SENECA MYTHS AND FOLK TALES

WHOSE NUMEROUS ESSAYS AND HISTORICAL WRITINGS HAVE BEEN A SOURCE OF INSPIRATION AND ENLIGHTENMENT, AND WHOSE INTEREST IN THE SENECA INDIANS AND THEIR HISTORY HAS NEVER WANED, THIS VOLUME OF

IS DEDICATED IN TESTIMONY OF THE AUTHOR’S SINCERE ADMIRATION AND ESTEEM.

The author of this collection of Seneca folk-tales cannot remember when he first began to hear the wonder stories of the ancient days. His earliest recollections are of hearing the wise old men relate these tales of the mysterious past. They were called Kă´kāā, or Gă´kāā, and when this word was uttered, as a signal that the marvels of old were about to be unfolded, all the children grew silent,—and listened. In those days, back on the Cattaraugus reservation, it was a part of a child’s initial training to learn why the bear lost its tail, why the chipmunk has a striped back and why meteors flash in the sky.

Many years later,—it was in 1903,—the writer of this manuscript returned to the Cattaraugus reservation bringing with him his friend Mr. Raymond Harrington, for the purpose of making an archæological survey of the Cattaraugus valley for the Peabody Museum of Archæology, of Harvard University. Our base camp was on the old Silverheels farm, which occupies the site of one of the early Seneca villages of the period after the Erie war of 1654. Here also is the site of the original Lower Cattaraugus of pre-Revolutionary days.

To our camp came many Indian friends who sought to instruct Mr. Harrington and myself in the lore of the ancients. We were regaled with stories of the false faces, of the whirl-winds, of the creation of man, of the death panther, and of the legends of the great bear, but in particular we were blessed with an ample store of tales of vampire skeletons, of witches and of folk-beasts, all of whom had a xspecial appetite for young men who dug in the ground for the buried relics of the “old-time folks.”

To us came Tahadondeh (whom the Christian people called George Jimerson), Bill Snyder, Gahweh Seneca, a lame man from Tonawanda, Frank Pierce and several others versed in folk-lore. I filled my note-books with sketches and outlines of folk-fiction, and after our return to New York, I began to transcribe some of the stories.

The following winter was spent on the reservation among the non-Christian element in a serious attempt to record folk tales, ceremonial prayers, rituals, songs and customs. A large amount of information and many stories were collected. Some of this material was published by the State Museum, the rest perished in the Capitol fire at Albany, in 1911.

Later I was able to go over my original notes with Edward Cornplanter, the local authority on Seneca religion, rites and folk-ways, and to write out the material here presented. Cornplanter’s son Jesse assisted by way of making drawings under his father’s direction. I also had the help of Skidmore Lay, Ward B. Snow, Delos B. Kittle, Mrs. John Kittle, James Crow and others. My informants from the lower reservation, the Christian district, were Aurelia Jones Miller, Fred Kennedy, George D. Jimerson, Julia Crouse, Moses Shongo, Mrs. Moses Shongo, David George, William Parker, Job King, and Chester C. Lay; and Laura Doctor and Otto Parker of the Tonawanda Reservation.

In the preparation of these versions of old Seneca tales the writer used no other texts for comparative purposes. It was thought best to rest content with the version given xiby the Indian informant, and to wait until a time of greater leisure came before attempting to annotate the collection. Leisure has never seemed to be the privilege of the writer, and one busy year has crowded upon another, until eighteen have passed since the tales were written down. It may be best, after all, to present the text just as it was prepared, and merely correct the spelling of a name or two. It was not until after this text was in the hands of the Buffalo Historical Society that the Curtin-Hewitt collection of Seneca folk tales appeared, and though differences will be found between our texts and those of Curtin, it must be remembered that variations are bound to occur. All versions of folk tales recorded by different individuals at different or even identical times will vary in certain particulars, as is explained hereinafter.

In the preparation of this volume the writer wishes to record his indebtedness to Mr. George Kelley Staples, Senator Henry W. Hill, Mr. George L. Tucker and Dr. Frank H. Severance, all members of the Buffalo Historical Society, for the advice and encouragement given.

In presenting this collection of Seneca myths and legends, the collator feels that he should explain to the general reader that he does not offer a series of tales that can be judged by present day literary standards. These Indian stories are not published for the mere entertainment of general readers, though there is much that is entertaining in them, neither are they designed as children’s fables, or for supplementary reading in schools, though it is true that some of the material may be suited for the child mind. It must be understood that if readings from this book are to be made for children, a wise selection must be made.

This collection is presented as an exposition of the unwritten literature of the Seneca Indians who still live in their ancestral domain in western New York. It is primarily a collection of folk-lore and is to be looked at in no other light. The professional anthropologist and historian will not need to be reminded of this. He will study these tales for their ethnological significance, and use them in making comparisons with similar collections from other tribes and stocks. In this manner he will determine the similarities or differences in theme, in episode and character. He will trace myth diffusion thereby and be able to chart the elements of the Seneca story.

There is an amazing lack of authentic material on Iroquois folk-lore, though much that arrogates this name to itself has been written. The writers, however, have in general so glossed the native themes with poetic and literary interpretations that the material has shrunken in value and can scarcely be considered without many reservations.

We do not pretend to have made a complete collection of all available material, but we have given a fairly representative series of myths, legends, fiction and traditions. xviiiOne may examine this collection and find representative types of nearly every class of Seneca folk-lore. Multiplication is scarcely necessary.

The value of this collection is not a literary one but a scientific one. It reveals the type of tale that held the interest and attention of the Seneca; it reveals certain mental traits and tendencies; it reveals many customs and incidents in native life, and finally, it serves as an index of native psychology.

The enlightened mind will not be arrogant in its judgment of this material, but will see in it the attempts of a race still in mental childhood to give play to imagination and to explain by symbols what it otherwise could not express.

While there is much value in this collection explaining indirectly the folk-ways and the folk-thought of the Seneca and their allied kinsmen, the whole life of the people may not be judged from these legends. Much more must be presented before such a judgment is formed. Just as we gain some knowledge of present day religions, governmental methods, social organization and political economy from the general literature of the day, but only a portion, and this unsystematized, so do we catch only a glimpse of the life story of the Seneca from their folk-tales.

To complete our knowledge we must have before us works on Seneca history, ethnology, archæology, religion, government and language. Finally, we must personally know the descendents of the mighty Seneca nation of old. We must enter into the life of the people in a sympathetic way, for only then can we get at the soul of the race.

While all this is true, these folk-tales are not to be despised, for they conserve many references to themes and things that otherwise would be forgotten. Folk-lore is one of the most important mines of information that the ethnologist and historian may tap. We can never understand a race until we understand what it is thinking about, xixand we can never know this until we know its literature, written or unwritten. The folk-tale therefore has a special value and significance, if honestly recorded.

There are several methods which may be employed in recording folk-lore, and the method used depends largely upon the purpose in mind. A poet may use one method, and grasping the plot of a tale, recast it in a verbiage entirely unsuitable and foreign to it; a fiction writer may use another plan, a school boy another, a student of philology another, a missionary another, and finally a student of folk lore still another.

The poet will see only the inherent beauty of the story, and perhaps failing to find any beauty, will invent it and produce a tale that no Indian would ever recognize. Plot and detail will be changed, fine flowery language will be used, and perhaps the whole given the swing and meter of blank verse. This is all very well for the poet, but he has buried the personality of the folk-tale, albeit in petals of roses,—instead of allowing it nakedly to appear the living thing it is.

The fiction writer will take the original Indian tale and tear it apart with keen eyed professional discrimination. He will recast the plot, expand here and there, explain here and prune down there. He will invent names and new situations to make the story “go,” then, as a rule, he sells it to a magazine or makes a collection of tales for “a supplementary reader for children.” But are these Indian tales?

The amateur, finding good material in the Indian story will do as the fiction writer does, but he will work in foreign allusions and inconsistent elements and in other ways betray his unfamiliarity with his material. Like the fiction writer he is primarily after a story that he can dress as he pleases.

xxThe sectarian enthusiast, recording folk-lore, will frequently seek to show the absurdity of the Indian tale, and point out the foolishness of peoples who are unacquainted with biblical teachings, but it is fortunate that all missionaries have not done this. Many have recorded folk-tales with great conscientiousness, and some of our best sources are from the notes of well informed missionaries.

The philologist will seek to make literal transcripts of every Indian word in painstaking phonetic spelling, and then secure an analytical interlinear translation. This is an accurate but awkward way of securing the tale, for readers who are accustomed to reading only straight English. It makes it a most tedious and laborious thing to read, and totally deprives the text of all literary life.

The student of folk lore starts in with a purpose. This is to secure the tale in such a manner, that without unnecessarily colored verbiage, it may be consistently dressed, and set forth in fluent English (or other modern language) in such a manner that it may be understood by an ordinary reader. The folk-lore student has still another motive and purpose, which is to so present his legend that it will awaken in the mind of his reader sensations similar to those aroused in the mind of the Indian auditor hearing it from the native raconteur. The recorder of the tale seeks to assimilate its characteristics, to become imbued with its spirit, to understand its details, to follow its language,—its sentences,—one by one, as they follow in sequence, and then he seeks to present it consistently. He adds nothing not in the original,—despite the temptation to improve the plot,—he presents the same arrangement as in the original, he uses similar idioms and exclamations, similar introductory words and phrases, and presents an honestly constructed free translation. This is far from an easy thing to do, for it frequently lays the recorder open to the charge of being a clumsy story teller. The temptation is ever present to tell a good story, and let the legend become the skeleton over xxiwhich the words are woven. Needless to say, this is not an honest thing to do, and the folk-lore student resists this temptation, and gives his product a genuine presentation, regardless of what literary critics may think. He strives only to be the medium by which a native tale is transformed from its original language to that of another tongue. The thought, the form and the sequence of the story he insists must remain exactly as it was, though the verbal dress is European and not Indian.^[1]

Perhaps actual illustrations of these methods will serve to convey the thought we are attempting to explain. Examples follow:

There were, it seems, so it is said, man-beings dwelling on the other side of the sky. So just in the center of their village the lodge of the chief stood, wherein lived his family, consisting of his wife and one child, that they two had. He was surprised that then he began to become lonesome. Now furthermore, he the Ancient was very lean, his bones having become dried, and the cause of this condition was that they two had the child, and one would think, judging from the circumstances that he was jealous.

Such is the beginning of the Seneca version of Iroquoian cosmology as given by J. N. B. Hewitt in the 21st Report of the Bureau of Ethnology. This faithful record of a native text and its translation is literally a most painstaking work involving the closest attention to the minor sounds in the language, in order that each word may be phonetically recorded. To wade through this literal translation from the beginning to the end of the myth would be too tedious for anyone but an enthusiastic student of native tongues. To the majority of readers it would be a forbidding task. Even to follow the involved language and grammatical forms of the close literal translation would tire the mind of anyone whose mother tongue was not that of the text.

A free translation, therefore becomes a prime necessity, but this must not disturb the original thought. Just how to make such a translation honestly becomes a problem beset with difficulty. Our plan is to smooth out the language, divest it of its awkward arrangement, and allow the thought to flow on. Let us attempt this in the following:

In ancient times a race of transcendent men dwelt on the other side of the sky. In the center of a village in that land stood the lodge of Ancient One, the chief, and there he lived with his wife and one child. To his astonishment, xxiiithough he had these companions, he began to feel lonely and neglected. His form grew emaciated and his “bones became dry,” for he longed for the attentions his wife now gave to his child.

