Part 2 — SENECA FICTION, LEGENDS, AND MYTHS (continued 2)
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The young man did not withdraw his arrow, but took it up with the flicker’s body transfixed by it and placed it on his shoulder, thus to carry his victim. In the meantime the flicker kept saying, “You should let me go free again. I am doing nothing wrong.” But the young man replied, “No. I will not let you go free. I desire to show you to my two brothers.” With these words he resumed his journey.
He had not gone very far when he reached a clearing, at the border of which he stopped to look around. He saw at some distance a lodge, out of which smoke arose, whereupon he said, “I will go thither to the lodge. My two elder brothers are certainly idling away their time, for I believe that they are both there in that lodge.” He came to this conclusion because he noticed that the tracks of his two brothers led to the lodge. Having reached the side of the lodge, he came to a halt. He had no sooner stopped walking than a man’s voice inside challenged him, saying, “Come, my grandson. Thou hast come to visit me in my lodge.” On entering, the youth was greatly surprised to see before him a fine-looking young maiden, who was seated on her couch weaving a forehead pack strap from the prepared fibers of slippery-elm bark. The old man said to his young visitor: “It has been, indeed, a very, very long time that I have been looking for you to pay me a visit. I have been saying that a great hunter is on his way here. There sits my granddaughter whom you are to marry. Granddaughter, move along on your mat to give him room to sit beside you.” As the young man passed him the old man noticed that he was carrying something that he had killed, and he quickly arose, saying: “Give me the body that you are carrying. That is indeed a very fine game animal which you have killed on your way here.” The young man replied, “No. I will not give it up until I first see my two brothers.” To this the old man rejoined, “They passed here, and so they will return here, perhaps very soon.” Then, turning to the young maiden, he added: “Prepare some food for him. He has come here hungry, perhaps. You must procure a quantity of dried green sweet corn, which you must pound in a mortar, and also dried venison, which likewise must be pounded fine. Set a pot containing water over the fire, and into this you must put the pounded corn and venison, adding a quantity of maple sugar, dried huckleberries, and lastly bear’s grease.”
The young woman hastened to prepare the corn soup in the manner in which she had been instructed by her old “grandfather,” and it was not long before the soup was cooked and ready to be eaten. At this time the old man brought from an adjoining room a bowl of bear’s grease, which he gave to the young woman, who put it into the pot of soup. Having done this, she removed the pot from the fire and set it where the contents would cool. Presently she placed a large bowlful before the young man, who ate it with a good appetite, and he gave thanks to his host for what he had eaten. Night coming on shortly after this, the three persons began to get ready for retiring. At this time the old man said to his guest, “You should give me the body of the bird which you have brought with you. You will leave it with me to keep for you.” But the youth replied, “I will not give it up to you.” To this the old man answered, in a threatening manner, “I am greatly agitated in my mind. Let us retire for the night. A game animal has indeed come into my lodge. I am now an old man. Still there is nothing that curbs my orenda (I am unaffected by any influence). I am bound to get back my own bird at any cost.”
These events gave great pleasure to the old man, who went around saying: “There is nothing that yet affects my orenda; I am not suffering in any manner; no one from any place can come here who is able to treat me lightly.” So the old man was quite happy. Having brought out his great clay pot, with water in it, he set it over the fire, and after quartering the body of the young man, he placed it all in the pot to cook. After a suitable time he remarked, “It is perhaps cooked now.” He kept on looking into the pot from time to time to see whether the flesh was done. As it seemed not to cook thoroughly, the old man was greatly concerned about it, and continued saying, “There is something wrong; otherwise it would be possible to cook this thoroughly.” Finally, getting out of patience, the old man removed the pot from the fire and ate the raw flesh.
Now, in the lodge of the brothers there was anxiety when night came and none of the brothers who had gone northward had returned, and the five remaining brothers were wondering what had befallen them. When those who were left were back in their lodge Little Burnt Belly said, “Oh, elder brother! you must go tomorrow to bring them back.” Then they retired for the night and went to sleep. In the morning they arose and all except Little Burnt Belly went to hunt, as usual. The latter seated himself beside the fire and there he sat all day long without moving. When evening came the two missing brothers had not returned, and the hunting brothers came back empty handed, having killed nothing during the day. They all saw Little Burnt Belly seated beside the fire, silent and motionless.
The brothers retired for the night and slept soundly. When daylight came and they arose they saw Little Burnt Belly still seated beside the fire. He maintained the one position and said nothing to any of his brothers. When they ate their breakfast he did not arise to have his share. The other brothers then left the lodge to go out hunting for game animals for food. After they had gone Little Burnt Belly arose, saying, “Let me amuse my elder brothers.” Thereupon he then took down his bow and arrows, and shot two arrows up out of the smoke-hole of the lodge.
As the brothers were engaged in the chase at no great distance one from another, they were greatly surprised to see a very large deer rush up to them and fall dead at their feet, and soon another deer did likewise. They saw that an arrow protruded from the body of each deer—a circumstance which was very mysterious to them. As quickly as possible one of the brothers rushed up to the stricken deer, and breaking off a leaf, wrapped it around the arrow before touching it with his hand to draw it forth, saying, “I do not desire to uncharm my youngest brother’s arrow.” Then drawing out the arrow, he carefully laid it up in the fork of a tree. Having done this he started at once for home, carrying the whole body of the deer. Before it was dark Little Burnt Belly saw his elder brother bringing back the deer. Not long afterward the other brother came into the lodge bearing on his back the other deer properly packed for carrying. The other two brothers returned with them as guards.
They found Little Burnt Belly still seated before the fire. But when they were back in the lodge he said to them, “Our missing brothers have not yet returned home. Tomorrow I myself will go on their trail to seek for them.” After eating their evening meal they retired for the night and slept soundly. When morning came they prepared their usual breakfast and then started out to hunt. Thereupon Little Burnt Belly arose, and going to his couch procured such articles of apparel as he needed for his journey. He took also his bow and arrows, which were his immediate trust and dependence for accomplishing his task, for they were full of orenda (magic power), which he could control for his own use. He ate no breakfast; he needed none, for he desired to have all his faculties clear and alert. While seated beside the fire he had been taking suitable medicine to make him sound and clear visioned that he might be able to cope with the wizard whom he suspected of having destroyed his missing brothers.
Leaving the lodge, Little Burnt Belly shaped his course northward to find the trail of his three brothers. It was not long before he struck this, and he followed it on the run, presently entering a vast forest whose great trees made it dark and gloomy. He had been running for a large portion of the day when he saw daylight through the trees, from which he inferred that there must be a clearing ahead of him. Keeping his course, finally he came to the edge of a large clearing or field. As he saw the tracks of his brothers there, he stopped to look around. Immediately he heard a peculiar sound of tapping, and looking in the direction whence the sound seemed to come he perceived that it proceeded from the opposite side of a great valley just ahead of him. Making his way along to the brink of the valley he heard the voice of a man saying, “It seems that I am in luck, for on the opposite side of the valley a human being walks along.” He heard this voice three times. As the trail led him in the direction of the sound he said, “I think it my duty to follow this trail, for the voice may be that of one of my brothers (said ironically).”
So descending into the valley he came to a terrace or bench, along which he was following his brother’s tracks, when his attention was attracted by pieces of bark falling around him. Halting and looking up into a tree standing just at his side, he saw a small bird high up on the trunk, clinging to it and flitting at times from place to place. He saw that the bird pretended to be a flicker, or yellowhammer. When the flicker saw him looking up, it said with a laugh, “Some people who believe themselves possessed of orenda go about with bow and arrows just as if they knew how to use them, although they may be the poorest of marksmen.” Pointing an arrow at it, Little Burnt Belly said: “Be careful of thyself. Some people trust their orenda too far, for they lay claim to too much power for their own good.” At once the flicker became visibly agitated, and kept glancing at Little Burnt Belly furtively, as it slowly crept around the tree trunk. At an opportune moment he let fly an arrow, which pierced the body of the flicker, causing it to fall to the ground without uttering a sound. Little Burnt Belly did not fail to notice the shocks of arrows sticking in the tree trunk near the spot where the flicker was clinging and to recognize them as belonging to his brothers; he saw also their broken bows, and knew that they were in the power of some wizard.
