Part 1 — MYTHS

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98. A Tale of the Sky World

A long time ago human beings lived high up in what is now called heaven. They had a great and illustrious chief.

It so happened that this chief’s daughter was taken very ill with a strange affection. All the people were very anxious as to the outcome of her illness. Every known remedy was tried in an attempt to cure her, but none had any effect.

Near the lodge of this chief stood a great tree, which every year bore corn used for food. One of the friends of the chief had a dream, in which he was advised to tell the chief that in order to cure his daughter he must lay her beside this tree, and that he must have the tree dug up. This advice was carried out to the letter. While the people were at work and the young woman lay there, a young man came along. He was very angry and said: “It is not at all right to destroy this tree. Its fruit is all that we have to live on.” With this remark he gave the young woman who lay there ill a shove with his foot, causing her to fall into the hole that had been dug.

Now, that hole opened into this world, which was then all water, on which floated waterfowl of many kinds. There was no land at that time. It came to pass that as these waterfowl saw this young woman falling they shouted, “Let us receive her,” whereupon they, at least some of them, joined their bodies together, and the young woman fell on this platform of bodies. When these were wearied they asked, “Who will volunteer to care for this woman?” The great Turtle then took her, and when he got tired of holding her, he in turn asked who would take his place. At last the question arose as to what they should do to provide her with a permanent resting place in this world. Finally it was decided to prepare the earth, on which she would live in the future. To do this it was determined that soil from the bottom of the primal sea should be brought up and placed on the broad, firm carapace of the Turtle, where it would increase in size to such an extent that it would accommodate all the creatures that should be produced thereafter. After much discussion the toad was finally persuaded to dive to the bottom of the waters in search of soil. Bravely making the attempt, he succeeded in bringing up soil from the depths of the sea. This was carefully spread over the carapace of the Turtle, and at once both began to grow in size and depth.

After the young woman recovered from the illness from which she suffered when she was cast down from the upper world, she built herself a shelter, in which she lived quite contentedly. In the course of time she brought forth a girl baby, who grew rapidly in size and intelligence.

The grandmother of the twins liked Djuskaha and hated the other; so they cast Othagwenda into a hollow tree some distance from the lodge.

The boy that remained in the lodge grew very rapidly, and soon was able to make himself bows and arrows and to go out to hunt in the vicinity. Finally, for several days he returned home without his bow and arrows. At last he was asked why he had to have a new bow and arrows every morning. He replied that there was a young boy in a hollow tree in the neighborhood who used them. The grandmother inquired where the tree stood, and he told her; whereupon then they went there and brought the other boy home again.

When the boys had grown to man’s estate, they decided that it was necessary for them to increase the size of their island, so they agreed to start out together, afterward separating to create forests and lakes and other things. They parted as agreed, Othagwenda going westward and Djuskaha eastward. In the course of time, on returning, they met in their shelter or lodge at night, then agreeing to go the next day to see what each had made. First they went west to see what Othagwenda had made. It was found that he had made the country all rocks and full of ledges, and also a mosquito which was very large. Djuskaha asked the mosquito to run, in order that he might see whether the insect could fight. The mosquito ran, and sticking his bill through a sapling, thereby made it fall, at which Djuskaha said, “That will not be right, for you would kill the people who are about to come.” So, seizing him, he rubbed him down in his hands, causing him to become very small; then he blew on the mosquito, whereupon he flew away. He also modified some of the other animals which his brother had made. After returning to their lodge, they agreed to go the next day to see what Djuskaha had fashioned. On visiting the east the next day, they found that Djuskaha had made a large number of animals which were so fat that they could hardly move; that he had made the sugar-maple trees to drop syrup; that he had made the sycamore tree to bear fine fruit; that the rivers were so formed that half the water flowed upstream and the other half downstream. Then the reddish-colored brother, Othagwenda, was greatly displeased with what his brother had made, saying that the people who were about to come would live too easily and be too happy. So he shook violently the various animals—the bears, deer, and turkeys—causing them to become small at once, a characteristic which attached itself to their descendants. He also caused the sugar maple to drop sweetened water only, and the fruit of the sycamore to become small and useless; and lastly he caused the water of the rivers to flow in only one direction, because the original plan would make it too easy for the human beings who were about to come to navigate the streams.

The inspection of each other’s work resulted in a deadly disagreement between the brothers, who finally came to grips and blows, and Othagwenda was killed in the fierce struggle.

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There were a mother and two daughters living in a clearing. When the daughters became women the mother said: “You must now get married. Make twenty loaves of green-corn bread, tied up in husks in the usual manner.” The girls made the bread, and the next morning the mother said to the elder daughter: “Fill a basket with the bread and go to the lodge of a man who lives not far from here. It is a double lodge. Go in at the first door and say to the man who is there: ‘I have brought you bread. I am going to marry you.’ ” To the younger daughter she said: “Go in at the back door and say to the man who is there, ‘Here is marriage bread. I have come to marry you.’ The two brothers will take your bread and will tell you to stay. The path branches to one side before you reach the place, but keep on the straight path, which leads from here.”

The girls started, and when they came to the fork they kept on the straight path, and after a long time they came to a lodge. Looking through the cracks, they saw a number of False Faces dancing, whereupon, becoming frightened, they ran away. The Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa followed them, and when they were getting near one of the girls, she threw down her basket of bread. The Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa ate the bread and then he ran on. The second sister threw down her basket, and then piece by piece they cast off their clothes. The Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa in pursuit would stop and examine every piece. By this delay the girls kept a little ahead and finally reached their mothers lodge, but they were naked. The mother said: “You did not do as I told you. You must try again.” Having made bread again, the next morning they started the second time. This time they reached the right lodge. The elder sister, setting the basket of bread before the man, said: “I have come to marry you.” After eating the bread, he thanked her. The younger sister went in at the other door, and placing the basket of bread before the man, said: “Eat; I have come to marry you.” He thanked her and ate the bread, and so they were married.

