Part 2 — SENECA FICTION, LEGENDS, AND MYTHS

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108. The Legend of Hayanowe (“He-the-Fleet-footed”)

Once there dwelt together in a lodge in a village two brothers. The time of the story is autumn.

It so happened that the elder brother said to the younger, “Now, let us go to the forest to hunt deer.” The younger answered, “So be it. We will take our blowguns.” But the elder said: “As for me, I will not take a blowgun. I will make use of a tomahawk and a knife, for the reason that I am very fleet-footed.” The younger brother rejoined, “Let it be so. I am satisfied with what you suggest,” adding, “Come, now! let us start for the forest.”

So they started for their destination in a distant forest. They encamped on the way three nights before they reached the rendezvous where they knew game animals abounded. Then they erected at once a temporary shelter for their camp.

In the morning the elder said, “Now, early in the day we must go out to do our hunting.” But the younger brother replied, “You must follow me around in the forest, and then you will see how fleet I am on the course.” Then the two started out from their camp to hunt. Carrying only a tomahawk and a hunting knife, the younger brother took the lead, while the elder brother followed him, as requested. Just before starting from their lodge the younger brother said to the elder: “Do not take a blowgun with you, for just as soon as I kill anything you must bring it back to our camp.”

Having gone into the forest some distance, they finally saw a large herd of deer, which at once fled from them, whereupon, then, the younger brother said: “Whenever I kill one I will call out in a loud voice, ʻam, ʻam.” So saying, with loud shouts he pursued the deer into the forest, and by the time the sun marked midday he had overtaken and killed six deer, on account of his great fleetness of foot. Then the two brothers rested from hunting for the day.

When they had retired to their camp, the elder, addressing his younger brother, said, “Do not ever say that you are fleet of foot, because that quality is an essential of your character.” But the hot-headed younger brother answered, “I am fleet-footed, anyway.” At this the elder brother scolded him, saying, “Do not ever say that again, because something sinister will happen to us owing to that.” But the younger, heedless of the advice, rejoined: “Let it be so then. I shall match myself, however, with anything, be it an animal or a human being; it matters not what it may be.”

When night came they lay down to sleep. In the morning, after their morning meal, the two again went forth to hunt. After a long tramp they reached a place in which they saw many deer. At once the younger brother began to shout loudly in order to frighten the deer, so that they would run away from him, and he would have the opportunity of overtaking them. Hearing his outcries, the deer fled from him, and the youth pursued them. By midday he had overtaken and killed six deer.

As he was returning to his camp, he was surprised to hear the voice of a man speaking to him, saying, “Verily, is it not you who are fleet of foot and swift on the course?” Looking around, the now frightened youth saw at one side an opening—a roadway, as it were, through the forest—and standing in this roadway at some distance he saw a man, or what he took to be a man, gazing at him. Boastingly the youth replied, “It is certainly true that I am fleet-footed.” Then the strange man, or what the youth took to be a man, said: “I will run a race with you. You keep saying at all times and places that there is no one able to outfoot you, so let us make an agreement to run a race with certain conditions tomorrow. At midday we shall meet here in this place; right here. And we will agree to wager our lives on the issue of the race. One of the conditions of the race must be that I shall follow you for two days. When we start let us be as far apart as we are now—the distance from the spot where you are standing to this place where I stand. You shall choose the direction that we shall take in the race, whether we shall camp for the night, or not. When you decide that we shall camp for the night, you must say, ‘We will camp for the night’; and where you stop you shall make a mark from which you shall start in the morning, and then you can go aside to camp for the night. And there you may kindle a fire and prepare any food that you may have with you (said sneeringly).”

Then the youth who was swift of foot answered: “I agree to your proposition, and if at the end of two days you do not overtake me, then I shall pursue you.”

Then the strange man rejoined, “We have now come to an agreement on this matter, and you must tell your elder brother of it.” The fleet-footed youth replied, “Let it be so; I will tell it to my elder brother.” Thereupon the strange man admonished the youth, saying, “You must not fail in the least to be here just at midday tomorrow, and we shall stand here again.” Then the youth, answering, said, “So let it be,” and he started for the place where stood the temporary camp of his elder brother and himself.

When he arrived there he found his brother at home. As soon as his elder brother looked at him he said, “You look very dejected; possibly you are ill.” The younger brother said: “I am not at all ill. Perhaps the reason why I am looking as I do is that I saw a strange man, who said to me, ‘Are you the person who keeps on saying “I am swift of foot?” ’ I replied that I am the person. Thereupon the stranger said, ‘I will run you a race just to test your words. So tomorrow when the sun will be at midday here in this very place you and I must again stand, and from this place you and I must start.’ Moreover, he told me that I must inform you, my elder brother. So I have now informed you.” And he continued to sit with his head bowed as if in deep trouble.

Then the elder brother said: “Oh! my younger brother, you and I are brothers, and we are about to die because of your doing that which I have frequently forbidden you doing, namely, your continually saying, ‘I am fleet-footed.’ I kept saying to you that your talking thus would bring us misfortune. Now that form of talking has this day severed our minds one from the other.” Thereupon the elder brother began to shed tears of bitter grief, saying between paroxysms of weeping: “Perhaps that thing with which you have made an agreement to run a foot race with your life as a wager is not at all a human being. Verily, no one knows of what abominable species of monsters it comes.”

Seemingly undismayed, the younger brother replied, “Oh! my elder brother, now you must make me two pairs of moccasins, and I shall take with me also two ears of parched corn, which I shall place in my bosom.” So the elder brother sat up the entire night to make the two pairs of moccasins which his younger brother required in his race on the morrow.

In the morning the two brothers conversed together. The elder said: “When you start away I shall go to notify our friends in their encampment; for perhaps the person with whom you are to run a foot race is not a human being. Perhaps, too, you are about to die, so you and I may be now talking together for the last time.” Then they parted there.

The younger brother went to the place where he had agreed to be at midday for the beginning of the two days’ foot race. In due time he arrived at the spot, and he was surprised to see standing there the strange man who had challenged him to the race, and who now addressing him said, “Now, truly, you have arrived on time.” In reply Hayanowe (“He-the-Fleet-footed”) said, “I have arrived all right, and I am ready for the race.” To this the stranger answered, “Come, now, which way shall we go?” The youth then said, “So let it be. We will go toward the east—toward the sunrise.” The strange man replied, “Come on then. Get ready; and when you are ready you must say, ‘Come now; I am ready.’ ”

In a short time the youth said, “Come on now; I am ready.” Then the two started on a run. The youth Hayanowe struck a steady gait. When the sun was at the meridian, and again when it was midway between noon and sunset, the strange man urged his youthful competitor, saying, “Exert yourself, my friend.” These admonitions caused the youth some perturbations of spirit; he even feared for his life; so he put forth his topmost speed and ran swiftly until nearly sunset, when the standing trees gave out loud sounds, which seemed to come as the result of a force which struck them hard. Thereupon the youth heard the strange man shout to him, “Exert yourself, my friend; I will overtake you indeed.”

Then it became night, and the youth, remembering one of the provisions of his agreement with the stranger, although he somewhat doubted the stranger’s sincerity in making it, said in a loud voice, “Let us two camp for the night, as we have agreed to do.” The stranger replied, “So be it. Have you marked the end of your run for the day, too?” The youth answered, “I have marked it, indeed.” To this the stranger rejoined, “So be it. You may eat your food now, and so will I. You also must kindle a fire if you need it.” So the youth kindled a fire, and so the strange man did likewise. The youth could plainly see the fire of the stranger, for it was not far away at all, indicating that his opponent was close at his heels in the race. He then took out his parched corn and ate it, after warming it at the fire. Hayanowe was ill at ease, for he fully realized that he had unexpectedly met his match, perhaps more than his match. While he was eating his parched corn the strange man said to him, “In the morning, just as soon as you are ready to take up the race again, you must say aloud, ‘I have now taken my stand on the scratch.’” The youth, answering him, said, “Let it be as you say.” But he could not sleep during the entire night. He spent the time in devising some plan by which he might win the race from the unknown stranger, whether man or beast. He thought of many things, finally deciding that he would choose deep thickets as the course of the race, to see whether they would not retard the fleetness of his antagonist.

The next morning very early he made his usual preparations and then went to the scratch. Standing there, he shouted to his antagonist, “I am now ready.” The stranger answered, “So be it. And you must also say as you start, ‘Come now.’ ” The young man, giving the required verbal notice of his start, leaped forward with a bound, as did his antagonist and challenger.