Just how the poet would handle this version we hesitate to conjecture but we may easily imagine that he would make the most of the land above the sky, the celestial lodge, the age of the Ancient One, his initial joy at the birth of his child, and his gradual discovery that his wife’s affection had been transferred from him to their offspring, of the agony of soul that wilted his heroic form and caused his very bones to wither and lose their marrow, and of the final madness of the Ancient One, who (to follow the myth in its fullness), had a tormenting dream which caused him to tear up the celestial tree and cast his wife into the cavernous hole that dropped down into chaos.

The plot of this myth-tale has elements that make it excellent material for the fiction writer who would recast it entirely and weave it into the thrilling story of celestial tragedy. We have seen such attempts and have been astonished at the audacity of the writer who thus presents his product as a “genuine Indian myth.” Yet, most popular versions of Indian legends are recast to such an extent that the Indian who supplied the bones would never recognize the creature the white man “teller-of-tales” has clothed with civilized flesh. As an example of such fabrication, witness the speech of Hiawatha to the assembled tribes as presented by J. V. H. Clark in his “Onondaga.” (Vol. I, p. 28 ff.) This famous speech has been passed down as Hiawatha’s own words and has been the inspiration of more than one poet, though Clark admitted in later years that he invented the entire address, basing it upon some obscure references in the original tradition. In many a work on “Indian fables for children” the so-called fable is merely an invention, and the only Indian thing about it is the dash of Indian flavor used to give the story plausibility. Indians xxivwho have never seen or read the text of such stories of course might easily be induced in various ways to sign statements vouching for them, thus contributing to the intensification of error.

It is well to analyze the folk-tale or myth for its theme and to check it against others, thereby determining whether or not it is actually authentic. If it appears unusual and unlike anything other informants have given, it may be placed in the class of doubtful fiction, and especially so if the “fable” has a “moral” attached to it.

It might be supposed that myths and folk-tales which are orally transmitted would suffer great changes as they pass from one story teller to another, and that in time a given tale would become utterly corrupted, and indeed so changed that it would bear faint resemblance to the “original.” Yet, an examination of the myths and legends recorded by early observers, as the early missionaries, show that the modern versions have suffered no essential change. An excellent example is the Iroquoian creation myth, as recorded by the Jesuit fathers in the Relations.

Religious traditions, ceremonies and myths, being of a “sacred” character, must be related with a certain fidelity which forbids any real change in the content. To a lesser degree, perhaps, but not much less, the “gă´gāā” legends of the Iroquois are protected from violent alteration. The legend is a thing, to the Indian mind, and it has a certain personality. In certain instances the legend is a personal or group possession and its form and content are religiously guarded from change. With tales told for mere amusement, tales belonging to the class of mere fiction, greater liberties may be taken.

Notwithstanding all this, it is certain that there are several versions of each legend. Certain groups tell the myth or legend in different ways. There are short versions and long xxvversions and there are Seneca versions and Mohawk versions. In order to ascertain the “correct version” we must examine several versions as related by different narrators, and then after making an outline of the episodes, the characters and the motives, determine what the central theme of all is. We can in this manner judge what is essential and what is non-essential.

There is a wide variation in the language used in the narration of some legends, just as there is in the relation of modern stories told over the banquet table. A better example of variation, is to consider the innumerable versions of common nursery stories, as Puss in Boots, Cinderella, or Aladdin’s Lamp. Yet the theme of the story and the episodes, to say nothing of the characters, remain unchanged. Just so with most Iroquois folk-lore, much depends upon the author-raconteur. Some will add explanatory matter, some will add picturesque descriptions, some will add an abundance of conversation, and some will expand on the emotions of the characters. There is a wide individual variation in these matters, and much depends upon the training and education of the narrator, as well as upon his temperament. Language may differ somewhat, but the theme must remain,—the real story must never suffer essential change.

Among the Seneca, in common with other Iroquois tribes, each settlement had its official story tellers whose predecessors had carefully taught them the legends and traditions of the mysterious past.

According to ancient traditions, no fable, myth-tale, or story of ancient adventure might be told during the months of summer. Such practice was forbidden by “the little people” (djogĕ´oⁿ), the wood fairies. Should their law be violated some djogĕ´oⁿ flying about in the form of a beetle or bird might discover the offender and report him xxvito their chief. Upon this an omen would warn the forgetful Indian. Failing to observe the sign some evil would befall the culprit. Bees might sting his lips or his tongue would swell and fill his mouth, snakes might crawl in his bed and choke him while he slept, and so on, until he was punished and forced to desist from forbidden talk.

Certain spirits were reputed to enforce this law for two purposes; first, that no animal should become offended by man’s boasting of his triumph over beasts, or at the same time learn too much of human cunning, and fly forever the haunts of mankind; and second, that no animal, who listening to tales of wonder, adventure or humor, should become so interested as to forget its place in nature, and pondering over the mysteries of man’s words, wander dazed and aimless through the forest. To listen to stories in the summer time made trees and plants as well as animals and men lazy, and therefore scanty crops, lean game and shiftless people resulted. To listen to stories made the birds forget to fly to the south when winter came, it made the animals neglect to store up winter coats of fur. All the world stops work when a good story is told and afterwards forgets its wonted duty in marveling. Thus the modern Iroquois, following the old-time custom, reserves his tales of adventures, myth and fable for winter when the year’s work is over and all nature slumbers.

The story teller (Hage´otă’) when he finds an audience about him or wishes to call one, announces his intention to recite a folk-tale, (gă´gāā, or in the plural, gägä‘´shoⁿ’´o‘) by exclaiming “I’´newa’eñgegĕ´odĕⁿ, Hau’´nio‘´ djadaoⁿ “diĭⁿus!” The auditors eagerly reply “Heⁿ‘´” which is the assenting to the proposed relation of the folk-tale.

At intervals during the relation of a story the auditors must exclaim “hĕⁿ‘´.” This is the sign that they were listening. If there was no frequent response of “he,” the story teller would stop and inquire what fault was found with him or his story.

xxviiIt was not only considered a breach of courtesy for a listener to fall asleep, but also a positive omen of evil to the guilty party. If any one for any reason wished to sleep or to leave the room, he must request the narrator to “tie the story,” “eⁿsĕgägha‘´a.” Failing to say this and afterwards desiring to hear the remainder of the tale, the narrator would refuse, for if he related it at all it must be from the beginning through, unless “tied.” Thus “ĕⁿsĕgäha‘´a” was the magic word by which a legend might be told as a serial (from ĕⁿsege´odĕ).

A story teller was known as “Hage´otă’” and his stock of tales called “ganondas‘hägoⁿ”. Each listener gave the story teller a small gift, as a bead, small round brooch, beads, tobacco, or other trinket. To tell stories was called “ĕⁿsege´odĕⁿ”, and the gift was termed “dagwa´niatcis,” now an obsolete word.

a as in father

ā preceding sound, prolonged

ă as in what

ä as in hat

â as in all

ai as in aisle

au as ou in out

c as sh in shall

ç as th in wealth

d pronounced with the tip of the tongue touching the upper teeth, as in enunciating English th in with; the only sound of d employed in writing native words

e as in they

ĕ as in met

f as in waif

g as in gig

h as in hot

i as in pique

ĭ as in pit

k as in kick

n as in run

ñ as ng in ring

o as in note

q as ch in German ich

r slightly trilled; this is its only sound

s as in sop

t pronounced with the tip of the tongue touching the upper teeth, as in enunciating the English th in with; this is its only sound

u as in rule

ŭ as in rut

w as in wit

y as in ye

dj as j in judge

hw as wh in what

tc as ch in church

ⁿ marks nasalized vowels, thus eⁿ, oⁿ, aiⁿ, ĕⁿ, äⁿ, âⁿ

‘ indicates an aspiration or soft emission of breath

’ marks the glottal stop, ä’, ĕⁿ’

t‘h In this combination t and h are separately uttered, as th in the English words hothouse, foothold

The myths and legends of the Seneca are built upon certain well recognized and deeply rooted postulates. Each bit of folk-lore must have its consistency adjudged by these elements in order to be credible. Any myth or legend that offended the standards so set would immediately be rejected by the Seneca as spurious. To a large extent the premises of folk-lore are founded on folk-thought, and woe to the innovator who sought to direct his theme from the accepted thought patterns.

Among the basic beliefs upon which the folk-tale is built are the following:

Unseen spirits. Spirits pervade all nature and affect man for good or evil. Their desires and plans must be satisfied by man. There are both good and evil spirits. Spirits may inhabit anything in nature.

Conflict of good and evil spirits. Good spirits are constantly making war upon evil spirits.

Magical power. There is such a thing as orenda or magical power. Such power makes its possessor the master over the natural order of things. This orenda may be acquired in various ways. It may be residual, and therefore an attribute of the individual, or it may be inherent in some charm or fetish. Virtuous persons may be given a good orenda, which is always more powerful in the end than the evil orenda which is possessed by witches and sorcerers.

Transformation. Any being possessing orenda may transform himself into any form,—animate or inanimate, as his orenda gives power. Anything seen in nature may be a temporary or a permanent transformation of a being having 4orenda. Transformation may be by command or by entering the skin of the creature whose form one desires to assume. Animals having orenda may assume human form and mingle with human beings. A group of people, therefore, may in reality be a transformed group of animals, and likewise with individuals.

All nature is conscious. Everything in the Seneca philosophy lives and is conscious. It is a being and in communication with other parts of nature. Anything in nature may be spoken to and it will hear what one has said. It may be induced to act in one’s behalf.

All living creatures have souls. The Seneca believes that animals have souls that are alike in their nature to the souls of human beings. The hunter, therefore, propitiates the soul of the animal he kills, and explains why he killed it. The souls of friendly animals help man, if man has been courteous, and has properly propitiated them. Souls of evil animals injure men and must be “bought off.” The souls of all creatures return to the Maker of Souls just as man’s does.

Master of souls. There is in the heaven world a Master of life and soul. He allows his subordinate spirits to rule the earth-world and concerns himself generally with his own realm. Souls that return to him are taken apart and readjusted that they may function properly in the immortal realm. Evil is therefore conceived in a measure as a maladjustment of the soul’s parts.

Ghosts. The manes of departed men and animals wander over their familiar haunts and startle men by their “materializations.” Wandering ghosts generally want something and must have their desires satisfied. The evil of the living person is intensified in the ghost. A ghost is the body spirit and not the real psychic personality.

5Dreams. Dreams are experiences of the soul as it leaves the body during sleep. The dream god guides the soul to its dream experience. Dreams that prompt the individual to certain desires must be interpreted by a chosen person or by volunteer guessers, and the desire must be satisfied, or calamity will befall the dreamer as well as the unsuccessful guesser. Prophetic dreams must guide action and dream demands must not be lightly set aside.

Monsters. There are monsters that men seldom see. These affect the welfare and the destiny of man. They are generally evil and seek to destroy and sometimes to eat human beings.

Wizards. There are such beings as wizards, witches and sorcerers. These beings possess an evil orenda and seek to destroy innocent people.

The first of the God Being was Te‘haoⁿ‘hwĕñdjaiwă’´khoⁿ’ or Earth Holder. It was he who ruled the sky world and lived in the great celestial lodge beneath the celestial tree. As the result of a dream this chief, who also bears the title, Ancient One, was moved to take to himself as a wife a certain maiden, known as Awĕⁿhā´i‘, Mature Flower (Fertile Earth). Mature Flower consented to the betrothal, but due to the embrace of her lover inhaled his breath, and was given a child. The attention she gave this child caused the Ancient One to be moved to jealousy, this emotion being aroused in him through the machinations of the Fire Beast, whose invisibility rendered his work the more subtle. Little is known through mythology of Ancient One, since his field is a celestial one, and he seldom interferes with the doings of men of our present order. Of his unhappy 6wife, who was cast through the hole made by the uprooting of the celestial tree we learn more.^[2]

The wife of the Ancient One was Iageⁿ’´tci‘, also meaning Ancient One (Body). We recognize her in the Huron myths as recorded or mentioned in the Jesuit Relations as Ataentsic (Ataaentsik). In Onondaga this would be Eiă’tăgĕⁿ‘´tci‘. Her story is given in all versions of the creation myth.