Taking up his arrow with the flicker still pierced by it, and placing it over his shoulder, he resumed his journey. He was not long in coming to the lodge which he had seen in the distance, and to which the trail of his brothers had led him. As he drew near, a man’s voice within said, “Oh, my grandson! come in; I am thankful that you have come to visit me.” On entering the lodge he saw an old man whom he recognized as a cannibal, and he saw also before him, seated on her couch, a fine-looking young maiden. The old man exclaimed: “I have been looking for you for a very, very long time. I have said all along that a great hunter was on his way to visit me. There sits my granddaughter whom you are to marry. Granddaughter, move along, and give him some room by you.” As Little Burnt Belly passed the old man the latter saw that he was carrying something which he had killed, and he arose quickly, saying: “Do give me the body of that thing which you have killed, for it is indeed a very fine game animal.” But Little Burnt Belly replied: “I will not give it up. I will first see my missing brothers.” The old man persisted, however, saying: “You should give me that bird. I am greatly agitated in my mind. Nothing yet has curbed my orenda. I will get back that bird at any cost. A game animal has now come to my lodge.” Little Burnt Belly retorted: “You are boasting of the invulnerability of your orenda, but this bird contains your life, and I am your master, and you know it. You have long ago forfeited your life by all your murders and cannibalism, so now you shall die.” So saying, Little Burnt Belly crushed his head with the blows of his war club. Then he liberated the slave, or prisoner, of the cannibal from the effects of drugs which had been given her by her master, and after bringing back to life his own brothers, who had been devoured by the cannibal, they all returned to the lodge of Honenhineh.
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112. The Legend of Godasiyo
In the beginning of time, when the earth was new, when the inhabitants of it spoke but a single tongue, when these good people dwelt in perfect harmony and peace, and when the several settlements lived in such manner that there were no quarrels or contentions among them, there dwelt in one of these settlements, or villages, Godasiyo, a woman, who was the chief of her village.
The village over which Godasiyo held sway was situated beside a very large river; in fact, it occupied both sides of this important stream. It was the custom of the people of Godasiyo to cross the river for the purpose of visiting, of attending the dances which are held every night, and of exchanging their goods—meat, venison, skins, furs, roots, bark, and dried fruits and berries—in order to supply their several needs. Moreover, the lodge of public assembly was situated on one side of the river—a feature that occasioned considerable traveling across and back. This stream was very large and rapid. The people crossed it by means of a bridge constructed of saplings and of limbs of trees carefully fastened together. The state of good will and contentment, above described, continued for a long time, but at last trouble arose. The cause of this was a white dog which belonged to the chief, Godasiyo. The dissension became so serious that there was great danger that the factions would become involved in a fight over the matter. The great river divided the two parties.
Finally, Chief Godasiyo, after long deliberation, decided that the only way in which a deadly contest could be avoided would be by the removal of her own adherents to some other place of residence. Having decided to take this step, she at once informed her adherents of her resolution to remove westward by ascending the stream on which they were living. She invited all who had taken her part to follow her into exile from their present settlement. And they all agreed to emigrate with her. She told them further that they would ascend the river in canoes of birch bark, which would enable them to transport their small belongings with ease. So the people set to work to construct the water craft. Two canoes of birch bark of suitable size were made, and these were fastened together by means of strong saplings extending from one canoe to the other so as to support a kind of platform extending over the canoes and the space between them. This structure was for the sole use of the chief, Godasiyo. The followers of Godasiyo proceeded to construct birch-bark canoes for themselves also. When Godasiyo took her seat on the craft constructed for her sole use all her adherents and defenders launched their own canoes containing their effects.
When all had embarked, with Chief Godasiyo in the lead, all paddled upstream. The flotilla of canoes was very large, covering the surface of the water as far as the eye could see up and down the river. After they had paddled a long distance, the people finally came in sight of the forks in the river, and then it was that they began to converse together—the two divisions of canoes, one on each side of the float of the chief, Godasiyo—as they paddled upstream. One division chose one of the forks in the river as the course to follow to their new settlement, and the other division elected to turn into the other channel. Each division gave its reasons for the choice which it had made, and the divergent views gave rise at last to heated discussion. This strife continued to the point where, if persisted in, the people would become definitely separated; still no compromise was effected, so the leaders in each division turned the prows of their canoes so as to ascend the fork of the stream which they had selected. Thus they began to separate.
When this movement began the two men paddling the two canoes on which rested the float of Chief Godasiyo disagreed as to the course that they should take under the circumstances. As each chose the fork branching off on his side of the stream, the two canoes became separated, and the platform on which Chief Godasiyo was sitting slipped off its support, falling into the water and carrying the chief with it. The people drew near and, looking into the water to see what had become of their chief, they saw that she had sunk to the bottom, where she had become transformed into a great fish.
Thereupon the people of the two divisions attempted to converse together, but they were unable to understand one another, for their language had become changed. It was in this manner that this body of people became divided and possessed of different languages. Thus it came about that there are so many languages spoken by the various tribes dwelling on this earth.
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113. A Legend of an Anthropomorphic Tribe of Rattlesnakes
In the ancient country of the Oneida, which they occupied when the League of the Iroquois was formed, were a number of subterranean caverns, which, it was said, were inhabited by various tribes of men. The following legend is about one of these caverns:
It was said that in the olden time a certain young man of a good family while out hunting in this region saw a large raccoon ahead of him, which seemingly was attempting to escape from him. At once the young hunter started in pursuit of the raccoon, and soon the race became interesting, for the raccoon was gradually gaining on its pursuer. It was not long before the raccoon had gotten out of his sight, so the hunter was able to follow it only by following its tracks in the snow that lay on the ground to the depth of a span. After a very long pursuit the hunter finally tracked the raccoon to a large river, the banks of which were very high and rocky. The tracks led along under one bank for a long distance. The young man was becoming quite exhausted when finally he came to the mouth of a cavern in the river bank, into which the tracks of the raccoon disappeared. The entrance to this cavern was just large enough to admit the body of the hunter, and he decided to go in; but before doing so he set up his bow and arrows and walking stick beside the entrance. He found that the passageway inclined downward at a gentle grade. After entering the passage the young hunter found that the way was long. Having gone so far in that the light from the entrance had entirely faded away, at last he was delighted to see that it was becoming light ahead of him. So he kept on until finally he emerged from the cavern. Thereupon he was surprised to see that the tracks of the raccoon led out of the passageway into the open. The young hunter stood quiet for some minutes, viewing the country around. He was greatly surprised to find further that the climate of this region was quite different from that in which he commonly abode, for he found black raspberries ripe or ripening, although there was much snow on the ground in the country whence he had just come. Then he resolved to follow a well-beaten path, which led farther into the new country. As he went along he blazed the trees bordering the path, or broke twigs and branches off the trees in such manner that these would serve as signs by which he could retrace his steps in the event of losing his way. He noticed that the path leading from the entrance to what he thought was a cavern led inland, turning to the right a short distance from the entrance. He followed this road because he saw in the dust of the path the tracks of the raccoon which he had been following.
As he walked along, keeping a sharp lookout for whatever might happen, he saw in the distance a lodge, which from its appearance seemed to be occupied; he noticed smoke arising from it, hence he inferred that people were dwelling there. He resolved to go ahead to see who lived in that lodge. As he continued on he still saw the tracks of the raccoon which he had been following. On reaching the lodge the young hunter entered, finding within two very aged people, seemingly a man and his wife, who appeared to be superannuated. The old man was the first to greet the hunter, saying, “My grandson, it is indeed well that you visit our lodge and home.” Then the old woman joined her husband in welcoming him with the words, “My grandson, it is indeed good that you visit our home.” The hunter replied to these words of welcome, “I am indeed glad that you two are still living in health in this world.” The heads of these two old people were white and partially bald, for their years were many; but they set food before their guest, which he ate heartily and thankfully, for he had become quite exhausted from his long pursuit of the raccoon. When he finished his meal he conversed with the old man concerning the affairs of that country.
In a short time the old man said, “The chiefs of this settlement have invited me to meet them in council this evening, and I should be much pleased to have you accompany me to our lodge of assembly (“Long-lodge”).” Here the wife of the old man added, “My grandson, you should go with him and so become acquainted with our people and see the country.” The young hunter consented to accompany his aged host, for he learned that he was a noted chief in his land. Thereupon the aged chief said, “My grandson, when we arrive at the lodge of assembly you must not remain outside; you must enter with me; and when they begin to dance you must return here at once, for if you should remain there you would meet with a terrible misfortune. I am giving you warning in due time. Moreover, you must not linger along the way homeward, but you must make all possible speed. Yonder is a hut, which rests on a platform supported by four posts, in which hut you must retire for the night. There is a ladder leading up to the entrance of the hut, which, when you have reached the platform, you must pull up after you and lay on the scaffolding outside the lodge. I warn you further. You must not consent under any consideration or persuasion to let down this ladder to enable a person or persons to go up and be with you, for should you give this consent a most appalling thing will befall you. Do not forget these warnings. Your safety depends on your obeying what I have said to you, for I am telling you these things for your welfare.” The young hunter assured the old man that he would obey his warnings. Looking out he saw the elevated hut to which the old man said he should retire for the night, and he noticed that the supporting posts had been peeled and carefully oiled to prevent anything from climbing them to reach the hut. This fact aroused the young hunter’s curiosity, but feeling that he should not pry into the affairs of his hosts he held his peace.
