Part 2 — SENECA FICTION, LEGENDS, AND MYTHS (continued 6)

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129. The Legend of Hahadodagwatʻha

Once there dwelt together a brother and his younger sister in a lodge.

The brother had a rich suit of hair, half of which was red and the other half black. It was the daily occupation of the brother to go out hunting, and the younger sister was contented. They lived thus in peace for a long time.

One morning the brother went out as usual to hunt. He had not been gone long when seemingly he returned, laughing and looking at his younger sister, it is said. He took a seat by her side as she sat on her bed and embraced her, whereupon she said to him: “What has happened to you?” He made no reply but attempted to throw her backward on the bed while he tickled her. At this she exclaimed: “You are abusing me; you have never before acted in this manner;” and she struggled with him as he continued to grapple with her, until at last he went out of the lodge.

Not long after this episode her brother entered the lodge. Having been injured, she was weeping. Her brother said to her: “What has happened to you? Are you, perhaps, ill?” She made no reply and would not give him any food. Then she spoke to him, saying: “It is, indeed, an awful thing, the manner in which you have abused me, your own sister.” He answered: “What have I done to you?” She replied: “You abused me and tickled me, and desired to throw me on my back. This is the reason why my mind is troubled.” Answering, he said: “Not in the least could I abuse you, for I have too much compassion for you.” But she did not believe him. Then he continued, saying, “Now: it is, perhaps, my friend who has visited you and who looks exactly like me, having hair like mine, of which half is red.” Then she said: “That is not true; at all events, it was you who came into the lodge.” Thereupon he added: “My friend made this visit, because you have now arrived at womanhood. Not far away stands the lodge where mother and son live; the son is my friend.” She told him that she would not believe a thing he had said to her. He answered that whatever happened to him happened also to his friend.

The brother himself warmed up some food and ate his meal. In the morning his sister would not arise, for she was still very angry with him; so he himself prepared his morning meal and ate it. When he had finished eating it he went out to hunt. Before going, he said to his sister: “Do not think hard of the conduct of my friend, for he only desires to marry you.”

Just after the brother had left he (as she supposed) returned and seized her as she was walking along, and they struggled desperately in the lodge. She succeeded in scratching him in the face, whereupon he left the lodge and fled.

When the sun was nearly set her brother returned to the lodge. He said to his sister: “Oh, my younger sister! I fell among thorns and briers—that is why I am all scratched up.” She was indeed astonished at what he had told her, for had she not herself scratched him in the face? So she replied: “I for my part can not believe what you say.” Then she began as usual to weep.

Finally, the brother said: “My sister, you believe that it is I who act thus, but it shall be made evident that it is not I who am doing this. To-morrow as soon as I depart the man will return and will enter the lodge. As soon as he starts to leave you must seize his robe of skin and pull it off, for it is exactly like mine in all respects.”

In the morning the brother started, as was his custom, on a hunting trip. After he had been gone only a short time a man suddenly entered the lodge and at once seized the lone sister, whereupon they struggled fiercely. When he attempted to throw her on the ground she exerted her whole might to free herself. Having failed in his purpose, he started to flee from the lodge. As the ends of his robe were flying about, catching hold of it, she drew it off, at which he went out of the lodge leaving the robe in her hands, as its fastening broke.

It was not very long after this episode when her brother reentered the lodge. He said to her: “Has he made another visit?” She replied: “Yes, of course, he has; it is you yourself returning.” She did not believe in the least what her brother was telling her, for she felt sure that it was he who was tormenting her. By this time her mind had greatly changed from normal, for she did not cease from lamenting her situation, being so worried to think that it was her own brother who had attempted to outrage her. She then handed him the torn robe, saying: “Here is this robe.” Taking it, he said: “There, now! that is certainly the robe of my friend. As to me, in hunting I had climbed a tree on which a bear lived and fell from it, and in the fall my robe was torn.” Laying the two robes together and finding that both were torn, he said: “Now you see what I have been saying all along has come true; whatever happens to me happens also to my friend;” and he added, “Well, do you now believe what I have been telling you?” Then she stopped her weeping and gazed at the robes as they lay together and she saw that they were exactly alike in every respect. Again he asked: “Well, now, do you believe what I have told you?” But she did not say anything in reply.

Then the brother said: “Your mind is still unchanged that it is I who am abusing you, so now this shall take place to-morrow. As soon as I start again I shall hide myself in a place near by. As soon as the man attempts to attack you again or to leave the lodge you must seize him and not let him go. Thereupon I shall come in and kill my friend, and then it may be that you will believe me in saying that it is not I but my friend who is abusing you. We two, of course, shall be doomed to death because of my act, for his mother has the power to transform herself into a great bear, so potent in sorcery is she.”

Since the beginning of this trouble the sister had not prepared food for her brother, and he himself made ready what food he needed and ate his meals. She refused to do her duty because she was very angry at him.

In the morning, when he had finished his meal, he again started out to hunt, saying to his sister, “You must now carry out my instructions as I have given them to you.” He did not go to his hunting grounds, however, but hid himself near the lodge and kept a faithful watch on his home. He had been there quite a long time when suddenly he perceived his friend running toward the lodge, which he entered. After waiting a few minutes the brother ran to the lodge and on entering saw his sister and his friend struggling fiercely, the latter striving to get out of the lodge. As the brother entered the man let go at once of the sister, whereupon the former said: “My brother, my friend, now we are doomed to die. I can do nothing in the matter.” Making ready an arrow, with a twang it sped into the breast of the man, where it stuck quivering, while the victim, reeling, fell backward to the ground. Thus the brother killed the man who had been his friend. Drawing out the arrow he exclaimed: “Well, do you now believe what I have told you in this matter?” But his sister made no reply.

The strange man and the brother did indeed look alike. They were of the same height; they had the same kind of hair, half of it reddish in color; they had the same kind of raiment and their robes were alike, even to both having been torn.

Then the brother said to his sister: “Now, I suppose we must hide the body of this man, and, moreover, you must by all means aid me in this matter, for now, of course, we are both guilty. It had been better had you consented to what he desired, for he wanted to marry you. We will dig a grave where the fire burns—that is, under the fireplace.” Then they two dug a very deep grave under the fireplace, in which they placed his body. They took great pains in covering the grave, so that one would not know that a man’s body lay buried there. Over the spot they rekindled their fire, and thus finished the task.

The brother then said: “My younger sister, now have the courage to do the best you can, for we two in appearance at least must live as husband and wife, as it is certain that in one, or perhaps in two days the woman will come here. When she does it must appear that we are indeed husband and wife in order to mislead her.” Then he said further: “I shall not go to another place again; we shall remain here together.”

So they dwelt together thus until the next day. As soon as it was morning they sat together, because they constantly expected that at any moment the mother of the dead man would come in haste. Hence they lived as husband and wife, and the brother kept saying to his sister: “Be of good courage; you must do exactly as I tell you, for we must try to escape in order that we may live until we reach the distant place whence we two started.”

When the sun had sunk low in the west the door flaps were thrust aside suddenly, and the old woman entered the lodge. They two who lived there were indeed husband and wife (in appearance). The old woman thereupon said: “Oh! I am exceedingly thankful that now for certain I have a daughter-in-law.” At this they two smiled.

The old woman said further: “I have misgivings in my mind, caused by the actions of your dogs. None of them will accept what I offer them for food. You should go there again to feed them, and you two might remain there once overnight.”

The young man replied: “So be it.” Just then the fire began to sing unexpectedly, and the fire spoke too, saying three times: “He, my friend, has killed me.” At this the old woman exclaimed: “Kyū-uʼ! It is frightful. It is an astonishing thing that is happening in the fireplace which you two have for yourselves; for it does not cease from saying: ‘My friend has killed me, there in your fire.’ ” The young man answered: “I do not know anything about the thing concerning which you are perplexed.” Reaching for an arrow, he scraped it, saying: “It is so that we two, I and my friend, use the fire for the scrapings from our arrows;” and thereupon he threw the scrapings into the fire. At once the voice from the fire pit exclaimed several times very rapidly: “My friend has killed me!” The young man again said: “We use the fire for the scrapings from our arrows.” The old woman exclaimed: “Kyū-uʼ. You two have no sense,” and she then departed. The young man said to her as she was leaving the lodge: “We will soon be there.”