There was a partition in the lodge, and in the morning when the brothers got up the elder brother always cried out, “I am up.” The younger brother would answer, “So am I.” “We are eating breakfast,” would be the elder brother’s response. “So are we,” was the younger brother’s answer. “I am going hunting,” would be the next sally. “So am I,” would be the reply.

Before starting off to hunt each brother said to his wife, “You must stay in the lodge for ten days. If you do not, our brother Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa may carry you away.” For nine days the sisters remained indoors; then the younger said: “It is bright and pleasant. Let us sit outside a few minutes.” The elder consenting, they sat down outdoors near the lodge. They had not been there long when Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa came. The sisters did not see him in his real character, and when he asked them to go and eat with him, they readily went. When the two brothers returned they missed their wives, and they knew that their brother had captured them. The elder of the two, going to Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa, said, “I have come to ask you to give back our wives. You can keep watch over them, but let them live with us.” At last Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa gave them up.

Now Hotʻhoh (Cold Weather) was a brother of these men who lived not far away. He always went naked. His only weapon was a tomahawk, which he carried in a hole or slit in the skin of his hip. It is he who makes the trees crack with such loud noises in winter, for he is striking them with his mallet or tomahawk. The two men now went to Hotʻhoh, whom they asked to protect their wives from Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa. Some time after this they went hunting again. On this occasion Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa, coming to the lodge, said to the sisters, “Come and eat with me. I live near here. You can eat and return in a little while.” Not recognizing him, they went. He took them to his lodge in the woods, where he shut them up. The youngest sister escaped and had gone some distance before Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa found it out. Then he followed, screaming as he ran. She was terribly frightened and ran directly to Hotʻhoh. He told her to go home, and that he would meet Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa. They met, and then began a terrific battle. Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa fought with his rattle and Hotʻhoh with his mallet. They uprooted the trees for miles as they went toward the east. At last Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa was conquered and promised never to trouble his brothers’ wives again.

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100. The Morning Star and the Cannibal Wife

Once far off in the woods there lived by themselves a husband and wife. It was the custom of the husband to hunt, while the woman devoted her time to raising corn and beans.

One day, while the wife was baking a cake in the ashes, a large spark from the fire fell on her hand as she sat in front of the hearth. The pain caused her to rub the spot with her finger. Soon it began to blister, whereupon she wet her finger in her mouth and rubbed the burned spot; in this way she got a taste of her own blood, and strange as it may seem, she took a liking for it and craved more of it. So with a knife she cut out pieces of the burned flesh, which she ate ravenously. The taste for the flesh grew on her so that she put a coal of fire on another spot on her hand, where it burned more flesh; thus she continued to cut out pieces of her own flesh and eat them. She persisted in this unnatural practice until she had eaten all the flesh from her legs and arms.

The husband had a dog, which was very wise and faithful to him. Now this dog eagerly watched what the woman was doing. When about half through eating the flesh off of her limbs, the unnatural wife, turning to the dog, said: “You would better go and tell your friend and master to escape from this place at once. You must go with him, for if you do not hurry away I shall eat you both.” Obeying this warning, the dog started and, running as fast as he could into the forest until he came to the place where the husband was hunting, he told him at once that his wife had become an Ongwe Ias (cannibal), and that she would eat them both if they did not flee immediately. The man and the dog started without delay on a keen run. After a while the man, knowing that the dog’s legs were short and not strong, decided to put him into a hollow tree. The dog consented to this in order to save the man, as he knew what was in store for both. So the hunter placed the dog in a hollow tree, at the same time bidding him to become punk. The hunter went on as fast as he could run, continuing until he came to a river with high banks, where an old man lived. He said to the old man: “Grandfather, I am in great trouble. Take me across the river to save me from peril of my life. My wife, who has become a cannibal, is pursuing me in order to devour me.” The old man said in reply: “Oh! I know what you are telling me, but she is still a long way behind you. She will not be here for some time to come. But you must bring me a basketful of fish from my fishpond.” The hunter at once went to the pond, which was enclosed, where he found a wickerwork dip net, with which he soon filled the basket with fish. As soon as the basket was full he hastened back with it to the old man, who soon said, “Sit down and eat with me.” So they ate together the fish, which had been prepared and cooked by the old man in such manner as to give the fugitive hunter more orenda (magic power) to resist the hostile influence of that of his wife. When they had finished eating the fish, the old man said, “I now want you to bring me a basketful of groundnuts.” The hunter went at once to the garden of the old man, and digging up the groundnuts as quickly as possible, brought them to him. After these were prepared and cooked they sat down and ate them. Then the old man said, “I will now take you across the river.” Going to the river bank, the old man lay face downward, resting on his elbows at the edge of the water, and stretching out his neck to the farther bank. He said to the hunter, “Now you may walk over on my neck, but you must be very careful, for I am not as strong as I have been in the past.” The hunter walked over on the old man’s neck with great care. When he had reached the other bank, the old man bade him good-by with the remark, “Far away in the west you will see a large lodge, which belongs to three aunts of yours, who will help you further; so call on them for aid.” On hearing this, the hunter hurried away.

After the woman had sent the dog away she ate all the flesh from her bones; then with small sticks she pushed all the marrow out of her bones and devoured that, too. Finally she filled the hollows in her bones with small pebbles, which rattled as she moved around. From time to time she sang and danced, causing the pebbles in her bones to rattle; whereupon she would exclaim: “Oh, that sounds fine!” Having become ravenous, she fell to devouring everything in the lodge—meat, bread, corn, beans, skins; in fact, everything that could be eaten. When she had eaten everything in the lodge, she started in pursuit of her husband. She soon discovered his tracks and followed them. Once in a while on the way she would stop and dance, listening with delight to the rattle of the small pebbles in her bones. Afterward she would take up the trail again.