Having completed their small preparations, the aged chief and his young guest departed for the council. When they reached the lodge of assembly (“Long-lodge”), they found that they were on time. The hunter saw what was usual on such occasions and gatherings—that those whose intentions and purposes were good had already taken their places inside the council lodge, and that those who had evil designs and propensities were going to and fro outside. He noticed, too, that when the frivolous young women saw him and recognized him as a stranger, they at once guyed one another at his expense, jostling and hawing and clearing their throats, in order to make the young stranger look at them and to join them; but he paid no attention to their ruses. On entering the lodge of assembly the aged chief and his guest found that it was already well filled with the orderly people of the settlement, and that the chiefs were all present, quietly awaiting the arrival of the host of the young hunter. When the two had taken their seats the Fire-keeper chief arose and in a formal speech uncovered figuratively the council fire, expressing with much feeling the public thanks for all the good things they enjoyed and for the preservation of their lives. He made these remarks in a loud voice, giving thanks to the Master of Life. After forbidding the commission of bad deeds by everyone there present he carefully stated the purpose of their session. He asked every chief to employ wisdom and mercy and justice in the conduct of the business. After a number of the chiefs had discussed the matter pro and con before them, and had in their parlance “cooked the ashes,” and the business of the council had been transacted, the Fire-keeper again arose to close the session formally, by saying, among other things, “We now cover the fire with ashes. And after the dancing, which will begin now, we will disperse to our homes.”
The young hunter, hearing these last words and remembering the strict injunctions of his host, hastened out of the lodge and at once started for home at a rapid pace. But his movements had been watched by four young women, abandoned characters of the settlement, who at once pursued him swiftly, laughing, hawing, and calling to him to stop and await their pleasure. This conduct, however, only caused the young hunter to travel ahead as fast as it was possible for him to go. Soon he was chagrined to find that he was not leaving the young women, for their voices did not die away, so finally he started to run at top speed. After a time, becoming exhausted by the exertion, the hunter slackened his pace to a brisk walk, whereupon he soon heard the sounds of the laughing and guying voices of the pursuing women, who seemed to be rapidly gaining on him. Again he started on a brisk run in a seemingly vain effort to outdistance his fleet-footed pursuers, for just as soon as he would relax his efforts in the least, the sound of their voices could be heard not far behind him. The serious injunctions of his aged host urged him onward as rapidly as it was possible for him to go. Thus closely pursued, he finally reached the hut and lost no time in ascending to it by means of the tree ladder, which he drew up after him, as he had been directed to do by the old man. Having entered the hut and secured its bark flap door as well as he could from the inside, he anxiously awaited events. Soon the four wretched women arrived and clamorously asked him to let down the ladder to enable them to climb up to his room, but the young man gave no heed to their importunities. Through small crevices in the walls of the hut he watched them while they attempted to climb the posts, but as these were greased the women were unable to do so. Throughout the night they remained at the foot of the posts clamoring for the ladder. At daybreak the women ceased their attempts and noise, and the young man fell asleep from exhaustion. When he awoke he arose, and unfastening the door flap of bark, he went out on the platform around the hut. On looking down, he saw at the foot of each of the posts a huge female rattlesnake, coiled and asleep; these he divined were the four wretched women who had pursued him the previous night. His movements over their heads awakened them, and at once they crawled away into the neighboring thickets without indicating in any manner that it was they who had just tormented him.
Having gathered up his few belongings and let down the ladder, he descended to the ground and hastened to the lodge of his aged hosts, which stood not far away. On entering, he was astonished to find the aged host, in the form of a huge rattlesnake, coiled up on the couch, but he was reassured by seeing the old woman, who was up, and who had taken the precaution of assuming human form again. Though at first somewhat nonplused by what he had just seen, the young hunter asked the old woman, “Where is my grandfather? I suppose he has gone out into the forest?” Without showing any perturbation, the old woman replied, “Yes; he has gone out, but he will soon return. Back of the ledge you will find water with which you may wash your face and hands. The morning meal is now ready, and we will eat it just as soon as you return.” Having washed, as suggested, in a bark trough in the rear of the lodge, he returned to join the old woman and her husband at the morning meal.
While eating the young hunter took occasion to examine the furnishings of the lodge more thoroughly than he had had an opportunity of doing sooner. In the room he saw numerous bark vessels of many sizes with various kinds of nuts, dried fruits, and berries; wooden vessels containing honey; and small bundles of the dried twigs of the spicebush shrub for use in making a beverage to be drunk hot with meals. The youth was further surprised to see in a corner of the room, curled up on a mat, the raccoon which he had pursued so persistently the previous day. He was now fully convinced that he was the guest of a family of rattlesnakes, for when he returned from washing himself at the back of the lodge he found that the old man had again assumed human form, appearing to him as he had the day before, and greeting him with, “Well, my grandson, did you rest well last night?” The young man replied, “Yes; I rested quite well.” When the old woman had placed the food on the bench, she addressed the young man, saying, “My grandson, now you must eat your fill, for there is plenty here. So do not be afraid of eating all you wish.”
Having finished his meal, the young hunter thanked his rattlesnake hosts, and after bidding them farewell he started for his own home. He returned to the mouth of the cavern, for such was this place, and crawling back through the passage he reached the surface of the earth in his own country, where he found his bow and arrows and his walking stick just as he had left them. He quickly made his way home to his family, to whom he related his experiences in the cavern. He was so astonished at what had befallen him while in pursuit of a raccoon that he had the chiefs call a council of their chiefs and people to hear the strange recital. He told them that he had indeed visited the rattlesnake people, and that they assumed at will human form and attributes and lived under human institutions. He was thanked by the council and people for his recital. But the young hunter never afterward took advantage of the invitation of the old rattlesnake chief to revisit him and his wife.
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In ancient times a certain family, consisting of seven brothers and one sister, lived together contentedly in a large bark lodge. It was the duty of this sister while her brothers were out hunting to cut in the neighboring forest the firewood used by the family and to bring it to the lodge.
There came a day, while the six normal brothers and their sister were absent, and while there was no one in the lodge except the recluse, when a young woman, daughter of the noted witch, Gahoⁿʻdjiʼdāʹʻhoⁿk, came to the lodge bearing a huge basket of marriage bread. There were, of course, eight beds to accommodate the seven brothers and their sister, which were properly arranged along the sides of this long lodge. The bed occupied by the youngest brother, the recluse, was nearest to the doorway on its side of the lodge. The witch’s daughter had been instructed by her mother to take her seat on this bed. But upon entering the lodge the young woman, after looking around, set her basket down in front of the third bed and took her seat thereon. This bed was the third one from the doorway, counting from the entrance on the left side of the lodge. Feeling, however, that she had not followed her instructions, the young woman did not sit there long, but took her seat on the next bed, because she imagined that it had a better appearance than the one on which she had been sitting. But she kept on shifting her position from bed to bed until she finally came to the seventh bed. Here the second of the seven brothers and his sister found her on their return to the lodge.
Seeing her seated on the bed and noticing the basket of marriage-proposal bread, they inferred that she had come to marry their brother on whose bed she sat, so they said to her kindly, “We are very thankful that you have come to our lodge, oh, our sister-in-law.” She made them no reply but by her actions showed her appreciation of this welcome reception on their part. In the order of their ages the other brothers returned to the lodge, and with the exception of the eldest one all saluted her with words of welcome in the same manner as the first two had expressed their delight at having her for their sister-in-law.