When they were alone he said to his sister: “It is just as I have been saying right along: we two are about to meet our death.” He believed that she was in great fear, so he added, “Do you have courage; and do not let it appear that you fear anything.” Just as the sun sank low in the west they started for the place where stood the lodge of the old woman. They arrived there just before night. As they entered the lodge and sat down in the place where the friend of the young man was accustomed to sit they were surprised to see standing on one side a screech owl and on the other a horned owl. They were more distressed when the screech owl sang out, “It is another, it is another, it is another, it is another.” Then the old woman said: “Lo! This is happening all the time, and it gives me a troubled mind.” The young man answered her: “It is very strange that you pay any heed to the various notes of the screech owl,” and he said to the owl: “Here, this is what you eat,” giving it meat. It stopped uttering its warning notes and merely repeated its usual note thrice, saying, “Ho-ho-ho-wāʼ.”

Then all lay down for the night, and the brother and sister lay together in the place where the dead friend of the brother was accustomed to lie. All of a sudden the horned owl cried out: “Hi, hi, hi, hi; he takes to wife his younger sister.” This it repeated thrice. At once the old woman arose, saying: “Why do you two not stop it constantly saying, ‘He takes to wife his younger sister.’ ” But the young man exclaimed: “Fie upon it! Why do you pay any attention to all the notes made by a common horned owl?” With these words he again gave it meat, which it greedily seized as he said to it: “Here, take this; it is what you eat.” As soon as it had finished eating the meat it resumed its regular note, “Hi, hi, hi, hi.” Then the young man said to his suspicious host: “So let it be; now lie down again.” However, the old woman continued to grow more and more suspicious, for she began to believe that something had perhaps happened to her son and that he was no longer alive. At midnight the brother said to his sister: “You must lie as still as possible and I, too, shall do the same; we must pretend to be asleep.” They at once began seemingly to snore, but of course they were not snoring; they did not know what the old woman would do should they fall asleep.

The old woman arose very stealthily while the notes of the owls continued, the screech owl saying, “It is another, it is another, it is another,” and the horned owl, “Hi, hi, hi, hi; he takes his younger sister to wife.” Creeping slowly over to the spot where the two were lying, and thrusting her hand under the coverings, the old woman made an examination of their private parts, after which she exclaimed: “Pshaw! Of course things are as they are with those who do as married people are accustomed.” Then she went back to her part of the lodge and again lay down.

In the morning the old woman prepared the morning meal, and all ate their breakfast. When they had finished eating the old woman said: “I have mysterious premonitions. I visited the place there where thy friend has kindled a fire, and it says continually, ‘My own friend has killed me; my own friend has killed me; my own friend has killed me.’ ” The young man replied: “Pshaw! It is foolish to pay any attention to that noise, for it is caused by our scraping arrows there.” As he spoke he got his arrow and began scraping it, and cast the litter into the fire, whereupon the fire said several times, “My own friend has killed me.” He added, “Now cease paying any attention to such idle things.” The old woman replied, “So be it, as you say.”

Then the young man said: “Oh, mother! We two will now go back to the other place. I said that of a certainty we would remain here only one night, and perhaps now my brother-in-law is anxious about us.” The old woman replied: “So let it be as you have spoken.” He answered: “In two days we two will return again.” So they started for their home, where they arrived all right. Then the young man said to his sister: “The only thing left for us to do is to make preparations to escape. You shall take the lead and I will remain, and I shall overtake you if it so be that I shall survive.”

The brother then drew from under the couch whereon he was accustomed to lie a small case and took therefrom a very small black dog and a little rod of red willow. He used the rod to tap lightly the dog, which immediately began to grow in size. At first he said: “It is not yet large enough,” although the dog was then of the size of ordinary dogs. So he tapped it again and it continued to grow and had now reached the size of the largest kind of dogs. Yet he said: “Still I do not think the dog is large enough, for it is not yet large enough for you to ride astride of it;” so he tapped it with still other blows, which caused it to grow in size. It had become at last a very large dog.

Having done this, he said to his sister: “You two shall go together. This shall be done on the way: As soon as you become wearied, the dog will stop beside a tree, and then you must descend from his back; and as soon as he becomes tired he will likewise stop beside a tree. You must watch for this, and then you must descend from his back, and run ahead as fast as it is possible for you to go. Thus you two must make your way homeward. You must keep a course directly eastward without fail. You two must remain in camp at night on the way; and you, my sister, must lie down beside the dog’s body. You two must not get far apart from each other, and you must take rests. He himself knows when you should rest, and you must regulate your actions by what he does, for it is a fact that he is our brother. You must know, too, that it is uncertain whether you will see the old woman, who is immune to the arts of sorcery and who, too, is able, it may be, to overcome our orenda (magic power). It seems uncertain whether you shall again see Hahadodagwatʻha; it is uncertain, I say, for verily, it is I who am called Hahadodagwatʻha.” Then he added: “Now, you two flee;” whereupon the younger sister mounted the dog’s back, and her brother again spoke to her, saying: “Have courage. We shall have the good fortune of your safe arrival in the place where our mother dwells.”

Thereupon, the two started away in great haste, the brother remaining alone in the lodge.

As the sister rode the dog, he would stop beside a tree, whereupon she would say: “Oh, now! my brother has become quite wretched, and I suppose he is now very tired.” With this she would descend from his back, and they two would go on. They kept a certain course directly toward the east. Having gone a great distance, they two would stop for the night, and the young woman lay down right beside the dog. In the morning they would again start on their journey. After going only a short distance, the dog would again stop beside a tree. Then the young woman would say: “Oh! my brother is to be pitied; now he wants to bear me again on his back, I suppose.” So saying, she would mount the dog, which at once would start running with her. When at midday the dog stopped beside a tree, the woman said: “I suppose he is now tired out,” descending from his back. As the dog crouched down she decided that it desired that they should take some rest. Then the dog lay down near by, and she seated herself close to him, saying: “I suppose he is now asleep, being very tired.”

Thus, she sat for a long time looking around. Suddenly a fine-looking bird alighted near her, which she resolved to catch. When she was about to seize it, the bird would fly away, but would usually alight again a little way from its former perch. When the young woman would run up to it with the intention of seizing it, it would fly away just in time to foil her purpose. Thus she pursued it a little farther, still a little farther, but could not catch it, although she was determined to do so.

Suddenly she heard the loud barking of a dog which was approaching, saying, Wuʹ, wuʹ, wuʹ, and at once she ran toward the place, then quite distant, where lay the dog. When she returned to this place the dog was gone, for it had resumed its course and was barking as it went farther and farther. At last it disappeared in the distance. Then the young woman began to weep, indeed, and she repeated the words of her elder brother: “You must not change your course, but you must keep going directly eastward.” While she was so engaged her brother, Hahadodagwatʻha, arrived there, having overtaken her.

He remained for two days, when the footsteps of some one were heard by him, and suddenly the old woman, entering the lodge, said: “Lo! Where is your wife?” He answered: “Did you not meet them on the way?” “I did not,” she replied. He said to her: “It may be that while you and they were gathering things by the way you missed one another.” The old woman answered: “Oh, that is true, of course, I suppose. Without ceasing, his pets are uttering notes. At times my mind is deeply troubled by this state of affairs. So let it be. I shall now go back to the other place, for they have probably arrived there now.”

In a very short time the old woman departed for her home. Running through bypaths, the young man reached it ahead of the old woman, who found him sitting there when she arrived. Her son’s pets were making a great noise when she entered the lodge, whereupon she said: “Lo! Where is my daughter-in-law?” He answered her sneeringly: “Pshaw! My daughter-in-law, you say! Why, she has gone home. When she and I returned there all the food was exhausted, so she longed for her mother. I said that in two days’ time we would return here.” Thereupon the screech owl kept saying: “It is another one, it is another one, it is another one,” while the horned owl said: “Hi, hi, hi, hi; he has taken his younger sister to wife; hi, hi, hi, hi.” Finally, the old woman exclaimed: “I am beginning to give attention to what is being said, for they have never before during the time you have had them as pets acted in this manner.” In reply the young man said: “Pshaw! you are all the time paying attention to what they are saying; instead you must give them meat, and then they will stop as usual. This is all you have to do to quiet them.” Then he started for his own lodge, saying: “After two days’ time you must again go there.”