Shortly after the hunter had fled from the lodge of the old man his wife came running along. Coming up to the bank of the river, she screamed: “Old man, take me across this river. I am pursuing my husband to seize him and eat him. Come! Be quick!” The old ferryman, not being accustomed to hear words like these, slowly turned toward the woman, saying: “I can not take you across. There is no walk for you, who are chasing your husband to eat him.” But the woman begged and begged him to comply with her request. At last the old man replied: “It is well. Go bring me a basketful of fish and also dig me a basketful of groundnuts.” Going out, the woman caught a basketful of fish in the old man’s pond; then from his garden she dug a basketful of groundnuts and brought them to the old man. When he had prepared and cooked them, she would not eat them, for she now craved nothing but human flesh. After eating by himself, the old man went to the bank of the river and, getting into position, stretched his neck across the water like a turtle, making a very narrow, high, arching span. Then he told her to walk across. But the woman became angry and said: “How do you suppose I am going to cross on that kind of walk?” The old man replied: “Oh! you can do just as you like about it. I am old now and can not make my neck flat. If I did, it would break down. As it is, you must walk very carefully.” No matter how the woman raged she had to go on that narrow path; so she picked her steps carefully, scolding as she went along. The river, which was very angry and deep, was full of terrible creatures. When the woman reached the middle of the river, she made the old man so angry by her scolding that he suddenly jerked his neck, making her fall into the water; whereupon she was devoured instantly, with the exception of her stomach, in which was her life, which floated downstream, passing the lodge of the three aunts of the hunter, her husband. Seeing it on the surface, the three aunts, having caught it, chopped it up fine, thus killing the woman.

In the meanwhile the husband came to the lodge of his three aunts, who told him to keep on his way and that they would watch and do what they could to aid him. So he kept on until he came to a wood, in which he saw a young woman gathering sticks for fuel. She asked him: “Where are you going?” He replied: “I am going on until I find pleasant people to live with.” The young woman answered: “You would better remain here with me as my husband. We can live very happily if you can manage my grandmother, who is a little old woman, but very troublesome.” As the young woman was pleasant and good-looking, the hunter decided to remain with her. When they arrived at the lodge of the young woman the little old woman, her grandmother, was outside. She was about one-half the height of an ordinary person, but very stout. She exclaimed: “Oh! you have brought a husband, have you?” Continuing, she added: “You would better bring him into the lodge to let him rest. You should also give him something to eat.” The young woman replied: “It is well; you ask him to come into the lodge.” So the grandmother told them to enter the lodge; following her inside, they sat down. Thereupon the grandmother, getting a club from the farther end of the room, began beating her granddaughter, saying: “Oh! you like too well to have a husband.” She struck her many blows, which the granddaughter endured without making any defense. When bedtime came the old woman said to her granddaughter: “Your husband must sleep with me tonight.” There was nothing to be done but to comply with her demand. So the husband went to the old woman’s bed. The latter covered herself and the man with a skin, fastening it down on all sides in such manner that it was air-tight, so the man could scarcely breathe. Then the old woman made an attempt to smother the husband; she would have done so had he not had a small false face [fetish] hidden away in his bosom. At once he told this aid to absorb all the odor into itself, and thereupon it did so. When morning came, contrary to the expectation of the grandmother, the husband was alive and well. The old woman now for a time left him in peace, and he enjoyed the company of his wife.

Several days later the old woman said to the man: “We must go to an island today to hunt.” They found that the island was low and that in the middle of it there was a very deep lake. Having made a landing, they drew their canoe up on the island. The old woman said to the man: “Take your position here on the right,” indicating with her finger a spot away from the canoe, “and I will drive the game toward you.” The man had gone about halfway toward the place when, hearing a sound in the direction of the canoe, he turned back, only to see the old woman in the canoe paddling away as fast as she could. He called to her to return, but it was of no use.

The man remained on the island all day long; there was no escape for him. He noticed the marks of water high up on the trees, which were very tall. He knew well what these marks meant. When night came the water began to rise, and thereupon the hunter climbed the highest tree he could find on the island. The water kept rising, and he continued to climb as it rose. With the first streak of dawn in the east the hunter saw that all the shorter trees were covered with water, while around him on all sides were great numbers of monsters waiting to devour him. He sat at the top of the tallest tree on the island. While looking around for some avenue of escape he saw the Morning Star shining brightly in the east. Remembering that the Morning Star had promised him in a dream in the days of his youth to help him in the time of trouble or peril, he prayed that the Morning Star would hasten the coming of the day, for he believed that with the advent of daylight the waters would subside and he would be saved. He cried in the anguish of his mind: “Oh, Morning Star! hasten the Orb of Day. Oh, Morning Star! hurry on the daylight. You promised when I was young that you would help me if I ever should be in great peril.” Now, the Morning Star lived in a beautiful lodge, with a small boy as a servant. Hearing the voice of the hunter appealing to him for aid, he called out to the servant, “Who is that shouting on the island?” The small boy replied, “Oh! that is the husband of the little old woman’s granddaughter. He says that you promised him in a dream when he was young that you would help in the time of trouble.” The Morning Star answered, “Oh, yes! I did promise him to do so. Let the Orb of Day come at once.” Immediately daylight came, and the water on the island subsided.

When the waters were dried from the land the hunter slipped down from the tree, and going to the landing place he buried himself in the sand, leaving only his nostrils and one eye exposed. Early in the forenoon the old woman came again to the island. Drawing up the canoe on the beach, she said to herself: “The flesh of my granddaughter’s husband has been eaten up by this time, but I suppose his bones are left. Being very young, they must have good marrow in them, so I think I will have some of this marrow.” So saying, she started to search the island for the bones. The man was watching her, and when she had gone far enough away he sprang up out of the sand, and boarding the canoe pushed off and paddled away. When he had gone some distance from the island the old woman saw him, whereupon she cried out in agony of despair, “Oh, grandson, come back! I will never play another trick on you. I will love you.” The hunter replied in derision, “Oh, no! I will not return. You shall play no more tricks on me,” and continued to paddle away.