The eldest brother was the last to return to the lodge, and by the young woman’s own choice seemingly by sitting on his bed with a basket of marriage-proposal bread before her, he was her chosen husband, so he addressed her as his accepted wife. Noticing at once that he was blind in one eye, she was chagrined for not having obeyed her mother’s instructions with regard to the bed on which she should await her future husband. She thought it best, however, to seem to ignore her disturbing discovery and her unhappy feelings in consequence, so she began to study her surroundings in the lodge. She saw that some one whom she had not noticed before was lying on the bed next to the doorway on the left-hand side of the entrance, the one on which she had been told to sit on entering this lodge. She made the discovery also that the person lying on this bed was the recluse of the family, that in fact he was deanoäʹdoⁿʼ, and as such was “secluded” from all persons. She noticed, too, that no one paid the slightest attention to the recumbent figure, which was heavily covered with robes of skin from head to foot. Hence her curiosity was thoroughly aroused, especially as it was on this bed that her mother had directed her to sit.
The next day, when all the other persons of the lodge except the recluse and the bride wife had gone out into the forest on their various errands, she arose from her couch, and crossing over to the other side of the fire, went to the bed on which lay the covered figure and cautiously drew down the covering from the head of the person who was fast asleep. There she saw with longing eyes and half-suppressed passion a handsome youth of finely developed figure. She stood there partly bent over the sleeping youth, sorely infatuated. By gently shaking the young man she finally succeeded in awakening him, whereupon she said to him, “Arise, my friend, and come to my couch and let us talk together.” But the youth neither arose nor would he speak to her, notwithstanding all her fervent entreaties to embrace her. Naturally this conduct only intensified the young wife’s desire, so she continued during the entire day to tease and coax the youth to go over to her own couch. But he made no response to her persistent efforts. When she thought it was about time for the other persons living in the lodge to return, she went back to her couch, where she had remained of her own choice the previous night. She did not love her husband since she found out his misfortune and her great mistake in choosing his couch (contrary to her instruction) for a resting place when she first came to the lodge.
When all the family had returned to the lodge for the night and had prepared, cooked, and eaten their supper of corn bread, boiled venison, and spicebush tea, they retired to their several couches, whereupon the bride began to tell her husband a story invented for the occasion. She declared that when he and his brothers and sister had left the lodge the day before and she was alone with his deanoäʹdoⁿʼ, or recluse brother, the latter had come over to the side of her bed and had made improper proposals to her, and that she had great difficulty in resisting his attempted assaults. Her husband, however, made no reply to this carefully concocted story.
Again, the next day, when all the brothers excepting the recluse, and their sister, had left the lodge, the bride went to the bedside of the recluse, and after awakening him, coaxed and begged him to come to her own couch. Knowing her motive, the youth made no response to her importunities except to tell her that she should be satisfied with her own choice of a husband, reminding her that she had been satisfied to reject the speaker when she first came to the lodge, although she had been instructed to take a seat on his bed as a token of a marriage proposal. Completely baffled by the attitude of the youth and enraged by his conduct in refusing to gratify her desire, she returned at last to her own couch with a heart filled only with bitter thoughts of revenge on him. Then, in order to make her contemplated story appear true, she lacerated and bruised her neck and face and breasts and arms with her own hands and fingernails, in order to support her intended accusation against the youth of an attempted assault upon herself.
When the other members had returned to the lodge in the evening, and after they had eaten their suppers and had retired for the night, the young bride again told her husband with much simulated emotion that his recluse brother had made that day another attempt to assault her when the other occupants of the lodge were absent, showing her lacerated neck and arms and face in corroboration of this false story. Still the husband made no response to her accusations against his youngest brother. The next day, however, when he was out in the forest hunting with his other brothers he related to them the story which his bride had told him. They, too, received this information in silence.
The next day after their morning meal all except the young wife and the recluse left the lodge on their daily trips into the forest, the brothers to hunt and the sister to procure bark and fuel for the fire. When the brothers had reached their rendezvous in the forest the eldest told the rest what his wife reported to him, and also that she had shown him her bleeding legs and thighs in confirmation of her story. After a short parley, the brothers solemnly decided that it was their duty to kill their youngest brother; so they returned to the lodge that night with the firm determination to carry out their resolution. The next morning, after they had eaten their breakfast, they informed him of their decision to kill him in order to put a stop to his scandalous conduct toward his brother’s wife. The youth, knowing that he was innocent of the charge and that the young woman had falsely accused him to his brothers, calmly lay down on his couch in silence that his brothers might kill him.
First, the eldest brother solemnly approached the couch, and drawing his flint knife from his pouch he passed it across the throat of his youngest brother; whereupon he was astonished to see that the knife had made no cut. After sawing away with his knife until he had worn it out, he abandoned the attempt with grave misgivings that all was not well with his brother. Then the rest of the brothers tried in turn to cut the throat of the youngest, but in this they failed completely. When they fully realized that they had been foiled by some unknown power, the recluse said to his astonished brothers: “None of you possesses the orenda (magic power) to enable you to kill me. My sister alone possesses such potency; hence she can kill me. When she has done so, you shall build a log lodge of massive construction, and you shall put over it a roof of the largest logs, so that the lodge shall be entirely secure. But before putting in place the roof you shall lay my body in the lodge and also leave my sister alive therein. Further, you shall place my head in its correct position with relation to the rest of my body. Finally, seal up the lodge with the logs as I have said.”
Then the sister of the youth, with her flint knife, beheaded her brother, afterward withdrawing in deep sorrow. Thereupon the six brothers of the dead youth set to work constructing the log lodge as they had been instructed to do, using the largest logs they could handle. When they had finished this task they placed their sister alive in the lodge with the body of the slain brother, just as he had directed, and covered the rude but strong structure with the largest logs it was possible for them to obtain and handle. Then they returned to their own camp.
When the brothers arrived there they were somewhat surprised to see that the bride of the eldest had mysteriously disappeared. They marveled greatly at this singular occurrence, which they could not explain, for there were no traces of her having been attacked by an enemy.
While they were thus perplexed there suddenly arose a terrific hurricane and windstorm, which was the work of the notorious witch Gahoⁿʻdji’dāʹʻhoⁿk, the mother of the missing bride. At the height of the tempest, within the lodge of great logs, the head of the youngest brother became reunited to his body, and the youth came to life. At once he said to his sister, possessed of potent orenda, “Oh, my sister! press with all your might both your hands over both my eyes and keep them there until I tell you to remove them.” The sister quickly obeyed her brother, for she knew that the storm maidens would snatch away the eyes of her brother if possible. The tempest swept the ground in all directions from the lodge as far as the eye could see, trees being torn up by the roots and tossed about as if they were grass stalks. The camp of the six brothers was swept away and they were destroyed with it.
Nevertheless the lodge in which the youngest brother and his sister were inclosed was left intact, and the two inmates were unharmed, except in one respect: When the rage of the storm had subsided, the brother said to his sister, “Now you may take your hands from my eyes, for it was of no avail for you to have held them there. Gahoⁿʻdjiʼdāʹʻhoⁿk has overmatched me in sorcery; her orenda has overcome mine.” From this speech the sister learned that the youth claimed to be a wizard, possessed of orenda of abnormal potency and efficiency. But she was greatly astonished and agitated to find that her brother’s eyes had been snatched out from under her hands during the storm and that consequently he was blind, for on removing her hands from his face she saw the eyeless sockets.
Without any ado the brother said to his sister, “Let us leave this place. Remove the roof of logs so that we may get out of this lodge.” Then the sister, who was abnormally strong for a woman, set to work removing these logs, and, when she had removed enough of them to enable her brother and herself to climb out, they regained their freedom. Thereupon the blind brother said, “Let us go home now; and in order to do this we must travel directly southward from here.”
The sister, agreeing with this proposition, at once set to work making preparations for the journey. In order to be able to bear her brother on her back she constructed a kind of harness or carrying-chair (gaʼnigoⁿʹʻhwāʼ). When she had completed her task she placed her blind brother in the “chair,” and by means of the forehead strap bore it on her back. Thus burdened, she started at once southward for their home.
Having traveled a long distance without stopping to rest, they finally came to a place in which the sister saw a covey of wild turkeys. She wished, mentally, it were possible for her to secure one of the birds for food for her brother and herself. The former, being aware of her thought, said, “Oh, my sister! make me a bow and an arrow, and I will kill one of the wild turkeys.” The sister, having done as desired, brought the bow and arrow to her brother, who said, “Oh, my sister! tell me where the turkeys are and turn me so that I may face them as I shoot.” As soon as his sister had placed him in the proper position, with one shot he killed a turkey. The sister, who was delighted with their good fortune, at once proceeded to dress and cook the turkey for their supper. But when she told her brother that the turkey was ready to eat he refused to partake of it, telling his sister that she would have to eat it by herself. At this, without asking him his reason for not eating his portion, she ate what she desired. Then she constructed a temporary lodge (kanoñsʻhäʼ) with boughs, strips of bark, and other suitable material, in which she and her brother remained for the night.