The only thing he did when he arrived at his lodge was to make preparations for leaving, and when everything was ready he departed. He followed his sister, keeping on the track made by the dog as it ran along homeward. He had fled some distance when his body became very weak.

At the end of two days the old woman went to the lodge of the young people, where she found no one. Turning to the fire pit in her great anxiety she was surprised by hearing the fire again say, thrice in succession: “My friend has killed me.” Thus it spoke. Thereupon the old woman said: “Oh! my son lies there where I have been thinking he lay all the time. It is exceedingly dismal to think of.” Then she began to dig up the fireplace; and she found him lying there with his face upturned and an arrow sticking through the middle of his breast. At this discovery she began to weep and lament, saying: “Oh, my dear child! you have indeed become wretched. When I have killed them I will return to pay the last rites to you.” So saying, she went out of the lodge and started for her home.

Having arrived at her lodge, she took from a bark receptacle in which it was kept hickory-nut meat and ate it, making the sounds, “Gaoñʼ, gaoñʼ, gaoñʼ,” and saying, too, “I shall fortify my body with this meat.” When she had finished eating her meal she went out of the lodge, and going to a neighboring tree, by her great strength she tore off a great part of it with her paws. Exclaiming, “I do not think that this will suffice,” she reentered the lodge and ate more of the hickory-nut meat. Then she exclaimed, “Now I wonder whether this will do.” Going again to the tree she tore it into shreds, and then exclaimed, “This is now sufficient; I have strength enough.”

Then she started away, running swiftly. She had become a bear of enormous size and power. Going to the place where the tracks of the fugitives showed the direction they had taken, and placing her paws on the path along which they had fled, she exclaimed: “It is impossible for you to escape even though you should have gone to the end of the earth.” With these words she started in pursuit of the fugitives. As she ran along she often placed her paws on the track made by the young man, and this act caused him to reel and stagger, so potent with evil orenda was the body of the old woman. They were at this time two days’ journey apart, but the old woman, who had transformed herself into a huge bear, was rapidly overtaking the fugitives, every moment drawing nearer and nearer to them, for she was indeed running rapidly.

There was no possibility for anyone else to possess more orenda than that possessed by the young man; so he passed on, and behind him the great bear came on a run. The monster arrived at the roosting place of the wild pigeons. There was a rampart of their droppings extending upward half the height of the tallest trees. The bear made an attempt to force its way through the great rampart of droppings, but was unable to do so, merely becoming thoroughly covered with the filth. It was not easy for the monster to extricate herself from the great rampart, hence she decided on another course of action.

She started on a run along the rampart’s edge, saying: “There has never been a time when a pigeon roost extended across the world.” After following the rampart for a long time she became tired and returned to the place where the tracks of the fugitive seemingly entered the rampart, where she lay down for the night. In the morning there was nothing to be seen, for the rampart had disappeared. Thereupon the bear exclaimed: “How exceedingly unfortunate this is; verily, he is a great wizard.” Starting in pursuit again, she placed her paws on the track of the young man, causing him to stagger and reel.

Not long after this he heard her speak again, saying: “Thou shalt surely die.” At these words the young man took from his pouch a piece of rock, which he cast behind him with the words: “Let a rock cliff rise here at once which shall reach across the world and which nothing shall have the power of clearing, nothing that has unusual orenda.” With this the young man passed on, but as soon as he had ceased speaking the rock cliff stood complete. In a short time the great bear arrived at this cliff. She failed in an attempt to go through in several places, as it was impossible for her to pass this obstruction. Next she ran along the side of the cliff, saying: “We have never heard of a rock cliff that extends across the world.” But after going a long distance the bear, becoming weary, returned to the spot where the track of the young man disappeared under the cliff. There she stopped for the night. In the morning there was no rock cliff to be found, whereupon the great bear said: “How exceedingly distressing this is.” At once placing her paw on the track made by the young man, she added: “Indeed, he is a mighty wizard.” At this the fugitive reeled and staggered, and the old woman in the form of a great bear again pursued him.

He had not gone very far when suddenly he heard ahead the singing of a man: Agadăʼädjoñʹⁿiga soʹdjĭʼ ĕñʼʹ ăgwasʹ deiodiʼäʹdet. When the young man came up to him the singer said: “My dear nephew, have courage. I shall detain the monster with difficulties. It has not been long since your younger sister passed here, and now there is nothing intervening. So have courage. Your mother’s lodge stands not far from here.”

So the young man passed on. The man who had been singing set up many pikes, and when he had finished his work he was surprised to see coming toward him a great beast. Soon the bear came up to the place where he set his pikes and assaulted them with great force. These gave way to a small extent, whereupon the two, the great bear and the man, who had now assumed his true character, grappled. In their long struggle the pikes were broken, and the great bear, at once freeing herself, again ran onward.

Suddenly the young man saw running ahead of him his sister, who was nearly exhausted. Overtaking her, the young man said to her after seizing her arm: “Have courage, my younger sister. We are to die perhaps, I think.”

They lost no time but at once fled. They went a long distance before they stopped to camp for the night. In the morning he said: “We will take this direction.” Having cut a rod of red willow he struck the dog with it three blows. At once the animal became very small and he placed it in his bosom.

At the point toward which they were running they suddenly saw what seemed to be a rock cliff, in which was an open cavern. Out of this a female personage was looking and saying: “Have courage, my children. You two will live if you will come in here.” At that time the brother was dragging his sister along, so exhausted had she become. As they came to the entrance to the cavern the woman thrust out her hand, and seizing the arm of the young woman, helped draw her into the cavern, while the young man also entered. The woman exclaimed: “I am thankful that you two have returned alive. That animal which is coming on the run shall suffer for this.”

It so happened that there was a kettle of boiling oil over the fire; this boiling oil was bear’s fat. The beast came on the run to the opening of the cavern, and, crouching low, thrust in her nose. At once the mother of the two fugitives cast a ladleful of boiling oil into the face of the great bear. The pain caused made the bear fall over backward some distance from the cavern, and she began to howl and writhe around on the ground. But the relentless old woman carried out the kettle of boiling oil to the spot and poured the remainder on her enemy, which finally died there in great agony, just as the old woman had threatened.

Suddenly he saw a man lying prostrate with his feet in the water, who was groaning and saying, ʼĕñʻ, ʼĕñʻ, ʼĕñʻ. Hahadodagwatʻha said to him: “Well, what is the matter with you, my friend?” The man replied: “I am very ill; have pity on me and take me to a dry place and lay me there.” Unsuspecting, the young man said: “So be it. I suppose that I can carry you on my back.” When he knelt down, the strange man had great difficulty in getting on his back and in securing a hold on the young man’s neck.

Then Hahadodagwatʻha arose, and going a short distance to a dry and pleasant piece of ground, said to his patient: “Now, you can lie here.” But the stranger replied: “Oh! just a little farther.” But Hahadodagwatʻha answered, “Lie down here.” The man would not consent to dismount, however, but kept on saying: “Only a little farther.” So Hahadodagwatʻha went some distance, when he said again: “Now, get off; this is a fine place in which you can lie down.” But the man persisted in saying: “Only a little farther.” Hahadodagwatʻha would not consent to carry him any farther, saying: “You must now get down by all means.” Thereupon he began to shake himself with great violence, saying: “Get down! Why do you not get down?” But the man would not get off his back, although Hahadodagwatʻha told him that he was very tired. Then, going to a hickory tree standing near by, Hahadodagwatʻha said: “If you do not get down, I will rub you off against this tree;” but the man remained without making any reply. Hahadodagwatʻha rubbed his body violently against the hickory tree standing there, saying the while: “Why do you not get down?” But he himself was injured by the rubbing, so he gave up the task. He said: “This man has caused me great (prospective) trouble.” For a long time he continued bearing his burden around from place to place. Finally he exclaimed: “It is very distressing to me that you do not get off my back.”