Her personal name seldom appears, but Hewitt gives it as Awĕⁿ‘hā´i‘, this referring to her maturity, or ability to bring forth seed. In some versions the Chief casts his wife into the abyss made by uprooting the celestial tree, Gaiⁿiă’´tgä’´hei‘; in others her own curiosity is responsible. The tree in such versions is uprooted as a dream demand and her enraged husband pushes her into the hole made thereby through the crust of the heaven world. After the completion of the earth-world the sky mother returned by way of an etherial path that plainly was visible to her, this having been made by her daughter, the first born and the first to die of earth creatures.

Fire Beast (Gaăs‘ioñdie´t‘hă’), appears to have been one of the important primal beings, and to have exercised a malign influence even upon the inhabitants of the celestial world. He is described as of “sky color” or invisible, and he is only detected at all when he emits streams and flashes of light from his head. When a meteor flashes the Iroquois recognizes the Fire Beast. His appearance is counted as a sign of direful calamity and death.

Whirlwind (S‘hagodiiweⁿ‘´gōwā or Hadu’´i’), was also a primal power of great importance. He is the controller of the violent winds, and he takes his name, He-who-defends-us, from his promise to help mankind when threatened by calamity. His symbol is the crooked-mouthed false face. There is also the concept of the four defenders, one for each of the cardinal directions. It was Whirlwind who boasted his power to the Good Mind (Iouskeha) and who had the contest with him of mountain moving. The face became mutilated by the mountain coming too quickly against it, at the command of the Good Mind. Agreeing 8that he was now a subordinate he agreed furthermore, to drive away disease and pestilence and to defend men-beings, who should be thereafter created, from malign influences. His face carved in wood, after certain propitiatory and invocatory ceremonies, was and still is used by the conservative Iroquois in their ceremonial events, particularly at the mid-winter thanksgiving, when parties of masked figures go from house to house, singing the magical songs deemed potent for this purpose. The common name is Hadu’´i’, but in all ceremonies the full Seneca appellation is given, (Shagodiiwĕⁿ´‘gōwā).

The Thunderer, Hĭ’´noⁿ’, was another of the great beings, but he appears in the second order of mythology, as a servant to Iouskeha. He occupies a high place in the category of Iroquois gods, so high a place that it is an open question whether or not the Great Being whom the Iroquois now address as Hawĕñi´o’ is not identical with the Thunderer, though there is also a recognition of the Thunderer as a separate being. The name Hawĕñi´o’, apparently is derived from owĕñ´nă’, (voice) and i´o’ (good, great, majestic or beautiful). The initial Ha is the masculine sign. The name thus means, He-great-voice. This alludes to the thunder. The Thunderer is a mighty being, the maker of rains. He wrinkles his brow and the thunder rolls, he winks his eyes and lightnings flash like arrows of fire. The Thunderer hates all evil spirits, and he is charged with terrorizing the otgont or malicious dwellers of the under-world to return to their cave. He seeks to slay the under water serpent and all folk-beasts that would use evil magic.

The benificient earth-god was T‘hahoⁿ’hiawă’´koⁿ, the light or elder twin of the Sky Woman’s daughter. He is variously called Iouskeha (Huron), Hă’ni‘go‘´io’, Good Mind, Elder Brother, and Sky Holder. It was he who watched at the grave of his mother, and discovered the food plants. It was he who set forth on the journey “to the 9East” and obtained from his father the power to rule. He made the earth habitable for man, obtained the mastery over the Thunderer and the Whirlwind, and even made his grandmother, Eiă’tăgĕⁿ‘´tci‘ (Awĕⁿ‘hā´i‘) play the game of plum stones, the result of which should determine who should rule the earth. He animated his plum stone dice and gave them understanding, ordered them to arrange themselves as he directed, and thereby won the highest count in a single throw. This gave him mastery over his evil brother Tawis´karoⁿ (the icy or flinty one), for the grandmother sympathised with this ugly twin brother of his. In the heaven world, T‘hahoⁿ’hiawă’´koⁿ, now lives with his grandmother, in the reunited family of celestial beings, and though he grows very old he has the power of renewing himself at will, and exercises this power over good souls that come into the heaven world. He created man after observing his own reflection in a pool of water, after which he made miniature figures in clay and commanded them to live.

Tawis´karoⁿ, was the second born of the daughter of the Sky Woman. He was of destructive nature, and found his way to life through the axilla of his mother, killing her at birth. His heart was made of ice or of flint (the words are similar). His delight is in destroying living things, especially by freezing. He created all the evil beasts, serpents, insects and birds. He invented thorns, briars, and by kicking at the earth made cliffs and precipices. During his career he stole all the good animals and hid them in a cave; he drove all the birds away. His great feat was in stealing the sun and hiding it in the far southwest. Aided by the fires which his brother, T‘hahoⁿ’hiwă’´koⁿ, and his cohorts secured, the birds and animals were found and the sun was released. This of course typifies the annual triumph of summer over winter, the return of the migrating birds, and the return of the heat of the sun. Tawis´karoⁿ 10is then confined to his cavern, hence his name Hanis‘he´onoⁿ, meaning He who dwells in the earth. With the coming of the Christian missionaries, Tawiskaro was identified with the Christian devil, (Hă’nigoiĕt´gä‘, bad mind).^[3] Strangely, about this time it was the Thunder god, instead of the good-minded Sky Holder, who was metamorphosed into the Great Spirit, Hawĕñi´o’, this name being the Seneca equivalent for Jehovah (God).^[4]

Lesser known gods were Ai‘koⁿ’ the Dream god, Haskotă´hiāhāks, the Head Opener, and Deiodă‘sondăi’koⁿ‘, Thick Night. Aikon, caused the dreams which demanded interpretation, and Haskotahiahaks, opened the heads of soul-bodies as they passed over the sky-trail (Milky Way), and examined them for good and evil thoughts, after which he ate the brains.

Cosmic trees. There is a marvelous tree in the center of the heaven world. It bears all manner of fruits and flowers. (See cosmological myth, p. 59.)

There is a great tree in the center of the earth. Its top touches the sky. It grew in the world of the first order and it bore flowers of light. To touch this tree is to acquire great magical power. The Whirlwinds rub their rattles against it and become full of orenda.

The Sun, among the nature gods, is recognized by the Seneca as a powerful being. Yet, unlike the gods in other theogenies, the Sun is a creation made after the formation of the world,—at least so it would appear from the common cosmogeny. Sun was created from the face of the earth-mother, yet it may be that her face was the sacrifice that brought the Sun into evidence. There is evidence of attempts to conceal the origin of the sun in several of the myths. He appears as the messenger of the Sky Chief and as the special god of war, Ho‘sgĕⁿ’age‘´dăgōwā. He also appears as existing before the birth of the primal twins, and it appears that he is the being who sat on the mountain “to the east across the sea,” and who gave power to the Good Mind, or T’hahoⁿhiawă’´koⁿ. It thus appears there is an imperfect assimilation of conflicting myths, probably from different sources.

12Each day the Sun starts from his resting place in the branches of the celestial tree, takes his path under the lifted east sky, rolls up the dome and commences his unerring watch of the movements of men. Wherever there is light, there is the messenger of the Sky Chief watching human behaviour. Returning at night, he recites all that he has observed on earth.

He bears the name Endĕ´ka Gää‘´kwă, Diurnal Orb of Light.

The Moon is Soi‘´ka Gää‘´kwă, Nocturnal Orb of Light, and she is hailed as “Our Grandmother.” In each of her several phases she has a different name and function. She is watched by the females as a sign of health, and by the men as a sign of hunting luck. By the Moon time is regulated, and each monthly moon has a special name. Of all heavenly bodies she is the most mysterious, though not the most powerful.

Morning Star, Gĕndeñ´wit‘hă, is one of the great beings of the sky and her appearance is watched as an omen. It appears that once Morning Star was an important celestial personage, but the Iroquois have drifted away from giving her special honors. She appears in several rolls, sometimes as a siren who lures hunters into a luckless marriage, mysteriously leaving them to wander the world over in search of her. She appears to have charmed an elk into loving 13her, and also as a rescuer of starving villages in time of famine. She is called Gadjĭ‘soⁿ´dă’ gĕndeñ´wit‘hă’.

Storm Wind, Dagwanoeient, (Dagwano‘ĕñ´iĕn) is a being of great activity, and he has a whole tribe of subordinates bearing his name. He appears to men as a Flying Head, with long streaming hair, and his exploits are generally discreditable. He is a great wizard and takes delight in destroying things. His friends are generally sorcerers and otgont (evilly potent) beasts. Many legends are related about Dagwanoeient in his various forms, for he has several transformations.

Gä´ha‘, the zephyr, is a softer wind than the stormy Dagwanoeient, and appears to be of a kindlier disposition. While Gä´ha‘ may have done magical things, it was not malign, and there are legends that tell how Gaha wooed some fair forest maid and married her. Gaha helps plant 14grow and is associated with the warm season when fruits ripen and mature.

The Frost god is known as Hă’´tho‘, and he is described as a fierce and relentless old man who lives where frosts and ice abound the year around. His home in the north is called Othowege. It is he who brings the frost and who causes the snows to sweep over the earth. His clothing is ice and he carries a maul with which he pounds the ice on rivers and lakes, making them crack with a resounding boom. He also causes that peculiar knocking sound on trees when the weather is very cold. He has one great enemy, it is the spirit of Spring, who assisted by Thaw drives him from the region that he has invaded and sends him grumbling back to the northland. The Frost god has 15as his friends Dagwanoeient, the Storm Wind, and Falling Hail.

The Hail spirit is called Owisondyon. He loves to startle people by coming unexpectedly in the warm months of early summer and to pelt the growing crops with his icy missiles. Sometimes he is given the name, Dehodyadgaowen, meaning Divided Body.

The Spring god is Dedio‘s‘hwineq´doⁿ, and he is young and very muscular. He loves to wrestle with the winter winds and even enters Ha’´tho’s lodge and teases him to desperation while his faithful ally, Thaw, plays havoc with the ice and the drifts outside. Spring tortures the Winter god with a medicine made of blackberry juice, for Winter god knows that when blackberries grow winter is beyond the power of injuring the world. At last Spring and Winter have a wrestling match in which Winter is overcome and his bodily form melts upon the ground, while his spirit whines away, driven north by the south winds. Spring lives in Onē´naⁿ’ge‘, Sunshine land.

The Thaw god is Dăgā’ĕⁿ‘´dă, the faithful ally of Spring. When he comes, in mid-winter he appears suddenly and begins to wreck the icy blankets that winter has placed over the earth. Winter then knows that Spring is coming and exerts all his magic to freeze the world again and to make his reign even more terrible. Time passes and Thaw comes again bringing his master, Spring, and then there is a fight to the finish, and Spring is supreme, while Thaw pursues ever to torment Hă’´tho‘, on his frontiers.

The spirits of sustenance are known as Dioⁿ’he´koⁿ, and they are represented as the inseparable spirits of the corn, the bean and the squash. They are sometimes referred to as “the three sisters.” The ceremonial dance in their honor is called Goñdă‘goñwi´sas. There are many legends of these spirits of sustenance and the wise men and women 16of ancient times tell of hearing them talk together in the fields where they grow together.