When night came the water on the island began to rise. Then the old woman climbed the tall pine tree to escape the monsters waiting to devour her. Between midnight and sunrise the water, still rising, was nearing the treetop where the old woman was, when she called out to the Morning Star, “You promised me when I was young that you would help me when I should be in distress.” The Morning Star asked the boy, “Is that man down there on the island yet?” The lad replied, “Oh, no! He got off yesterday. This is the little old woman herself. She says you promised her in a dream to help her.” The Morning Star replied, “Oh, no! I never had any conversation with her. I never made any promise to her.” With these words the Morning Star fell asleep again and slept on, letting the Orb of Day come at its own time. The water on the island kept rising and rising until it had reached the top of the pine tree, when the inhabitants of the lake ate up the little old woman.

The man was at home with his young wife and they lived ever after in peace and happiness.

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One day a stranger came to a lodge in which a man, his wife, and four children lived, and asked leave to marry the young daughter of the family. Both father and mother consenting, he married her.

The man remained there for a time, and then he wished his wife to go to his own lodge. The old people were willing, so the two started. They soon reached a large cabin, whereupon the young man said, “This is my cabin.” When they arrived there was no one in it, but toward night the woman heard some person approaching on the run. Soon afterward a man entered and sat down by the door; again she heard the sound of someone running, and another man entered and sat down; then a third person came. They began talking one with another, relating how far they had been. One of them said, “I had good luck; I killed a bear.” Finding that he was the only one of the three who had killed anything, they said, “Go, bring it in; we will cook it.” The young woman sat watching at the end of the room. The man brought in what he called a bear, which she saw was the trunk and head of a man. Having cut it up, they put it into a kettle to boil; when cooked, they ate it. The three walked to and fro in the room without once looking toward the woman. Her husband was there, but he did not talk, nor eat with the men. Although they were his brothers, he never ate their kind of food. The next morning, and on succeeding days, after making the usual preparations, the three went hunting; in the evening they returned, and sitting down by the door, talked over their journey. If they had killed any game they brought it into the lodge, and cooked and ate it; if they had killed nothing, they ate what was left from the meal of the previous evening.

One day when the young woman went to draw water she found a man standing by the spring. He addressed these words to her, “I came to tell you that your husband is going into the ground tomorrow. He is magically a very powerful and evil man. As soon as he is gone, you must put your moccasin exactly in the center of your lodge, telling it to answer for you every time your husband speaks. When you have done that, hurry to this place.” The next morning the husband said, “I am going into the ground. I want you to stay in the lodge all the time I am away,” and turning around where he stood, he disappeared in the ground. After doing as she had been told to do by the stranger, the wife went to the spring, where she found the man. Putting her into the top of an arrow, and saying, “When the arrow falls, get out and hurry along the lake as fast as you can,” he shot it into the air.

[The narrator thinks the net-maker was a spider.]

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A brother and his sister lived together in a lodge. The brother never allowed his sister to go outside. When he went hunting, he did not fail to tell his dog to stay at home and to bring whatever his sister wanted.

One day when her brother was hunting the sister wanted water; not seeing the dog she thought what harm could it do for her to go out and bring back water as quickly as possible. She ran to the spring, and stooping down, filled the bucket, but as she straightened up and rested, putting the bucket on the edge of the spring, someone, grasping her from behind, carried her away through the air. The dog came on the run, and barking loudly, made a spring into the air to catch her, but he could not reach her. On hearing the dog bark, the brother hurried home. Finding his sister gone, he said to the dog, “You have caused me great trouble.” The animal felt the rebuke so keenly that, putting his head beneath his body, he became a stone.

Gaqga, the man who had stolen the young woman, took her to an island in the middle of a lake, where she passed some time. Every day Gaqga would go away, returning with dry fish which he found on the shore. Sometimes he would bring pieces of human flesh, which he ate himself; afterward he would send the young woman to get water for him to drink.

One day when the woman went to the edge of the island for water, a man stood before her, who said: “I have come to tell you that the man who is keeping you is very hungry, and has made up his mind to kill you tomorrow. He will tell you to bring water to fill the kettle; as soon as you do this, he will seize his club to kill you. You must run behind the post on which the kettle hangs. He will strike the post and break his arm. Then come to this spot as quickly as you can.” The next day Gaqga acted as the man said he would. When the kettle was full, seizing his heavy club, he struck at the girl, who ran behind the post; as his arm came down with the club it struck the post and it broke. The woman ran to the lake. The man was there with a canoe. Both got into it, and the man pushed out into the lake. This man was Sgagedi. After a while Gaqga’s arm felt better, so he followed the girl to the water. Seeing the canoe far off on the lake, he was very angry, saying, “This is the work of Sgagedi.” As the canoe was approaching shore, the girl saw a lodge near by. When Sgagedi stepped into the canoe, he divided himself, one half sitting at each end of the canoe. As the canoe struck land, the half of the body which was at the stern was raised and thrown forward, whereupon, striking the front half, it was joined thereto, so that the two parts became a whole man. The girl was sitting in the bottom of the boat, when the mother of the man came to her, saying, “My daughter, come with me,” and led her to the lodge. She was now Sgagedi’s wife. Every time he went out on the water he divided himself, one half sitting at each end of the canoe. As soon as the canoe touched land he became whole again. All his life he had been traveling around on the lake in this way, liberating people captured by witches.