At last Hahadodagwatʻha decided on more heroic measures. He kindled a lot of dry fagots, and he made a large and very hot fire. Then he asked the man again: “What have you decided to do? Why do you not get off my back?” Making no reply, the man remained on his back. Thereupon the young man proceeded to lie down with his back to the fire in an attempt to burn off his tormentor. But the man, notwithstanding the great heat, stuck fast. In a short time Hahadodagwatʻha himself was not able to stand the intense heat, for his own skin began to scorch. Being thus baffled again, he stood up. He said to his tormentor: “This conduct on your part is very distressing to me; now you and I must die together.” But he received no reply from the man. Hahadodagwatʻha was indeed very tired from carrying this burden around from place to place. Finally he decided on another course of action. Going to a very high and steep cliff and lying down on the edge, he said to his tormentor: “I will roll over the brink unless you get off my back.” There was no reply to these remonstrances. The man merely kept on breathing. Lastly Hahadodagwatʻha said to him thrice: “Now, get off my back;” but the man remained silent, as before. Thereupon the former exclaimed: “We two now die!” at the same time rolling over the brink. The two turned over and over, but fell slowly, their bodies finally coming down very lightly on the bottom of the chasm. Then the young man said: “Now, get off of my back; I am very tired.” Still the man would not in the least heed this pleading.

Suddenly he remembered that he had in his bosom a very small dog, whereupon he started to find a red-willow rod, bearing at the same time his burden. Soon he found the desired rod, which he cut off. Taking from his bosom the dog, which was black in color, he began to strike it with the red-willow rod. At once the dog began to increase greatly in size; soon it became the usual size of dogs. Additional strokes caused it to grow larger and larger until at last it attained the size of a very large bear, one of the largest known. Then the young man said to the dog: “My servant, remove from my back the body of the man who is clinging there,” saying “Wăʹʼs.” At once the monstrous dog, seizing the man by the back of the neck, began to shake him with great force. The body of Hahadodagwatʻha was whirled about in the terrific struggle, in which the gripped opponents fell and arose in many places; the struggle lasted until the dog seized the man by the throat and began to choke him. In a short time it was able to pull off the man and to fling his body aside. Then Hahadodagwatʻha sat near by until his tormentor died, for he himself was entirely exhausted.

Then he said: “Come here, my dog! I am thankful to you, for you have saved me from destruction. You are the cause of my being now alive. Let us two start for home and let us go to the place where dwell together they who are your brothers.” So they started and went on for some distance and then encamped for the night. Thereupon the young man said: “As regards me, I am very hungry; so it behooves you to kill a deer.” At once the dog ran afar off, and in a short time it returned, dragging along the body of a fawn. This the young man skinned, and after quartering the carcass he set pieces of it all around the fire to roast. It was night, and when the roasts were done they two ate their supper, the man and the dog, sharing the meat. In the morning they again started for their home, and they kept traveling until they stopped for the night. In turn the young man went hunting for raccoons, climbing a tree in order to kill them. Having dressed and cooked a raccoon, they ate it. When they had finished eating, they laid down together, the man and his dog.

In the morning they two started, and they had not gone far when they saw in the distance a lodge. In this they were surprised to find a man half of whose hair was red, and there they found, too, the younger sister of the young man. The latter said: “Now has returned our brother who was lost, the Dog.” They asked him: “Where did you two meet?” He answered: “We met at the place of high cliffs. It was he who saved my life when I was in danger of death. This is the reason why we have been able to return to the place where you two, his brother and sister, dwell and where your mother also dwells. Now I give myself up here where you dwell, and we shall all be together always, because he has saved my life and is your brother. I, too, am a master of game and a good hunter. So we shall be very contented in our minds.” Then the man half of whose hair was red said: “So be it. I, too, am a good hunter, and I will also help to make ourselves contented.” Thus did they make a compact that they would all compose a single family for all time.

This is the length of the legend.

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In times past there was a boy who spent his time in hunting birds to kill and in cooking and eating them.

On one of his expeditions he came to a large rock, beside which he took his seat to rest, for it was drawing toward sunset, and began to make arrow points.

While seated there a man spoke, saying: “I shall relate a story.” The boy at once began to look around to learn who it was that had spoken. He finally came to the conclusion that it was the rock beside which he was sitting that had spoken for his benefit. In reply the boy said: “What is the name of it?” The man answered: “It is called a fable (tradition); now you must make me a present of a bird (for telling you this story).” The boy, replying “So be it,” left one on the rock. Then the man again spoke, saying: “You must return here; I shall relate a legend, but as to us we remained at home in the world that was.” And the boy went home.

In the evening the boy returned to the rock and seated himself upon it. Thereupon the man said: “Well, now, I shall say that you must speak; you must say, ‘What?’ I shall tell you what is called a legend. As soon as I make an end of telling one legend I may go on with another. But if you become sleepy, as you may, you must tell me, and we will take a rest; and you can come again to-morrow evening.”

The boy hunted birds, and he had many different persons to accompany him. He said to each: “You must accompany me (to hear) a man telling legends, as I think they are called. In the evening they two would take their seats on the rock and listen until they became sleepy, and then all would take a rest for the night. The next day they two would again return to the rock, and finally other persons followed them to the place. In the evening they would again sit around, and the man would relate another legend. On the following evening they would again repair to the rock. There were now a large number who went to the place where the great rock stood; and the man would again tell a legend. In this manner did it come to pass that there are legends in the world, as these stories are called.

Finally the man at the rock said to the boy: “You will grow old in years. You shall use these legends to aid yourself in your old age (by telling them to persons who will pay you for doing so). So it came to pass that as the boy became old he did not cease telling legends.

It was in this manner. When in the evening he would tell a legend some brought on their backs loads of wood for fuel; others brought meat; others brought bread; and still others brought tobacco. These things were left in the lodge of the old man who had been at the rock when a boy. People gave him these things to repay him for telling them some legend. Many times the lodge would be full of people who had come to hear him relate the legends of their people.

So it was that legends came into being, for the people of the former other world were people who possessed great and powerful orenda. The stories of their acts have become the legends of this world. The scene of this story was laid in the former world.

The end.

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In ancient times this event came to pass as other like things had taken place. A man went out to hunt on the game preserve of his people.

It so happened that he camped in the night in a large forest. He had four hunting dogs with him. There he made his camp and kindled a fire for the night, and in due time the hunter and his dogs fell asleep. Some time after this the dogs began to bark, and one went to inform the hunter of his danger. Shaking him to arouse him, it said: “I think that we shall now die; near here are men who are very large in size going about stealthily. They must be, I think, what are called Genonsgwa.” Thus did the dog speak, and continuing, he said: “Perhaps there is (time) yet in which you yourself may escape. As to the beast, as much as lies in our power and opportunity we shall attempt to prevent it from overtaking you. So you must do this: You must make three torches, which you must carry and which will suffice, I think, for your purpose in reaching the place where dwell other human beings. You must do thus when you see a forked branch your height above the ground; you must insert one of the torches therein as you pass along, when the torch is nearly burned out; this will become a hindrance to the Genonsgwa, for he will think that you may be near at hand taking a rest and will stop without fail. This will be an aid to you, for you can then gain a good start on him. Then at a suitable distance you must insert another one of the nearly-burned-out torches.”

At that moment he heard the dogs approach, barking, from the direction in which he had come, and he fled with all possible speed. When he had only one torch left he heard the barking of the dogs quite near him, for they had reached the place in which he had fixed the second torch. When the man arrived there it became evident to him from the sounds he heard that one of the dogs had just been killed in the distance. Thereupon the hunter stirred up the firebrands to cause them to blaze up and throw out more light. Soon they gave sufficient light to enable him to see as far as the tree indicated by the dog, behind which the strange man, or being, moved around stealthily; with great hands he held to the tree and he had, too, very long legs. Having made the needed preparations, the hunter at once fled from the place.