The youth exerted himself to the utmost, indeed, running at his topmost speed. Finally he came to a dense thicket, which was large in extent, which he entered at once. Stopping for a moment, he listened intently for sounds made by his pursuer. It was not long before he heard the sounds in the distance made by the stranger as he, too, entered the thicket. The crackling of sticks and boughs sounded to him as if the object pursuing him possessed great weight and strength.

In resuming his race for life, the youth said in his mind: “So now it is again my turn to flee. I shall go back to the place where abide my kinsfolk and my elder brother.” He then changed his course from the east to the southwest. Running at top speed, he came to a mountain, which he ascended and passed over. Then, not knowing whether his challenger was still on his track, he listened for any sounds which might indicate that he was being pursued. He had not been standing there long when he heard the voice of his pursuer in the distance say, “Exert yourself, my friend.” Again the youth put forth all his power, running as swiftly as it was possible for him to do. He was directing his course for the place where abode his kinsfolk and his elder brother, for he had repassed their temporary camp in the forest, but his brother had already fled. So he kept on thinking, “He has gone back to the place where dwell my kinsfolk.” Having arrived there, he found that they, too, had left their settlement, because his dear elder brother had informed them of the conditions of the foot race, whereupon they decided at once that their kinsman’s antagonist was not a human being. They had fled because the elder brother had said: “We shall all die if we remain here. I really do not know what kind of a being it is that has challenged my younger brother to this foot race. Come, then, let us flee from here.”

The youth, answering, said, “So be it. Right here you and I are about to die. There is coming behind me an animal, and I do not know what it is or what it looks like. And I do not know whether we shall be aided by what I am about to suggest.” Then he came forward from the direction he had come and corpus ejus (mulieris) ille ita convertit ut pedes ad animal appropinquans spectarent; eoque tempore cruribus mulieris expansis omnibusque vestimentis ab ea sublatis corpus ejus sanguine mentruo opertum vidit. Then He-the-Fleet-footed said to her, “Now, you must remain perfectly quiet; do not move under any circumstances.” So saying, he concealed himself behind a large tree near by, behind which he awaited developments.

Looking back to the spot where the woman lay, he heard the sounds, Woqʹ, woqʹ, woqʹ, approaching nearer and nearer and resounding very loud. While looking back to see what was in pursuit of him, he saw at last an animal following his tracks on the run. It was very large, without a tail, and it had no hair on its body; there were only a few bristles, which stood along the center of its back.

It came up to the place where the woman lay and it stopped there [tum se gessit tamquam si aliquid insoliti odoraretur, cruoremque circa corpus mulieris concretum intuitum est. Jam brevi tempore corpus animalis tamquam frigore tremuit, iterumque sanguinem odorans]; its body again quivered violently, and the great creature became nauseated. It vomited a great quantity of blood, and in a short time fell over dead, and its feet resounded on the ground.

The youth, who watched these things from his position behind the great tree, now went to the place where the animal lay; when he placed his foot on the body the entire carcass moved to and fro, showing that the beast was dead. Then the boy removed the woman to a spot some distance from the place where she first lay, saying to her for her comfort, “Lie here a while. I will pursue our kinsfolk to learn whither they have gone.” Thereupon he started on the trail with great fleetness of foot. He had not followed the trail very far when he overtook them; they were in large number, and among them was his elder brother. Coming up to them, he said, “You must all turn back to see what kind of an animal it was against which I ran the foot race.”

Then placing on a pack-cradle for carrying wounded persons the woman who was ill, they started for their homes, where they arrived safe. This is the end of the story of Hayanowe.

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In former times an uncle and his nephew dwelt together in a lodge. The name of the old man was Oñgwe Hañgesha and that of his nephew Gajihsondis.

It was the custom of the uncle when he left to be absent some time to fasten his nephew securely in the lodge. He was also in the habit of giving to his nephew the foot of a bear, with these instructions: “You must remain in here quietly, and you must continue to shoot at the bear’s foot. Whenever you hit the foot you shall say aloud, ‘Gajihsondis,’ but if it so happen that you do not hit the foot, you shall not say that name. So you must keep at this business during the entire day, but whenever you become hungry you must eat food which you know is here ready for you to eat. Just as soon as you have finished your meal, then you must again begin to shoot at the bear’s foot; you must not stop in this task, but must continue to shoot at the bear’s foot without ceasing.”

So the little nephew did as his uncle had instructed him to do, and whenever he was fortunate enough to hit the bear’s foot he would exclaim loudly, “Wagajihsondis!”

At last the nephew began to wonder what his uncle ate, for he had never seen him eating anything. So Gajihsondis finally decided to watch the old man and to continue doing so during the approaching night, as the young boy had concluded that his uncle ate his meals at night. The boy mused to himself, saying, “Tonight I will watch my uncle during the whole time.”

So in the evening, when Gajihsondis lay down for the night, he wrapped himself up in an old piece of skin; he lay on one side of the fire and his uncle on the other. There was a rent in the skin covering of Gajihsondis, probably a hole which he had made in it for the occasion, and through this he peered as he watched his uncle. This hole in the skin was very, very small. The boy did not sleep, but kept a watch on his uncle to learn on what the latter fed to sustain life, for they two had never taken a meal together.

When the mush was cooked the old man removed the kettle from the fire and set it aside, and then he took out what he had cooked in a bark dish and began to eat. When he had finished his meal, he blew on the kettle and it began at once to grow small in size; then, blowing on it a second time, the kettle became as small as it was at first, which was very, very small. When it had returned to its normal size the old man wrapped it up in something which the watching nephew did not recognize, but before doing so he placed in the kettle the something out of which he had made the mush which he had just eaten. Then he again drew out the bark case from beneath his couch and replaced therein the kettle and its contents. Having done this, he pushed the case back into its hiding place. Thereupon the old man lay down again. His nephew had observed him carefully in all that he had done—this for the first time since they two had lived together, and while the boy was growing up.

The morning after this episode the old man made his usual preparations for going out to hunt, and said to his nephew, “You must eat whenever you get hungry.” He repeated this saying often.

Then the boy began to sport, as he had been instructed to do by his uncle. Wherever he threw the bear’s foot he would attempt to hit it by shooting at it. Throwing it here, he would shoot at it, and throwing it there, he would shoot at it. When he hit it he would exclaim loudly “Gajihsondis,” as he had been told to do.

When it was the usual time for the uncle to return from his hunting trip, the boy would say to himself, “My uncle will soon be back now.” So one day the youth said, “I believe I will prepare food for my uncle against the time of his return.” Going at once to his uncle’s couch, he drew from under it the bark case and took therefrom the kettle, which was very small in size, and also an insignificant looking object contained in the latter, which his uncle had scraped down to about one-half its original size.

Next the lad blew on the kettle to increase its size, as he had seen his uncle do, and after it had become sufficiently large he put water into it and set it over the fire, musing to himself, “So be it. I will now prepare food for my uncle, for he soon will return very hungry.” The lad now blew on the kettle the second time, whereupon it increased slightly only in size; so he continued to blow on it until finally it was large enough to suit him, when he said, “It is now large enough.”

Then he began to scrape into the kettle from the small object, but soon he exclaimed, “Oh, pshaw! it is not enough. I will scrape it all into the kettle.” Having done this he said, “Perhaps this food is abundant in the place whence he obtains it, so I have used it all.” As he began to stir it briskly, using a paddle for the purpose, the mush commenced to boil with great violence. At last, realizing that the mush was rapidly increasing in quantity in the kettle, the boy merely kept on stirring it. As soon as he began to blow on it to cool it, the mush increased still more rapidly in bulk. While he continued to stir and blow on the mush, it began to overflow and to fill the room around the fire. Still he kept on as before (not realizing the effect of his blowing), until at last he had to run over the couches at the side of the room in his anxiety to stir the mush, for he was now thoroughly frightened at what he had done. As he again blew on the mush flowing from the kettle it still continued to increase in quantity until finally he was driven from the room by the great mass, and had to climb upon the roof of the lodge. Here he ran around while he vigorously stirred the mush, which, with the kettle, entirely filled the lodge.

Suddenly he noticed his uncle approaching in great haste, anxiously looking up at the lodge, for he saw his nephew Gajihsondis running around on the roof. When the uncle reached the doorway, which, as was the custom in those times, was closed by two pieces of bark, he found these ajar, for the inside of the lodge was, as already said, filled with the mush and kettle. The uncle began to blow on the mush, whereupon it at once diminished in quantity, and after he had blown on it many times it was reduced to small bulk.

The nephew still stood on the roof of the lodge, greatly frightened. The uncle said to him, “Come, now, Gajihsondis, get down from there.” At this the nephew descended from the roof and reentered the lodge. Thereupon his uncle said, “Now you have killed me. I did not think that you would do this, although fear that you might is the reason why I never permitted you to see me prepare my food, because you have no sense.” Then covering himself with a skin robe, he lay down, adding: “So I shall die here. I do not know that there is anything left for me to eat. Hunger will kill me, and you have brought this about by your acts.” Having said this he covered himself up completely.

