into the lodge as quickly as possible, what was his surprise to find a bright fire burning in the fire-pit, and his kettle, which had been suffered to boil, hanging on the crook in such a way as to keep its contents hot. He wondered who had come to cook for him, for during the time he had lived there and during his journeys he had never found a cabin, nor had he seen a human being. He searched all around to see whether he could find a trace of a person’s visit. He saw that the deer he had brought home the evening before was dressed and hung up, that a pile of wood that he had cut had been brought in, that everything had been put in order, and that even corn bread had been made. On the way home he had thought of going to bed the moment he set foot in the cabin, so he was greatly rejoiced to find a warm supper awaiting him. He sat down and ate the supper, soliloquizing, “Surely the person who got this ready will come back,” but no one came.

The next morning he started as usual to hunt. When he returned in the evening he looked to see whether smoke was coming out of the smoke-hole of his cabin. There was smoke issuing from it, and again he found supper ready for him. On discovering a partially finished braid of fibers of bark, he knew that a woman had been at work. He saw, moreover, that she had also put a large number of his green deerskins to soak, preparatory to making buckskin. Thereupon he thought how good she was, and he resolved to see her, whomsoever she might be, even if he had to give up hunting in order to do so.

In the morning he started off as though he were going to hunt, but went only a short way into the woods to a place whence he could watch the cabin. He had built no fire that morning, so that he might be able to tell the moment smoke began to rise from the lodge. Stealthily creeping back toward his home, he soon saw smoke rising from the cabin. As he drew nearer, he saw what to him was a woman come out of the lodge and take up an armful of wood. When she went into the lodge he followed her as quickly as possible. There he found a beautiful young woman, to whom he said: “You have been very kind to me, and I am very thankful to you.” She said in reply, “I knew you were starving for lack of a woman’s aid, so I came to see whether you would take me as your wife.” He accepted her offer, for he was very happy that she was willing to remain. She never left him after that. Every day she tanned the deerskins and cooked for him, working hard all the time. His wife was beautiful and he loved her dearly.

Before the end of a year a boy was born to them, and they were perfectly happy. When the time was near to fulfill his promise to visit his mother, she said to him: “I know you promised to visit your mother, and the time is now here. I have everything ready for you. I have made moccasins for you and for your mother.” He said in reply, “I wonder how I can carry her some meat, for she lives a long way off.” “You have only to choose the meat you want,” she replied; “I know how you can carry it.” He decided to take some of every kind. She warned him to be true and faithful to her while away, for many women when they saw what a good hunter he was would ask him of his mother. She said: “You must be true to me as I will be to you. You must never yield to temptation, for I shall know if you do, and you will never see me again.” He promised her everything she asked. Early the next morning she asked him to go to the river with her; it was not far from the cabin. She knew how he came, and that he would reach his mother’s home sooner by going on the river. When they reached the bank, she took out of her bosom a tiny canoe. He wondered what she was going to do with so little a plaything. She told him to take hold of one end and to pull away from her. On doing so, the canoe stretched out until it was a very large one. Then they brought on their backs basketful after basketful of meat, which they packed away in the canoe. Giving him a package, she said: “I have made these moccasins for your mother. Here is another package for you. I wish you to put on a pair every morning, throwing away the old ones.”

He promised to return in the fall, and then they parted. When he reached his mother’s lodge the news spread that a certain woman’s son had returned after a year’s hunting, and many came to see him and the great amount of meat he had brought. He did not tell even his mother that he was married, and many young girls asked for him as a husband. His mother had a beautiful girl in view for him, and continually urged him to marry her, but he would not consent. After a while he said to his mother: “I am going to the woods again. I have a cabin there, and sometime you will know why I do not wish to marry.” So saying, he started off.

When he reached the river he shook his boat as his wife had instructed him to do, whereupon it again stretched out. Getting aboard, he started up the river. When he neared his cabin, he saw his wife waiting for him and his little boy running around at play and they were very happy again. She told him she loved him better than ever, for he had withstood temptation.

Another year passed. They had all the meat they could take care of, and another boy had been born to them.

Again she got him ready to carry meat to his mother, just as she had done before. She seemed, however, to feel that this time he would yield to temptation, so she said to him: “If you marry another woman, you will never see me again, but if you love me and your children, you will be true to us and come back. If you are not true, I shall not be surprised if your new wife will soon be sucking her moccasins from hunger, for your magic power or orenda for hunting will vanish.” He promised her everything.

As before, on reaching home his fame as a hunter brought many beautiful girls to ask for him in marriage. Again his mother urged him to marry, and the temptation to yield then was far greater than the first time, but he resisted and was ready to start for his cabin, when one day a beautiful stranger, appearing in the village, came to his mother’s lodge. The mother urged him to marry her, as she was so lovely, and he finally yielded.

The wife in the woods, knowing the conditions, said: “Now children, we must be getting ready to go away. Your father does not love us and will never come back to us.” Though the children were troubled by their mother’s tears, still they were full of play and fun, but the poor mother was always weeping while preparing to leave her home.

After the man had taken a second wife, the meat in his lodge began to fall away strangely. He could almost see it disappear, though there was a good supply when he married. In a few days but little was left. He went hunting but could kill nothing; he went day after day, but always had the same ill luck, for he had lost his magic power (orenda) for hunting, as his wife had foretold. One day when he came home from hunting, he found his new wife sucking her moccasin, for she was famishing with hunger. He cried and sobbed, saying, “This is my punishment; she warned me that this would happen if I was untrue to her.” Thereupon he decided to go back to his first wife and children at once and never to leave them again.