After a while the young woman gave birth to twin boys. As soon as they were born the old grandmother threw them into the lake; as they touched the water they began to paddle and quickly swam to shore. Again she threw them in the water, but in a moment they were back again; then she threw them far out into the lake. When they swam to shore she said, “That will do.” They now began to run around and play. They grew very quickly and after a while said to their father, “We think you ought to rest, so you would better stay at home and let us go out in the canoe and do your work.” “It is well,” replied the father.

Thereupon the twins started off in the canoe, and after rowing some distance one said to the other, “See! there is something on the land that looks as if it were falling to pieces.” “That is true,” said the other brother; “let us go ashore and find out what it is.” So they landed, and going to the spot they found an old lodge lying flat on the ground; within was something breathing, which they discovered was a very old man. They got him out of the lodge, and one of the boys said, “This is our uncle, and we must carry him home.” The man consented to go with them. As they were leaving the place he pointed to a large stone, saying, “That is my dog.” Striking it with a switch he said, “Get up,” whereupon the dog got up, shaking himself and stretching, as is the custom of dogs. They traveled on until they came to the water, with the dog following them. Then all got into the canoe and the boys paddled across the lake. When they reached home the boys said, “Grandmother, we have found our uncle.” On looking at the old man, she was convinced that he was her brother. Now the boys said to their grandmother, “You must marry our uncle.” “It is well,” replied she. After that they all lived together very happily.

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There was a large village of people provided with plenty of meat, who lived happily. Among these people was a man who lived at one end of the village, whom few noticed.

One night this man had a dream, in which his Dream Spirit said to him, “Something is going to happen to the people of the village, so you must notify them to move away within ten days.” In the morning he went to the center of the village, and having gathered the people together, told them his dream. Some of them believed and some did not. Five days later, all those who had believed his dream joined those who had not believed and paid no further heed to the warning.

On the fifth night the man dreamed again. This time his Dream Spirit said to him: “We know that all the people do not believe you. Now save yourself. Start within three days, taking your bow and all your arrows with you. About halfway up the high hill east of the village you will find a large hollow rock; enter this cavern, and you will find a subterranean passage running toward the village. Look through this passage, and you will see all that is going on in the village. The people will be destroyed. At midday of the tenth day a great cry will be raised by the people, such a cry as you have never heard. When it begins to die away you must commence to shoot through the passage, for the monster that destroys the village will track you to this place. You will save your life if you shoot all your arrows before the monster reaches the underground passage. When your arrows are gone, come out of your hiding place and go to the place where the monster has fallen. Then take a small piece of its skin together with the hair (which is very long) from the back of its head; this will be of use to you, for it has great orenda (magical power). This monster is called Dagwanoenyent. You must wind the hair around your body next to your skin and declare at the same time that there is nothing that you can not do. At night when it is too dark for you to be seen, go northward a short distance, and you will find a tree upturned by the roots. Go around the roots—you must not be frightened, for I will give you something which will be of great service to you.”

The morning after this dream the man seemed very gloomy and unhappy. When the time came, taking his bow and bundle of arrows, he started; going eastward, he soon began to climb the mountain (he did not take his family, for all believed not in his dream). Just as the sun set he came to a large rock, in the opposite side of which he found an opening. Entering here, he kept on until, as he thought, he arrived directly under the center of the rock; there he found a room high enough for him to stand in. (There was stone all around, but the bottom was earth.) He now remembered the subterranean passage, and looking around, he found it; then he lay down to sleep. The next morning when he went out there was a deer standing close by, which he killed and skinned. Having roasted some of the venison, he ate it for breakfast.

It was still the day on which he killed Dagwanoenyent. When it began to get so dark that he could not distinguish objects, he started, as his dream had said, toward the north. He had not gone far when he came to a fallen tree with the roots turned up. On starting to go around this, when halfway around, he saw Gaasyendietʻha, which had its great mouth open and seemed very angry. When the Gaasyendietʻha saw that the man was not frightened, it began to laugh; then, changing itself to a man (human being), it said: “You must take one of my teeth out. This will be of great use to you, for it will enable you to change yourself into any form you wish.” The man took out one of the double teeth, the one farthest back in the jaw. At this Gaasyendietʻha said: “You shall live. You shall have full magical power in your possession, but you and I must always counsel with each other, especially if you are in trouble; now we must part.” Immediately Gaasyendietʻha, resuming his natural form, flew off through the air.

One night some time afterward, as they sat in the hut the man heard a noise outside, as though some one were coming on a run. Suddenly the door opened and a man came in. They greeted one another. “I have come again,” said the man. “I find that you have made yourself into two persons now. I am here to warn you. A great monster has become very envious of you and has said, ‘There is a man over yonder who has become magically very powerful, and I have determined to try to overpower him and to eat him.’ Tomorrow at noon this monster will come. You must go eastward until you reach a large hill of stones, half as high as the highest mountain, not far from here. The place will be your only refuge when this monster attacks you. Get up on these rocks, and when it approaches you, you must jump from one rock to another. It will jump after you, but when it fails to reach you and falls, you may feel safe. We will then take care of it. This is what I had to tell you, so now I shall go.” The man and his wife went to sleep. The next morning the woman, noticing that her husband was gloomy, said, “What is the matter?” “Nothing, except I am thinking of what will become of me today at noon.” (She had neither seen nor heard the strange man who had spoken to her husband, although she was present. They two were so powerful in orenda that only they heard what was said.) The husband, walking up and down, seemed to be very uneasy.