After going some distance he found a very narrow path which led directly westward, and remarked, “This is perhaps the path indicated by my uncle.” Finally he started to run, when all at once he heard sounds seemingly made by a rattle. Keeping on, at last he came to the place whence the sounds proceeded. There he found two huge rattlesnakes, one on each side of the path, blocking it in such manner that he could not pass. Going aside, he killed a large number of chipmunks, which he bound into two equal bundles. Returning to the place where the two rattlesnakes were on guard, he said to them, “You two seem to be in need of food, and so I think that you two would like to eat these things.” With these words he threw a bundle of chipmunks to each of the rattlesnakes, which they ate.

After the two rattlesnakes had devoured the chipmunks the boy said to them in a commanding tone: “You two must withdraw from this place, for, you know, you are slaves, indeed; you must go from place to place to hunt for your food, for this is always pleasant; and He who gave faculties to our bodies did not intend that anyone should be held in bondage.” Thereupon the two rattlesnakes withdrew and went aside from that place; thus were they freed from their bondage to sorcerers.

Then the boy left on a very swift run, carrying only his bow and arrows. Again, after having gone a long distance, he heard sounds in the distance. Having reached the place whence came the sounds, he was surprised to find there a great bear just beside the path, and, looking on the other side of the path, he saw another of equal size and ferocity; they were in ambush and barred the passage of the path. The noises that he had heard were made by the tusks of these animals, which projected far from their jaws and could be heard at a long distance, thus—dūʼ, dūʼ, dūʼ, dūʼ.

Then the boy, taking his bow and arrows, went aside to hunt. He killed two fawns, one of which he threw to the one bear, and the other to the other bear, in order to occupy their minds and mouths. He said to these guarding beasts: “It is too bad that you two are barring the way. One might think you would be glad to eat this food which I now offer you.” The bears ate what had been given to them and were quiet for the time being. The youth then gave them this command: “You must withdraw from this place; what you are now eating is abundant, as is well known; and you must eat this kind of food regularly hereafter. You shall be free to go and come as you choose, for He who made our lives did not intend that you should be enslaved by sorcerers and confined to one place.” The two bears at once fled from the spot, one going in one direction and the other in another.

Then the boy went on his way. He had not gone very far when he heard other sounds—dūmʻ, dūmʻ, dūmʻ. He soon came to the place where the sounds were made, and he was indeed frightened, for then the sounds were fearful in volume and rapidity. He was astonished to see two great firedragons in ambush, guarding the pathway. Thereupon the boy said, “So let it be; I will make the attempt.” Running aside, he killed a large deer, and having dragged the body back to the place where the two firedragons were, he divided it into two portions. Then saying, “You two are guarding this pathway, and one would think that you might eat what I am offering you.” He threw a piece to each of them. They were pleased to get this food, which they ate ravenously; after doing this they were quiet for the time being. Then the boy again spoke, saying, “You two beings must withdraw from this place. This is food good to eat; it is called deer meat. You now go to some other place. You are indeed slaves, are you not? But He who completed our lives did not intend that anyone should be a slave to a sorcerer.” He ceased speaking, and the two firedragons fled from the spot, as they had obtained their liberty.

But while he was thus engrossed he was surprised to hear the woman’s skin begin to sing, Giʹ-nu, giʹ-nu, giʹ-nu, giʹ-nu; “I espy a human being,” and then out of the lodge in the distance the boy saw three women and their mother emerge. The mother, addressing her daughters, exclaimed, “Exert yourselves, my children! I suppose, now, that some one has come to rob us of our chestnuts.” The skirts of these women reached to a point just above their knees, and they carried war clubs. They ran toward the place where hung the woman’s skin, which was guarding their chestnut trees. When they arrived there they found no human being. Thereupon the old woman angrily said, “Indeed, you have told a falsehood,” and struck the hanging skin with her war club, and each of her daughters, running up, did likewise. Then all the women went back to their lodge, and the boy said to himself, “How may I deceive this woman on the watch?” At last he hit upon a scheme which he thought would accomplish his purpose. Stripping off a piece of basswood bark as wide as his person, he removed the outside rough portion of suitable length. Spreading this out on the ground, he drew thereon with a piece of charcoal the outlines of many kinds of animals, all true to nature. He then filled the outlines with the animals he had drawn—the bear, the deer, the wolf, the fox, and the raccoon; in fact, with the forms of all the animals.

Then the youth returned to the edge of the clearing, where he again took his stand. He found the skin of the dead woman still hanging there, watching, looking this way and that, to detect, if possible, the approach of any stranger. In full readiness to execute his design, he finally started toward the skin, and, running swiftly, reached the spot before she was aware of his approach. Seizing it at once, the skin ceased swinging. Thereupon the boy said to it: “Do not report my taking this pile of chestnuts away with me. I will pay you for this favor; indeed, I will pay you a very high price; it is of the value of a man’s life. I will pay you with what is called a wampum belt, which is made of wampum beads.” Saying this, he gave her what he had made, and she accepted it. She opened her eyes wide in looking at it, exclaiming, “Oh! it is beautiful,” for it looked fine to her, and she laughed with delight. Then she said, “So be it; I will not give the alarm.” Answering, “Do not give the alarm,” he proceeded to take a bark case of chestnuts which had been left there temporarily. Placing this on his back by means of a forehead strap, he departed at once. He had not gone very far when suddenly he heard the voice of the hanging skin of the woman singing, “Giʹ-nuʻ, giʹ-nuʻ, giʹ-nuʻ; one has closed my mouth with a belt of wampum. Giʹ-nuʻ; at the edge of the clearing goes the pack of chestnuts.”

On hearing this, the old woman, the mother of the three women in the distant lodge, said urgently, “Take courage! Bestir yourselves, my children! I suppose some one has now robbed us of our chestnuts.” In a moment they rushed out of the lodge and ran toward the place where the woman’s skin hung swinging to and fro, singing the notes of alarm. They soon arrived there, and, lo! the skin swung to and fro, gazing intently at a wampum belt, and saying, “It is of the value of a human life, and by it one closed my mouth.” The women rushed up, and their mother snatched the so-called belt from her hands, exclaiming: “This is not a wampum belt; it is a piece of bark, and still you say it is a belt of wampum. You, indeed, have no sense.” And throwing the piece of bark away she struck the skin of the woman a cruel blow with her war club. Continuing her rebuke, she said, “It is too true that you have no sense. It is entirely your fault that one has robbed us of our chestnuts.” Then the woman, looking far away in the distance, saw the pack, consisting of the case of chestnuts, disappearing in the forest beyond the edge of the clearing. Then the old woman said: “Come! Let us pursue him. It is distressing to think that he has robbed us. On the other hand, it seems that he is a person who has more orenda (magic power) than his uncle Oñgweʻ Hañgesʹʻhäʼ (“Human Skin”), this Gajihsondis. So, therefore, let us pursue him and kill him with blows of our war clubs. If, perchance, we may be able to overtake him, we will surely kill him.”

It so happened that Gajihsondis heard the footsteps of the women as they drew near in pursuit of him, and without further ado, he took his pack from his back and laid it down, and seated himself beside it.

When the women came close to him on the run, he struck the case of chestnuts with his arrow, saying: “It seems that I should sing you a song so that you may dance, because you come in so great anger. It is fine, indeed. The song that I will sing is pleasant to hear. So, now, you must dance.”

Then he sang: “One shall not return from the upper side of the sky. One shall not return from the upper side of the sky. One shall not return from the upper side of the sky. One shall not rob me of my song (the orenda of my song).” He kept on singing this song; and the women, the mother and her daughters, danced without ceasing as they circled around the spot where he was seated; and the mother kept on saying, “Exert yourselves my children; this is a very fine song.” But Gajihsondis kept on singing, “On the upper side of the sky, on the upper side of the sky, on the upper side of the sky, one shall not return thence”; and the women kept on rising in the air. Before long they had ascended half the height of the tallest trees, and they still danced on. Then Gajihsondis suddenly ceased his singing, and taking up his pack and slinging it on his back by the forehead strap, started on homeward leisurely. He had not gone very far when suddenly he saw the body of a woman falling, followed in quick succession by the bodies of three other women, all falling, head foremost, to the earth.