In the morning the sister ate what remained of the turkey and then, placing her brother on her back, resumed the journey toward the south. They traveled the entire day. When the sun was setting they again came upon a covey of turkeys, one of which they killed in the same manner as they had killed one the evening before. The devoted sister, having dressed the bird carefully, boiled it by putting hot stones into the water, but the young man again refused to eat any portion of it. When the sister had eaten what she desired she reserved what remained for breakfast. Then she made another temporary shelter in which they retired for the night.
Next morning after the sister had eaten her breakfast she again took her brother on her back in the carrying cradle and they resumed the journey southward. Nothing unusual occurred during the day. When the sun was setting they again came upon a covey of wild turkeys, one of which was killed, and after being dressed, was cooked and eaten, as the two other turkeys had been. Afterward the sister prepared a temporary shelter, as she had done twice before.
In the morning of the fourth day they again set forth on their journey southward. Toward midday the sister said, “Oh, my brother! I see a lodge in the distance ahead of us. Beside it stands a very tall chestnut tree. Shall I continue our journey?” The blind brother replied, “Yes; go on! It is the lodge in which we formerly lived. Yes; that is our lodge and home.” Thereupon the sister hastened her steps and they soon reached the lodge. Within they found everything that was common to the lodges of those ancient times, as clay pots, baskets, wooden mortars, tubs of corn and beans, and bundles of spicebush twigs for use in making a warm drink.
Nothing unusual happened to the blind brother or to his sister until the third day after their arrival at their old home. On the morning of that day, while the sister was out in the neighboring forest gathering fuel, she was surprised to hear some person, seemingly near to her, say, or rather whisper, “Chit!” Quickly turning in the direction whence the sound proceeded, she was startled to see a short distance away a handsome young man looking intently at her. After talking with her a few moments he made her a proposal of marriage, in reply to which she told him that she could not give him a definite answer without first consulting her brother. Then she asked him to meet her at the same time and place on the following day. The young man agreed readily to her proposition, whereupon they separated without further ceremony.
When the sister returned to the lodge she told her brother of meeting the young man, and asked his advice with regard to her acceptance or refusal of the offer of marriage. He replied that it was his wish, prompted by wise policy, that she should accept the offer, since the young man was a noted wizard, son of the notorious witch, Gahoⁿʻdji’dāʹʻhoⁿk; for, if she did not marry him, her refusal would be tantamount to a sentence of death on each; hence, they must accept the inevitable.
During the following night the blind brother explained in detail the reasons for his advice to her to marry the young man, who was the son of the great witch, Gahoⁿʻdji’dāʹʻhoⁿk, the relentless enemy of their family and kin.
The next morning the sister went into the forest to keep tryst with the strange young man, whom she found there awaiting her coming. She told him at once that her brother had been happy to consent to have her marry him. He seemed greatly pleased at her reply and merely said: “It is well. I will be at your lodge tonight. So, I go away now.” So they two parted in this abrupt way. That night, when darkness had come, the strange young man arrived at the lodge of the sister and her blind brother. He remained overnight with his wife, but left the lodge at the dawn. Before leaving, however, he assured his wife that he would return at night. Accordingly, he came to the lodge that night also and remained with his wife until the dawn, when he departed as he had done on the previous morning.
Thus he came and departed for seven nights. Then he said to his wife: “It is my wish that you return with me to my mother’s lodge—my home.” His wife, knowing well who he was and who his mother was, readily consented to accompany him; by so doing she was faithfully carrying out the policy which her blind brother had advised her to pursue toward him. On their way homeward, while the husband was leading the trail, they came to a point where the path divided into two divergent ways which, however, after forming an oblong loop, reunited, forming once more only a single path. Here the woman was surprised to see her husband’s body divide into two forms, one following the one path and the other the other trail. She was indeed greatly puzzled by this phenomenon, for she was at a loss to know which of the figures to follow as her husband. Fortunately, she finally resolved to follow the one leading to the right. After following this path for some distance, the wife saw that the two trails reunited and also that the two figures of her husband coalesced into one. It is said that this circumstance gave rise to the name of this strange man, which was Degiyanēʹgĕñʻ; that is to say, “They are two trails running parallel.” Not long after the two reached the husband’s home, the residence of the notorious witch, Gahoⁿʻdji’dāʹʻhoⁿk, who welcomed her daughter-in-law to her lodge.
In due course the wife of Degiyanēʹgĕñʻ gave birth to male twins. The great witch, who acted as midwife to her daughter-in-law, cast one of the children under a bed and the other under another, and then nursed her daughter-in-law and instructed her as to her conduct during convalescence.
Some days elapsed, when the inmates of the lodge were surprised to hear sounds issuing from beneath the beds under which the twins had been cast. At once the great witch, making two small balls of deer hair and buckskin and also two lacrosse ball clubs, gave a ball and a club to each of the twins. At once each of the twins began to play ball beneath the bed under which he lived, and it was not long before each of the little boys was seen to pass from under his bed beneath that of the other. Thus they amused themselves the entire day, but at night each of the twins returned under his own bed. Day after day the twins visited back and forth. There came a day, however, when one of the twins tossed his ball up in such wise that it flew out of the doorway of the lodge. Thereupon the two youngsters followed the ball so nimbly and swiftly that they were able to overtake it before it struck the ground. So they kept batting the ball high up into the air and overtaking it before it could reach the ground again. After playing thus for long hours, each would return to his own retreat beneath the bed under which he lived.
This outdoor sport was indulged in by the twins for a long time. One day, on being tossed into the air, the ball at once took a course directly toward the lodge of their blind uncle, but the twins kept up with it, hitting it with their bats before it could touch the ground. They did not notice that they were approaching a lodge, hence they were greatly surprised to see it finally fall into the smoke hole of the lodge. They cautiously approached the lodge and, peering through the crevices in its bark walls, they saw their ball in the hands of a man with eyeless sockets.
One of the boys said to the other, “Lo. Go in, and get the ball,” but the other replied, “I fear him. You go.” Finally they entered the lodge together to ask the man to give them back their ball. As they drew near the man, he said to them: “Do not be afraid of me. Fear not; I am your friend. It is I who have caused you to come here to my lodge. By sorcery I caused your ball to fall into my hand. Indeed, I am your uncle, your mother’s brother. I should very much like to see you two, but you observe I have no eyes, so I can not do so.” At this the twins exclaimed together: “Oh! maternal uncle, how did you lose your eyes?” The uncle replied: “Your grandmother, Gahoⁿʻdji’dāʹʻhoⁿk, overmatched me in sorcery, and as a penalty she took out my eyes, so I am blind.” The twins answered: “Oh, uncle! we desire very much that you see us.” To this the uncle replied: “As it seems to be an impossibility for me to see again, it would probably be useless for you to wish me to see you.” But the twins said: “We will try to make you able to see us.”
With this remark the twins left their ball and their lacrosse clubs and went into the neighboring forest. They had not gone very far before they met Degĕñsʹgē (the Horned Owl). They asked him to lend them his eyes for a short time, promising to return them to him uninjured. Complying with their request on this condition, he removed his eyes and handed them to the twins; then he sat down to await their return. Delighted with their success, the twins hastened back to the lodge to their uncle. Placing the borrowed eyes in his sightless sockets, they asked him whether he could see with them, whereupon he told them that he could see nothing. Disappointed with this result, the twins removed the eyes from their uncle’s head and returned them to the Degĕñsʹgē (Horned Owl) in the forest, thanking him for his kindness.
Going a short distance farther into the forest, the twins met Ke’kʹʻhowā (Barred Owl), whom they asked to lend his eyes to them for a short time. He readily consented on condition that they return them within one day. So the twins soon had his eyes, which they carried back to the lodge as swiftly as their feet could take them. But after inserting them into their uncle’s eyeless sockets, they were again disappointed to hear him say: “It is indeed too bad; I can not see anything with them.” So removing the eyes, the twins carried them back to Ke’kʹʻhowā, whom they thanked for his kindness.
The twins were not to be easily defeated, however, in their purpose, so they went still farther into the forest. There they met Odoñnyoñʹdăʻ (the Eagle), and they at once asked him to lend them his eyes for a short time. The Eagle readily consented to part with them for a day, and in a moment the twins were hurrying homeward with them. After they had placed these in their uncle’s sockets he told them that he could not see things clearly, merely faint outlines of them. So once more they removed the eyes and gratefully returned them to the Eagle.