As it neared noon, leaving his wife, the man started for the rocks. Seating himself on the top of the highest rock, he waited. Just at midday he heard a great noise, a distant howl; then he heard another nearer; then a third howl, just at the rocks. Now by way of defiance he gave a whoop, calling out, “I am the strongest of the strong. Nothing can overpower me.” The source of the sound was a bear, the oldest and strongest of the great bears. As it came up, it leaped on the rocks where the man stood, whereupon he jumped on the next rock, with the monster close behind him. In this way they kept leaping from one rock to another, being ever about the same distance apart, until the man began to feel tired and faint, and as he looked ahead the next rock seemed farther off than any of the others had been. Making a greater exertion, he just reached it. The bear was close behind him, but as it sprang, it fell short, just striking its jaws on the edge of the rock. The man looked over the edge of the rock and then jumped to the ground. As he struck the ground, looking behind him, he saw the rock from which he had leaped turn over and fall on the monster, killing it. “That is what I said; there is nothing that can overpower me,” the young man thought. He then went back to his hut very happy. His wife asked what had happened to him. “I have killed a monster bear that came to destroy me,” he replied.

For eight days and nights the monster chased him. When it discovered that the man went through trees it threw its power ahead of him, making the trees so hard that the man could no longer go through them. On the ninth night the monster commanded a terrible rainstorm to come and the night to be so dark that the man could not see where he was going, but the man ran on until midnight without hitting a tree. Just at midnight he struck a tree and was thrown far back. At that moment his friend was there, who said, “Do all you can; exert yourself”; and taking hold of his hand he led him. The two went and traveled a great deal faster than the man had gone alone, unaided by his friend, Gaasyendietʻha, the Meteor. The two ran together until daylight, when the friend left and the man went on alone. This was the tenth day and he began to be very tired and faint, but still the monster was approaching and its strokes on his tracks were frequent, so that the man fell often. The chances seemed against his escape. Night came and the Djainosgowa made it terribly dark. Running against a tree, the man bounded far back, but fortunately the Djainosgowa was so near that he fell behind it. The Djainosgowa, having likewise struck the tree, was also thrown back. At once the man was up and running forward again. The Djainosgowa was just upon him and was reaching out to grasp him when the man fell, as it seemed to him, into a hole in the ground. He thought, “Well, I am near my end. When I strike I shall be dashed to pieces.” He kept falling, and as he fell he grew sleepy. Looking up he saw the monster coming down the side of the hole, winding round and round. Thereupon the man went to sleep. After a long time he woke and was still falling, and the monster was still pursuing him. At last the man landed on his feet. He seemed to have come out of the hole, and on looking around he saw a beautiful country. Saying to himself, “My friend told me to go toward the south,” he ran in that direction. As he went on rapidly he saw the Djainosgowa coming toward him very fast, and thought, “Now I shall die.” As it came near the monster turned itself into a man. The runner, closing his eyes, kept on thinking, “I will not be looking at him when he reaches me.” He ran until he thought it was a long time to wait to be seized; then he opened his eyes and looked around, but he could not see the Djainosgowa, but still he kept on running.

Soon the man came to a lodge, which he entered, finding within an old man, who, looking up, exclaimed: “Oh, my grandson! I am glad you have come. I have been waiting for you a long time. You are bringing with you what I have wanted to eat for a long time. So go back there and stay. The Djainosgowa and I will fight alone. We will see whether it is as powerful as it thinks it is.” Soon the noise of the monster’s approach could be heard. Coming to the lodge, it asked, “Where is the man I have been chasing?” The old man said, “Here I am.” “No; you are not the man,” Djainosgowa replied. “I am; but if you think it is some one else, you shall not find out until you overpower me,” retorted the old man. The Djainosgowa said, “Come outside; there is not room in here.” “Very well,” replied the old man, and, arising, he went out. Then they began to fight. Whenever the animal bit the old man, tearing open the flesh, it immediately came together and healed. The old man tore off the forelegs of the Djainosgowa. They fought until the Djainosgowa was torn to pieces and the old man convinced himself that the pieces were not alive. Then he hung up the meat in the lodge and said to his grandson: “Come out! I have killed the monster you were afraid of. I am very thankful, for I have been wishing for this kind of meat for a long time.” The old man boiled the meat in a large kettle, not leaving a particle. In a small kettle he cooked bear’s meat for his grandson. As the meat was boiling, he put corn into the pounder and with only a few strokes it became corn meal; then having made bread, he began to eat. He was constantly giving thanks for the meat he was eating. At last, when he had eaten every bit of the great Djainosgowa he said: “I thank you, my grandson, for this will last me for a great many tens of years. You must stay with me until you are rested and cured, for you have been infected by the orenda (magic power) of this great monster.”

One day the old man said, “I want you to see what I have planted.” A short distance from the lodge they came to a field where something was growing. The old man said, “This is called onĕñoñ.” There were great tall cornstalks with ears of corn on them as long as the man was tall and kernels as large as a man’s head. The field extended farther than the eye could see. The old man said, “Let us go on the other side.” There the young man saw another field, where all varieties of corn were growing. Going on, they came to a third field, whereupon the old man said, “These are squashes.” They were very large and in great variety. Passing the squash field, they went to the old man’s lodge.

The next day, after he had rested, the grandson, having bade the old man good-by, went on. He traveled many days and finally came to a large opening, where there was a village. After thinking a while, he went to the lodge of the chief, who received him well. The chief’s daughter, looking at him, asked, “Have you ever heard of a man sending his wife off in the form of Osʻhada, a vapor?” He thought and thought this over; he had entirely forgotten about it. After a good while, remembering the past, he said, “Yes; I myself did that.” “I thought I recognized you. I am your wife,” declared the woman. They were glad to be together again.

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Dagwanoenyentgowa Sʻhagodigendji, the eldest woman of her people, lived in the woods with two grandchildren, a boy and a girl.