Then the young man started for home, but he stopped along the way to rest at times. Without further adventure he reached his uncle’s lodge, bearing the bark case full of chestnuts. On reaching the lodge he called out, “Oh, my uncle! Are you still living?” The old man, who was indeed feeble, replied: “Alas, my nephew, it can still be said I am yet alive, my nephew—you who are called Gajihsondis.” His nephew answered: “I have now returned, and I bring with me what I sought to obtain; I have a large quantity. So now you can eat again, and now I will prepare mush of chestnuts for you, and you will again become satisfied with a sufficiency of food, and will recover your health.” So saying, the young man set to work making a very large quantity of the mush for his poor old uncle. When it was cooked, he removed the kettle containing it from the fire and poured the mush on a piece of bark. Then he went to the side of his uncle, and raising him up and urging him to be of good cheer, fed him the mush, although his uncle could hardly move. The old man ate the mush, for he was nearly famished; his privations had reduced his body to a mere skeleton—just skin and bones. He ate a large quantity before he had enough. He did indeed recover his strength and health.

Later the old man said to his nephew: “My nephew, I am very thankful indeed that you were able to accomplish this great task. The only thing I did was to watch the branch, which was the index of your state and situation. I could only think that you were still alive. I now again thank you for being able to accomplish this great task. On my part, I am much delighted with our fortune.

“Now I am going to ask you by what unheard-of means did you accomplish this great task.” The young man answered: “I, of course, know, but I will tell you only this: That I have destroyed all those women, possessed of great orenda and moved by evil purposes.” The uncle said, “So be it. What a wonderful thing this is. You and I will return to that place.” To this the youth replied: “So let it be,” and then, after making their usual preparations, they departed. They stopped along the route and finally reached the spot where the women dwelt who had planted chestnut trees. The only one who was alive was the skin of the woman which was hung up to swing to and fro and to watch and to give the alarm should any person make his appearance.

When they arrived at the empty lodge of the women they unfastened and uncovered the bark cases containing chestnuts, which the women had stored and guarded from all mankind. Taking up a handful of the chestnuts, the old man exclaimed in a loud voice: “All people shall eat this food. Never shall it again be the possession of a single family, but it shall be for all human beings”; and they scattered the chestnuts in all directions by handfuls. When they had completed their task they went to the place where the skin of the woman was swinging to and fro. Arriving there, they took down the skin, and the old man said to her: “You shall go together with us to our home. You will recover, indeed, from that awful thing which the women had done to you, and you shall be restored to the likeness of a living human being.” So saying, he proceeded to rub her entire body with his hands reenforced by his great orenda (magic power). She soon was restored to her normal figure and condition, and she again had the appearance of a human being.

“If it be so that you become a son-in-law, then you must say to your mother-in-law, ‘I shall now smoke my pipe.’ And when you have lighted your pipe you shall inhale the smoke twice, and your mother-in-law must spread a buckskin on the ground. Then you shall inhale the smoke only twice and shall expectorate wampum beads thereon. Together in one place you and I shall eat again and also sleep again.”

So they spent the night in the lodge together, and in the morning they ate together. When they had finished their meal the young man said: “I am all ready now. Oh, uncle! I start now. Put forth, therefore, your orenda (magic power = hope, in modern usage) that in peace and health you and I may see each other again.” The old uncle answered, “So let it be as you have said.” The young man replied, “Indeed, you did say that there are 10 camping sites indicated by signs of fireplaces on the way, and that it is 10 days’ journey.” So saying, he started on his journey.

After leaving the lodge the young man ran very swiftly. He had not gone very far, as he judged, when he was surprised to see the ashes and the dead coals of a former fire—the signs of a camping place. At this he exclaimed, “Ah! he did not say that some of the camping places were quite near.” He stopped and thought seriously for some moments, finally deciding to return to the lodge for further information from his old uncle. So he ran homeward, going to the place where lived his uncle, his mother’s brother. On arriving there the uncle said to him, “Well, what has happened to you?” The young man answered, “I have come to ask you again about my journey. You did not say that one of the camping places was near by.” The old uncle exclaimed, “Wuʻʹ! Did you go as far as that?” “I went as far as that,” replied the young man. The uncle answered, “Ho, you are indeed quite immune to the spells of sorcery. These camping places are all like this one along the way.” The young man replied, “So be it. I will stop there again. It does not matter, does it, that you and I see daylight together?” The old man was much discouraged. Daylight came upon them, and they ate their morning meal together. When they had finished eating, the old man, addressing his nephew, said, “You shall hereafter be called Oñgweʻ Hañgesʹʻhäʼ. It shall be your custom when anyone asks you your name to say, Oñgweʻ Hañgesʹʻhäʼ.” The young man answered, “So be it. I now start,” and he left the lodge of his uncle.

The youth came to the place marked for the first camping place, but he passed it and kept on, and thus he did with all the others, until he arrived at the tenth camping place, although the sun was low in the west when he had reached the first one. At the tenth camping place he saw that the forest edges were wreathed in long films of dew clouds, and he stopped there for the night. Quickly arising in the morning, he was startled to hear the voices of a number of men, who were laughing as they went eastward, and who passed by on the path.

The young man took the arrow again and they went on to the spot where they would encamp for the night. When they arrived at the place the sun was low in the west. The old man said to his nephew, in order to remove any apprehensions from his mind as to his own good intentions, “I will now skin the fisher and prepare its skin.” At this time they heard in the distance the sounds of persons laughing. And, they say, these persons made their several camps there. Then Sʻhodieʹoⁿskoⁿʼ said, “Here let us, for our part, pitch our camp, because when among people I am much abused because I am quite old.” So Sʻhodieʹoⁿskoⁿʼ and his companion kindled a fire with fagots and soon had it burning briskly. Each took opposite sides of the fire and lay down to sleep for the night.

Some time during the night the crafty Sʻhodieʹoⁿskoⁿʼ sat up and blew the fire up in such manner that sparks and coals fell all over Oñgweʻ Hañgesʹʻhäʼ as he lay asleep. But the latter arose suddenly and asked, “Why have you done this unreasonable thing?” The old man dissimulatingly replied, “Oh! that was probably caused by a gust of wind driving the sparks over your body.” Then they lay down again. Again, just before the break of day, the old man once more blew the fire on his seemingly sleeping companion. Thereupon the latter arose, and taking his bow and flint-pointed arrow, crossed over the fireplace to the place where his companion was lying. He was surprised to see him awake, looking at him. The old man deprecatingly said, “Oh, my nephew! you do not seem to know that you were nearly burned up, as the fire was falling on you; and you must not think that it was I who did this to you.” Oñgweʻ Hañgesʹʻhäʼ was greatly astonished at what had happened and said to his companion, “If you do not refrain from what you are doing it is possible for me to destroy you.”

When it was nearly daylight sounds were heard in the camp ahead and the occupants started on their journey; then the two in turn started on their way. They had not gone very far when they heard sounds in the distance which told them that they had arrived at the place in which were congregated all the people who were shooting at the mark.

Sʻhodieʹoⁿskoⁿʼ and Oñgweʻ Hañgesʹʻhäʼ kept right on their way until they reached the spot. The nephew did not fear anything. Once on the ground they were quickly made aware that a tree stood there and that on its top sat a hawk (?) or hawks (?). There was a large number of people who were engaged in shooting at the prize, seemingly fastened to the top of the trees, which stood in the dooryard of the old woman who dwelt in this place; but all failed to hit the mark. A short distance from the place where the people were engaged in shooting at the mark there stood a lodge, in which the old woman, the mother of the family, walked to and fro, murmuring, “He who will hit that thing which is perched on the top of my tree shall marry my youngest daughter.” She kept on saying this as she went from place to place. Without cessation, day after day for many days the marksmen kept on shooting at the hawk (?) perched on the top of the old woman’s tree. Sometimes an arrow would fly very close to the bird, which would merely flap its wings; at this the assembly would give a loud shout of encouragement. At once the old woman would come forth on the run and would ask anxiously, “Who is it that hit the mark? Who is it that is my son-in-law?” But the people would reply, “It is not true that one has hit it. No one has done so.” Then she would return to her lodge somewhat disappointed.

Now the people began to say among themselves, “Oñgweʻ Hañgesʹʻhäʼ has arrived, and he is immune (from the influence of hostile orenda).” Then he said to the assembly, “Now it is my turn to shoot. It is not certain what will take place when I shoot. You will see what happens.” He strung his bow, and all the people became quiet and attentive as they watched him. Assuming a suitable position and taking aim, the young man drew his arrow to the very point and then let it fly. Without a hitch, the arrow struck fairly in the center of the bird’s body, causing the bird to fall over on the opposite of the tree, whence, with wings feebly flapping, it fell to the ground. At this the assembly broke out in a loud shout of applause—so loud that one would think the sound struck the heavens. The old woman came up on the run, anxiously asking, “Who is he that has become my son-in-law?” All the people rushed forward to the place where lay the bird with the arrow still sticking in its body.