He set out without saying a word to the starving wife or to his anxious mother. When he reached his cabin not a single footprint was to be seen. He went in, but only to find it empty—wife and children were not there, nor any meat, but their worn moccasins were hanging up. The sight of these made him very sad. As he was nearly starved, he searched everywhere for food. On the hearth he found three small mounds of ashes, of different sizes, the third being very small. Sitting down, he wondered what this could mean, for he knew that it must have been left by his wife as a sign to him should he ever come to the cabin. At last he made up his mind that he had three children now, and he determined to find them even if he had to follow them to the end of the world.

He mused, “My boys are very playful, and as they followed their mother they must have hacked the trees as they went.” Indeed, as the mother and the boys were starting away, the boys said, “We will make some sign, so that if our father ever thinks of us and comes back, he will be able to follow us.” But the mother said: “No, children, you must not; he will never come, for he has another wife, and will never think of his children in the woods.” Nevertheless, as they went on and played by the way, the boys hacked the trees and shot arrows in sport, so the father was soon able to trace them. He found that after a day’s journey they had camped for the night, for he discovered the remains of a fire, and on a tree nearby, four pairs of worn-out moccasins. Tying these in a bundle, he hung it on his arm.

Again he walked all day, finally coming to the remains of a fire, near which he saw four pairs of worn moccasins hanging up as before. He was very tired and hungry.

The next morning he traveled on and, as before, found the remains of a fire and four pairs of worn moccasins hanging on a tree. He always took these with him. Near noon the next day he saw smoke in the distance, seeming to rise from a cabin, and so it proved to be. He saw also two boys playing around, running, and shooting arrows; on seeing him they ran to tell their mother that a man was coming. On looking out, she recognized her husband, whereupon she told the boys to stay inside the lodge. He had not recognized the children as his sons, but supposed they belonged to people living in the cabin.

As he was very hungry and tired, he thought he would go in and ask for food. The woman turned her back as he entered, but the eldest boy, recognizing his father, ran to him and put his hand on his knee. The father, however, not recognizing the child, gently pushed his hand away. At this moment the mother, turning around, saw this action. “There,” she said, “I told you to keep away from him, for he does not love you.” Now the man, recognizing his wife, cried out, begging her to forgive him and to receive him home again. He seemed to be sorry, and begged so hard that she forgave him and brought him his little daughter, born after he had gone away. Ever afterward he was true to his Moose wife (for she was a Moose woman), and never again left his home in the woods. He and his little family were always very happy.

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65. Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa

[Modern]

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66. The Porcupine’s Grandson and the Bear

A widower, who had a small son, married a second time. Soon after this event he took his wife and child into the forest to hunt. They lived very happily until the new wife began to think that her husband loved his child better than he did her. This troubled her beyond measure, so that she became very uneasy, thinking of nothing else. Then she began to study how to get rid of the boy, and at last resolved to destroy him.

So one day while her husband was out hunting, she took the boy into the woods to a cave, whose mouth was closed with a rock. She rolled away the stone from in front of the opening, at the same time telling the boy that there were bears in the cave, and that he must run in and scare them, so that they would run out at the other end. He crept in, and immediately the woman rolled the stone back over its mouth, and then deserted him.

When night came the father returned from hunting, and immediately missing his boy, asked where he was. The woman answered that he was at play when she went to gather bark, and that when she came home she could not find him, asserting further that she had been hunting in all directions for him, and that she was afraid he had been carried off by some wild beast. The father was nearly crazed by this event, and for many days hunted for his boy, but he could find only the tracks made by his little moccasins far into the woods—tracks which the wicked stepmother had (artificially) made to mislead and deceive the father.

When the child found himself fastened in the cave he began to scream and cry, and his strength was giving way and he was near fainting when he thought he heard a voice saying: “Poor child, stop crying! I am your grandmother. I will give you food.” This was a Mother Porcupine. Wiping away his tears with her paw, she brought him food, which he thought was very good, though it was only hemlock burs. She gave him some of the food which she had saved for herself. After eating he was contented, whereupon she said, “You are very tired, my dear little grandson; come and lie down.” In this way she fed and cared for him a long time.

The Porcupine, coming out, told them not to be frightened. Said she, “We are very poor, my grandson and I.” She told them further how he came there and that her stock of food was exhausted, adding, “Many of you are well able to care for him, so I want you to take charge of my grandson.” All, even the birds, announced their willingness to do so. “Now,” she continued, “I want to know what you will give him to eat, and when I make up my mind that my grandson can live on the food that any one of you can supply, I will give him to that one. To my faithful friends, the birds, I give thanks; you may go, for I do not think my grandson could live on anything you could give him.”

All had brought specimens of what they could furnish and had laid them before the Porcupine. The wolf, coming forward, laid down what he had. The Porcupine examined it and then asked, “What would you do in case of danger?” “Of course we should run,” the wolf replied, thereupon running off to show her, and then coming back. “No, my grandson can not go with you; he could not run fast enough.” The deer came forward with the most suitable food, but when the Porcupine asked, “What would you do in case of danger?” the deer ran off at such speed that his horns could be heard rattling through the woods. Last of all the old bear came forward, saying: “You have all failed. Though I have a large family of my own, I will take the boy and will feed him as I feed my cubs, on blackberries, chestnuts, and fruit.” When asked what she would do in danger, going back to her little cubs, she gave them the sign of danger, at which they all crouched down beside a log while she lay at their side watching. She said: “That is what I do, and thus we lie still until I think the danger is past. I know where the berries grow in abundance, and I will take them there. I know also where my winter quarters will be; there my cubs will get nourishment by sucking my fat paws.” The Porcupine then said: “You are the one to care for my grandchild. I wish you to take good care of him. I am now going for food.” The boy never saw the Porcupine again. The child thought the bear took him by the hand, and that she was like a human being, and that they were all like real people.