Having reached a point out of sight of his camp, when his torch that he was carrying was nearly extinguished, he heard sounds which told him that another dog had been killed, and he knew, too, from this that the Genonsgwa was close at hand. Remembering the advice of the first dog that informed him of his danger, he began to cry out the sign of distress, Gōʹweʻ, gōʹweʻ, gōʹweʻ, for he was then aware that the settlement of his people was not far away. They were still all awake and, hearing the cries of distress in the distance, they at once ran in the direction from which these came. Having reached the place, they found the man. The Genonsgwa was then very close to the hunter, who was nearly exhausted. The latter fell into the circle of his friends none too soon, for the Genonsgwa, seizing him by the leg, tore off some flesh. Then at once he turned, fled from the people, and disappeared, and no one knew whither he had escaped.

The end.

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132. The Legend of the Stone Coats (Genonsgwa)

It so happened in times past that three warriors left their homes for distant regions. They started away for the purpose of killing any people whom they might find in order to obtain their scalps. So they would travel for many days, and when they observed that they had arrived near a settlement they would conceal themselves, and one or more spies would be sent out by night to make a reconnaissance for the purpose of learning when, where, and how to make the attack.

It was a custom with them for the chief or leader of the little party to say: “Who will volunteer to go to investigate that light which appears in the distance?” Thereupon one of the warriors would reply: “I will go to reconnoiter that light,” and he would go, if alone, without definite instructions as to how he might find his companions in case he had to retreat; but if two decided to go, they would first agree on some point as a rendezvous in case they should have to retreat in haste. Then the spy or spies would go to the place whence the light had appeared. Having arrived there, he would manage to crawl stealthily into the shelters or lodges he might find, and he would also find the inmates lying asleep and their garments hanging on the supports of the structures.

In making such a reconnaissance one of the spies found the inmates asleep, and he saw that their garments, which were of stone, were set up against the trees which stood near by. He was surprised by one of these sleepers arising and saying to him: “What are you doing here? What do you want?” The spy replied: “I do not want anything; I intend nothing; I want peace.” But the other person said to him: “You intend, as you know, to kill all persons who may fall into your power; so you and I shall fight. That is verily what you and your companions are doing on your way here; you come with the intention of fighting all persons whom you do not fear. To-morrow at midday you and I shall meet face to face yonder in a place not far from here, in a valley which is very deep and has very high cliffs. You shall enter it from one entrance and I from the other, and there in the valley we shall meet.” He said this and ceased speaking. The spy replied: “So let it be.”

The chief of the little party remained silent, thinking over the situation. Finally he said: “By means of a sacrifice we must ask Him who has made our lives to aid us in the coming battle. Moreover, we shall use in the sacrifice of prayer native tobacco, which I shall now cast on the fire.” Then he took from his pouch native tobacco, which he cast on the fire with the following words: “Thou who hast made our lives, give most attentive ear to the thing I am about to say. Now we are about to die. Do Thou aid us to the utmost of Thy power. Thou, ruler, it was Thou who gavest us this native tobacco; it is this that I am now employing. Here, take it; it is offered to Thee. Thou hast promised us that Thou wilt always be listening when we ask in prayer by sacrifice. Now, it matters not whether Thou Thyself shall stand here, or whether it shall come by the way of a dream, do Thou tell us fully what we must do in this crisis which Thou knowest confronts us so closely. Now I finish my tale. So it is enough. Now, moreover, we will lie down to sleep.”

Then they lay down to sleep. At midnight the chief, who was awake, heard some one speak there, saying: “I have heard your prayers asking me to aid you; so now I have arrived here. In this manner you must do, to-morrow. Verily, you two have agreed to meet in the deep valley at midday. You must act in this manner. You must go along the top of the ridge at the cliff’s edge, and you must lie prone, resting on your elbows; this you must do before it is midday. You must remain perfectly still, and you must not carry out your agreement with them. Then you must watch the opposite cliff, and as soon as you see a bear on the run there you must shout Pa—ʼa p-hu-e. Then you must retreat a short distance and stop, whereupon you shall see how truly I will aid you. You will hear them when they come into the valley, for the sound tau—u which they will make will be very loud.”

The men followed the directions given them by their Creator, to whom they had appealed in their extremity, and went to the cliff and lay down just as they had been instructed to do. They had not waited long before they heard their enemies coming along in the valley, with their chief singing as they marched. The chief of the warriors was intently watching the opposite cliff, when suddenly he saw a bear running along on the edge of it. At this he shouted, as he had been instructed to do, Pa—ʼa p-hu-e, and then, quickly arising and turning back, they fled; but after going a short distance they stopped, and turning around, they looked back to see what was taking place in the valley. As they watched, the sound of the oncoming of the Genonsgwa increased in volume and intensity; and when they had all got into the valley the sound of their marching became a veritable roar, sounding like dōō-ō.

Now they saw what astonished them; they saw the earth from the sides of the valley fall into it, carrying with it the forests which grew on it in the region of the valley. At once the sounds of the marching of the Genonsgwa died out, and the only sounds they then heard were the breaking and crashing of the trees as they settled down under the mountains of earth that fell into the valley. Then they heard the voice of their Creator saying: “What you asked of me has been granted in full. I am He whom you usually call Our Master. Verily, I continue to aid you, who are called the Seneca people. I aid you in all things, in ball-playing, in foot-racing, and in warfare. Now you shall go to your homes, to the places where your dwelling-places are. Never in the future must you do what you were doing. It is much better that you shall settle all differences which you may have with all other peoples. You must stop your present course, for if you do not do so, you yourselves shall bleed in turn. So you must make peace with all your neighbors, must bury deep in the earth the scalping-knife, the bow and the arrow, and the battle-ax. All these you must bury in the ground, and you must leave them there, and thus put them out of the world. Now I am through.”

Then the warriors started for home and soon arrived at their dwelling places. Immediately the chief assembled the people; he went through the village, and as he walked along he said to them: “We will hold a council, and we must assemble in the Long lodge; we must assemble there early in the morning as soon as the morning meal has been eaten. Everyone must be there—children and women; the entire body of this people must be there to listen to the tiding which we have brought back.”

Early the next morning the chief made a second announcement, saying: “We will hold a council to-day.” So a large body of persons gathered in the Long lodge in which was the council chamber, and when they had taken their places the chief arose and addressed them thus: “You must give strict attention to what we have to say to you. We have been absent in distant regions, where we had intended to kill any people whom we might find. There we saw people such as we had never seen before, for their garments were of stone. It is probable that we never could kill them; they were very numerous. It so happened that we encamped very near them and that when they kindled their fire we saw it in the distance. Then I, who was the chief of the band, said ‘Come, we will go to reconnoiter in the vicinity of that light.’ One of the warriors answered: ‘I will go there,’ but I went in his stead to the neighborhood of the light to investigate. Having arrived there I found persons lying around asleep, and I saw that their garments were of stone, and that they were set up against the neighboring trees. Suddenly one of the sleepers, springing up, said to me, ‘What are your intentions?’ I said in reply, ‘I do not intend to do anything,’ for I was afraid. He replied: ‘Do you not intend to kill anyone you can? Now you and I shall fight. To-morrow when the sun is at midday, there where the deep valley is, in the bottom of the valley, you must come from the one side and I, for my part, will enter the valley from the opposite side, and therein we shall meet; then you and I will fight.’ I replied to him: ‘Let it be so,’ and departed thence and returned to our camp, where I at once told my friends what I had seen. I said: ‘I have seen an astonishing condition of things. When I arrived there I found the people lying down, and near by, leaning against the trees, were their garments, which were of stone, so it is probably impossible for us to kill them. So let it be.’ I will make a sacrificial prayer to Him who has completed the structure of our lives; I will cast on the fire sacrificially native tobacco. At once I took tobacco, and holding it in my hand, I said: ‘Thou hast promised to aid those who shall pray to Thee with an offering of this native tobacco,’ and then I cast it on the fire, and forthwith arose smoke from the burning tobacco. Thereupon I said: ‘Now aid us; tell us what we must do; perhaps You may come to us in a vision; perhaps You might send the advice to us through a dream; at all events tell us what to do. Now, we will lie down to sleep.’