One day, when the old woman had gone on a journey, a Yenonsgwa came to the lodge. Picking up the younger child, after speaking kindly to her and saying that she was a pretty little thing, the Yenonsgwa swallowed her. Then she began to talk to the boy, telling him how well he looked, but 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 look for his grandmother. Accordingly he climbed on her back; but soon becoming frightened, he grasped her so tightly that he became fastened to it, so he could not get off, although he tried hard to do so. The Yenonsgwa started off, but went in a direction different from that where his grandmother was. The boy told her so, but she said: “Oh! we shall soon come to the place where she is.” The Yenonsgwa woman went very far into the woods, and the boy began to cry for his grandmother; he cried so hard that Yenonsgwa told him to get off her back. She did not like to hear him cry, and, moreover, she wanted to eat him. But he did not get off, for he could not do so. Yenonsgwa could neither get her hands around to pull him off, nor could she 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, for he knew also that she would eat him if he slipped down. They traveled thus for many days.

When the grandmother returned home she found that the boy and girl were not in the lodge, and she became very uneasy. She searched everywhere, but found no traces of either. After a while, finding the tracks of the Yenonsgwa around the lodge, she guessed what the trouble was. The old woman followed the trail of the Yenonsgwa, saying that she was bound to get her grandchildren back.

Yenonsgwa tried to get the boy off, even rubbing him against a hickory tree, but the boy said: “Oh! I like that. Rub harder.” At this she stopped rubbing and went on. The grandmother, in the form of a whirlwind, followed her, and Yenonsgwa told the boy that his grandmother was following as a whirlwind, and would strike and kill both. The boy was silent. Then looking around for a refuge, Yenonsgwa found a hiding place in a deep ravine. There she dug a hole, into which she went and covered herself with the earth which slipped down from above. Now Yenonsgwa heard Dagwanoenyentgowa coming, and said to the boy: “You can hear your grandmother coming if you listen.” Then the Dagwanoenyentgowa rushed over the place where they lay. The boy shouted to his grandmother, who heard him. Changing her course, she came back straight to the spot where they were, blowing the earth off the hiding place, so that Yenonsgwa was visible on the surface of the ground. When the grandmother asked the boy whether he was there, he answered: “Yes.” The Yenonsgwa, however, lay still, whispering to the boy: “Be quiet! Your grandmother will see us.” The grandmother then called to the boy by name: “Dagwanoenyentgowa, get off Yenonsgwa’s back.” Having done so, he went a short distance from her inside the cavern. Then the old woman, his grandmother, hurled great stones at Yenonsgwa, rending all her clothes of rock and killing her. Thereupon the old woman took her grandson with her toward home. On the road she said: “Never allow yourself to be treated in this way again. Never let anyone maltreat you. You can master all those people if you only use your orenda (magic power), for you are a Dagwanoenyentgowa like myself.” The old woman remained at home a few days with her grandson.

Meanwhile some of the Yenonsgwa’s people found her trail, which they followed until they came to the place where her clothes were rent and scattered, and she lay dead. When they asked, the spirit of the Yenonsgwa told them that the old woman had killed her and had rent her coating of stone. The men of the Yenonsgwa’s people now resolved to collect a large company of their people to kill the old woman, Dagwanoenyentgowa.

While they were preparing for this, the old woman, while she was out on one of her journeys, found out their plans. When she heard the news of the intended attack she said to her grandson, “We must get your sister out of the belly of the Yenonsgwa, for she is sitting within, crying for me all the time.” So they set out from home, and when they reached the place where Yenonsgwa lay dead the old woman, having built a little fire, began to burn tobacco on it for her granddaughter, saying, “This is what we like; this is what we like.” She burned perhaps half a pouch full and kept pushing the smoke toward the Yenonsgwa’s body, saying, “This is what we like. Do you come out of Yenonsgwa’s body.” Still no sign of the granddaughter; she did not come out of Yenonsgwa’s body. At last the old woman said: “We must have more help. You have a great many relatives—uncles, aunts, and cousins. We must call them here.” So saying, the old woman, the Dagwanoenyentgowa, called them loudly. They came one by one. There was a great number of them. They broke up and removed all the clothing of the Yenonsgwa, which they threw away, leaving the body naked. Then the old woman built a fire at Yenonsgwa’s head, on which she burned tobacco. All the Dagwanoenyentgowa walked around the fire, each throwing tobacco into it, saying, “This is what we like; this is what we like.” After each one of them had gone around once and had thrown tobacco into the fire once, the young girl started up in Yenonsgwa’s body, panting for breath. Soon she arose, and walking out, said, “How long have I been here?” The people gave her tobacco to smoke. She inhaled it until she gained her full strength. Then all went home—the old woman with her two grandchildren to her lodge, and the other Dagwanoenyents each to his own place.

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105. The Twelve Brothers and Their Uncle, Dagwanoenyent

Once there lived 12 brothers who were great hunters, and who dwelt very happily together. Everyone knew that they excelled in whatever they undertook, for they had great magical powers and were honest.

Every morning the brothers would start off in different directions to hunt, and would return in the evening. The eldest brother seemed to understand best the women, who went around the world to destroy men, so he always avoided them. One day, however, while he was hunting he saw a red-headed woodpecker drumming on the trees, making a great noise. As he watched the bird, it went around the tree and then flew to another tree and around that. Finally it flew to the ground, and, behold! a beautiful young woman took the place of the bird. She said to the hunter, “Are you not ashamed to point an arrow at a woman? Come and talk to me.” Thereupon he went up to her—this was the last thing he remembered. She took him to a high rock where stood another woman, who said “Let his bones come to the ground,” and his body fell, becoming a heap of bones. Great piles of human bones lay around this rock, for many men had been decoyed to the place by the first woman and destroyed by the other.

Night came, and as the eldest brother did not return, the remaining 11 said that some evil had befallen him, and that he would never return. As predicted, he never came home; his mat remained vacant, and they left everything as it was and mourned him as dead.

After a long time another brother was missing one evening and he, too, never returned. Later it was learned that while walking along in the woods he came upon two women, who with their wiles put him to sleep. One of them said: “Let us put him into the ground until mold appears all over him—he shall be alive—and let him remain there until his uncle finds out where he is and rescues him.”