Not to be thus baffled in the attempt to enable their uncle to see them, one of the lads proposed to the other that each lend their uncle an eye from his own head. To this proposal the other readily consented. Each of the lads having removed one of his eyes, the two started for the lodge of their uncle. When they reached his side they placed the eyes in their uncle’s head, who at once exclaimed in delight: “Oh! I can see. Oh! I am so glad to be able to see you two, my nephews.” Then, after taking a glance around the lodge, he returned the borrowed eyes to his wonderful nephews, who said to him: “We will now go away to get back your own eyes; so be of good cheer for a short time. We start now.”
Undaunted, the lads left the lodge, and going to a neighboring swamp they set to work industriously collecting a vast quantity of swamp grass, which they placed on a large pile. When they had collected a sufficient quantity they set the pile on fire, and when the flames leaped the highest the lads, casting themselves into their midst, were borne aloft on the huge billows of smoke, which mounted ever higher and higher, and were soon in cloudland, where they came down in the form of cinders.
Then one of the lads called two mice, which he instructed to creep cautiously under the leaves, grass, and rubbish to a certain lodge having a fox skin for a clan mark, and to emerge from the trail as near the lodge as possible without being apprehended by the warder, Haneʹʻhwăʼ. Then each lad entered one of the mice, and the two mice, burrowing along under the leaves and other rubbish, soon came out just where they had been directed to emerge. Notwithstanding their caution and ruse, Haneʹʻhwăʼ knew the purpose which the two mice had in coming, but before he could give the alarm one of the lads said to him: “Keep silence. We will give you a quantity of wild beans if you consent to our request.” Believing the lads to be harmless and to be on a mere sporting expedition to show their powers of metamorphosis, he readily consented to permit them unheralded to pass to their destination.
Having thus easily passed the warder of the lodge of Gahoⁿʻdji’dāʹʻhoⁿk, the two lads, assuming the form and size of fleas, at once entered the portico or porch of the lodge, in which several of their aunts, sisters of their father, were pounding corn in wooden mortars with wooden pestles. As fleas the lads, unnoticed, quickly crawled up the legs of these women, and by vicious bites soon caused the corn pounders to fall to fighting among themselves, believing that they had been cruelly pinched by their mates. By crawling on and biting the legs of all the women the lads were able to make all of them fight. In fighting, the women, influenced by the orenda of the boys, employed their wooden pestles in striking their opponents on the head, fracturing their skulls. Thus, in a short time the women had destroyed one another.
After all the women were either dead or stretched out unconscious with fractured skulls, the lads cautioned the warder, Haneʹʻhwăʼ, not to inform Degiyanēʹgĕñʻ, their father, what he had seen them do, should he come there inquiring about his sisters. They told him to sing for their father the following song:
Yekĕⁿnĕⁿnéʹʻhoʻ skahetchonăʼ otiʹʼsĕñ.
Oekĕⁿnĕⁿnéʹʻhoʻ skahetchonăʼ otiʹʼsĕñ.
The warder consented to do what his boy friends had asked him to do. Thereupon the lads quickly entered the lodge to which was attached the fox skin clan badge. They soon found the cradle board on which was fastened the female child, even as their uncle had told them, but they were greatly astonished when they saw that the eyes of many persons adorned the swaddling clothes (wrappings). Quickly but carefully examining these eyes, which served as the breast ornaments of the child, they soon found the eyes of their uncle, which were partially bloodshot. When they had secured these they removed also the others, in pairs, and, tossing them up into the air, said to them: “Return to the place whence you were taken by stealth.” At once these eyes took flight and returned to their owners. After killing the female child and compassing the death of the treacherous Haneʹʻhwăʼ, the lads started for home with their uncle’s eyes.
When the boys reached the point whence they must descend they assumed the size and form of fleas, and, using the seed heads of the dandelion as parachutes, they easily floated down from cloudland to the earth. Going directly to the lodge of their uncle, they returned to him his eyes. He was delighted beyond measure when he found that his nephews had been successful in their expedition and had so speedily brought back his eyes.
The lads had killed the baby in cloudland by means of potent drugs given them by their uncle while they were still on the earth. Before starting their uncle had told them not to fail to put this deadly drug on the baby, for he knew that the child was the life itself of the great witch, Gahoⁿʻdjiʼdāʹʻhoⁿk. Through its death the witch herself necessarily died, because the child was her life, not her baby, as it appeared to be. Thus, Gahoⁿʻdjiʼdāʹʻhoⁿk was destroyed and the young deanoäʹdoⁿʼ man at last was revenged on her, partly through the potent orenda of his nephews and partly by means of the potent “medicine” with which he had armed them before they had started on their expedition into cloudland.
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115. The Legend of the Misogamist
In ancient days, it is said, there lived a good mother and her son in a lodge that stood alone. Now, the son was a very successful hunter; in the chase of all kinds of game animals he had no competitor. The possession of an overflowing larder and of rare and excellent furs and skins gave him an enviable prestige among his people.
It was natural among a hunter people that the prowess of the young man in the chase should make him an attractive figure in the eyes of all the mothers among his people who had marriageable daughters. So these thrifty mothers urged their daughters to make the usual marriage bread and to go to his lodge with proposals of marriage. Each of these obedient daughters would say: “Indeed, I believe that thou and I should marry.” This was the address made to the young man after the young woman had set her basket of marriage bread before him, seated, to receive her. In replying, the young man would say to each: “In so far as I am concerned it is my settled purpose not to marry anyone, as I have no desire to do so.” Thereupon the young woman, having failed in her suit, would return to her home.
This pursuit of the young man by the marriageable daughters of the community continued for many seasons. As each maiden came with her proposal of marriage the youth invariably made the same answer. During all this time his mother continued to remonstrate with him on account of his firm resolution not to marry, telling him repeatedly that it was a well-known fact that one who acted as he was doing would surely be punished for his attitude by some great calamity. He refused, however, to listen to her remonstrances.
Now, it was his custom to go every autumn to hunt in the forest, and he would return home with great quantities of venison and other meat, and furs and skins. All the people who had none of these things came to the lodge where the mother and son lived together because they wished to trade for some of the meat or for some of the furs or skins, each one bringing therefor something of value. One would bring a bracelet, saying: “For this cut me off a small portion of meat of the bear, of venison, or of some other kind.” Another would bring a burden strap, saying: “For this give me the skin of a beaver, or a small portion of bear’s meat, for I have come to buy.” This trading continued for some years, and all kept saying of the young man: “He is indeed immune to adverse orenda.”
After a while another autumn came, and again he started alone on a hunting trip into the forests where he knew game was always abundant and in which it was his custom to camp for the season. Having reached the place where his hunting lodge stood, he proceeded at once to repair it and to supply it with suitable fuel and other necessities. Then he went forth to hunt, as was his custom. He was very successful, returning every day to camp with the game he had killed.
After a certain number of days thus spent he lay down one night to rest, as usual. But in the middle of the night it so happened that he moved about in his bed, and he was greatly surprised by feeling what seemed to be a woman lying beside him. No one had ever slept with him before, man or woman. Thereupon the surprised misogamist said: “Lo, who are you?” The young woman, for such she was, in a fascinating voice which thrilled the heart of the young man, replied: “Oh! I desired to visit the place where you are only because of the love which I have for you.” Saying this softly, she threw her arms around his neck and fervently embraced him. He remained perfectly quiet, making no protest against the fondling of the beautiful maiden. Without further ceremony the young woman joyously exclaimed: “Come now! let us two go to sleep again.” But the young man lost consciousness at once, and the last thing he remembered were the words of the young woman. It was after the dawn of day that he awoke. Uncovering his head, he found that he was quite alone, and that, in fact, the young woman was not anywhere around. He was greatly astonished at what had happened, and said to himself in wonder: “What is this that has befallen me? Now, indeed, has come to pass perhaps what my dear mother has been saying to me, for has she not kept telling me that I would be punished sooner or later for my unreasoning attitude toward those who have desired to marry me. Now I shall start for my home, for I am seized with fear.”
He set to work at once making up his pack and putting the lodge in order for his departure. When he had completed his preparations he started for home.