Tide spirit is known as S‘hagowe´not‘ha, and it is he who controls the rising and falling of the great waters, twice in each day. It is said that he controls the lifting of the sky’s rim in the land of Gaenhyakdondye (the horizon), which allows the sun to emerge in the morning and depart at night. Sometimes he tempts canoemen far out to sea and then crushes them under the edge of the sky’s rim. He sometimes lures disobedient boys to lonely islands where witches and wizards live on human flesh. Altogether, aside from certain functions, he is an evil monster.

Will-o’-the-wisp, or Gahai’´, is known as the witch’s torch. It is not a spirit of the first order, but merely a flying light which directs sorcerers and witches to their victims. Sometimes it guides them to the spots where they may find their charms. Sorcerers have been detected by the frequent appearance of their Gahai’´, which leaves their smoke hole and guides them as they ride in mid air on their evil journeys.

Chief among all the creatures that inhabit the air is the wonderful O‘s‘hă´dă’geă’, the Cloudland Eagle. He seems ever to watch over mankind, especially the Iroquois, and to come to earth when great calamities threaten. Living above the clouds he collects the dews in his feathers, and some say that he has a pool of dew on his back between his shoulders. The Iroquois regard him with great reverence, for he is connected with many a worthy exploit.

Horned Snake, Gas‘hais´dowăneⁿ, has several names among which are Doonă’´gaes and Djoⁿdi’´gwadoⁿ. He is a monster serpent of the underwaters and his head is adorned with antlers of great spread, though he is also said 17to have monster horns shaped like a buffalo’s. He is capable of transforming himself to the appearance of a man, and as such delights in luring maidens to his abode. In a few instances he appears as the gallant rescuer of women marooned on bewitched islands. Like other monsters he has a brood of his kind, he having females as well. These sometimes lure men under water and seek to transform them by inducing them to put on the garments they wear. Horned Snake is hated by the Thunderer, who spares no energy to kill him before he can dive.

Monster Bear, Niă’´gwai’he´gōwā, is the most feared of magic beasts and one of the most frequent among them to enter in to the fortunes of men. He loves to race and in various forms which he assumes, seeks to get men, and particularly boys, to bet their lives on the race, which generally lasts from sunrise to sunset. He has a vulnerable spot on the bottom of one of his feet and unless some hero hits this the monster does not die. His bones form important parts of “magic medicine” and the dust from one of his leg bones if taken as a medicine is reputed to make a runner invincible.

White Beaver, Naⁿgaⁿniă’´goⁿ, is an otgont beast who lives in magic waters. He seldom appears, but when he does he means disaster. Usually he is represented as the transformed son of a great witch. He is sometimes called Diat´dagwŭt.

Blue Otter, is another magic beast whose home is in the water. His function is to poison springs. He has another function, that of inflicting disease by his magic, and in this way he secures offerings of tobacco.

Blue Lizard, Djai´nosgōwa, seems to be a beast looking something like an alligator. He lives in pools and is the servant of wizards and witches.

The Stone Giants, or Stone Coats, Gĕⁿnoⁿ´’sgwā’, are commonly described in Seneca folk-tales. They are beings like unto men, but of gigantic size and covered with coats of flint. They are not gods and are vulnerable to the assaults of celestial powers, though the arrows of men harm them not at all. The early Iroquois are reputed to have had many wars with them, and the last one is said to have been killed in a cave.

Pygmies, Djogĕ´oⁿ, are little people who live in caves. They are a tribe by themselves and live in houses as men do. They frequent deep gulches and the borders of streams. In some ways they are tricky, but in general do not injure men. They are not successful hunters and are grateful for the fingernail parings of human beings. These are saved by the thoughtful and tied in little bundles which are thrown over cliffs for the Djogeon to gather as “hunting medicine.” They also require tobacco and when they require it they will tap their water drums in their meeting places. The observant then make up little packages of tobacco which they throw to them. Out of gratitude for favors they frequently warn men of danger or assist them to fortune.

Mischief Maker, S’hodi´oⁿsko, is a trickster, and sometimes is called the “brother of death.” He delights in playing practical jokes, regardless of how they result. He possesses a store of magic and is able to transform himself into many forms. It is related in one legend that in the end he repented and returned to the sky world in a column of smoke. This appears however, to be an allusion to the Algonkin trickster.

Ghostly Legs, Ganos´has‘ho´oⁿ’, are beings composed only of a pair of legs, having a face directly in front, though the face is seldom seen. They appear only in the dark and no one has ever made a complete examination of one. They have no arms or bodies, but are like the lower bodies of men, 19cut off at the waist, and on either loin gleams a faintly glowing eye. Some have only one eye which protrudes and draws in as it observes an intended victim. The Ghostly Legs are always, or nearly always running rapidly when seen. They usually betoken death and disaster. No one knows from whence they come or whither they go. Indians of today on some of the reservations claim to have seen these creatures. While they have never been known to injure anyone they are at the same time as greatly feared as ghosts.

Sagoⁿ’´dada‘´kwŭs, (Sagodadahkwus) is a grotesque being with a lean, hungry looking body, and an insatiable appetite. He seeks out gluttons, and catching them in the dark, takes a long spoon which he inserts into their vitals and spoons out his food. For fear anything may be lost he carries a kettle into which he places everything he cannot immediately eat. He is the spirit of gluttony, and is the terror of all who gorge themselves unduly. It is well for a man who overeats to stay indoors at night, lest He-who-eats-inwards devour everything within him. So, with his kettle and spoon, Sagodadahkwus wanders over the earth looking for the gluttons.

Gonoñk´goĕs, the Big Breast, is a gigantic woman whose breasts hang down like pillows. She roams the earth looking for lovers who sit close together in the dark. If they make one remark that seems to be improper in their love making, or if they stay at their love making too long, she leans over them, catching their faces beneath her breasts and smothering them. Then she stands upright, still holding the smothered lovers to her bosom, and walking to a cliff, leans over and drops them into the dark depths below.

O’´nia‘täⁿ, the Dry Hand, is a mysterious mummified arm that flies about to bewitch those who pry into the affairs of others by asking too many questions. It will thrust its fingers in the eyes of the peeper who tries to watch others out of idle curiosity. Generally the touch of this hand means death.

There are certain characteristic types of action to be found in Seneca folk-tales, and these are closely followed in all tales. However rambling a tale may be it never departs from certain stereotyped themes, expressing as they do the accepted idea patterns over which the story is woven. Among these themes we mention the following:

1. Transformation. Characters in the story are able to transform themselves into any person, animal or object, as their orenda or magical power gives them power. The Seneca believed in transformation to such an extent that he was never sure that a rolling stone, a vagrant leaf fluttering along, a scolding bird or a curious animal, might not be some “powered” person in a transformation stage.

2. Magically acquired power. The hero of a tale finds himself in a predicament and through his effort to extricate himself is endowed with magical power by which he overcomes enemies and difficulties.

3. Overcoming monsters. The journey of the hero is beset with magical monsters that seek to destroy him. The hero uses his wits and his orenda and subdues them.

4. Precocious twins. Twins are born of a romantic marriage, particularly where the hero or heroine has lost a relative. The twins rapidly grow to maturity and set forth to conquer.

5. Contest with sorcerers. The hero is placed in opposition to a sorcerer and matches his power against him, finally killing the sorcerer.

6. Son-in-law put to tests. The hero is allowed to retain his place, possessions or mate providing he procures certain magical objects for the sorcerer. In some stories an evil 24mother-in-law demands such objects as the magical beaver, white otter, or blue lizard. The hero obtains them very quickly and sometimes calls a feast to eat them. The mother-in-law is angry because these beasts are her brothers.

This is a widely diffused theme and is found from one coast to another.

7. Dream animal rescues hero. The hero finds himself in a predicament and remembering that a helper appeared to him in a dream, calls upon it for rescue. A rescue is made.

8. Race with monster. A monster, generally a monster bear, becomes enraged at or jealous of the hero. The monster challenges the hero to a race, the winner to kill the loser. The hero wins, generally by aid of some fetish given by his uncle or grandfather.

9. Boaster makes good. The hero boasts his power to do certain things, as to run faster than any living creature. He is warned to stop before the spirits of swift-running beings hear him. He continues to boast and a monster comes to the door to make the challenge. See 8, supra, for a continuation of this theme.

10. Imposter fails. A jealous rival overcomes the hero and strips him of his clothing. Hero becomes weak and old while Imposter becomes youthful. Imposter now assumes the character and rights of the hero. Finally he endeavors to perform the magical tricks of the hero and fails miserably.^[5]

11. Thrown away boy. A child is thrown away because it seems too small to live, or it is lost in a blood clot and cast into a hollow stump. Thrown-away lives and becomes a powerful being that achieves wonders.

12. Hidden lodge child. A child born with a caul is 25concealed in a lodge, generally under an enclosed bed. It is cared for by some elderly person, generally an uncle or aunt. A normal brother endeavors to rescue it, being told of its existence by some magical being; or, the child is hidden to protect it from an evil sorcerer who wants to steal it. Hero overcomes sorcerer.

13. Double deceives sister. A youth lives in a secluded cabin with his sister. The youth’s double comes to the lodge when the hero is absent, endeavoring to seduce the sister. Double is repulsed. Sister will not believe brother has not insulted her. Brother finally makes a sudden return from a hunting trip and apprehends the double, killing him.^[6]

14. Uncle and Nephew. An uncle and nephew live together in a secluded lodge. Uncle generally becomes jealous of youth’s ability and desires the woman predestined for the nephew. In other cases uncle assists nephew to find lost parents. Generally the uncle guards the nephew and forbids him to go in a certain direction. Nephew disobeys orders.

15. Evil stepfather. Step-father endeavors to rid himself of an unpromising stepson. Hides the boy in a cave or hole which he stones up. Boy is rescued and taught by animals, and finally returns a powerful being and confronts stepfather.

16. Witch mother-in-law. A youth marries the daughter of a witch who endeavors to cause his death through conflict with monsters.^[7]

17. Animal foster-parents. Animals find an abandoned boy. They discuss which one will care for him. A mother bear generally succeeds in securing him and takes him to a hollow tree where he is protected and educated in animal lore.

2618. Bewitched parents. A boy finds that he has no parents. Asks his uncle or grandfather where they are. Is told that they are under some evil enchantment and secured in a place beset with magical monsters. Boy overcomes obstacles and rescues parents.

19. Obstacles produced magically. The hero is beset by a witch or monster and flees. Upon being pressed the hero creates obstacles by dropping a stone and causing it to become an unsurmountable cliff. He casts pigeon feathers and conjures them into a great flock that makes a slime that is impassable, or he finds “uncles” who interpose barriers for him, as webs, nets, holes, pits, etc. Hero finally escapes to lodge of a waiting mother-in-law.

20. Lover wins mate. Young man marries girl of his choice in spite of tricks of older rival and enmity of sorcerers. This must have been a popular theme in a society where the old were married to the young.

21. Jealous sister-in-law. Sister-in-law offended at hero’s choice seeks to harm bride or to kill hero.

22. Magical monster marries girl. The monster may be the horned snake or the Thunderer.

23. Thunderer wars upon horned snake. The Thunder god hates the horned serpent and fights it.

24. Turtle’s war party. Turtle gathers a company of offensive and loyal warriors. All are killed in action save turtle who begs not to be placed in water when captured. He is thrust in river and escapes.

25. Bungling Guest. An evilly inclined trickster plays practical jokes. Performs magical acts and induces a guest to imitate. Success attends in presence of Trickster and perhaps once in a private rehearsal, but miserable failure attends demonstration before others.