“Just at midnight I was surprised to hear one speak, saying: ‘I have come to aid you; I tell you that to-morrow just before midday you and your men must go to the valley, and there overlooking it you must lie down prone and rest on your elbows.’ And he said, too: ‘You must watch carefully the opposite side of the valley, and when you shall see a bear running along the opposite cliff you must shout Pa—ʼa p-hu-e, and thereupon you must all arise and flee from the place a short distance and must stop and look back toward the valley, and then you shall see what shall happen, what shall happen to the persons of your adversaries when they will enter the farther entrance to the valley—these Genonsgwa.’ The noise made by these Genonsgwa as they came forward was very great; the sound that they made was dū—ūm. As they came on, the voice of their chief was heard singing; he chanted the war song of the Genonsgwa, saying: ‘No one has the power to overcome me;’ this is what he said in his singing.

“Just then the cliffs on each side of the valley with the forests growing on them were upheaved with a deafening roar and crash and fell into the valley upon the advancing Genonsgwa; this was followed by the sounds of breaking trees and their limbs as they were crushed under the weight of the overturned cliffs, and then all was silent. Thus did this event come to pass.

“Now I shall speak to this assembly as it is here listening to what I have related. He who aided us was the Master of Life. He told us to return home, and He bade us never to undertake an enterprise such as that which took us from our homes. He bade us to make peace with all tribes of men, of whatsoever land or language they might be; for if we should not follow His advice we ourselves might one day shed one another’s blood; and He bade us to bury deep in the ground the scalping-knife, the war bow and arrow, and the battle-ax and the war-club. He bade us to put all these things out of this world, telling us that if we do this we shall be contented and happy in the future, if we consent to this and to inform all our people of this advice and the chiefs, too. But as we do not know what the chiefs will do in this matter we have called this council to ascertain this important opinion of our chiefs. Now we have told you these tidings which we have brought with us, and now you must take great pains in considering this matter in all its bearings; I mean you, our chiefs. There, I am through with my address.”

During the entire day they discussed this matter in all its bearings. Some said that it would not be good for them to adopt this kind advice, as many of their relations had been killed by the enemy, and they had always intended to have revenge for their deaths.

Others spoke for and against the proposition which had been presented to them by the returned warriors. The discussions took a wide range and consumed the entire day. Finally one of the leading chiefs of the place arose and said: “It is better that we take a recess until early to-morrow morning, at which time we will again assemble here. I will then speak, telling you my views on this question after having thought on them during the night. For this reason all should be present again; so you must come and hear what I have to say to you. So there.”

Then they dispersed and went to their homes. In all the lodges there was much speculation as to what the chief would tell them in the morning. All had different views as to what he would say, and they made up their minds that they would go to the Long lodge at early forenoon.

So in the morning of the next day they again assembled in the Long lodge, and there was present a very large body of people.

Then the chief arose to his full height and began to speak, saying: “The time has now come. I said that to-day I should speak to you. My mind is now made up; I have decided what to say to you, and now I will tell you what I have thought best for us to do. I agree to the proposal to make peace with our enemies; that to that end we must certainly bury deep in the ground the scalping-knife and the war bow and arrow and the battle-ax; and that we must leave these things there out of sight and reach. You must put these things out of the world. So let this come to pass. Let everyone who has come here carry out this resolution as I have indicated it to you in what I have said. So there. Come, then, let us now make preparations. I suppose that we must send an embassy of two persons to that neighboring tribe, although we may not be certain whether they will be at all willing to make peace with us and thereby settle our difficulties. So we must commission our ambassadors to pray them to cease waging war against us; and we, too, must stop fighting on our part, and must cast away deep in the ground the scalping-knife, the war bow and arrow, and the battle-ax. These we must throw away, and thus you will put them outside of this world. When the two (ambassadors) arrive in the country of our enemies they shall say: ‘We have been sent by the chiefs of our people to know whether you are willing to agree to settle our difficulties and to make peace with us.’ This is what you two shall say. This is all.”

After some deliberation the chief arose again and said, “Come, now. Who will volunteer to go far away to the foreign land where our enemies dwell?” Then a certain man said, “I am willing to go.” “So be it,” replied the chief; “who else is willing to go? There is one lacking.” Then another man said, “I am willing to go.” The chief accepted him by saying, “So let it be.” Then the last volunteer asked the chief: “I ask you, who art the chief, what must be done, should they perhaps kill us, and you would not hear anything about it? Should we become angry should they attack us there, even though by doing so we should probably lose our lives? So there (is what I have to say).”

Then the warrior answered: “So be it. I think that my friend and I may perhaps start this evening just as soon as it becomes quite dark.” During the entire day they made their preparations so they would be able to start in the evening. In the early part of the evening they came together, whereupon one said: “My friend, now let us start, and you will leave directly from here in your own way, and I, too, will leave here directly in my own way.” The friend replied: “Do you feel that you have sufficiently potent orenda?” He answered: “I think so.” The other continued: “What kind of thing does it (your body), usually pretend to be as it flies along?” His friend replied: “Oh, just the night owl, saying wu, wu, wu, wu, hŭ, hŭ-u.” At this the other, laughing, said: “My friend, you are indeed a brave man (a male).” His companion answered: “With regard to yourself, what kind of thing does it (your body) usually pretend to be as it goes along? Now I have asked you.” In replying the other man said: “As to myself, I shall be a fox, and I will go along barking; and we shall keep apart just the distance that I can hear the hooting of the night owl. How far do you say?” He replied: “Let us be just so far apart that it will be possible for me to hear the barking of the fox. And this, too, must be done. As daylight approaches we must draw nearer to each other, and when it is morning we will rejoin at some convenient place.” Then they started.

They observed their order of going, and when they had concluded that they had arrived in the neighborhood of the people whom they were going to visit, they were surprised to see the lights of a number of fires. So they stopped and sat down on a log. Then one of the men said: “We must leave our things, our weapons, here—our scalping-knives, our bows and arrows, and our battle-axes—and we must remove the paint from our faces, too. There, on that side of the log, you may lay your things, and you must cover them with moss and earth very carefully; and I will lay my things here on this side of the log, and I will cover them even as you do.” Thus they completed this task of concealing their weapons. Then one of them said: “My friend, it shall be that he who shall be spared alive shall dig up these things, for we shall soon see them, and when they see us there is no assurance that either of us shall be left alive; but should one of us escape then let him dig up and carry home both these buried outfits.”

Then they went toward the place where they believed the enemies lived. They had not gone far when they were surprised to see in the distance a temporary shelter made of corn husks, for this was at the time of the corn harvest and the people were drying the strings of ears of corn. Thereupon one of the men said: “I will do the talking when we arrive at that temporary shelter; so do you not speak a word about anything. So now, come, let us go thither to the lodge.”

When the two men had arrived near the temporary shelter the children noticed their approach and fled into the shelter. On arriving at the shelter the two men found that the doorflap was of deerskin. When they had stepped inside they saw a woman sitting there; they noticed also that the children had hidden themselves, and that the woman was greatly frightened, for the color of her face had changed. One of the men at once said to her: “Do not fear us; we do not come on an evil errand, and you may know this to be true because we have not our scalping-knives, bows and arrows, or battle-axes, and we have no paint on our faces. So do not be afraid. We have come on a good errand; do not fear us.” All at once the woman spoke, saying: “Oh, children; verily, they will not kill us.” At this the children came forth from their hiding places, and the mother, too, regained her composure. The spokesman of the two visitors said, “Are you and your children here alone?” The woman replied, “No; our old man has gone yonder into the valley where in fact we dwell; he will soon return.” Then the man said: “So let it be. We will remain here until he returns.” The woman answered: “Let it be so.” So when the old man had returned the spokesman of the two ambassadors said: “We come as messengers. Let us talk together in peace. We are not thinking of evil purposes, and these, our peaceful sentiments, are shown by the fact that neither of us has a scalping-knife, a bow and arrows, or battle-ax, and is not painted on the face. For this reason let there be peace while we talk together.” It seemed at first that the old man was angry, but when he had heard this statement his mind changed, and he said, “Come, then, do you relate the message which you have been sent to bring to us. Come, now, tell us.” The man replied: “So be it. We have come to you to propose that we at once settle all our differences, because we have slaughtered not only ourselves, but also our friends and kinsmen. Let us stop this slaughter; and let us bury deep in the earth the scalping-knife, the war bow and arrow, and the battle-ax; in the earth we will put these weapons; so if you are willing to accept our proposals you will put these murderous things outside this world, if you are only willing to do so.” The old man replied: “So be it. Let us go to the place where usually we assemble in council in the Long-lodge, for indeed the chiefs dwell some distance from here. I will tell them what you have brought as a message to us. I do not know what answer they may give. I think you two should remain here, and I will go yonder to the Long-lodge, where are the chiefs of our people. It would not succeed well if you two should go there, for usually they are angry when they see an enemy. I will prepare myself properly to tell them the message which you have been sent to bring to us. Then I shall come for you should their reply be favorable to a conference with them. Thus it shall be done.” One of the ambassadors answered, “Let it come to pass as you have suggested.”