She led the boy and the cubs to the place where the berries and chestnuts were abundant. They played as they went along. The young bears became very fond of the boy. When the old mother bear was lying asleep in the sun, and they were at play, the cubs would pull the boy’s nails to make them long like theirs, and they tried to teach him how to climb and run up the trees as they did. At last he was almost equal to them in skill in these exercises, his nails having grown long and sharp.

One day the old bear woke up and could not see the boy. At last she saw him high up in a tree a long way off. Then she scolded her cubs and was angry with them, and made the boy’s nails as they originally were. So the many days of summer passed. The cubs and the boy were great friends and they had him sleep between them and their mother.

When winter came, the old bear said, “It is time to go to our winter quarters”; so she took them to a tall, hollow tree, into which they all climbed, finding therein a comfortable place. Here they remained; and the boy thought they had plenty of room. He and the cubs played together and were very happy. The old bear slept most of the time, but when she heard a sound she would awake instantly and would say, “You must keep very still; there is a hunter near.” In the tree was an opening from which she had an outlook. Soon after the warning they would see a man coming toward the tree. Then the boy thought he saw the mother bear, putting her paw into her pocket, draw out an object that had two prongs. As the hunter approached she would thrust this out through the hole, moving it to and fro until he passed; then she would draw it in again.

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67. Genonsgwa

An old woman, the eldest of her people, lived in the forest with two grandchildren, a boy and a girl. One day while the old woman was away a female Genonsgwa came into the lodge and picked up the younger child, the girl. After speaking kindly to her, saying that she was a good little thing, she swallowed her. Then she began to talk to the boy, telling him how well he looked, and that he was wholesome, but she did not kill him. Sitting on the bed, she told the boy that if he would get on her back, she would take him out to find his grandmother. After climbing on her back, he soon became frightened, whereupon he grasped her so tightly that he became fastened to her back so that he could not get off, though he tried hard to do so. The Genonsgwa, rising, went in a direction different from that in which his grandmother had gone. The boy told her of her mistake, but she said, “Oh! we shall come to the place where she is.” The Genonsgwa went very far into the woods. The boy began to cry for his grandmother, and cried so hard that the Genonsgwa told him to get off her back; she did not like to hear him cry, she said, but as she wanted to eat him, he did not get off; in fact, he could not do so. Fortunately, the Genonsgwa could neither get her hands around to pull him off, nor turn her head to bite him. She could not get at him in any way. Knowing this, the boy clung to the middle of her back, realizing that she would eat him up if he slipped down. They traveled on thus for many days.

When the grandmother came back to her lodge and found that the boy and the girl were not there, she became very uneasy. She searched for them but found no trace of either. After a while, finding the tracks of the Genonsgwa around the lodge, she guessed what the trouble was. The old woman followed the trail of the Genonsgwa, saying that she was bound to get her grandchildren back.

The headman of the Genonsgwa now resolved to muster a large company of their people and kill the old woman, Dagwanoenyentgowa. While they were preparing for this, the old woman found out their plans when she was out on her journeys and said to her grandson, “We must go to get your sister out of the belly of the Genonsgwa woman, for she is sitting there crying for me all the time.” So they set out for home, and when they reached the place where the Genonsgwa woman lay dead, the grandmother, having built a small fire, began to burn tobacco on it for her granddaughter, saying, “This is what we like; this is what we like.” They burned perhaps half a pouch full of tobacco, meanwhile fanning the smoke toward the Genonsgwa woman all the time, and saying: “This is what we like. Do you come out of Genonsgwa’s belly.” There was no sign yet of her granddaughter. She had not yet come forth. At last the old woman said to her grandson: “We must have more help. You have a great many relatives—uncles, aunts, and cousins. We must call them here.” Thereupon the old woman, Dagwanoenyentgowa, called repeatedly. They came one by one. Soon there was a great number of them. Having broken up and removed all the clothes of the Genonsgwa, they threw them away, leaving the dead body naked. Then the old woman, building a fire at Genonsgwa’s head, burned tobacco on it. All the Dagwanoenyent people walked around the fire, each throwing tobacco on it and saying, “This is what we like.” After each one had gone around once and had thrown tobacco into the fire once, the young girl started up in the Genonsgwa’s belly, and panting for breath, walked out, saying, “How long have I been here?” They gave her more tobacco smoke, which she inhaled until she gained full strength. Then all went home, the old woman and her two grandchildren to her own lodge, and the other Dagwanoenyents each to his or her lodge.