At the end of the day’s journey he camped for the night in the place where he usually stopped for this purpose. After kindling a hot fire in the temporary shelter he set to work warming some pieces of cold meat which he had brought with him, and then sat down to eat his supper. When he had finished his meal he made ready to rest for the night. It was quite dark, for the evening was then far spent. As he sat resting he was suddenly surprised to hear noises that seemed to draw nearer and nearer. He could plainly hear the sounds, sāʻʹ, sāʻʹ, sāʻʹ, and also sounds caused by the moving aside and breaking of sticks and small twigs, and the branches of trees falling. Seized with a great fear, he at once added small dry sticks to the fire, which blazed up, giving a great light, which enabled him to see whether anything was approaching his shelter. Suddenly he saw standing at the end of the illumined space a very large woman. After a moment’s hesitation she came up to the opposite side of the fire and, addressing the now thoroughly frightened young man, said: “It is just this: I have come here with the desire that you should give me a portion of meat.” To look at her one would have thought that she was in all respects a human being, as she stood gazing toward the youth. As quickly as possible he took from his pack a quarter of meat, which he heaved over the fire toward the woman, who caught it. Then she began to eat it, while the blood dripped down on her breast and over her garments. Thus she ate up a quarter of meat. When she had finished she said: “The only thing for you to do is to return to this place in the autumn, when the season changes again.” So saying, she turned at once and started away, leaving the young man more astonished than ever. Soon she was lost to view in the darkness.
Thereupon the youth was seized with great fear, and he kept saying to himself: “Now indeed has been fulfilled the saying of my dear mother; I am suffering the penalty which she told me would befall for my refusal to marry some of the marriageable daughters of my people. But with it all, I think that when I have returned home I shall not relate what has befallen me on this trip. Moreover, in case some shall say to me, ‘Let us marry,’ I will consent at once.” Of course he did not fall asleep during the entire night. Very early in the morning he ate some cold meat, and then taking up his pack, he started for home. Having arrived there, he hung his pack on the wall of the lodge. His mother said: “I am thankful for this.” Noticing a changed expression on his face, she said to him: “Lo, pray what has befallen you, since you have returned so soon after your departure?” The son replied: “Something unusual happened, it would seem. I became homesick; this is the reason that I returned home at once.”
During the time that the son was away hunting many women visited the mother, who were continually asking her consent to a marriage with him. So now the mother said to him: “I will tell you that three maidens paid me visits, who proposed marriage with you; these maidens you know well, as they are the three who have been the most insistent on marrying you. So now it is for you to choose which of these three, or if not one of these, then whom are you willing to marry? I do not know what may happen should you again find it impossible to consent to marry one of these maidens.” At once the son replied: “I will consent to taking one of these maidens in marriage. I will marry without further ado.” He then informed his mother which of the maidens he would marry, for he well knew the names of all those who had come to his mother’s lodge with their baskets of marriage bread. This answer greatly pleased his mother, who said to him: “It is indeed the right thing for you to do, for many women have come here to ask you to marry them. Now I will bring here the chosen one.” So saying, she went at once to the lodge of the maiden of his choice.
On entering the lodge of the maiden she greeted her and her mother, and, after informing them of the purpose of the visit, said to the former: “I have come after you to bring you to our lodge and fire. My son has consented to marry you; so you will accompany me home, and you it will be who will dwell with her spouse’s people.” The maiden, agreeing to the proposition, said: “So let it be; I am willing to marry him.” Thereupon the two returned to the lodge of the mother of the young man, the misogamist. They reached the lodge, and, on entering it, the mother said to her son: “I have brought with me her who is my daughter-in-law. Now I will speak a few words: Oh, my child! you must continue to love her; you must have compassion for her; never vex her in mind or body; never let it be said that you are one of those who kill their spouses. Some grasp them by the hair of the head to abuse them; never do you thus. I am through.” This speech she addressed to her son.
The maiden remained there one entire year, and she properly fulfilled the duties of a good wife. A little later she gave birth to a daughter. The child was very handsome, and she was also very large and healthy and strong. In all respects she was of the size and hardiness of a child who was large enough to be borne on the back in a cradle board.
Now the time had arrived in which the men who were capable of doing so severally went out to their hunting grounds—autumn had come. One day the young man said: “My dear mother, you will prepare provisions for a journey, for I am again going out to hunt, and I am thinking of having my wife accompany me, as the child is sufficiently strong and hardy to be borne on her mother’s back in a cradle board. I will bear by means of the forehead strap the provisions that we will take with us.”
Then the mother proceeded to prepare the corn bread in the usual way, and the parched corn meal sweetened with honey or maple sugar. When the bread was cooked she removed it from the boiling water and set to work preparing the pack, in which she placed all the bread, making what was called a wrapped pack. When she informed her son that she had completed the task of preparing the food for the journey, he said: “Tomorrow, very early in the morning, we two will start on our journey.”
Accordingly next morning the husband and wife set out. The wife bore their child on her back by means of the cradle board and forehead strap, and the husband carried the wrapped pack, containing boiled corn bread and parched corn meal mixed with sugar and honey, by means of the forehead strap. After traveling all day, in the evening they reached a spot where it was the custom of the husband to camp for the night; this was a good day’s journey from their lodge. He set to work at once repairing the temporary shelter and kindling a large fire. Meanwhile the young wife warmed up some cold meat and the boiled corn bread which they had brought in the pack. Their evening meal prepared, the two ate heartily. When they had finished their supper they made ready a rude couch of bark and boughs on which they lay down for the night. The wife’s mind was contented.
In the morning the husband rekindled the fire, and the wife warmed up more of the cold boiled corn bread. When they had eaten their fill the husband at once repacked their belongings. He also closed the temporary shelter in order to preserve it for their return. Then he said to his wife: “Now let us depart. Our journey will require fully the time of the entire day, and we will arrive at my hunting camp in the evening.” As predicted, they reached their journey’s end as the sun was sinking low in the west. Its crimson rays shot upward through the treetops and along the western sky.
The husband quickly began to make his hunting lodge ready for occupation and also kindled a large fire. While the wife was warming up the meats and the corn bread the husband kept on repairing the lodge by filling up the crevices with moss and replacing such pieces of bark as had fallen off. He desired to make the lodge warm and comfortable, especially on account of their baby. When it was too dark to continue his work the wife called him to their supper. They were happy and contented. After finishing their meal they prepared their rude bed and retired for the night. Before falling asleep the husband said to his wife: “Tomorrow I will go out to hunt again.”
Next morning, as soon as they had finished eating breakfast, the husband said to his wife: “I am about to start out to hunt now, and you two will remain alone. Perhaps I may not return until just before sunset. Of course, should I have very great success, I will return home at once.” So saying, he left the lodge. Just before sunset he returned, carrying by means of the forehead strap the entire body of a fine deer. He set to work at once skinning the carcass. When this task was completed he quartered the animal and hung up the parts to cure, but not before he had selected some choice pieces for their supper. These the young wife quickly prepared, and they ate their evening meal in peace and quiet. The wife was, of course, very much pleased to have fresh venison to eat; she was indeed happy. Then they retired for the night and were soon asleep. In the morning the husband again started out to hunt, saying to his wife: “You two will remain at home alone,” assuring her that he would return as soon as he was successful in his hunting.
Thus many days passed. The hunter was very successful in his hunting, always bringing home large quantities of venison, bear, moose, and elk meat and various other kinds of game. He and his wife had a great quantity of meat hanging around the sides of their lodge to cure, and also many fine furs and skins.
Toward sunset one day the young wife went out of the lodge to procure fuel for the fire while the child lay asleep. As she was walking around, she heard sounds made by some one approaching through the woods; thereupon she hastily gathered an armful of wood and, quickly reentering the lodge, took a seat near her sleeping baby. In a short time, as she looked out through the openings in the forest, she saw suddenly a very large woman approaching, bearing on her back an unusually large child. At once she became fearful, exclaiming: “What shall I do to save us? Perhaps we two shall now die?” So saying, she quietly awaited the coming of the strange woman. In a few minutes the latter entered the lodge and, standing in the doorway, said to the frightened woman: “Do not have any fear of me, for I come with no ill feeling in my mind toward you and yours; there is no evil in my mind, so, above all, do not fear me.” With these words, she walked to the opposite side of the fire and took a seat there. The young wife noticed that the two children were exactly the same size. Although the stranger kept comforting her by telling her not to be afraid, that she had not come to the lodge for any evil purpose, her hostess was so fearful that she made no replies, but she kept thinking: “It is certainly unfortunate that my husband does not return at once. I wish he would come. This is ill-omened.” Meanwhile the strange woman continued to remain quiet. Looking at her face, one would think that she was human, although she was so tall and so stout that she appeared uncanny.