Thereupon the old man started for the Long-lodge to confer with the chiefs of his people. When he had reached a point near the village he began to cry out: Gōʹweʻ, gōʹweʻ, gōʹweʻ. This is called proclaiming. As soon as his cries were heard everybody came forth from their lodges and at once went to the Long-lodge to hear what news the crier was bringing them. So a large assemblage crowded the Long-lodge. Then the old man, who was still crying out the cries of warning, entered the Long-lodge, whereupon they set him down on one side. One of the chiefs arose and said: “Now, you must relate the important news which you bring to us, so tell us. That is all.” Arising, the old man said: “I will tell you of a very important matter which has come to pass. I saw two men who were in the lodge when I returned to my home. I was astonished, but one of these men at once arose and said: ‘We assure you that we are not intending anything evil, and this is proved by the fact that we have no scalping-knife, no war bow and arrows, and no battle-ax, and we have not our faces painted. We have been sent by our chiefs to learn whether we can not settle all our difficulties. We have been killing ourselves and shedding each other’s blood; so let us stop doing this, and let us bury deep in the earth the scalping-knife, the war bow and arrows, and the battle-ax; let us lay these very deep in the ground. You must put these things outside the world. Thus it shall be done, provided that you will agree to this proposition. So this is the number of words which has been sent you by us.’ I am now through with what I have to say. So, there.” In reply, the chiefs of the village said to the old man: “Perhaps you would better fetch the two men here and let them come into this place. You alone go back after them. You must hasten your steps as you go, and you must bring them at once with you.” The old man, replying, “So let it be,” at once went out of the lodge and started on a run toward his temporary lodge, where the two men were awaiting his return. On entering, he said to them: “I have come after you.” Arising at once, they started for the place where the council was being held, and having reached there, they entered the Long-lodge. One of the ambassadors was in a frenzy of fear, seeming to fear they would be killed, for before entering he kept saying to his friend: “Have courage, my friend; one of us will certainly escape.” When they entered the Long-lodge they made room for the two messengers, or ambassadors, to sit. One of the chiefs of the village, arising, said: “Is it true that you have been sent to come into our country? Are the things true which our friend has told us in full? That is what you two must tell us, for we do not know whether what he told us a short time ago is the truth or not.”

Then the spokesman of the two ambassadors, arising to his full height, said: “We two will now tell you that we were commissioned on a very important errand by our chiefs. We come to you to propose that your people and our people shall settle all the troubles which have caused them to shed each other’s blood. What your chief has told you is an important matter. I am through.”

Then one of the chiefs of the village, arising, said: “Lo! now do you talk, everyone who has something to say, you who are the chiefs of this village, whether we shall agree to settle our difficulties with the people who have sent these two men to us, and to bury deep in the ground the scalping-knife, the war bow and arrow, and the battle-ax. Come, now, let each one say which side of the proposal he takes, whether we shall make peace, or whether we shall reject these overtures for peace. There are only two opinions that can be given; when one speaks he must tell which is his opinion. So I am done.”

Then another chief arose to speak, saying: “I am next in order to speak my sentiments. I am unwilling to consent to settle our difficulties with the people represented by these two messengers, because the many stains which have come from the blood of my own kinsmen, shed by these two men who are sitting here, are scarcely dried. In my heart there are constant passions arising which prompt me to take vengeance for this cruel slaughter of my own kinsmen; and I am tempted to scalp these two enemies who sit here in our presence.”

Then another chief, leaping to his feet, said to the one who was speaking: “Do you stop at once. Do not say that again; you must stop that kind of talk. I will say but a few words for my part. You two who are sitting here must listen and must hear all that I have to say in my own behalf and in that of my people. I think that we all realize that what we are about to do is a very important affair. One person alone has made us of one flesh and of one form, and of a reddish color. Now, too, you shall hear me declare that I agree to accept your proposal for an adjustment of all difficulties between your people and ours. We must bury deep in the ground all those things with which we fight; and you must put them out of the world; and this statement you must make when you two return to your own homes.” The chief accepted this proposition, saying: “So now we will meet in joint council at the river, which is just halfway from here to our own country; we will meet there on one side of the river, and there you may prepare your camps. You must all go—children, women, and men—all must be present there. On the opposite side of the river we will make our camps. After the tenth night from now we must all be in camp there, and I shall bring all the people—children, women, and the warriors. So there; thus it shall come to pass. Then we shall lie down to rest and in the morning you and I will talk together, as thou art a chief and as I, too, am a chief. So you shall stand on the other side of the river, and I shall stand on this side of the river. Then it shall be that you will tell me how you and I may adjust our differences; and you shall accomplish this within the time of 10 days. After 10 nights you will have arrived on your side of the river, and I, too, shall have arrived on my side of the river. So there is what I have to say. Come, now, make your preparations, and when you have completed them we shall start to go to the river.”

In the meantime the two ambassadors had returned to their home and had made their report, and their chiefs had given the people instructions to prepare themselves to go to meet their former enemies at the river that bounded their lands. On both sides the people and the chiefs kept tally of the days that passed; the next day was one; the next, two; the next day, three, and so on. On the eighth day the chief on each side said: “Come now, let us start.” Thereupon they left their homes for the place of meeting; none remained behind. They traveled a long distance before they stopped for the night. In the morning they started again and arrived at the river bank at a seasonable hour. The chief of the opposite party said, too: “Come now, let us depart for the river bank where we are to meet in council.” All started, not one remaining at home. They, too, traveled a long distance before camping for the night, and in the morning early they, too, continued their journey and in good time arrived at the river bank, at the place of meeting. There was assembled a large body of people.

Then one of the chiefs, standing beside the river, said: “Behold! now tell me what your thought is as to how you and I may be able to adjust our troubles in peace. Tell me this. So there is what I have to say.”

Then the chief on the opposite side of the river, standing near the brink, said: “Now has come to pass what I think that He who alone has made our lives, desires, but where He abides I do not know, for our lives are alike, our forms are alike, and the color of our skin is the same, for we are reddish in color. We have blundered. We have only killed one another, and we have only shed one another’s blood. So let us stop this evil work, and let it not come to pass again; and let us bury the scalping-knife, the war bow and arrows, and the battle-ax; let all these be left deep in the ground; and thereby we shall put these out of the world. So this is my opinion. Let us be at peace in the future; let us be at peace in our minds; and let the minds of our people be at peace, those of our children, our women, and our warriors. Such is my opinion, and I who speak it am a chief. So this is enough. Now it is for you to speak, you who are a chief. I do not know whether what I have said is pleasing to you. This will I do. I have finished.”

There was a great sound—dauñ—made by the assembled tribes, for there were very many people. Then the chief on the opposite side of the river, standing on the shore, said: “Now, you who are a chief have ended your address, and I agree to all that you have said; hence you and I will adjust all our troubles and difficulties so that they may never return. Now, too, you and I will bury deep in the ground the scalping-knife, the war bow and arrows, and the battle-ax; all these things we will place in the earth, so that none of them shall come forth again, and there they shall disappear from the earth. Thus let it come to pass. So, there.”

Then, on the opposite side of the river, the other chief who had proposed this conference, arising, said: “I am, indeed, thankful that my desires have been fulfilled in this peaceful agreement. I do give you many thanks for your part in this matter, and so now you and I will bury in the ground all those things with which you and I have been accustomed to kill each other, in such manner that they shall never again come forth. We will put them out of the world, so that so long as the earth stands such things shall not again take place. So, there.”