After they had been home a while a Genonsgwa came to the old woman’s lodge, who talked pleasantly, inquiring how they were. Having found out that they were only three in number, the Genonsgwa went back home, thinking it would be a small work to kill them all. After the Genonsgwa went away the old woman said: “We are in trouble now. There is a great number of these Genonsgwa people leagued against us. They are assembled somewhere, not far away. When this struggle commences we do not know whether we shall be able to come home here again or not.” As soon as she had finished talking with her grandchildren, the old woman, going out, called, “Dagwanoenyents!” The girl, not knowing what that meant, asked her grandmother, who said: “I am calling your relations to help us. You are a Dagwanoenyent, too.” The Dagwanoenyents came one by one. When all had come, there were 60 besides the old woman and her two grandchildren. Dagwanoenyentgowa now said: “Each one must have a stone to strike with, just heavy enough to handle with ease.” When they had gathered stones the Genonsgwa began to come, thousands upon thousands in number. The Dagwanoenyents were frightened when they saw them, but the old woman who led them said: “We must separate and attack them singly. Have faith to kill each one with but one blow, and you will do it. You must keep the stones in your hands. Be firm and retreat slowly in different directions.” The Dagwanoenyents took her advice. Whenever they had a chance, they struck and killed a Genonsgwa, retreating all the time and killing the Genonsgwa for a long distance. The old woman then told all her people to go up a high mountain toward the south, ahead of them, fighting as they went. She continued: “When we all reach the top, we shall go down a short distance on the other side. The Genonsgwa will come to the top and we shall strike them. One lot of us must strike from the east, and the other from the west side, and we must get behind them and drive them forward into the great ravine on the south side of the mountain, where a river runs by. There they will all perish.” The Genonsgwa came to the mountain top, where there was a large clear space. Looking around on every side, they saw nothing of the Dagwanoenyents, hence they thought the Dagwanoenyents had gone for food. They had not stood there long, however, when they heard the sound of the wind below them on both sides of the mountain. The noise grew louder and louder, until presently the Dagwanoenyents struck them on both sides, and uniting in their rear, fell upon them from behind also. So terrible were the attack and the power of the Dagwanoenyents, that they tore all the trees out by the roots and swept the earth off the top of the mountain, hurling the rocks and trees and Genonsgwa into the ravine and river below. The Genonsgwa were piled upon one another like the rocks on the banks and in the bed of the river. The Dagwanoenyents were now dancing on the mountain top, and the old woman said: “We have hurled the Genonsgwa down there and we would better finish them. Half of you go along the ridge running south from this mountain east of the river, and the other half along the western ridge, and blow all the trees and stones and earth into the great ravine.” They did this, and when they came together they had stripped the mountain spurs naked. Meanwhile the river forced everything to the end of the ravine, where it piled up the débris of fallen trees in a great dam, so that the river became a lake on the south side of the mountain. This lake is called Hadiqsadon genonsgwa ganyudae; that is, the grave of the Genonsgwashonon, or Genonsgwa people.

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There was a very poor little old woman, who lived in the woods. She was so destitute that she was nothing but skin and bones. She dwelt in a smoky little lodge and cried all the time, both day and night. Her robe of skins was so old and dirty that one could not tell without difficulty of what material it was made. She had seven daughters, six of whom were carried off one after another by hostile people, while the seventh died.

The daughter who died had been buried some time when one night the old woman heard crying at the grave. Going to the grave with a torch, she found there a naked baby. The child had crawled up out of the grave through a hole in the earth. Wrapping the baby in her blanket, the old woman took it home. She did not know, she did not even suspect, that her daughter was with child when she died.

The little boy grew very rapidly. When he was of good size the old woman came home one day from gathering wood but could not find him. That night it stormed, with thunder and lightning raging. In the morning the child returned to her. His grandmother asked, “Where have you been, my grandson?” “Grandmother,” said he, “I have been with my father; he took me to his home.” “Who is your father?” “Hinon is my father; he took me home first, then we came back and were all about here last night.” The old woman asked, “Was my daughter, your mother, in the grave?” “Yes,” said the boy, “and Hinon used to come to see my mother.” The old woman believed what he said.

As the boy grew he used to make a noise like that of thunder, and whenever Hinon came to the neighborhood he would go out and thunder, thus helping his father, for he was Hinon Hohawaqk, the son of Hinon.

Some time after this the boy asked his grandmother where his six aunts were, and the grandmother answered: “There are an old woman and her son, whose lodge is far away; they live by playing dice and betting. Your aunts went one by one with a company of people, and played dice (plum pits); being beaten, their heads were cut off. Many men and women have gone to the same place and have lost their heads.” Hinon Hohawaqk answered, “I will go, too, and will kill that woman and her son.” The old woman tried to keep him home, but he would not remain with her. He told her to make two pairs of moccasins for him. He was very ragged and dirty, so she made the moccasins and got him the skin of a flying-squirrel for a pouch.