Now there came sounds from a distance, as the sun was low in the west, and the expected husband returned home. He entered his lodge, bearing by means of the forehead strap the entire carcass of a deer. He cast the burden down, giving merely a passing glance at the woman seated on the opposite side of the fire, without saying a word. The young wife then set to work getting his supper. When she had set the food before him he said to her: “You would better give some food to the woman sitting on the opposite side of the fire.” His wife willingly obeyed this suggestion, carrying to her in a bark bowl a generous supply of food, and saying: “This is for you to eat.” But the woman (or what seemed to be one) refused to accept it, answering: “I do not eat that kind of food.” At this the wife, of course, went back to her side of the fire. Her husband sat with his back toward the strange woman and studiously refrained from saying a word, but kept on eating. In a few minutes the strange woman spoke, saying: “He knows what kind of food I am accustomed to eat.” At once he rose, and, reaching up, took down a quarter of venison, which he threw over the fire back of him toward the strange woman. She caught this as it came to her. The wife was intently watching what was taking place. The stranger proceeded at once to eat the raw venison, and in a short time she had devoured the entire quarter. While eating, the strange woman kept saying: “I am very glad indeed. My wish has been fulfilled, for I desired to come here on a visit.” When night had come and they were ready to retire to rest, the husband prepared his mat at the feet of his wife and child, while the strange woman and her child lay on the opposite side of the fire, which was the guest’s side according to custom. The young wife of the hunter, who was thoroughly frightened, kept thinking: “I just do not know what may befall us that is untoward.”
In the morning the husband arose, and having rebuilt the fire, his wife proceeded quite early to prepare breakfast for them. When they two were about to begin eating the husband again took down a quarter of venison, which he threw over his shoulder across the fire to the strange woman, who caught it and began to eat it raw, the blood even dripping from her mouth, so ravenously did she eat. When they had eaten breakfast the strange woman said: “Now, my wish has been fulfilled—my wish to visit this place.” All remained there in the lodge. After a while, however, the strange woman arose, carrying her child, and, walking over to where the hunter was seated, said to him: “Lo, take this child, for it is but your own child. Here it is.” Shrinking away, the husband drew back his hands, but the woman, preferring that he should have the child, gave it to him, so he had to accept it. Thereupon, the woman said, “I desired that he should just look on his child, and it was for this reason that we two came hither.” So saying, she returned to the opposite side of the fire, where she again seated herself. The husband sat still, holding his child, dubious as to its real character. After a while he arose, and going over to the place where the woman sat, on the opposite side of the fire, he gave the child back to its mother. Then returning to his own side of the room, saying, “I am now going out to hunt again,” he started from the lodge.
In the meantime the two women remained in the lodge with their children of the same size. The strange woman said to her companion in a comforting way: “You must not have any fear of me.” When her child fell asleep she laid it down on her couch and carefully covered it with a skin robe. Then, turning to her hostess, she said: “I will fetch some fuel, because it is so difficult and trying for you at all times to have to bring it.” With these words she left the lodge in quest of wood. She was absent a long time, when suddenly there came a sound, dā—h, which drew nearer and nearer, as if one were dragging some great object along the ground. On looking out to see the cause of the noise, the hunter’s wife saw the strange woman approaching with a huge tree in her arms, which she threw down just outside the doorway; it was a whole dead tree, which was dry and hard. She proceeded at once to break up the tree, and when she had finished her task there was a great pile of wood—fuel for the lodge fire. The wife of the hunter was greatly astonished at the enormous strength of the strange woman, and she again was filled with great fear. Then the other woman, entering the lodge, said: “I have now supplied you with a quantity of fuel.” Thereupon, she seated herself on the opposite side of the fire.
The stranger had barely uttered these words when she and her husband met in a death struggle at the doorway of the lodge; they fought outside so as to have more room in their struggles. In a short time the man tripped his wife, and they fell to the ground with the man uppermost. At once the hunter’s wife swiftly ran into the lodge, and seizing one of the burning poles thrust it in anum ejus, and having turned it round and round violently a moment withdrew it. Then she did likewise as quickly as possible with the second and third burning poles. This terrible treatment had its effect, and in a moment the strange woman was able to free herself, and struggling from under her weakened husband she strangled him to death. All this time she kept saying to her friend, “Have courage, oh, my friend! Stand near by and wait.” Then returning to the lodge, she said: “Oh, my friend, I am thankful indeed that you have helped me in my trouble.” Having recovered her breath, she added: “Now I will cast the body far away yonder, as far as one can see.” So saying, she dragged away the body of her husband, disappearing with it in the distance; but it was not very long before she returned to the lodge, whereupon she said: “I have left the body far away. Now we two unfortunate ones—myself and my child—will return to our home, departing from this place. All that I desired was that she should see her father. I thank you for what you have done for us. Our kinsfolk dwell far away from here in the forests; thither we two shall return. Now we depart.”
In a short time the strange woman and her child had disappeared into the forest. They had been gone a long while when the hunter returned to the lodge. He had nothing to say to his wife. Thereupon she resolved not to tell what had taken place while he was away hunting until she reached home. At first the husband and wife did not converse at all. But finally the former said: “Tomorrow we will start for home.” So the next day he made the necessary preparations for their journey, putting their belongings into two packs. When all was ready for their departure he placed the smaller pack on his wife’s back by means of the forehead strap, and the larger on his own back in the same way. Then they left their hunting camp for home much sooner than they had expected to do.
They kept traveling the entire day, and when the sun was low in the west they arrived at the place where the hunter was accustomed to camp when making his hunting trips in past seasons. Here they kindled a fire, and warming up cold meat and boiled corn bread, they ate their meal and then retired to rest. Early in the morning, as soon as they had eaten their meal and repacked their belongings, they continued their journey, arriving just before sunset in the lodge of the husband’s mother. She was very thankful for the meat which they had brought home in their packs.
It was not long after their return before the bride’s mother entered the lodge. After the usual greetings she said: “Let us two revisit our own clan.” The bride answered: “So let it be; we may go as you suggest.” They finally reached the bride’s former home, where her kinsfolk welcomed her. She then began at once to relate in great detail all that had befallen her during the time she had been absent on the hunting trip with her husband. Among other things she told them that her husband already had a child by some unknown mysterious being, whom he was accustomed to feed with raw meat; and that, when the strange woman had come to their hunting lodge, her husband did not share her couch, but that he lay alone at the feet of his wife and child. The young wife narrated, too, all that occurred in connection with the attack on his wife made by the strange woman’s husband at the doorway of the hunting lodge.
When the bride’s kinsfolk had heard all these things they said: “It seems certain that he has begotten a child by a woman Genonsgwa (sometimes erroneously called “Stone Coat”). You should separate from him lest you become enchanted by some evil power should you return to him again.” The bride and her child therefore remained with her own clan and kinsfolk, as they had advised her to do under the circumstances. This astonishing report soon spread among the tribe. All soon knew what had occurred on the hunting trip in the forest to the misogamist hunter and his bride. It produced a great sensation among the people. So it happened that all the women, as if by mutual consent, shunned the misogamist hunter, and would have nothing to do with him, privately or socially. This is what befell the man who was too proud and selfish to consent to marry any woman of his own people. Now, in so far as his standing is concerned, he is held as despicable beyond measure and of no account among men.
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116. The Acts of the Seventh Son, Djĕñgoʹʻseʻ
In the olden time there stood in a certain land a lodge surrounded by a dense forest, in which lived a very old man, his seven sons, and a daughter. The youngest son was very small, and he possessed a cur which was not larger than a gray squirrel and a very small bow and arrows to match it; the bow, it is said, was a half span in length.
This small boy and his diminutive dog played together daily, hunting fleas around the fireplace. The cur would track a flea, and just as the flea would leap up from its hiding place the small boy would shoot it with an arrow from his diminutive bow. Thus he amused himself all day and far into the night.
Now, the old man, the father of this family, forbade his sons from going to hunt in a certain direction from the lodge. In time, however, the eldest son, wearying of this seemingly unreasonable restraint, determined to hunt in the forbidden direction, in order to learn, if possible, what it was that caused his father to prohibit his brothers and himself from going into that region. So, following his resolve, he started for the region, but never returned home. Then the second son resolved to follow his elder brother, so he also started for the forbidden land; and he, too, never returned home. Finally, when six of the brothers had gone away and none had returned, the aged father said to his youngest son that he himself was going in search of his six lost sons. After carefully instructing his youngest son what to do for himself and his only sister in his absence, he started away. He, too, failed to come back, and the two young persons in the lodge became anxious about their own fate, as they were then dependent on themselves.