26. Sorcerer’s Island. Sorcerer lures hero to enchanted island. Sorcerer has control of the tides and currents of water.

2727. Restoring Skeletons. Hero finds bones of persons slain by sorcery. Commands them to arise quickly, “before I kick over a hickory tree,” and skeletons rise so quickly that bones are mismated. Popular ending of stories.

28. Vampire Corpse. Body of dead sorcerer revives and procures hearts of living victims which it eats at leisure in its grave.

29. Dream Demand. Hero guesses the meaning of a fabricated dream and satisfies it, thereby thwarting intentions of the witch who pretended to dream.

30. Sky Journey. Brothers journey to rim of horizon and seek to go under it and enter the sky world. All succeed but one who is so cautious that he makes a late start. Sky comes down and crushes him. His spirit speeds ahead and greets living brothers when they arrive. Regeneration by Master of Life.

1. Lonely bark lodge. Hero and associates live in secluded hut.

2. Twins play in ground. Twins find an underground world in which they live and play.

3. Hero spies upon associate through hole in his blanket. Discovers the secret of associate’s power. Tries this in associate’s absence.

4. Monster is shot in vulnerable spot in bottom of foot and is killed.

5. Hero in contest kills magical animal. He alone is able to pull out the arrow, thereby establishing his claim to power or reward.

286. Hero’s double buried in fireplace speaks through fire and reveals his murder to his mother.

7. Burning witch’s head explodes sending forth cloud of owls.

8. Sorcerer controls flow of waters. Almost captures hero fleeing in a canoe by drawing the current of the water toward himself. Hero reverses current and escapes.

9. Magical objects are concealed under a bed. Hero dreams he wants them in retaliation for his “uncle’s” evil desires.

10. Pursuing or sentinel monsters are pacified by gifts of meat.

11. Youth not yet able to hunt practices shooting at an animal’s paw, hung on lodge rafter.

12. Sorcerers’ hearts or livers are concealed in a safe place in their lodges, guarded by conjured dogs or ducks. Hero finds hearts and destroys sorcerers.

13. Hero obtains hearts of enemies and squeezes them, causing enemies to faint. He dashes them on rocks and kills enemies.

14. Hero conjures lodge of witches into flint. Orders it to become red hot and so destroys enemies.

15. Hero learns how to jump through the air.

16. Hero reduces sister to miniature and places her in a conical arrow tip, shooting her away to safety. Hero follows by magic flight creating obstacles as he goes.

17. Corn rains down into empty bins of starving people. Corn maiden comes to marry hero whose younger brother is ungrateful for food, casting it in fire thereby burning Corn Maiden’s body. She departs.

18. Powered man throws flint chips calling upon them to kill animals.

19. Hero violates taboo. Calamity impends but hero overcomes.

2920. Heroine kills pursuing monster by throwing boiling oil into its face.

21. Hero kicks over tree and causes skeletons to rise in flesh. Bones are mismated through haste. Origin of cripples.

22. Hero or twin heroes walk into the ground and disappear.

23. Lonely bird sings for a mate. Various creatures seek to comfort lonely bird but all are rejected until a natural mate calls and is found injured or trapped. Released by lonely bird who flies away with him.

24. Animals talk to men. Some animal warns hero of impending danger and plans escape.

1. Dream helpers. These are animals or persons that have come to the hero in a dream and promised to assist him in times of peril.

2. Astral body. The hero has an astral self that appears in times of great danger and points out a way of escape.

3. Hollow log regeneration. Hero who has been abused or conjured is regenerated by passing through a hollow log.

4. Talking flute. The flute kept in a “bundle” talks to hero’s friend and informs him of condition, or it tells hero where he may find game.

5. Running moccasins. Hero pursued takes off moccasins and orders them to run ahead and make tracks that baffle pursuer.

6. Magic Arrow. An invincible arrow that kills whatever it is aimed at. It may be shot promiscuously into the air and game will return with it, falling dead at hero’s feet. No one but hero can withdraw arrow.

7. Forbidden chamber. A certain walled-off part of the 30lodge is forbidden to the hero, who in older relative’s absence explores it, causing anger of magical beings.

8. Door-flap action. Sorcerer commands hero to perform dream demand by going out of door and consummating demand before the door curtain flaps back.

9. Magic fish line. Sorcerer hooks hero’s fleeing canoe with a magical fish line. Hero burns off line by emptying pipe upon it.

10. Hero ties his hair to earth. When hero suspects he is in the hands of a sorceress he ties a hair to a root before he sleeps. Sorceress makes off with him but cannot go beyond the stretching length of the hair and is compelled to return.

11. Lice hunting. Sorceress hunts lice in hero’s head, lulling him to sleep.

12. Saliva gives power. If a powered being touches any object or weapon with his saliva it takes some of his power.

13. Wampum tears. Captured hero or heroine when tortured sheds wampum tears which enemies greedily take.

14. Magical animal skins. Hero or sorcerer has enchanted skins which he can conjure to living animals. He may enter a skin and assume the characteristics of its original owner.

15. Magic pouch. The pouch of animal skin holds the hero’s utensils, tobacco and pipe. It may be conjured to a living thing.

16. Magic suit. A self-cleaning suit that gives power to wearer.

17. Magic canoe. A canoe that has unusual speed and may be paddled into the air.

18. Inexhaustible kettle. Hero’s friend puts scrapings of corn or nut into it and it expands enormously supplying enough food. Hero tries the experiment and expands kettle too greatly bursting the lodge.

3119. Magical springs. Springs that have been enchanted by sorcerers are the dwelling places of monsters that lure the unwary to drink. The monster then drags in his victim and eats him.

20. Enchanted clearings. Clearings guarded by monsters who prevent hero from visiting sorcerer living in a lodge within.

21. Bark dagger. Hero incapacitated by thrust of bark dagger piercing his back. Villain steals hero’s clothing and impersonates him. See Imposter.

22. Sweat lodge regeneration. Hero recovers through a sweat of bear’s grease. Lodge covered with a fat bear pelt.

23. Powered finger. Hero has power to kill animals by pointing his finger at them.

24. Animated finger. Hero obtains a magic finger that stands in his palm, pointing out the location of anything he desires.

25. Sharpened legs. A character is able to whittle his legs to points and use them as spears.

25. Borrowed skin. Hero borrows skin (coat) of deer, mole, or other animal, and entering it moves about without exciting suspicion of enemy.

26. Borrowed eyes. Hero borrows eyes of deer or owl for a blind uncle enabling him to recover his own eyes or to see for a few moments a long lost relative, generally a brother.

27. Stolen eyes. Sorceresses rob young men of their eyes.

28. Quilt of eyes. Quilt made of winking eyes stolen from young men who have looked at the witches who continually sew upon such a quilt.

29. Girls in box. Enchanted girls hidden in a bark box come forth upon demand of conjurer. The enchantment is not of an evil nature.

3230. Enchanted feathers. These placed upon hero’s hat give him great power, particularly for running.

31. Enchanted birds. Hero has enchanted birds upon his hat that bring coals to light his pipe.

32. Bark dolls. Dolls are enchanted so that they speak for their maker, deceiving evil pursuer of hero.

33. Talking moccasins. Moccasins placed in lodge talk to evil pursuer, setting him or her astray.

34. Reducible dog. A tiny dog that is kept in a pouch. It may be enlarged to a size sufficient to carry the hero or his fleeing sister. Upon being patted with the hand or magic rod it becomes reduced to a size almost invisible.

35. Talking skull. Hero finds the skull of his uncle. It asks him for tobacco and then directs him how to overcome sorcery.

36. Flayed skin. A human skin is the slave of sorcerers and guards their lodge, clearing or path, screaming out the presence of intruders. It may be revived by hero who removes the enchantment.

37. Wampum eagle. An eagle covered with wampum. Many people shoot at this eagle trying to kill it. Only the hero can with his magic arrow.

38. White beaver. A magical beaver, generally the “brother” of a witch, is killed by hero who invites in friends to help eat the beast.

39. Blue lizard. Lives in a magic spring and lures the unwary to death by pulling them into the water.

40. Flying heads. These are spirits of the storm winds. They are generally evil characters in stories.

41. Pygmies. There are tribes of “little people” living under ground or in rocky places. They have valuable charms and can be forced to give them to men. They have a ceremony in which they delight. If men beings perform 33this ceremony favor is gained. They like tobacco and nail parings.

42. Buffalo one rib. A magically endowed buffalo kills men. It cannot be injured by arrows because it has only one rib, a bony plate protecting its entire body. Vulnerable in the bottom of one foot.

43. Fast-growing snake. A boy finds a pretty snake and feeds it. It grows enormously and soon eats a deer. Game is exhausted and snake goes after human beings.

44. White pebble. A white stone is given magical power and when thrown at a magical monster hits and kills it.

45. Flesh-eating water. The water of a magical lake eats the flesh from the bones of the unwary. Monsters living in it are immune.

46. Sudden friend. Hero in predicament sees a strange person before him who announces that he is a friend and will help the hero escape. Tells hero what to do.

1. Sky world. A world above the clouds inhabited by transcendent beings.

2. Celestial tree. A wonderful tree in the center of the sky world.

3. Sky woman. Falls through hole made by uprooted sky tree and brings a promised child with her.

4. Primal turtle. Rises from sea to receive sky woman.

5. Earth diver. Animals dive to secure earth for turtle’s back.

6. World-tree. Springs up from root of sky tree brought down by sky woman. Grows in the “middle of the world.” Flowers of light.

347. Female first born. A daughter soon born to the sky woman. Grows to quick maturity.

8. Immaculate conception. Daughter conceives in mysterious manner.

9. Rival twins. Twins born to daughter. Warty, flint hearted one, kills mother at birth. Fair one, the elder, watches her grave and finds corn, beans, squashes, potatoes and tobacco springing from it. Elder twin is constructive, younger is destructive.

10. Hoarded water. Evil twin causes a great frog to drink all the water of the earth. Good twin hits it with a stone causing it to disgorge.

11. Father search. Good Minded twin searches for father and finds him on a great mountain to east.

12. Son testing. Good Minded’s father tests him with wind, water, fire and rock. Good Minded proves sonship and returns to earth island with bags of animals.

13. Man making. Good Minded molds man from clay after reflections seen in water.

14. Primal beings return. Good Minded and grandmother return to sky.

15. Evil banished. Evil Minded placed in underground cavern.

Let us journey backward into the forgotten yesterday; let us catch a fleeting glimpse of a little village along the creek of Doshowey.

It is during the closing year of the Eighteenth Century. The time is in the moon Nĭsha (January), and the whole earth is covered by a thick blanket of heavy snow.

There is a deeply worn trail along the bank of the creek, but nobody walks in the trail, for it is as deeply rutted as it is deeply trodden. It is not now a road but a trench floored with rough ice and carpeted with broken patches of snow. Along the sides of the trail, over the white way, are supplementary and parallel trails that in places spread wide with the tell-tale mark of snowshoes. Here and there are deep dents where boys have wrestled and thrown each other into the drifts.

About us are great trees. Back from the creek are areas covered with tall pines and hemlocks; toward the creek are great deciduous trees looking gnarled and weather-worn. In the more open spaces are groves of nut trees, the hickory, the butternut and the walnut. Even in the depth of winter the region is inviting and suggests happiness and opportunity.

We continue our journey until we come within sight of a little village of log huts and bark lodges. The huts are rather small and primitive looking and the lodges for the most part look battered and smoky. Here and there, however, is a log cabin more sumptuous than the rest, and there are even bark houses that look comfortable. There seem to be no streets in this village, for the houses are set in any spot, seemingly, where the builder chose to erect his 38dwelling. Stretching in every direction are little cornfields, stripped of their ears and standing like ragged wrecks in the wind.