Setting off toward the west, soon he came to a great opening where there was a large bark lodge with a pole in front of it, and on the pole a skin robe. He saw boys playing ball in the opening, and going on a side path, he heard a great noise. After a while the people saw him, whereupon one of them said, “I do not know where that boy comes from.” The old people were betting and the boys were playing ball. Soon an old man came up to Hinon Hohawaqk and gave him a club; he played so well that the old man came again, saying, “We want you to play dice; all the people will bet on you.” A bowl was placed on an elk skin lying under the pole. The woman and her son were there and the other people stood around. Hinon Hohawaqk answered, “I do not know how to play the game.” The old man replied, “We will risk our heads on you;” so he followed the old man. He saw a white stone bowl as smooth as glass. The old woman was sitting there on the elk skin, ready to play, and Hinon Hohawaqk knelt down beside the bowl. She said, “You play first.” “No,” answered he, “you play first.” So she took out her dice, which were round and made from plum stones, and blowing on them, cast them into the bowl, which she shook, at the same time calling out, “Game! game!” The dice flew up into the air, all becoming crows and cawing as they went out of sight. After a while they came down, still cawing, and resumed the form of plum stones as they settled in the bowl. The old woman had three plays to make a count of seventeen. She threw three times but got nothing. Then Hinon Hohawaqk in order to win took dice out of his pouch of flying-squirrel skin. The old woman wanted him to use her dice, but he would not touch them. Placing his dice in the bowl, he shook, whereupon the dice, becoming ducks, flew upward. They went very high, and all the people heard them as they rose; when they touched the bowl again they were plum stones, and scored 10. Then Hinon Hohawaqk shook the bowl again, calling, “Game! game!” while the old woman called out, “No game!” Back came the dice, scoring another 10. He cast the third time and scored 10 more. He had won. Then he called the people to see him cut off the heads of the old woman and her son. “No,” said the old woman, “you must play again. Here is my son; you must play ball with him, and if he loses we shall both forfeit our heads.” At this Hinon Hohawaqk asked the old man what he thought. The people, seeing how skillful he was, said “Play!” whereupon he went to the ball-ground, ragged and looking poor. There were but two playing, one on each side. Hinon Hohawaqk jumped, knocking the club far out of his opponent’s hand. Then the old woman’s son ran for his club, but before he could get it back Hinon Hohawaqk had sent the ball through the goal posts. This was repeated seven times and Hinon Hohawaqk won the game. “Now,” said he to all the people, “you can have the heads of the old woman and her son.” The two heads were cut off, and the boys played with the old woman’s head over the whole field.

“Now,” said Hinon Hohawaqk; “I am going to bring my grandmother to this place, and we must all come here to stay and have this long dwelling in which to live.” All went home to their lodges, and as the Son of Thunder went, he sang praises of himself, and his grandmother heard him on his way. He told her what he had done, saying, “We must all go there and live in that fine dwelling and field.” She prepared provisions and they went. It took them a long time to reach the place. All the other people having reached there also, they built dwellings around the field. When all had settled down, Hinon Hohawaqk called them to the council lodge to have a dance. After they had finished the dance, all went to their homes. Putting away her old blanket, the grandmother began to dress. Having put on the clothes left by the old woman who lost her head, soon she looked like a young woman and lived happily. After a time Hinon Hohawaqk went off with Hinon, his father, with whom he stayed all winter.

In the spring the old woman was uneasy in her mind. She heard thunder in the west, and soon afterward her grandson came to the lodge. She was very glad to see him. “Where have you been?” she asked. He answered: “At the great mountain far off in the west. I have been with my father helping the nations and protecting men.” After that he remained with his grandmother all summer. Once in a while he would go away when it began to storm but would come back again when the turbulence of the weather ceased.

He lived a long time in this way, until at last he said to his grandmother: “I have an uncle living in the west; some witch stole him from you. I must go to find him.” So he went to the west to search for his uncle. He went on till he came to a lodge in which he saw a woman sitting by a fire, with her head resting on her hands. She would not answer when he asked where his uncle was. Soon afterward he went out, and taking his war club from his pouch, he knocked her on the head, killing her. When he had killed the woman he went out and walked all around the lodge, mourning and looking for his uncle. At last he heard the moaning of a man. He looked into the trees, for he could not see any one on the ground, but could not find him. Soon he came to a large slippery-elm tree, the great roots of which held down a man, his head coming out between two roots on one side and his feet between two on the other side, while the tree stood just on the middle of his body. He was calling to his nephew to give him a smoke. The latter answered: “Oh, poor uncle! how badly off you are. Oh, poor uncle! I will give you a smoke very soon.” Then he kicked over the tree, saying, “Rise, uncle!” at which the uncle rose, well. Taking out his pouch, Hinon Hohawaqk gave the old man a smoke, which pleased and strengthened the uncle very much. He told his nephew how the woman had beguiled him to go with her, pretending that she wanted to marry him. When she had him at her lodge, however, she ate him, putting his bones under the elm tree. Then both the uncle and the nephew went home to the long lodge. The old grandmother was surprised and glad to see them.

All lived happily in their home till one day when the Son of Thunder went off in a storm. When it was over he brought home a wife. After that, when he went away in a storm his wife was uneasy, not knowing where he was, for her husband had brought her home on his back such a long distance in the storm. In due time she gave birth to a son. When the boy was large enough to run about, the old man, the uncle of the Son of Thunder, whose bones had lain under the elm tree, began to teach him, and soon he was able to make a noise like thunder. One day the boy followed his mother out of the lodge. They had a small dog, and as the boy was running after his mother, somebody seized him and rushed away; but the dog ran after him, and, contriving to seize his feet, pulled off his moccasins, which he carried home. This was the first indication the woman had that her boy was gone. Hinon Hohawaqk was off with a storm at the time, and when he came home his wife asked whether he had taken the boy. “No,” said he. “Oh! he is lost,” cried she. “Oh, no! he is all right,” said Hinon Hohawaqk; “he has many relations around the world—uncles and cousins.” The boy stayed away all winter. One day when the winter was over he came home with his father. Then Hinon Hohawaqk said to the people of his family, “We must all move away and live with my father.” The old woman said, “No, we can not go; it is so far and I am so old.” “I will carry you there in a little while,” said the grandson. Thereupon Hinon Hohawaqk began to thunder, and lightnings flew around. The lodge was torn to pieces and blazed up in flames. All the rocks and lodges in the opening were broken to pieces. Hinon Hohawaqk and all of his people rose in the air. The east wind began to blow, bearing them to lofty mountains in the west, where they found old grandfather Hinon. All live there in the caves of the rocks to this day.