The young man then took up his abode in his wife’s family. Hō! He remained there for a long time. Then he said, “I shall go on a hunt,” and Oñgweʻ Hañgesʹʻhäʼ said to his three brothers-in-law, “Come with me to hunt.” Having accepted his invitation, they started on their hunting trip, but they had not gone very far when they were surprised by a small herd of deer, which fled from them. Then the young bridegroom said to his brothers-in-law, “Remain here, and I alone will pursue them from place to place.” In a short time he shot at one and hit it, and it fell. Then, following the remaining deer, he killed them one by one. Thereupon he stopped, and hailing his brothers-in-law, said to them, “Come hither, my brothers-in-law, and let us dress these deer.” So they went to him and took part in the skinning of the deer. When they had finished dressing the carcasses they began at once to pack the pelts and the venison into suitable bundles in such manner as was customary in the early time. When they were all ready they bore these bundles on their backs by means of the forehead strap—the usual and the most convenient method of carrying heavy burdens; and they started for their home with Oñgweʻ Hañgesʹʻhäʼ in the lead.

Now people began to arrive, and they sat down and became very quiet. At this time the old woman, the mother of the daughters of the lodge, Godwĕñniăʹʻdănĭʻ said, addressing the assembly: “Now, you who have come here this day know that the usual custom for a feast of this kind shall be followed. You who have come in by invitation shall first eat your shares of the food; and it was for this reason that I desired a feast of eat-all-up as my thanks offering; and when you have finished eating, then my children and I will eat. For such is the custom when one marries. Now, then, you must eat. You must eat up all that is apportioned to you, for this is the reason that this feast is called the feast of eat-all-up.”

Thereupon the neighbors began to eat. They ate during the entire day; they ate the venison; they enjoyed also the corn-meal mush; and they kept saying as they ate, “I am thankful for this food,” each as he felt satisfied. Thus in time they fulfilled the rites of the feast of eat-up-all, which is usually given when one is married; they ate up all that had been prepared for them—a good omen for the newly married couple. Then each went his way home. But there was one matter which was postponed until the next day.

The day after the feast of eat-all-up there took place what Oñgweʻ Hañgesʹʻhäʼ had said would come to pass. He had said, “I crave a smoke, and so very early tomorrow morning you, my mother-in-law, must again go around and invite your neighbors, telling them as you go from place to place that your son-in-law is about to take a smoke, and that he will then disgorge wampum beads.” Godwĕñniăʹʻdănĭʻ, the mother-in-law, replied with joy, “So let it come to pass,” and she went forth again to issue invitations to her neighbors, represented by small sticks, saying: “I extend to you hereby an invitation to come to my lodge. My son-in-law, Oñgweʻ Hañgesʹʻhäʼ, is going to smoke, and he will then disgorge wampum beads.” So saying, she visited all her neighbors, and then she returned to her own home.

Then Oñgweʻ Hañgesʹʻhäʼ said to his mother-in-law, “You must spread out here a tanned buckskin.” So she hastened to obey his instructions and spread a buckskin on the ground in front of him and between his feet as he sat on the block of wood. In explanation of what he was about to do, he said: “Oh, my mother-in-law, all the wampum that shall fall on this buckskin shall belong to you; but the wampum that shall fall away from this skin shall be for prizes to those of the assembly who may be able to seize it, for all will struggle to obtain some. This will take place twice, for I will draw into me the smoke several times. The first time that I draw in the smoke I will disgorge black wampum beads; but the second time I will disgorge white wampum beads. So the people may strive to obtain some of the beads which fall away from the buckskin. This is what will take place.” After a moment’s deliberation he said to the woman’s skin, “Do thou, my human skin, light my pipe; the fire is yonder.” Thereupon the woman’s skin brought a coal from the fire and placed it in his pipe while he held it in his mouth. Then he drew in the smoke with the sound huʻkt, and then he disgorged, saying Hwuʹʼw; and the beads in falling made the sound dāʹ. His mother-in-law took up a large quantity of the beads from the buckskin. But for those beads which fell away from the buckskin the people struggled among themselves. In the strife the people created a great noise and uproar, for everyone attempted to get all that he possibly could. He who was quick was able, of course, to lay hold of the greatest quantity, and the slowest could obtain but a few of these wampum beads. Oñgweʻ Hañgesʹʻhäʼ said, “Now this time the wampum beads will be of a black color.” His mother-in-law, as was the custom on such occasions, spread another buckskin on the ground. Then he drew in the smoke a second time and at once disgorged wampum beads which were entirely black in color; some of these fell on the buckskin and some away from it. As before, the people engaged in a lively contest for the beads which fell away from the buckskin, thus creating a great uproar. He who was active secured the most of the beads in these contests. Now Oñgweʻ Hañgesʹʻhäʼ said, “This affair is over entirely, and all people must return to their homes.” At this all the people departed from the lodge of Godwĕñniăʹʻdănĭʼ and went to their several homes.

Things remained thus for a long time and the couple lived quietly together as husband and wife. One day Oñgweʻ Hañgesʹʻhäʼ said to his mother-in-law: “I am now thinking that she who lives with me and I will return to the place where my uncle, my mother’s brother, dwells. I do not know whether or not he is still alive, and for this reason we two will go back there. Now, my mother-in-law, I am going to tell you what I am thinking. I am not certain in my mind that you would be willing for me to suggest that you and my old uncle should mutually care for each other. You two are fine-looking and are about the same in age and bodily condition. How is it? Will you be willing to undertake this condition?” To this the mother-in-law answered, “Oh, my son! indeed your mind and thought suit me well. What you have suggested shall come to pass as you have said, provided your uncle is still in good health and alive when we shall arrive at the place where he lives. I will accompany you two home, my daughters will remain here with my sons and they will not want for anything.” So the next morning she was fully prepared with food for the journey to the former home of her son-in-law, and Oñgweʻ Hañgesʹʻhäʼ said to his former companions on his journey homeward, “Let us now return to my home; and we bid you good-by.” So saying, he bade farewell to his brothers-in-law and sisters-in-law.

Then they departed on their long journey, and the bridegroom took his wife and his mother-in-law with him. They encamped on their way homeward many times. As soon as they arrived near the lodge of the young man’s uncle, Oñgweʻ Hañgesʹʻhäʼ said to his two companions: “Stop here until I visit the lodge of my home to make a reconnoissance, for I do not know whether my uncle is yet alive or not. I will return soon.”

Thereupon he started on the run to his home. Arriving there, he found his uncle eating his midday meal. The old man quickly arose and seized the young man, saying, “Now hast thou returned? Is it thou, my nephew? Art thou Oñgweʻ Hañgesʹʻhäʼ?” The nephew replied, “I it is, Uncle.” “Where is my daughter-in-law?” asked the old man. The nephew answered, “Oh, my uncle! she and another halted at a place not far from here, while I came here to make a reconnoissance to learn whether you were still alive or not. I am married in fact, and what is more than this, I have brought with me my mother-in-law. They two are very fine-looking women. I have thought very seriously of your age and also of the age of my mother-in-law, and you two seem suitable in this respect one for the other. I have already told her that I have thought well of having you two abide together as husband and wife. Oh, my uncle! I have now said to you what I intended to say. My mother-in-law is very thankful to me for my kindness in this matter and for my desire to make you and her happy and contented. Thus have I thought about this matter. Now will you agree to what I have proposed for your welfare?” Greatly pleased, the uncle exclaimed, “Oh, my nephew! how thankful I am for your kind effort in my behalf. Let me dress myself, and you may now bring the woman.” Delighted with the reception his uncle gave the marital proposal, Oñgweʻ Hañgesʹʻhäʼ ran back to the place where the two women were anxiously awaiting his return. On arriving there, he exclaimed: “He lives! He lives and is in the best of health. He is eating. Let us go to him.” Thereupon they started for the lodge.

When they reached there they found the old man dressed and ready to receive them. As they entered the lodge the old man, tapping his couch several times, said gently to the mother-in-law, “Here you may abide.” She came forward and took her seat beside him, and Oñgweʻ Hañgesʹʻhäʼ and his wife seated themselves opposite, putting the fireplace between them as was the custom for families to do in the ancient time. Then the old man said to his nephew: “I am indeed thankful that you have been able to overcome difficulties of all kinds along your path to and fro. You have heroically braved all. Now, you must hunt, and mother and daughter shall live in contentment and peace.”

So Oñgweʻ Hañgesʹʻhäʼ spent his time in hunting. Day after day he hunted. He knew well what animals to kill. Thus it came to pass in the ancient time that they dwelt together in peace and harmony and great contentment.

This is the end of the tale.