Before we reach the village there is an open space occupying a level area. Here and there are a score of boys and as many men shouting and playing games. In an icy trough, made by dragging a log through the snow for a quarter of a mile or more, the older boys are playing a game of snowsnake. We find that there are two rival teams, each with twenty-four long flat pieces of polished wood called “gawasa,” or snowsnakes. The idea of the game seems to be to find out who can throw a gawasa the greatest distance.

There is a great shout as one contestant rushes forward holding his gawasa by the tip and throws it with all his might into the trough. On it speeds like a living thing, gliding ahead with a slight side to side movement like a serpent springing forward. At the entrance of the trough a band of opponents is crying out discouraging remarks, while his own cheer squad is shouting its confidence and praises. A hundred feet down the trough an opponent waves his feathered cap over the gawasa as it speeds by, calling it “a fat woodchuck that cannot run,” while just a bit beyond, a friend also waves his cap and shouts a cabalistic word of magic. Finally the gawasa slows down and stops. Two trail markers rush to the spot and plunge colored sticks into the snow to mark the distance it has traveled. There is a referee from each team to insure absolute accuracy. In another moment another gawasa comes darting ahead, its leaden nose striking the tail of the first, nosing under it and throwing it out of the track, then speeding onward a score of paces ahead. The trail markers rush forward with other sticks and there is a great shout from the winning side.

40Each team keeps its gawasa in leathern cases. A special “snowsnake doctor” draws out each as it is wanted and carefully wipes it with a soft fawn-skin, then waxes or oils the snake with some secret compound designed to make it slip with less friction over the icy path. These formulae are great secrets and a successful “doctor” is in great demand, and receives big fees.

We glance over into the square where boys are playing a game of javelins and hoops. The object, we soon discover, is to pierce the hoop with the javelins, thus stopping its progress as it rolls onward between the lines of contestants to its goal. This is also a popular game with the dogs, especially the puppies, who every now and again dash after the hoop, much to the disgust of the team throwing it. We hear the cry of “Sigwah, ahsteh, sigwah!” meaning get out, go away, and then hear the yelp of the poor pup as it is struck with a javelin, and whimpers away from this maddened crowd of humans.

In another portion of the field we see a group of large girls playing football with a small ball stuffed with deer hair. There is a grand melee as the two “centers” come together and kick at the ball, missing and striking each other’s shins. There is a peal of laughter as each falls in the snow from the impact, and rolls over upon the ball which other eager players strive to extricate with their feet, for their hands must not touch the ball. The game is a rough-and-tumble one, but no one is injured, for the kicking feet that fly about so nimbly are clad in soft-nosed moccasins.

We pass on and leave this scene of winter fun for a more sober group sitting on logs beneath the pines at the creek bank. It is a group of older men waiting for the return of a hunting party, and we learn that soon there is to be a great feast,—in fact a nine-day celebration in which all the people will participate. Out on the creek we also see little clusters of men fishing through the ice, and, judging by the shouts, fishing is good.

It may be well to pause here and carefully note the 41appearance of the men. It is not difficult to see that they are Indians. Their coppery red skins and raven black hair indicate this. Moreover, their dress and language permits no mistake in our conclusion. One man, more aged than the rest, is garbed in buckskin from head to foot. His shirt is long and of a beautiful white tan. About the neck, the chest, the shoulders, the sides and upon the cuffs there is a rich adornment of porcupine quill embroidery in various tasteful colors,—red, yellow and white being predominant. The leggings are of the same soft velvet tan, and embroidered at the bottoms in a deep cuff of quill work, which extends up the front in a thin line. Just below each knee is a garter embroidered with a finer appliqué than the rather coarse quill work. Close inspection shows it to be long hair from the “bell” of the moose. It is so flexible that, unlike quill work, it allows the garter to be tied snugly without stiffness. Beneath the shirt, though it hangs down nearly to the knees, the edge of a loin-cloth is just seen. Looking down at his feet you will observe a pair of beautiful moccasins. They are of the puckered toe type, with a single seam up the center of the foot, the leather being drawn up in neat puckers to conform to the shape of the foot. The flaps of the moccasins are also embroidered with quill work, in a running pattern looking like half circles and above which rise tendril designs,—looking like the zodiacal sign of Aries. It is the old man’s cap, however, which interests us most. It is not at all like the conventional war-bonnet which we have seen in picture and pageant. Instead it is like a closely fitting cap of fine fur, apparently beaver. It has a wide band about it, holding it tightly to the head. On the upper part of this band are close rows of dangling silver cones that jingle against one another as the old man moves his head. From the center of the hat rises a spool-like socket into which is inserted a fine eagle plume, that turns on a spindle within the socket. Around the spool and fastened to it are clusters of smaller feathers 42that fluff over the top of the cap in gay abandon. Across the old man’s breast is a worsted belt, red in color, and decorated with beads in a most interesting fashion. About the old man’s waist is a stouter belt of buckskin, into which is thrust a tomahawk, and from which dangles a pipe bag. Stooping over, he picks up a pair of overshoes made of woven cornhusk stuffed with pads of oiled rags and buffalo hair. Looking at the other men you observe that all have on similar crude looking over-moccasins, but that most of them are of thick oil-tanned buckskin leather, instead of cornhusk.

The old man walks away toward the village and we linger a moment to learn that his name is Jack Berry,^[8] and that he is considered an old-fashioned fellow, but that he commands great respect. We find, in fact, that the village just ahead is named after him, “Jack Berry’s Town,” and that it is one of the eight villages of Indians scattered over the Buffalo Creek tract.

It is now late in the afternoon and the sun is sinking over the forest to the west. Men and boys, and now and then a small group of women, walk swiftly toward the village. Some of the men are bending low under heavy loads of game, trussed up in burden-frames. Several men have strings of fish and a few men and women have long strings of white corn upon their shoulders.

Naturally we are hungry after our long journey through the brisk winter afternoon. We are also ready to sit down by the fire and dry our damp feet. Where shall we go, who will know us?

Everybody seems to know us, for everybody speaks, saying, “Nyahweh skanoh, Gyahdasey,” (“I am thankful to see you strong of body, my friend.”) We stop and talk 43with one group after another and tell them that we are strangers, rather tired and very hungry. Everybody smiles and says, “Yes, that’s so,” but not a soul invites us to supper and lodging. Our guide smiles at us and finally says, “You may go to any cabin here, walk in and sit down.” You may take off your shoes and put on any warm pair of moccasins you find hanging on the wall, you may pretend that you are dumb, and say nothing. No one will ask you a question, but every want that you have will be anticipated and every comfort of the lodge given to you, though it is the only bed as your couch, the only buffalo robe your cover, and your food the last bowl of soup. Among the Seneca you are welcome. No matter who you are, you are an honored guest and welcome to any home you chose to enter. It is for you to invite yourself to a home and honor it with your presence.

We look about with some concern, for most of the houses are small and look overcrowded. Finally, since we are in search of knowledge, as well as amusement and adventure, we choose a very commodious bark long house, from whose roof we see six fires sending up columns of black smoke. This place looks as if it might afford us company enough to satisfy our social inclinations and room enough to stow us away for the night. If we hesitated a moment we were soon convinced of our good judgment by the tempting odors of steaming maize puddings and hull-corn hominy, together with the appetizing smell of venison roasting over hot stones.

We pause at the entry of the lodge and note the wooden effigy of a bear’s head hanging in the gable of the building. This is a symbol that clans-folk of the Bear dwell within and that all “Bears” are welcome. However, as we know that neither Turtles nor Hawks, nor any other clansman or stranger will be denied admission, we push aside the buffalo robe that curtains the doorway and enter.

Before us is a vast hall some twenty-four feet wide and 44eighty feet long. On either side are low platforms, scarcely more than knee high from the earthen floor. Above are other platforms, but these are six or seven feet above and form a roof over the lower platforms. On the latter we see people lounging, sitting or reclining, as suits their inclination.

An elderly woman comes forward and greets us, and as she does so, several men also come forward. Some, dressed in trader’s cloth clothing grasp our hands in welcome, while an old man, evidently a relic of an older day, places his hands on our chests and says, “Strength be within you.” This we learn is the old Indian way of greeting, in the days before hand-shaking came into vogue.

Some one points out an unoccupied seat filled with robes and we are invited to place our luggage on the platform above. From a long pole, hanging from the beams that form the roof supports, hang braids of corn, forming a curtain that nearly makes our loft inaccessible. As we push our pack basket well toward the center of the platform we hear a squeal, and a seven-year-old boy who has been sleeping there on a pile of pelts darts over the corn pole and swings himself to the floor.

The whole building is replete with stores of food, and besides the corn, we see large quantities of smoked meat, dried fish, dried pumpkins and squashes and dried herbs of various kinds. The center of the lodge is a broad aisle and at every eight paces there is a fireplace on the floor, the smoke from which rises to the roof and escapes through large rectangular holes made by leaving off the bark roofing.

We join a group of men and learn from their conversation that they are discussing the great war of the white men, in which the Thirteen Fires overcame the British King. Alas, these Indians had fought for the King and as a punishment a mighty general had come against them with a cannon, burning their villages on the Genesee and sending them terror-stricken to their red-coated allies at Fort 45Niagara. Here they had endured a terrible winter of privation during which time hundreds died of disease, starvation and freezing. The British King had not done well by them and his agents had deceived them. It was Town Destroyer (Washington) who was their real friend, for it was he who said they might remain in their ancient seats. So here they were on Buffalo Creek, in the land of the Wenroe and the Neutral, peoples whom they had conquered a century and a half ago. Here was their refuge, but the contrast between this and their former secure position on the Genesee had disheartened them. The war and the flight had disorganized them, their old ideals had been broken, and the only safety seemed to be to avoid the white man. He brought all this trouble and his traders brought the fire water that made the young men crazy. He had brought a new religion too, and many of the villagers of the Buffalo tract had been converted to it and were trying to live in accordance with its teachings. Some of the men thought that this spoke the doom of the Indian race, while others thought it would be better to offset this movement by embracing the religion of Handsome Lake, a sachem from Allegany who was now preaching temperance and morality among the Indians at Allegany. Most of the men, however, thought that it was best to avoid all new schemes and philosophies. “The old way is the best,” we hear them say. “In the old way we know just where we stand. We are familiar with the methods of the old way: the new way has not been tried.”

Then someone says, “Jack Berry is going to go over to Handsome Lake. Maybe this is the right way. He is an intelligent man and his father was a white man, though he is more Indian than any of us in his manners and speech.”

Long the discussion goes on, and embraces one topic after another. There is nothing to do but to talk and this soon grows tiresome, for the same old topics are worn threadbare. Brains that are hungry for new ideas and for facts 46find no food. The mental life of the people, we quickly discover, is circumscribed. The people crave stimulation; of physical stimulation they have plenty, but of mental stimulation there is little indeed. This is one of the reasons why in the old days the men went on long tedious hunts, sought adventure, went on war parties, and played the game of death. “Better to die in the hurricane like a young oak that has been broken in the gale,” said they, “than to die because rot has set in and eaten up the heart.”

Here among the discouraged and broken people of the Buffalo tract, bitterness gnawed at every heart, and there was a sense of having been overwhelmed by some irresistible force. The people craved amusement, excitement, and the stimulation of the imagination. It was because of the lack of healthful means to procure these things that the men gambled so much, and drank the traders’ rum.