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On the first day of his hunting he killed five bears and deer, which he brought into his camp, saying, “What bad luck I have had today!” On the second day he killed 10 bears and 12 deer and brought them home and skinned and roasted them to dry the meat of the 15 bears and 18 deer which he had killed, finishing the work before daylight. The next morning he said, “I must go after more meat.” That day he killed 24 deer and 20 bears and brought them into camp, and skinned them and finished roasting the meat precisely at midnight. Then he said, “I think I have enough now.” Putting all the meat into one heap, he tied it up with bark ropes. Then he shook the package, saying, “I want you to be small,” at which it shrank into a small package, which he hung in his belt. In the same way be made the skins into similar bundles, which he hung to his belt, and then set out for home.

After a time a woman of the Hongak (Wild Goose) people came to Hagowanen’s lodge, bringing a basket of marriage bread, and saying, “My mother has sent me to Hagowanen to ask him to take me to wife.” Hagowanen hung his head a while thinking, and mused, “I suppose nothing ill-starred will come of this.” Then, looking at her, he said, “It is well; I am willing to do what your mother wants me to do.” On hearing this reply the woman was glad. She placed the basket of nuptial corn bread before him. In accepting it he said: “I am thankful. For many years I have not tasted bread which was made by a woman.” So he ate some of the bread, whereupon they became husband and wife.

They lived together for some time at Hetgen Tgastende, until one morning when Hagowanen, who was sitting on a stone outside the lodge with drooping head, said to himself: “Well, I have many children now. I did not think that woman would have so many. I must go home again.” So he rose, and going aboard his canoe, sailed away across Ganyodaeowanen (“The Big Lake”). After a while his wife, missing him, said, “Where is my husband?” She looked out and around everywhere but could not find him. The eldest son was then a youth and the youngest a lively little boy.

One day the eldest said, “I am going to look for my father, and see where he is.” The mother rejoined, “You will get lost on the way.” “Oh, no! I will not get lost,” he replied. At this the mother continued, “Then you may go.” So he set out, traveling northward. While going across a rocky place he found a trail. “This looks just like my father’s trail,” said he, following it. Soon he came to a cross-trail, and after examining it, he said: “I wonder where this path comes from and where it goes. Well, when I return, I shall find out.” Not far from the cross-trail he came to a lodge, and as the trail led up to it, he entered. Looking around, he saw an old man in the southeast corner of the room; another in the southwest; a third, in the northwest; and a fourth, in the northeast. All sat smoking. The youth looked for his father, saying, “He must be here somewhere.” The first old man, raising his head, looked at him and asked: “Well, my grandson, what are you doing here? Come this way, if you want to see your father. I will show him to you; he is right here.” On the youth approaching, the old man took him by the hair, and bending his head forward over a bark bowl, cut it off, saying: “I am glad that a young game animal has come. It must be good eating, as it is just the right age.” So saying, he began to quarter the body.

After the people at Hetgen Tgastende had waited for some time without tidings of the eldest brother, Hononhwaes, the second son of the Hongak woman, said, “I want to follow my elder brother.” “Oh, my son!” said the mother, “do not go away; something evil has befallen your brother.” “I must go,” said the boy; “I can not resist the desire. I must see my brother and father.” So he began to prepare for the journey, putting on a hunting shirt, leggings, and moccasins of buckskin, and taking his bow and arrows. His mother cried all the time, but she could not stop him from going. He went northward, as his brother had done, going over the same trail, until he arrived at the cross-trail and the lodge, where he saw the four old men smoking in the four corners of the room. He of the northwest corner spoke, saying, “My grandson, do you want to see your father? Come here and you shall see him.” He went forward and, looking into a large bark bowl half full of water, he saw the faces of his father and brother. As he was gazing on them, the old man cut off his head also, rejoicing as before.

Nine of the Hongak brothers went, one after another, in search of their father and brothers, and all were killed by the four old men in the same lodge. At last the tenth and youngest, Othegwenhda, who was still small and young, said to his mother, “I should like to follow my brothers.” “Oh, my son!” said the mother, “you must not go. There are four brothers, old men, living on the road, who are called Hadiiades (Blacksnakes). They have great magic power.” “But,” said he, “I must go. I want to see my brothers very much.” “You will never see them,” she replied. “They are dead.” “Well, can not I kill the old men?” he said. “Maybe you can,” she replied, “if you take my orenda (magic power) with you.” “Well, mother,” said Otʻhegwenhda, “give me your magic power. I want to kill these men.” “I will go and bring my magic power, my son,” said his mother. Thereupon the Hongak woman went westward to a rough and rocky place, where she got a small figurine of slate rock, about half the length of her little finger, with which she returned to her home. When she had reached home the boy was ready to start. He had armed himself with a bow of hickory and arrows of red willow pointed with wasp stings. “Here,” said the mother, “I will tell you what to do. Gird on a belt and put this fetish in it.” He placed the fetish between his buckskin belt and his body. “You are now ready,” said the mother. “Now you can do what you like. You can change yourself to whatever form you please.”