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Contents

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(A LEGEND OF THE CONTROL OF THE GAME ANIMALS)

An old man and his grandson, who was very small, lived together in a lodge for a long time, during which they occupied opposite sides of the fire, as was customary among their people. The little grandson played by himself on his side of the fire, rolling about in the dust and ashes. The old man was quite anxious at times about the future of the boy.

There came a time when the old man saw the child sitting about in different places on his side of the fire. Finally the child was surprised to hear the old man say in no kindly voice: “You will become a pitiable object if you continue in this way, for you are very small. It is necessary that you should do something to help yourself and provide yourself what you may need. A bow and arrows are perhaps the first of your needs.” So saying, the old man started making these for the boy, and when he had completed this task he went over to the place where the child was rolling about in the dust. Taking him in his arms, he said, “You must use these in this way,” and then standing the child on the ground, he said, “You must learn to shoot with these.” Then, grasping one of the hands of the child, the grandfather placed it on the bow in the usual position for shooting; then in the other hand he placed an arrow, at the same time instructing the child how to fit the two together in proper positions for shooting. Then the old man himself drew the bowstring, telling the little grandson, “This is the way you must ordinarily do.” In this manner he instructed his grandson in the art of shooting with a bow and arrow, and the child was not long in learning how to do it. Again he told him: “That is the way you must continue to do it.”

Afterward the old man drew forth his bundle of trinkets and treasures, and taking therefrom the foot of a raccoon he fastened it to a staff, which he set upright a long distance away, saying to his grandson: “You must shoot at this continually, and whenever you hit it you must say ‘Gajihsondis.’ This you must say, and I shall then learn what a good shot you are.” Now the child did indeed follow his grandfather’s instructions.

Finally the time came when the old man said to his grandson: “I will now free you from my tutelage and now you must depend on yourself. No matter where you may be you must keep saying ‘Gajihsondis’ whenever you may hit any object—even this foot of the raccoon.” Therefore the old man paid no more attention to the welfare of his grandson. The latter ran around at pleasure for a long time. At last he asked his grandfather this question: “My grandfather, where are our kinsmen?” In answering him the old man told his grandson a number of things. Pointing off a long distance he replied: “They have gone far away to a place where lives a great beast. It is impossible for anyone to reach this place in seven years.” Without replying the youth kept on playing, as was his custom. Some time after while at play he arose and, going to his old grandfather, asked “What is the exact direction of that place whither our kinsmen have gone?” Going out of the lodge and standing beside the doorway the old man pointed far away straight toward the place where their relations had gone. He said: “There in that distant place is a spring of water in which lives the great beast, and in that place all our former kinsfolk perished.”

The youth answered, “Now, my grandfather, I will go to that place.” Very early the next morning, it is said, the youth, taking his bow and arrows, started on his long journey, saying, “Oh, my grandfather! I start now.” After a while the old man went out of the lodge, and, standing beside the doorway, said, “Kuʹ; he is indeed going a very long way off. It may be that he will be able to go there.” With these words the old man reentered the lodge.

How now with regard to the youth? Starting at a slow running gait, finally he reached a place which his grandfather had indicated to him, and after going over a mountain which was on his way he came to a lake, in the middle of which he was surprised to see floating about a white waterfowl. Taking aim, the youth at once shot at this strange fowl; the shot went so true that the fowl merely fell on its side dead. Pulling hairs from his head, the youth spliced them together until he had produced a cord sufficiently long for his purpose. This he cast out on the lake, and by this means was enabled to draw the body of the waterfowl to shore. At once he rushed up to the body and fell upon it. Soon he had prepared it so it could be borne on his back by means of the forehead strap. Then the youth started for home, and when he arrived at his grandfather’s lodge he said, “There now. I bring a very large animal.”

After looking at the body, his grandfather said, in reply: “Oh! this is not the right thing on which to be avenged.” The youth answered, “So be it, then. I will take it back to its home, as it seems proper to do.” Having packed the body by means of the forehead strap, he started for the place whence he had brought the great animal. On arriving at the shore of the lake he cast the animal down on the ground, saying, “As to you, I shall leave you here, and, furthermore, you must come to life again.” Then, starting for home, the youth was not long in reaching the lodge of his grandfather, to whom he said: “I have now released the animal.” He did not delay in resuming his sports around the lodge, and continued them for a time.

After hearing this and following with his eyes the direction shown by his old grandfather, the youth started. After the lapse of some time the old man again said, “Let me see where he is.” Going out of the lodge, he stood looking around for his grandson, whom he finally saw disappearing in the distance. He mused with himself, saying: “It is certain, I believe, that he will be able to accomplish the feat of reaching the place where are the pitfalls set by the eaters of human flesh.”

Continuing a short distance, the youth found the lair of panthers which were fierce in aspect, for they were fighting. Raising his bow and arrow, he said to them, “Stop your anger, you two, for the place where you are belongs to me.”

Going on a short distance farther, he found a number of elk fighting in their turn. He said to them also, “Stop fighting, you two;” and they did stop fighting and separated. The youth told them, too, “This region belongs to me.”

Then there arose a great tumult and noise among the animals of all kinds. The youth saw there what seemed to be a long lodge, on the top of which owls were seated; these, too, were making outcries, saying “Hiʻ, hiʻ, hiʻ, hiʻ, hiʻ. Awake! a male human being is coming.” The youth now watched them, and he was surprised to find there lying down the body of some one who much resembled his grandfather, and he saw also everything that was inside the lodge. Among the things he saw was a kettle of corn mush, which was boiling over the fire. “I have found something which is perhaps good to the taste.”

Entering the lodge, he went to the farther side of the fire, whereupon from the opposite side of the fire a white deer came forth and entered the bosom of the old man. At this the youth started out of the lodge, and at once everything in the lodge began to leave. The breechclout of the old man went out, and the boiling mush, too, started out. The youth had gone a long distance before the old man awoke, exclaiming, “Pshaw! I think that he still has a grandson, that old man.” Straightening himself up, he said: “So let it be. I now believe that I also will start.”

Then the old man took his club from its usual resting place, the one with which he was accustomed to fight, and pursuing the youth, soon overtook him, as was to be expected. Addressing the youth, he said, “For what reason did you rob me as you have done?” So saying, he struck the youth a heavy blow, causing the young man to fall over in an unconscious condition; and he lay where he fell.

Thereupon the old man turned back homeward, and all the things that had started out also returned homeward. As he walked along the old man restored the body of the great beast and all other things which had been disturbed by the youth during his visit to him.

Meanwhile the youth regained consciousness, and, realizing his condition, exclaimed, “Wŭʻʹ, my head does certainly pain me; I believe that the old man has really killed me. So let it be. I think I will go back, perhaps, to the lodge of the old man.” When he reached the lodge, ho-wŭʻ, the owls were making a great outcry: “Awake you! Now, indeed, the male human being is again coming.” At this the youth exclaimed, “Do you keep quiet! these things, here.” Entering again the lodge by stealth, he saw there the war club resting in its place, the club with which the old man did his fighting; it was full of nicks from hard usage in combat. Thereupon the youth said, “Keep thyself still; and indeed, you must give me assistance at this time. We will awaken the old man to his death.” Again entering the lodge, the youth went to the back part of the lodge, where he took a seat. Again the very small white deer came forth and entered his bosom. Then he arose and stood there, and all the things on the inside of the lodge started to follow him out of it. Even the breechclout of the old man he took from him.

The youth had gone a long distance before the old man again awoke. Realizing what had taken place, the latter exclaimed, “Gwăʻʹ. He is alive again, I believe. Now, indeed, he shall suffer for this. I will do him harm in many places.” Then the old man started, after which he exclaimed, “Kwŭʻʹ! I have forgotten that, I have not painted my face, as is the custom, for I believe that I shall have to fight with one who is, it seems, a brave man, this youth.” Having poured dead coals into a basket, he carried them to a mortar standing near by, in which he began to pound the charred coals. He made a great noise in doing this, the blows with the pestle sounding “dum, dum, dum.” This action of the old man caused the youth to grow weak and faint as he walked along.

When the old man had finished pounding the coals he painted his face. Then he started in pursuit of the youth, saying, “I am following you.” The old man finally overtook the youth, whereupon he said to him, “Look here, my grandson! I am going to kill you.” The youth replied, “So let it be,” at the same time striking the old man a blow with the war club. Then they fought, and being evenly matched, the struggle was fierce. Thus the battle went on for some time until at last the youth succeeded in killing his grandfather. Then he started for home, followed by all the things that were in the lodge of the old man.