Then the chief on the other side of the river, arising in his place, said: “I am thankful for the accomplishment of this great compact of peace, and I congratulate you as well, you who are also a chief. So now we shall prepare it; and it shall be very broad. You and I must set to work so that we may make this good thing for our people; and this shall be a level (peaceful and fruitful) country; and thereon we must, one and all, take one another by the arm (hand)—all women, children, and men; and by this means each one will bear testimony to the fact that truly, indeed, we have made peace and have settled harmoniously all our difficulties; and when we shall have taken one another by the arm then we must dance to express our joy and good will and hope for the continuance of this peace during time to come.”

When daylight had come, one of the chiefs made an address of thanksgiving. He said: “I am very thankful that day has dawned in peace on this assembly here present. So now we give our thanksgiving to Him whose place of residence we still do not know but who has made our lives. So now you and I have finished this work, which puts an end to any bitter feeling between us that might in the future lead some one to scalp another. So now we will separate again. So now we, for our part, will start for our homes, and you, too, will return to your homes.”

So it came to pass that the two peoples arrived safe at their homes, whence they had come forth to make peace with their enemies, and this peace has lasted unto this day.

So this came to pass in this way. And this is the end of the legend.

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133. The Story of the White Pigeon, the Chief of the Pigeons

It is said that among wild pigeons the white ones are the chiefs of their communities. According to tradition, a white pigeon once flew into the forest lodge of a noted old man, the Wild Cat. The visitor did not appear ill at ease but stood in the lodge wherever it seemed good to him, and then without remark he flew away.

The old man, Wild Cat, somewhat amazed by the quiet conduct of his visitor, related the incident to his neighbors, saying that this visit portended that something out of the ordinary was about to happen. But an entire year passed and nothing unusual had happened to old Wild Cat and his fellows and neighbors.

But at about the same season the next year the same White Pigeon again visited the old man’s lodge. At this visit the old man believed that the White Pigeon was a man (i.e., one of his own kind of beings), so he conversed with him on many subjects. During this visit White Pigeon informed the old man, Wild Cat, that all the various tribes of birds had held a council at which it had been decided that the wild pigeons should furnish a tribute to mankind, because their Maker had selected the wild pigeons for this important duty as most other birds had only very little to give up because their mode of life required them to live dispersed here and there, and so what they had to offer could be obtained only with difficulty, while the others had nothing to offer toward the support of mankind.

So, the pigeons being the only tribe of birds which built their nests and reared their young in a single community, it was resolved by the various tribes of birds that the pigeons should spare some of their young to men for food. White Pigeon continued by saying that he had come purposely to notify old man Wild Cat of this momentous decision, and to tell him the young pigeons were to be taken at the proper season, and the manner in which this must be done.

He said: “In the season of the roost, when the young pigeons have attained a suitable size for eating, the people should select a suitable person as superintendent or master of the hunt, and he should give the needful directions to the people for making their preparations for the hunt before starting for the hunting grounds in which the pigeons have their roost in the forest.”

On such a hunting expedition the entire community was engaged, and so it was not unusual to have a very large multitude of people moving along a common path at this time. But to secure order and obedience certain rules for the march must be observed by all. Of these, one was that when the party halted to rest, to eat, or to camp for the night, the leader would place a rod, suitably painted, across the path, and no one was permitted to pass over it or to go around it for the purpose of continuing the journey regardless of the rest of the party. It was held that should one break this injunction some misfortune would inevitably befall the party. When the party was ready to proceed the leader would take up the rod and then the journey would be resumed.

Upon nearing the roosting place of the pigeons it was customary to make a collection of gifts from the people, consisting of various articles of ornament and trinkets of all kinds, for an offering to the pigeons. These freely given gifts were placed in a bark bowl and this was borne solemnly into the forest to some swampy place where tall weeds were plentiful, and these gifts were spread out on a piece of elm bark while native tobacco was burned and an invocation to the offering was made to the pigeons and their Maker.

Tradition reports that for the first hunting expedition the people as a whole did not observe the rules of the master of the hunt, which he had learned from the White Pigeon. So some went around the painted rod placed across the path when the party halted for any purpose; others withheld presents from the offering, and many accidents happened to them; some broke their legs, others their arms, some fell sick, and some died. A great number of misfortunes befell the expedition.

After the expedition had returned to the home lands this fact aroused much discussion. So the old man, Wild Cat, questioned his people as to their conduct, and they informed him. He declared that they had brought these ills upon themselves and urged them to observe strictly the rule which the White Pigeon had given them for their guidance if they wished to avoid these misfortunes. So the following season the people went out to the hunt, but they carefully observed the rules laid down for their guidance and all went well, and so every spring for 20 years they continued to go out on these expeditions without any marked untoward events taking place.

But toward the end of this period many factions had arisen among the people. The young people asked, What is the need for these things? Pigeons may be killed at any time of the year. They are fit for food at all seasons of the year. What can pigeons do with these offerings of ornaments and trinkets which they are not able to wear or make any use of? Another faction of the people killed the pigeons wherever and whenever they found them, killing both the young and the old pigeons. Another faction boasted that its members had no faith in what was done, and so they had no desire to engage in pigeon hunting, even refusing to eat any of the pigeon meat when it was offered to them. But it was not long before misfortune began to assail these seditious factions. The members of the faction which had refused to eat any of the pigeon meat died off one by one. Before the visit of the White Pigeon they never died, they seemed to be immortal; but now disease and death abounded among them because they had failed to obey the regulations prescribed by the White Pigeon for their guidance.

These conditions continued for some time, becoming more and more distressful as time elapsed. Then, for the third time, the White Pigeon visited the old man, being just 20 years after the second visit. The old man did not know that he was talking to the chief of the pigeons, for he appeared to him in all respects as a man.

The White Pigeon informed the old man that thereafter as long as the world should last men and women would die because they had disobeyed the rules proclaimed by the Pigeon people. And, further, that in the future people must not kill any white pigeon, and that they must observe the rules for the hunting of pigeons, and that this was his last visit to him. And immediately he flew away.

The conditions among the people did not change for the better; the several factions still existed, and there seemed to be no common purpose in the community; some of the factions observed the rules for hunting, some only in part, while still others paid no attention to them, even mocking those who did. Some years passed when a stranger came among this people and finding his way to the lodge of the old man he said to him, “You must accompany me.” Without any question the old man followed him, for he regarded him as a man like himself.

They traveled for a number of days until finally they came to the place in which lived the tribe of the stranger, which was a place situated on the top of very lofty mountains. The stranger’s friends received the old man with every mark of respect and kindness. This people were the Donyonda (i.e., Eagle people), although to the old man they appeared to him as men like himself.

There were among the old man’s people persons without faith in the teachings of the old man which he reported he had learned from the White Pigeon. And there came a day when a man of the Crow tribe of people told one of these disbelievers that the old man, their chief, was at that time living among the Donyonda, or Eagle people, and offered to conduct him to the land of the Donyonda people. The disbeliever accepted the proposal of the Crow man and so they set out together. The Crow man and his companion finally reached the land of the Donyonda people on the top of a very lofty mountain.

The old chief recognized the man from his home, but he would have nothing at all to do with him either by word or act. He even went so far as to say to his adopted friends, “This man has come here for no good purpose; the working of his mind is very different from that of ours.” Consequently, the chief man of the Donyonda people ordered one of their warriors to take this man away and to throw him onto the moon. So on the following day the warrior placed the man on his back and bore him swiftly away; and when he reached the side of the moon he cast the man onto the moon’s side and left him there, and he remains there to this day.

But old Chief Wild Cat lived with the Donyonda people for a number of years. As time passed, however, the mind of the old chief became affected and he became morose and despondent, which resulted in his becoming obnoxious to the people of his adoption. Things went from bad to worse, and so finally the Donyonda people held a council, where it was stated that because the old chief could or would not think the things which harmonized with their thoughts they would send him to a tribe of people who agree with no one, not even with their own people, and who were hostile to all other tribes of people. So they chose one of their principal men to take the old chief the next day to the brink of the mountain and to roll him down the mountain.