Now, the 10 remaining brothers were greatly alarmed, and they told their youngest brother, whom they loved very dearly, that “he must stay at home and not go roaming about the forest, for he was young and did not know the world as well as they did.”

Again many moons passed, and then one night the third brother was missing. The others knew he must be dead, or he would not have failed to return when night came. Now, three mats were vacant, and the remaining brothers were almost heartbroken.

“What does he live on?” asked the younger. “He gnaws the bark of hickory trees,” answered the elder. “That is an easy living. I will get plenty of it,” said the younger, and having cut down the largest hickory trees he could find, he took off great blocks of bark for his uncle to eat. Then he made himself six arrows, each arrow being a great tree. He would lift the tree out of the ground by the roots. “I want you to be small,” and made an arrow of it; the blunt end of the arrow was the butt near the roots. The elder brother did not know that these arrows were large trees. He was afraid to have his brother go and put but little faith in his success. While the younger brother was making his arrows he practiced running. One day while so engaged he thought he heard a groan under his feet, as it were, and going back and forth he found the exact place whence it seemed to come. It was as though he ran over a man and each time hurt him fearfully; so digging down into the ground, he found a living man, whose features were perfect but whose face was covered with thick mold. He took him home to his elder brother, saying, “We have plenty of bear’s oil, and you can anoint him until he regains his natural skin.” The newly found man could neither see nor hear.

While the pursued and the pursuer were still a long way off, the elder brother began to hear a frightful roar and to feel a great wind rising. Thereupon, saying, “My uncle is coming,” he opened the skin doors (there was one at each end of the lodge) and put great pounders on them, and made a big fire. When the younger brother reached the lodge he took up the pounder, and as the Great Head came down to the threshold and rolled in, both brothers began pounding it and kept on doing so until it rolled almost to the end of the lodge and became silent. At this the young man said: “I brought you here, uncle; now, you must stay with us and tell us where our brothers are.” “I can not stay,” replied the Head, “but I will help you, and your brothers will come back.”

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There was a man who had three nephews, and all lived in a lodge which was divided into two parts by a partition. The old man lived in one part and the young men in the other. There was no door between the two rooms; they could talk only through the partition. The old man, however, was an Ongwe Ias; he was a brother of the Dagwanoenyent who chased the panther and her cubs.

When the old man went hunting he always started on a run, and one could hear the sound of his going. The young men used to go hunting, too. Whenever the old man came home they could hear him throw down a person’s body and cut it up; then they could hear him eating. Afterward he would ask the boys whether they had all returned from hunting, whereupon they would say, “Yes.”

One morning all started off to hunt, the three brothers and The-Found-One. In the afternoon the old man came back home and stayed in his part of the lodge. At night he asked, “Are you all here?” One answered, “No; our eldest brother has not come.” The old man was astonished, and told the second brother that he must start early the next morning and follow his brother’s tracks.

In the morning the second brother started on the run to look for his elder brother. After a while he came to a clearing, in the middle of which sat an old woman; his brother’s tracks went straight toward her. He made up his mind to inquire of the woman about him. Going straight up to her, he asked, but she gave no answer. Then she struck him and straightway he turned into bones. Now, two of the brothers were gone. When night came and the uncle reached home, he asked the lone brother whether all had returned. The youngest said, “No,” whereupon the uncle said, “You must follow them and see what has happened.”

So the youngest went out the next morning, and soon reached the opening or clearing, where he saw the gray-haired woman. It came into his mind that she was the cause of the trouble; so taking a start he ran and then jumped on her back, asking “Have you seen my brothers?” Having said this, he jumped off. After trying in every way to hit him, at last the woman just touched him and thereupon the three brothers were gone; he, too, then becoming merely bones, like the other two.

At night when the old uncle returned he asked the fourth person, The-Found-One, “Have your brothers come back?” “No,” was the answer. At this the old man, astonished, said, “When you rise in the morning get crotched sticks and make a platform on them; put as many stones as possible on the platform, and then start in search of your uncle. You can not help finding him. When you see him you must shoot him in the forehead; then he will follow in the direction from which the arrow comes.” The next morning, having made a platform, the man put on it as many big stones as possible. After doing this, he started in the direction the old man had pointed out. During the forenoon he heard a big noise, and when he came out into a broad opening, or clearing, he saw his uncle, Dagwanoenyent, on a great rock which he was eating, biting off large pieces. On seeing him, The-Found-One shot an arrow at his forehead, saying at the same time, “I have come for you, uncle.” His uncle, the Great Head, followed him, and he shot another arrow. The Great Head always followed the course of the arrow. After shooting twice The-Found-One was back at the lodge, where he called to the old man-eater, “Uncle, I have come.”

“Well, I am going after my brother; he ought not to eat men, if he too gets lost.” With these words, Dagwanoenyent flew up high in the air. The old woman knew he was coming, so shading her eyes with her hand, she kept watch; presently she saw him approaching. Flying down where she was, he bit at her, but she had disappeared; then he bit gravel. On flying up he could see nothing. At last he hid behind a cloud and watched until he saw her; thereupon, plunging down, he bit deep into the ground, this time killing the old woman and letting out her blood. Then he said to himself, “My brother should not eat people, if he is such a coward that he can not kill an old woman.”

Dagwanoenyent had to bring to life his three nephews and his brother. The-Found-One came to the place where the old woman was killed, and Dagwanoenyent told him to put the bones together, and then to go to a big hickory tree near by and push against it, calling out, “Rise! you people, lest the tree fall on you.” Having put together the bones as directed, he pushed against the tree, at the same time calling, “Rise! lest the tree fall on you.” At once all came to life, whereupon the man-eater said, “I give up; I will never eat man again.” All went home together, and are said to be living in some parts of the Rocky Mountains now. Dagwanoenyent is living still.

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