The youth did not realize the time it took him to arrive at the lodge of his living grandfather, who exclaimed: “You certainly have brought back home our great beast. How did you accomplish it? Was the old man willing for you to bring it home? Was he willing, too, for you to take all the things which you have brought back with you?” The youth replied, “I killed the old wizard.” At this his grandfather began to weep, saying, “Now, indeed, you have killed him who, when living, was my brother.” Without making any reply, the youth prepared to lie down for the night. The two occupied the same side of the fire.

As soon as the youth fell asleep, the old man, his grandfather, arose and, addressing the sleeping youth, said, “I suppose that I must now kill you, wicked man, in your turn.” Taking up his bow and three arrows and, going over to the opposite side of the fire, he shot three arrows into the back of the youth, his grandson, who was asleep. Then the old man returned to his bed and laid himself down again. Some time after this the youth awoke and said, “Kwŭʻʹ! indeed my back does give me much pain.” On examining it with his hands, he was surprised to find three arrows sticking in it. At this discovery he exclaimed, “Gūʻ! now, I suppose, I must depart from this place, for it seems that my grandfather has killed me. So be it then. I will now go far away.” He started at once on his journey, and all the things which he had taken from his dead grandfather went with him—his grandfather’s breechclout and also the mush—these all went along. As soon as the old man saw that these things started to leave, he began to weep. So the youth left his grandfather.

When the youth had gone a long distance from his home, he was surprised to find a village of people. Leaving his slaves and domestics near the village, he went to the first lodge, where he visited. He found in this lodge a young man who resembled himself very closely in age, size, and manners. It was soon customary for them to go around together. It is said that they two kept company with each other wherever they went. Finally the youth from the village said, “Kūʻ, game is indeed very scarce. Where may be the game animals? Perhaps they have gone far away to seek subsistence. Possibly they have gone to the place where dwells the great beast.” In reply, the visiting youth said to his friend, “I am, it is known, called the great beast.” The other youth answered, “Aā, it is true. So be it. I will now show you where abide my domestic (game) animals.”

Then the two youths departed from the place and at last came to the spot where dwelt the great beast, the prototype of all others.

The youth from the village now said to his friend: “I will now give up all the animals over which I have control, that they may go over the whole earth and dwell in freedom; that they may increase and multiply at their will and go and come as seems good to them. Then the noises made by all the animals became great in the world.

This is the story.

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Contents

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111. The Legend of Honenhineh and His Younger Brothers

In times long past Honenhineh and his younger brothers dwelt in a lodge together; the lodge was constructed of bark and was very long, according to the custom of the country. There were three fires occupying the place provided for fire along the midway of the lodge.

These brothers dwelt thus together for a long time in this long lodge. It was their custom to go out into the forests daily to hunt game animals, and every evening those who had gone out that day to hunt returned, bearing each his burden of venison or other flesh, which would be cast down in the middle of the floor space of the lodge. It was usually dressed when packed for carrying; this was done for convenience. Then one of the brothers who had not been out hunting would unpack the bundle and proceed at once to cut up the meats and to hang them up for drying all along the sides of the lodge. This was the daily routine of these hunters of the lodge of Honenhineh. Thus they traveled much in many places in the forests.

Then there came a day when the Honenhineh returned from hunting without bringing back anything in the way of game, but the other brothers returned, bringing large packs of venison and other meats and furs and skins. As each brother returned he saw the eldest brother Honenhineh lying on his couch in silence, but not one of them paid any further attention to him, for they had returned with heavy packs while he had brought back nothing. Remaining thus for some time, Honenhineh finally arose and unpacked the packs of his brothers and hung up the quarters of venison and bear’s meat and the flesh of other animals to dry, and he hung up also the skins and furs properly prepared to dry—some to be made into buckskin and others into furs for robes and other useful articles.

This state of affairs in the lodge continued for many days and nights, and Honenhineh continued to fast rigorously. At last one evening one of his younger brothers said to him, “Oh, elder brother! you should take some food.” But Honenhineh replied: “No, I will not do so now. Do you help yourselves and take what food you may need. In a short time I myself shall take some food. There has come a change in the manner of my life. The land over which I hunted has become deserted of all life. Tomorrow I shall start from here, going in a northerly direction this time.”

So, without breaking his fast, Honenhineh lay down on his couch and his brothers retired for the night. But late at night Honenhineh arose and, going to the fire, he gathered together the embers and firebrands to stir up the flames, close beside which, it is said, lay Little Burnt Belly. Honenhineh having stirred up the fire, the rising flames caused many sparks to fall on the uncovered legs of Little Burnt Belly, who passively bore the pain. The elder brother, after watching the effect of the sparks, finally said, “Oh! my younger brother is very sleepy.” But in this he was deceived, for his younger brother, having made a small aperture in the skin with which he was covered, was watching all that he was doing. It is said that the skin was that of an old she-bear. Thus deceived, the elder brother prepared some food for himself and ate what he wanted of it. While watching him the youngest brother fell asleep. In the morning the youngest brother arose after his brothers had gone out on their hunting trips, and was very anxiously watching for the proposed departure of his brother Honenhineh after his long fast. When he had made all his preparations he said to his youngest brother, “Now I have started,” adding, “Do not, my brother, go outside of this lodge.” Then, taking out of his pouch suddenly a bear’s foot and casting it into the middle of the lodge, he said, “Here! Thou shalt amuse thyself with this object by using it as a target continuously.” On going out of the lodge, he scattered ashes all about the entrance so that nothing could enter without disturbing the ashes and so showing what it was that entered the lodge. On starting away, he said to his youngest brother, “For this journey I am going toward the north to hunt.” So saying, he departed from the lodge.

Honenhineh kept on his northward course for a long time. When the day was past the meridian, on looking ahead he saw what appeared to him a number of clearings. When he emerged from the forest into these clearings he stopped and looked around; then he walked along slowly for some time.

Ahead of him a great deep gorge or valley yawned.

Scarcely had he taken a good look at this gorge when he heard in the distance an ominous tapping on a tree and the voice of a man singing: “It is a fortunate thing for me. A human being is walking along on the farther side of the valley.” Somewhat surprised, Honenhineh exclaimed: “Wūʼʹ! A man has discovered me. I suppose that he has treed a bear. Well, so be it; I will go thither.” So saying, he started down into the valley on a brisk run. As he ran along he came to a ridge, or shelf, leading into the valley, and he was startled by seeing pieces of bark fall all about him several times. Stopping and raising his head to look up into a tree standing in front of him, he saw a flicker, or yellowhammer, clinging to the tree trunk far above the ground, looking at him. As he looked at the flicker it began to smile at him and audibly said, “He who has the bow is well known to be a fairly bad shot,” and continued to smile at him. Honenhineh at once strung his bow and shot an arrow at this smiling yellowhammer, but the arrow flew wide of the mark, sticking harmlessly into the tree trunk. He shot all his arrows away in this manner without disconcerting the yellowhammer in any way.

Withdrawing a short distance, Honenhineh broke his bow and threw away the pieces. Then he said: “So be it. Let me pass on in my way yonder.” He continued onward until he reached the bottom of the valley, when he stopped to look around; ahead of him he saw a lodge out of which arose smoke. He resolved at once to go up to the lodge and started toward it. Going along slowly, he finally reached the side of the lodge, where he stood still. But he had not come to a halt before he heard from within the lodge the voice of a man saying to him: “My grandson, thou hast visited my lodge; so come in.” Honenhineh, at once obeying the summons, entered the lodge.

On looking around, he saw before him a young maiden seated, who was engaged in weaving a pack strap from the strands of slippery-elm bark prepared for this purpose. The man of the lodge said to the maiden, “Do thou make room on thy mat for the man who has entered our lodge, for you and he do now become husband and wife.” Complying with this request, the young maiden made room on her mat for Honenhineh to sit beside her.

Then the elderly man said to her, “My granddaughter, prepare some food and set it before him who has entered our lodge, for he is probably hungry. With dried green corn as it cooks in the pot you must mix dried venison pounded fine, and into this mixture you must put a sufficient quantity of maple sugar and a quantity of bear’s grease or fat, to make the whole savory and appetizing.” The old man’s granddaughter at once obeyed, and after kindling the fire to make it burn briskly, she set a pot of water over it containing a quantity of dried sweet green corn. Bringing maple sugar from her store in a bark case, she put it into the pot with the corn. Then, procuring the dried venison and the bear’s grease, having pounded them fine, she put these ingredients also in the pot to cook with the other things. When she found that the corn soup was cooked she removed the pot from the fire and set it aside to permit the contents to cool. When it was sufficiently cooled the young maiden, taking up a portion of the soup with a ladle, placed it in a bark bowl and, setting it before Honenhineh, said to him, “Take this and eat it. I have prepared it for you.” Honenhineh, being quite hungry, willingly ate what was set before him.