The evening meal is now ready and we find that the matron of our fire is dipping our hull-corn hominy. Everybody grabs a bark dish and some take out neatly carved wooden bowls. These are filled with the hominy and the group begins to eat, dipping the steaming corn with wooden spoons of large size. Now comes the meat portion, and each person is given from one to three pounds of roasted venison. This we eat with boiled corn bread, dipping the bread into a bowl of grease that is passed about among us. We have no forks, and the only thing that resembles one is a sharpened splinter of bone. We have our knives, however, and the meat is cut by holding it with the hands. If our greasy fingers bother us we have a box of corn husks upon which to wipe them. We then cast our “napkins” into the fire. At the close of the meal we receive bowls of “onegadaiyeh,” or hot fluid, which we find to be a fragrant tea made from the tips of hemlock boughs mixed with a dash of sassafras. Those who do not like this drink are given wintergreen “tea” sweetened with maple sugar. As we drink our tea a bright-eyed maiden brings us a bark tray with generous slices of sugar-nut bread, made by molding white corn flour with pulverized maple sugar into which is mixed hickory and hazel-nut meats, the whole being molded into a cake held into shape by husks, and then boiled until done. Everyone exclaims, “Oguhoh,” meaning “Delicious.”

48The house is full of men, women and children. To each child there is a dog,—and a mighty well-behaved dog. Though they sit on their haunches looking hungry indeed, not one ventures near the mat or bench where the food is placed. Patiently they await a scrap of meat or a bone as it is thrown to them.

One is impressed with the various costumes of the throng. Some are dressed in military coats, some wear red flannel shirts made in coat style, with the flaps worn outside, some wear leather leggings, and some have cloth or buckskin trousers. Some of the women, as well as the men, wear tall beaver hats with silver bands around them. Everybody wears a blanket. Some are red, some are green or yellow, but nearly all wear gray or blue blankets. The women have especially fine blankets of blue broadcloth, beautifully beaded in floral patterns at the corners, and having geometrical designs around the borders. Only a few of the men wear boots, the majority wearing the ancestral moccasin. The skirts of the women are of broadcloth, beaded like the blankets, though several of the matrons have skirts of buckskin. The women wear pantalets, with beaded or quilled bottoms. They also wear small head shawls, and their hair is neatly braided. The maidens wear two braids, but the married women wear one, looped up behind and tied with a ribbon or a quilled strip of soft doeskin.

The house looks gloomy inside, for it is rather smoky, but the liveliness of the children and the puppies makes up for the darkened interior. If one does not wish to be walked over he had better crawl up on his bed and make himself comfortable in a buffalo robe. At best the lodge only shuts out the wind, and the fires add but little warmth. 49With the abundance of fresh air one does not feel oppressed by the numerous people on every hand. No one in this dwelling has that unhappy disease that infects the dwellers in the tight and warm log houses,—the disease that eats the lungs and makes people fade away like ghosts of their real selves. The abundance of fresh air and the creosote from the smoke, together with exercise out of doors in the sunshine, makes these dwellers in the long bark house lively and healthy.

Again the men fall into groups about the fire, and again they talk of the events about them. One tells of a British agent who wants the Indians to come over to Canada and dwell with their brethren who followed Chief Brant to the Grand River after the war. A Mohawk Sachem had been with the British agent and had confirmed his description of the beautiful land on the other side of the Niagara, where the Iroquois Confederacy might once more rise from its ashes and become a great power. They had found but few followers, however, for the Buffalo Seneca were loyal to the memory of Washington, the great White Father, who just a month ago had died. “We are now the children of Town Destroyer,” the British agent had been told. “We shall abide here where our fathers fought. This is their land and though we have been hurt in this conflict we will not run away, like dogs whipped, and who scamper whimpering to a hollow log. We shall stay here and be men.” It was in vain that the agent had appealed to their natural desire for revenge.

As the night grows darker, a shout is heard outside and all the children run to the door. “Dajoh, dajoh!” they exclaim, and rushing out surround a tall man of middle age, one taking his hand and leading him in. We can hear the shout of “Hoskwisäonh, the story teller,—the story teller has come!”

He is a jovial-looking fellow, this story teller, and his entrance to the lodge puts the young people in a state of 50suppressed excitement. Even the older people are pleasantly disposed toward him, and one matron draws forth a bench which she sets before the central fire. Several cornhusk mats are then placed around on the floor and the company draws into a circle, at least such a circle as the building will permit.

The story teller wears a long white flannel toga, or overshirt bound with blue ribbon. It is embroidered richly with colored moose hair. His gustoweh or cap is of soft doeskin quilled in herringbone patterns, and the feathers that droop from the crest spindle are the white down feathers of the heron. The spinning feather at the tip is from the tail of a young eagle and from its tip rises a little tassel of red moose hair held on by a bit of fish glue. He has two bags, one containing his pipe and tobacco, and the other filled with mysterious lumps. Just what these are everyone waits patiently to see, for they are the trophies that “remind” him of his stories,—bear teeth, shells, bark dolls, strings of wampum, bunches of feathers, bits of bark with hieroglyphs upon them, and the claws of animals.

He takes his seat and after smoking a pipeful of sacred tobacco throws some of this fragrant herb upon the fire, at the same time saying a ritualistic prayer to the unseen powers, about whom he is soon to discourse. Finally he exclaims, “Hauh, oneh djadaondyus,” and all the people respond, “Hauh oneh!” He plunges his hand into his mystery bag and draws forth a bear’s tusk. “Hoh!” he says. “The bear! This is a tale of nyagwai‘´. Do you all now listen!” And then comes the story of the orphaned boy who lived with his wicked uncle and how he was rescued from burial in a fox hole and cared for by a mother bear. Another trinket comes forth, and again another, as a new tale unfolds. When the night has grown old, and the youngsters show signs of weariness by falling asleep, the story teller closes his bag, carefully ties it and then starts to smoke again.

51The listeners have been thrilled by his dramatic recitation, they have been moved to uproarious laughter or made to shudder with awe. They have been profoundly stirred and their eyes glisten with pleasurable excitement. Everyone files past the story teller with a small gift,—a brooch, a carved nut, a small bag of tobacco or a strand of sinew for thread. No gift is large and most gifts are pinches of native tobacco. The story teller then finds a comfortable bed.

The children climb into their lofts by aid of notched ladders, the old people repair to their compartments, pull down the robe curtains, and soon all but a watcher or two are asleep, dreaming of the folk-beasts and the heroes of the story teller’s tales. The more imaginative continue the adventures that have been told, and journey into dreamland to meet the myth-beings and learn of the mysteries that only slumberland can reveal.

Such is the setting of the story teller and the atmosphere in which the legends of the Seneca were told, in the days of early Buffalo. These old-time tales can scarcely be appreciated unless one knows and feels the circumstances under which they were related. Then, too, we may dream as the Seneca dreamed and know why he loved the story teller.

In the morning we are awakened by the noise of the corn pounders. “Ka-doom, ka-doom, ka-doom!” they sound as the pestle strikes the corn in the mortar and crushes it into hominy or meal, as the case may be. Children then begin to tumble out of bed and run about the lodge, but most of them are sent back to their warm robes until the morning meal has been prepared.

As we open our eyes we see little light, for we are within one of the bed compartments, over the front of which hang long buffalo robe curtains, shutting out the light and securing us from the sight of others. The head and the foot of our sleeping quarters likewise are partitioned off 52by screens of bark, strengthened by upright poles. At our feet are little cupboards where we have stored our clothing and valuables. Over our heads hang uncertain bundles, attached to the parallel poles that form the platform above us. These contain the treasures and personal possessions of our host, whose bed we occupy. As we dress and emerge from our compartment, we feel the cool air of the great hallway and smell the smoke of the lodge fires. We look at the underside of the bed and find it walled up by bark over a layer of parallel poles. Beneath this bed are the greater treasures of our host, treasures that no one may touch or see save himself. He reaches them by lifting up the floor of the bed, a floor made of slats laced together. No person, not the owner of the compartment, would ever dare pry beneath that bed. It is a crime as black as calumny and worse than murder, for it is a violation of fundamental laws. As the women come from their compartments, and throw back their curtains upon the platform above, we catch a glimpse of “bed rooms” neatly kept and hung with furs and pelts. Some are embroidered and some are painted with signs and symbols. We note also their neat bundles and quilled bark boxes at the foot of the bed or over their heads. We long to pry into these secrets and to discover just what is in this mysterious boudoir, but modesty forbids anything more than a fleeting glance. Each compartment is its occupant’s “castle” and must not be violated by so much as a curious look.

As we make ready for a bit of corn bread and a large bowl of soup, the liquor in which the bread has been boiled, we note the ascending smoke from the fireplaces on the earthen floor. The drafts are regulated by opening one door-flap or the other. The great ridgepole and the rafters of the lodge are black with soot. The roof is pitched, and the gable is made by a pole placed above and resting upon the plate-poles, across the front and rear of the building. These support the inner ridge pole upon which rest the 53tops of the roof supports or rafters. These are stiffened by inner poles that run parallel with the ridge pole and rest upon the end gable rafters. All are tied in place with ropes of bark or fastened with pegs, some of them spikes of deer antler. On either side of the door are the major roof supports which being securely driven in the ground rise to the gable rafter, giving a stronger support than could possibly be given by a central post. The building is absolutely rigid. The triple plaiting with bark, most of it elm, placed the long way of the grain, instead of up and down, makes the building wind-proof and comfortable enough to people inured to the weather.

We note with a great deal of interest the long rows of corn placed along the roof poles that rest just above the edge of the upper platforms. These braids of corn form curtains that screen off the upper platforms except in places where there are small openings into which the lodge matrons may thrust their possessions. It is there that they keep their bowls of bark and wood, also stores of dried food. We are told that there are barrels of bark up there filled with dried and smoked meats of various kinds, also stores of vegetable foods and herbs.

The shed of the house interests us greatly. It is an entry way attached to the lodge and has a slightly sloping roof. It is large and roomy and here on one side is piled a great quantity of wood and on the other are boxes and barrels of shelled corn.

We are impressed by the neatness of everything and by the compact manner in which food and clothing is stowed away. Of course, in a modern sense, the things we see are not clean, by any means, for dust and soot cover everything not within arm’s reach. The place reeks of smoke, but we have grown so accustomed to this that we scarcely notice it, save when the wind changes direction and the smoke fills our eyes.

Around the fires are mats woven of corn husk, over a 54warp of twisted elm bark fiber. Upon these we sit as we are given wooden bowls which are filled with soup. The big ladle which we see used to dispense our portion holds a bowlful. It is carved from curly maple and has a dove carved on the upper part of the handle. Our smaller spoons are carved in a similar manner but they hold only a white man’s half cupful. There is nothing formal or full about this breakfast and we note the frugality of the people. The second meal will be the hearty one.

As we sit on the mat before the fire we note how conservative some of the older people are. One or two have bowls or pots of baked clay, rare relics of the earlier day before the white man’s brass kettles made the fragile clay pot an obsolete thing. We note that one pot has a serrated rim which flares out, while the other has a tall collar decorated with parallel lines arranged in triangular plats. Very gently do these old folk handle their clay pots which they call “gadjĕⁿ”. Several of the old men take from their pouches ancient clay pipes, relics of the days when they lived beyond the Genesee. These are molded with bowls in the shape of raccoons and have copper eyes. The stems are rather short, not more than eight inches, and the pipe is not held in the mouth continually but lifted to the lips to allow an inhalation, and then taken down. These relics we learn are sacred things and are to be buried with the old men when they die.