Otʻhegwenhda, going northward as his brothers had done, found a fresh trail looking as if made only a few minutes before. “This must be my father’s trail,” thought he; “perhaps I will find him somewhere.” After a while he came to the cross-trail running east and west; he stood thinking whence it came and whither it led. “I will see,” said he. Going toward the east, he soon reached a wide opening in the forest, near the end of which was a cloud of dust moving in his direction. “I will hurry back,” thought he, “or something may happen to me.” The moment he turned back the great dust cloud approached very quickly, and when it touched him, from weakness he fell to the ground. Soon after this he heard a noise, and, looking up, saw a person with long legs, rushing on toward him. Springing to his feet, the youth climbed a tree; and then he shot his wasp-sting pointed arrows, thus killing the stranger in the cloud of dust. This stranger was a Djieien (Spider).

Now Otʻhegwenhda went eastward again, and another cloud of dust rushed against him, but he got outside of it, and after the cloud had passed, he hastened westward to the point where the trails crossed. Thence, going northward, he soon reached the lodge where the four old brothers, Hadiiades (Blacksnakes), sat smoking. After standing outside a while, he found a crack in the lodge; peeping in, he saw the four old men in the four corners, at which he soliloquized: “I wonder whether these are the men of whom my mother spoke. I will kill them if I can, and if I can not, I will burn the lodge.” Taking out the fetish, he placed it on his head, whereupon it stood up, and he said, “I am going to ask you a question; I want you to tell me what to do; I want to kill these old men.” The fetish answered: “If you want to kill them, you must get on that high rock and call out, ‘I, Otʻhegwenhda, am on this high rock.’ You will find very sharp flint stones up there; take a handful of these and throw them this way, saying, ‘I want it to be hot.’ This is your only course to succeed.” As Otʻhegwenhda put back the fetish in his belt, he heard the old men talking. “It seems Otʻhegwenhda is about here,” said the old man in the northwest corner to the one in the southeast. “Oh!” replied the other, “I thought you said all that family were killed.” Then the old man in the southwest remarked, “It was my opinion that one was left.” “Well, I think they are all gone except the old woman Hongak,” said the old man in the northeast. “Well,” added the old man in the northwest, “it seems to me that Otʻhegwenhda is lurking around here somewhere.” “If you think so, you should look for him,” replied the old man of the southwest. “Yes, I must look to see if I can find him,” rejoined the man of the northwest. Otʻhegwenhda, leaping on the lodge, sat with his feet hanging through the smoke-hole. The old man looked everywhere but could not see him.

Otʻhegwenhda with his bow and arrows now shot down through the smoke-hole at each of the four old men, the arrows piercing their bodies deeply, but the old men were not hurt; they did not even know that they were hit. Leaping off the lodge and landing about forty rods away, Otʻhegwenhda went into the rock, whence he called out, “My name is Otʻhegwenhda.” As he stood there a while one of the old men said: “My back is sore. It feels as though my bones were broken.” Picking up a handful of sharp fragments of flint, Otʻhegwenhda threw them at the lodge, saying, “I want you to be red hot and burn up these old men and their lodge.” The flint went straight to the lodge, a few pieces flying beyond. Those that struck the lodge set it on fire, and those that fell beyond set the forest on fire. Everything was blazing in and around the lodge. Then the boy threw another handful of flints, saying, “I want you to cut these old men’s heads off,” whereupon the flints pierced their necks, causing their heads to fall off.

Otʻhegwenhda now searched all through the coals with a pointed stick, but he found nothing but fire. At the northwestern corner of the burnt heap he found a trail leading toward the northwest, and following this, he came to an opening in the forest where he saw a cloud of dust rushing toward him. Swerving aside into the woods, he peeped out from some sheltering shrubbery; presently the cloud stopped at the edge of the woods. Then he saw a Djieien (Spider) 6 feet tall. “Oh! I thought,” said Djieien, “somebody was on the trail. It must be my master fooling me. I thought he was here and had found some more of the Hongak family.” The Djieien, turning back, ran as fast as he could, Otʻhegwenhda following closely until Djieien reached the lodge, which was slightly sunken into the ground. When the Djieien went into the lodge Otʻhegwenhda listened outside. Soon he heard crying within and thought that the sound resembled that of his father’s voice, and that his father must be in there. Then he took out the fetish, which came to life, and stood up; he asked of it, “How am I to kill the Djieien who lives in here?” The fetish answered: “Go to that tree just west of here, and climbing high upon it, call out, ‘I am Otʻhegwenhda, and more powerful than anything under the Blue (Sky). I can kill any kind of game (ganyo) on earth.’ When you have spoken, cut a limb from the tree and throw it with the command to split the Spider’s heart in two (the heart was in the ground under the lodge). When Djieien is killed, you can come down and see your father before burning the lodge.” Otʻhegwenhda did as directed by the fetish. He cut off a limb of the tree, and spat on it; straightway it became alive, and he cast it toward the lodge, saying, “Split Djieien’s heart in two.” The limb went under the lodge to the place where the heart was hidden, and the instant its heart was split Djieien stretched out, saying, “This is the end of me,” and died. The boy heard the words and laughed. Then he slipped down, and entering the lodge, said: “I must go in to see my father. I heard him cry, so he must be inside.” So saying, he went in. There Djieien lay dead in the middle of the room. Under the couch was someone nearly dead. On raising the couch, he found his father in a dying condition with the flesh gone from his legs and arms. Otʻhegwenhda exclaimed, “Oh, my father! you must go home; my mother wishes to see you.” Hagowanen whispered (he had lost his voice), “My son, you will die if you come in here.” “Oh, no!” answered the boy; “there is no danger now.” Putting the fetish on his hand, he asked it, “What shall be done with my father?” The fetish answered: “He is only a skeleton now. Spit on your hands and rub the spittle all over him, and flesh shall come on his bones again.” Otʻhegwenhda did this, and his father became as well as ever, whereupon he said: “Now, I have become Sʻhodieonskon. I have heard old people say that when Sʻhodieonskon dies he comes to life again immediately.” The boy laughed, and Hagowanen added, “Let us go home.” “You go, but I must find my brothers,” replied the youth.