It was not long after Honenhineh had finished eating that night came. Before the evening was far advanced the old man said, “Let us now retire for the night. Our guest has come here tired out in all probability, for he has traveled a long distance.” So they lay down for the night. Then the old man said, “My granddaughter, let me tell my story,” and he began to sing, “It is said that there were eight brothers who lived in a lodge.” This was the topic of the story which he chanted three times.

After waiting a few moments he said in a stage whisper to the sleeping visitor, “My grandson, are you listening to my story?” The only reply he received was the loud snoring of the guest. Presently the old man exclaimed, “The game animals are just toying with me. Why, one has even come into my lodge (to show its contempt for me).” So saying, the old man arose and took down his war club from its resting place, and approaching the sleeping visitor, he killed him with blows on the head. Then, replacing his club, he got out a huge clay pot, which he set over the fire after placing some water in it. Next he quartered the body of his victim and placed all the pieces in the pot to cook. While engaged in this gruesome work he kept saying, “I still can deal with the game animals which visit my lodge in my approved way, and so I am still able to eat the flesh of the most rare game animals.”

In the meantime, when night came on the lodge of Honenhineh and his younger brothers, the brothers returned one by one until all were there except the eldest, Honenhineh, who of course did not return. His absence was duly noted. The brother next in age said, “I met him just this side of the Great Valley.” The following morning the brother next in age to Honenhineh started out on his brother’s trail to seek for him. He had gone along for some time when he was surprised to find the tracks of his brother, which he at once followed. Before long he saw ahead of him light through the trees from clearings in the forest, and he found also indisputable evidence that his brother had stood there. So he started forward slowly and finally came to the top of a hill overlooking the Great Valley, where he stood still for a moment. While standing there he heard the sound of a blow struck by a war club on the opposite side of the valley, and he heard the voice of a man singing, “I am indeed fortunate, for on the opposite side of the valley a human being walks along.” After thinking a few moments, he exclaimed: “Pshaw! This is all right. There is where my elder brother is moving about from place to place. Perhaps he has treed some animal or has found an animal in its lair. It must be a bear, I think. So be it; I shall go thither.”

In pursuance of his resolution, he resumed his brother’s trail and descended into the valley until he came to a bench, or terrace, where he stopped for a moment. Here he was surprised to see pieces of bark fall several times around him. Looking up into a tree near by, he saw clinging to the trunk far above the ground a small flicker, or yellowhammer. The bird smiled at him, exclaiming, “He has a bow in his hand just as if he could use it, for it is well known that he is quite a poor marksman.” At this the young man at once strung his bow and shot an arrow at the bird, whereupon he was surprised to see the arrows of his brother stuck in the tree. His first shot missed the bird, as did all the others. When all his arrows had been shot away, stuck fast in the tree top, he broke his bow and cast it away. Now, he was greatly surprised to see the pieces of his bow fall beside those of his brother’s bow. While he was shooting at the bird, it merely smiled and said, “It is curious that one who is a poor marksman generally goes about with a bow and arrows,” and it was only when he had lost all his arrows that he drew aside in disgust and destroyed his bow as a token that he did not care about what had happened to him. After casting away his bow the young man exclaimed: “Pshaw! I will go on farther, for I now hear my brother singing in the distance,” for he heard the voice of a man singing on the opposite side of the Great Valley.

Starting on a run down into the valley, he had not gone far before he saw ahead of him a field. When he reached the border of this he stood there a moment, but seeing in the distance a lodge and smoke issuing from it, he exclaimed: “So be it. Let me go to that lodge to see what I may find. My elder brother has gone there.”

When he reached the lodge the young man came to a halt, but he had no sooner done so than he heard the voice of a man inside say to him: “Oh, my grandson! come in; you have visited my lodge at this time.” Accepting this challenge, the young man entered, whereupon the old man said to him: “I am thankful that you have now paid our (two) lodge a visit.” In front of him the young man saw a young maiden seated on a couch, weaving a forehead pack strap from slippery-elm-bark fiber. Then the old man said to her: “Make room on your mat for our visitor, for you and he are to become husband and wife. I am so delighted by this visit, for we two are to be pitied, living alone in this lodge, I and my granddaughter.” Obeying her grandfather, the young maiden made room on her mat for the young man. Next the old man said to the young man: “You have come here looking for your elder brother, Honenhineh. He passed here. Yonder, not far away, stands another lodge. There is where your brother has gone; he will return soon, I think.” Turning to his granddaughter, the old man said: “Oh, granddaughter! prepare food for our visitor; he is perhaps hungry, having come a long distance. You must pound up dried green sweet corn and dried venison, and place these in a pot to cook, to make corn soup; and you must put into the pot also maple sugar and bear’s grease. When the soup is cooked, place a bowlful before our visitor and let him eat his fill.”

The maiden set to work preparing the corn soup, as she had been instructed to do. First she pounded up dried sweet green corn and then dried venison. Then, having placed a large clay pot over the fire with water in it, she put in the dried corn and venison, which soon began to cook. Presently she added maple sugar to her soup. While these were cooking, the old man got for her some bear’s grease, which he brought to her in a bowl, saying: “Oh, granddaughter, put this also in the pot of soup.” When the soup was cooked, the maiden removed the pot from the fire and the contents were then placed in bark bowls to cool. When ready, the young woman placed a large bowl of the soup before the young man, telling him to eat his fill. When he had eaten what was set before him he thanked the old man, his “grandfather,” who acknowledged the compliment by saying, “My grandson, you were to be pitied, for you were very hungry when you visited my lodge.”

It was not long after this that night came. Before night had fully settled down the old man said: “Let us retire to sleep. Our visitor has come to us very tired, I suppose. You should prepare a separate couch of bark. I am very anxious concerning the probable return of his elder brother tonight. At all events, I suppose he will probably return by tomorrow.” Having said this, the old man lay down, saying to the young man and the young woman: “Do ye two retire to sleep. I my own little self am asleep” (i.e., lying down to sleep).

After they had all retired for the night the old man said aloud, “Let me tell a tale,” and thereupon he began to sing, “They (masc.) have a lodge as a home, it is said; they are eight in number; they are lost (devoted to destruction).” He sang this song through three times. Now the young man began to snore loudly, for he had fallen sound asleep. In a short time the old man arose, and carefully readjusting his robe, said: “I am greatly perturbed in my mind. A game animal has come into my lodge on a visit.” Then taking down his war club and approaching his sleeping guest, he killed him by blows on the head.

In the meanwhile the brothers of Honenhineh, it is said, were not very much surprised when night came and the next younger brother had not returned, for they suspected some harm had befallen both their missing brothers. Then the eldest of the remaining brothers said, “Well, it is now for me to go to find my brothers who have not returned from the north.” So in the morning when they had eaten their morning meal he started out alone on the northward trail to seek for his missing brothers. After having gone some distance from the lodge he found the tracks of the eldest of the two brothers and followed their lead.

While running along he suddenly saw ahead of him the light in the forest from clearings near by. Keeping on his course, he finally came to a large clearing or field, where he stopped to look around, because the tracks of his two brothers led him to this point. While examining the country he saw in the distance the Great Valley, and as the trail led thither he followed it until he came to the brink of the valley, where he stopped again to view the country around. At this point he heard a sound coming from the farther side of the valley, made by the blows of a club on a dead tree, and also the voice of a man who sang: “I am indeed lucky. On the opposite side of the valley there is a human being going along.” This song was repeated by the unknown singer. Thereupon the younger brother of Honenhineh said to himself: “It is strange that my two brothers have not given notice of this thing. It indeed seems certain that they have chased a bear to its lair; let me, then, go thither.”

So the young man started on a run down the slope leading into the valley along the trail made by his two brothers. Having run some distance, he suddenly noticed pieces of bark falling around him. At this he came to a halt and, looking up into a tree which stood near, saw high up on the trunk a small bird, a flicker or yellowhammer, now clinging to the tree trunk, and now flitting from place to place. As he raised his eyes to it the flicker, smiling, said, “He carries a bow and arrows pretentiously (as if he knew how to use them), although he is notoriously a very bad marksman.” Quickly stringing his bow the young man said to his tormentor, “Do not say anything more.” But the flicker only laughed, saying, “There is nowhere on this whole earth among the inhabitants a person living who has the ability to kill me.” The young man replied, “Be careful of thyself,” and he at once nocked his arrow. The flicker became visibly agitated and kept glancing at the young man furtively as it slowly crept around the tree trunk. Thereupon the young man shot at it, and then he saw not far from the spot occupied by the flicker the two shocks of arrows which belonged to his two brothers. The aim of the young man and his orenda were such that the arrow hit its mark, becoming fixed in the body of the flicker, which uttered a loud wail of despair and fell to the ground.