When Hagowanen reached home, his wife, looking at him, began to cry: “Oh! my dear son, I wish you were here. I think I have seen something mysterious.” Hagowanen asked, “Why do you talk so?” She cried the more, and he added: “Why do you cry? Are you sorry that I have returned?” “No, but you are not alive,” she said. “Oh, yes! I am,” he replied. “No; I can not believe that you are,” and, thinking he was a ghost, she drove him out to the rocks, where he sat down.

After his father had gone Otʻhegwenhda burned Djieien’s lodge. When nothing but coals were left, something shot up out of them, and flying westward, it finally alighted on the plain, becoming a Dowisdowi (Sandpiper). “That is the way I do, and that is why I claimed, ‘I can kill anybody,’ ” said the boy. Going around the edge of the clearing on the eastern side, he found a broad trail on which he traveled for half a day, until he came to a cross-trail leading from north to south. He stood at the four corners made by the trails, and putting the fetish on his hand said, “You are the one I need.” “What do you wish?” asked the fetish. “I wish you to tell me what I am to do now.” “If you go to the foot of that pine tree,” answered the fetish, “you shall find a bark bowl, beyond the tree a medicine spring, on the other side of the spring, a plant. Dig up this plant, put it into the bowl, which you shall fill with water from the spring, and then at this spot where the trails intersect, dig a hole, and in it put the bowl with the plant standing in the water. This done, step aside and see what will happen. Now, be quick!” Hurrying to the pine tree which grew in the northwest between the northern and western trails, Otʻhegwenhda found the spring, and farther on, the plant awéaundagon (in full bloom), with bright red blossoms. He did as directed, putting the bowl with the plant therein in the ground at the crossing of the trails; then stepping aside, he watched and listened. Presently he heard a noise in the forest like that made by a heavy wind from the north. Nearer and nearer it came, accompanied with a great cloud of dust. Nothing could be distinguished until the cloud stopped at the crossing. Then, in the middle of the cloud he saw the skeleton of Djainosgowa standing near the bowl. The skeleton, walking up to the plant, ate one of its red blossoms. Though it had no stomach, no place to hide the blossom, it nevertheless vanished, at which the boy wondered greatly, saying: “It is nothing but bones. Where does the food go?” Presently, the skeleton growing sick, jumped around until it fell to pieces—arms, legs, head, ribs, all the bones falling apart. Now Otʻhegwenhda laughed, standing in his hiding place. But before he had stopped laughing he heard the rushing of another wind from the south; after it came a cloud of dust, which stopped at the crossing, and he saw the skeleton of Tsodiqgwadon near the bowl. This also, going straight to the plant, ate a blossom. In a moment it began to shake all over; soon it fell to pieces, becoming a pile of bones. Soon the sound of a third wind was heard approaching from the east with a great cloud of dust. This came rushing on until it stopped at the crossing. In the middle of the cloud was the skeleton of Ganiagwaihegowa, which ate a blossom, after doing which it began to tremble and to become disjointed until, finally, it was a mere heap of bones, like the other three.

Taking out the fetish again, Otʻhegwenhda asked it, “Is the work all finished now?” “Yes,” said the fetish; “all the trails are clear. Now you can go to the end of the southern trail. Perhaps you may find your brother there. If you do, treat him as you did your father.” Immediately he started toward the south. When he reached the end of the trail, he could see nothing; but he searched until at last he found a rock with an opening in it. Entering this opening, he went down into the ground, looking around very closely. It was dark, and he thought, “There may be more skeletons here, but I must go on.” At last he came to a room. There was no fire in it; only plenty of light. He saw also another room, on entering which he found three of his brothers—the eldest and the two next to him. The eldest called out: “Oh, my brother! are you here? You would better run away. The skeleton will come soon.” “Oh! I will kill it,” he said. “My brother, I do not think you can live if you stay here,” the elder brother continued. “I have come to take you away,” answered Otʻhegwenhda. “We can not walk,” answered the three brothers; “the skeleton has eaten our flesh.” On looking at them, he saw that their limbs were bare bones. After he had rubbed them with his spittle, they were covered with flesh as before, and his brothers were well and strong again. Thereupon he said: “I want you to start home now. I will go to find our other brothers.”

The three brothers now went home. When their mother saw them, she began to cry, thinking they were ghosts, and, seizing a club, she drove them out. They found their father, who was very glad to see them, and they sat down on the rocks with him.

Otʻhegwenhda, now returning to the crossing, went along the eastern trail to the end. There he saw nothing and wondered whence Ganiagwaihegowa came. At last he noticed an opening in the ground, and, entering it, he went down. It was very dark within. “There must be a skeleton here,” thought he, looking around. Going farther, he came to a room in which was abundant light from rotten wood all around. Farther on he came to a second room, in which were three of his brothers too weak to move, all their flesh having been eaten away. Having brought flesh to their limbs by means of his spittle, he sent them home. Their mother, thinking that they were ghosts, cried; then she drove them out to the rocks, where they found their father and brothers.