Breakfast is over and there is little for the men to do. Their autumnal hunt has filled the larder with game. There is plenty of corn, and the younger men supply the fresh meat and fish needed. Winter is a time when everyone clings to the hearth fire, save upon ceremonial occasion, or for the usual winter sports. But even these become tiresome, and the minds of the people crave stimulation. Even the gambling games do not supply the right sort of awakening. The minds of the people are hungry and demand a feeding even upon husks. They demand that their imaginations 55be kindled and that from sordid life they be lifted to the fairylands of pure imagination. The story teller who can lift the individual out of self and transport him to the land of magic, where he may picture himself a super-man performing mighty feats, is in great demand. Absurdity counts for nothing; what though the myth or legend is impossible,—this does not matter. It gives the hungry mind and yearning soul wings upon which it may fly away from a real earth to the land of “I-wish-I-could.” In a world where reliable facts are few and where critical investigation is impossible, the imagination must be fed. The story teller of the lodge supplies that food. He is the storehouse of all knowledge, the repository of ancestral lore. To the untutored mind of the aborigine he supplies what is almost as necessary as food itself, for while man is a combination of body and mind, mind must have its sustenance no less than body; it must have its sweets and its stimulants no less than the physical nature. And so the story teller weaves the spell, with all his rhetoric and oratory,—and hungry minds gather round to feast....

Time goes by and the world has changed. There is a different order of things. The power of the Seneca has gone, and the pale invader has taken over all the land, save tiny areas in out-of-the-way places. Still the Seneca has not relinquished his hold entirely; in various bands he still lives in tribal estate. But how different is the Seneca today! His life is that of the surrounding white man, in an economic sense. Little remains to distinguish him as of another cultural order, but there is still enough to mark him as aboriginal. He still preserves his rites and ceremonies, and on the reservations at Cattaraugus, Allegany and Tonawanda he still tells the folk-tales that his ancestors loved, and these remain unaltered to this very day.

Beyond the dome we call the sky there is another world. There in the most ancient of times was a fair country where lived the great chief of the up-above-world and his people, the celestial beings. This chief had a wife who was very aged in body, having survived many seasons.

In that upper world there were many things of which men of today know nothing. This world floated like a great cloud and journeyed where the great chief wished it to go. The crust of that world was not thick, but none of these men beings knew what was under the crust.

In the center of that world there grew a great tree which bore flowers and fruits and all the people lived from the fruits of the tree and were satisfied. Now, moreover, the tree bore a great blossom at its top, and it was luminous and lighted the world above, and wonderful perfume filled the air which the people breathed. The rarest perfume of all was that which resembled the smoke of sacred tobacco and this was the incense greatly loved by the great chief. It grew from the leaves that sprouted from the roots of the tree.

The roots of the tree were white and ran in four directions. Far through the earth they ran, giving firm support to the tree. Around this tree the people gathered daily, for here the Great Chief had his lodge where he dwelt. Now, in a dream he was given a desire to take as his wife a certain maiden who was very fair to look upon.^[9] So, he took 60her as his wife for when he had embraced her he found her most pleasing. When he had eaten the marriage bread he took her to his lodge, and to his surprise found that she was with child. This caused him great anger and he felt himself deceived, but the woman loved the child, which had been conceived by the potent breath of her lover when he had embraced her. He was greatly distressed, for this fair Awĕⁿ‘hā´i‘ was of the noblest family. It is she who is customarily called Iagĕⁿ’´tci‘.

He, the Ancient One, fell into a troubled sleep and a dream commanded him to have the celestial tree uprooted as a punishment to his wife, and as a relief of his troubled spirit. So on the morrow he announced to his wife that he had a dream and could not be satisfied until it had been divined. Thereupon she “discovered his word,” and it was that the tree should be uprooted.

“Truly you have spoken,” said Ancient One, “and now my mind shall be satisfied.” And the woman, his wife, saw that there was trouble ahead for the sky world, but she too found pleasure in the uprooting of the tree, wishing to know what was beneath it. Yet did she know that to uproot the tree meant disaster for her, through the anger of Ancient One against her.

It so happened that the chief called all his people together and they endeavored to uproot the tree, it being deep-rooted and firm. Then did the chief grow even more angry for Iagĕⁿ’´tci had cried out that calamity threatened and nobody would avert it. Then did the chief, himself embrace the tree and with a mighty effort uprooted it, throwing it far away. His effort was tremendous, and in uprooting the tree he shook down fruits and leaves. Thereafter he went into his lodge and entered into the apartment where his wife, Iagĕⁿ’´tci, lay moaning that she too must be satisfied by a look into the hole. So the chief led her to the hole made by uprooting the tree.

He caused her to seat herself on the edge of the hole 61and peer downward. Again his anger returned against her, for she said nothing to indicate that she had been satisfied. Long she sat looking into the hole until the chief in rage drew her blanket over her head and pushed her with his foot, seeking to thrust her into the hole, and be rid of her. As he did this she grasped the earth at her side and gathered in her fingers all manner of seeds that had fallen from the shaken tree. In her right hand she held the leaves of the plant that smelled like burning tobacco, for it grew from a root that had been broken off. Again the chief pushed the woman, whose curiosity had caused the destruction of the greatest blessing of the up-above-world. It was a mighty push, and despite her hold upon the plant and upon the ground, she fell into the hole.

Now, this hole had penetrated the crust of the upper world and when Iagĕⁿ’´tci fell she went far down out of sight and the chief could not see her in the depths of the darkness below. As she fell she beheld a beast that emitted fire from its head whom she called Gaăs‘ioñdie´t‘hă’, (Gahashondietoh). It is said that as she passed by him he took out a small pot, a corn mortar, a pestle, a marrow bone and an ear of corn and presented them to her, saying, “Because thou has thus done, thou shalt eat by these things, for there is nothing below, and all who eat shall see me once and it will be the last.”

Now it is difficult to know how this Fire Beast can be seen for he is of the color of the wind and is of the color of anything that surrounds it, though some say he is pure white.

Hovering over the troubled waters below were other creatures, some like and some unlike those that were created afterward. It is said by the old people that in those times lived the spirit of Gä´ha‘ and of S‘hagodiioweⁿ‘´gōwā, of Hĭ’´noⁿ’ and of Deiodasondaiko, (The Wind, the Defending Face, the Thunder and the Heavy Night.) There were 62also what seemed to be ducks upon the water and these also saw the descending figure.

The creature-beings knew that a new body was coming to them and that here below there was no abiding place for her. They took council together and sought to devise a way to provide for her.

It was agreed that the duck-creatures should receive her on their interknit wings and lower her gently to the surface below. The great turtle from the under-world was to arise and make his broad back a resting-place. It was as has been agreed and the woman came down upon the floating island.

Then did the creatures seek to make a world for the woman and one by one they dove to the bottom of the water seeking to find earth to plant upon the turtle’s back. A duck dived but went so far that it breathed the water and came up dead. A pickerel went down and came back dead. Many creatures sought to find the bottom of the water but could not. At last the creature called Muskrat made the attempt and only succeeded in touching the bottom with his nose but this was sufficient for he was enabled to smear it upon the shell and the earth immediately grew, and as the earth-substance increased so did the size of the turtle.

After a time the woman, who lay prone, aroused herself and released what was in her hands, dropping many seeds into the folds of her garment. Likewise she spread out the earth from the heaven world which she had grasped and thus caused the seeds to spring into germination as they dropped from her dress.

The root of the tree which she had grasped she sunk into the soil where she had fallen and this too began to grow until it formed a tree with all manner of fruits and flowers and bore a luminous orb at its top by which the new world became illuminated.

63Now in due season the Sky Woman^[10] lay beneath the tree and to her a daughter was born. She was then happy for she had a companion. Rapidly the girl child grew until very soon she could run about. It was then the custom of Ancient One to say: “My daughter, run about the island and return telling me what you have seen.”

Day by day the girl ran around the island and each time it became larger, making her trips longer and longer. She observed that the earth was carpeted with grass and that shrubs and trees were springing up everywhere. This she reported to her mother, who sat beneath the centrally situated great tree.

In one part of the island there was a tree on which grew a long vine and upon this vine the girl was accustomed to swing for amusement and her body moved to and fro giving her great delight. Then did her mother say, “My daughter, you laugh as if being embraced by a lover. Have you seen a man?”

“I have seen no one but you, my mother,” answered the girl, “but when I swing I know someone is close to me and I feel my body embraced as if with strong arms. I feel thrilled and I tingle, which causes me to laugh.”

Then did the Sky Woman look sad, and she said, “My daughter, I know not now what will befall us. You are married to Gä´ha‘, and he will be the father of your children. There will be two boys.”

In due season the voices of two boys were heard speaking, eiă’da´goñ‘, and the words of one were kind and he gave no trouble, but the words of the other were harsh and he desired to kill his mother. His skin was covered with warts and boils and he was inclined to cause great pain.

When the two boys were born, Elder One made his mother happy but when Warty One was born he pierced her through the arm pit and stood upon her dead body. 64So did the mother perish, and because of this the Sky Woman wept.

The boys required little care but instantly became able to care for themselves. After the mother’s body had been arranged for burial, the Sky Woman saw the Elder One whom she called Good Mind, approach, and he said, “Grandmother. I wish to help you prepare the grave.” So he helped his grandmother who continually wept, and deposited the body of his mother in a grave. Thereupon did the grandmother speak to her daughter:

“Oh, my daughter,” she said. “You have departed and made the first path to the world from which I came bringing your life. When you reach that homeland make ready to receive many beings from this place below, for I think the path will be trodden by many.”

Good Mind watched at the grave of his mother and watered the earth above it until the grass grew. He continued to watch until he saw strange buds coming out of the ground.

Where the feet were the earth sprouted with a plant that became the stringed-potato (onĕñnoⁿ’´dă’oⁿ´wĕ‘), where her fingers lay sprang the beans, where her abdomen lay sprang the squash, where her breasts lay sprang the corn plant, and from the spot above her forehead sprang the tobacco plant.

Now the warty one was named Evil Mind, and he neglected his mother’s grave and spent his time tearing up the land and seeking to do evil.

When the grandmother saw the plants springing from the grave of her daughter and cared for by Good Mind she was thankful and said, “By these things we shall hereafter live, and they shall be cooked in pots with fire, and the corn shall be your milk and sustain you. You shall make the corn grow in hills like breasts, for from the corn shall flow our living.”

Then the Grandmother, the Sky Woman, took Good Mind about the island and instructed him how to produce 65plants and trees. So he spoke to the earth and said, “Let a willow here come forth,” and it came. In a like manner he made the oak, the chestnut, the beech, the hemlock, the spruce, the pine, the maple, the button-ball, the tulip, the elm and many other trees that should become useful.

With a jealous stomach the Evil Mind followed behind and sought to destroy the good things but could not, so he spoke to the earth and said: “Briars come forth,” and they came forth. Likewise he created poisonous plants and thorns upon bushes.

Upon a certain occasion Good Mind made inquiries of his Grandmother, asking where his father dwelt. Then did the Sky Woman say: “You shall now seek your father. He lives to the uttermost east and you shall go to the far eastern end of the island and go over the water until you behold a mountain rising from the sea. You shall walk up the mountain and there you will find your father seated upon the top.”

Good Mind made the pilgrimage and came to the mountain. At the foot of the mountain he looked upward and called, “My father, where art thou?” And a great voice sounded the word: “A son of mine shall cast the cliff from the mountain’s edge to the summit of this peak.” Good Mind grasped the cliff and with a mighty effort flung it to the mountain top. Again he cried, “My father, where art thou?” The answer came, “A son of mine shall swim the cataract from the pool below to the top.” Good Mind leaped into the falls and swam upward to the top where the water poured over. He stood there and cried again, “My father, where art thou?” The voice answered, “A son of mine shall wrestle with the wind.” So, there at the edge of a terrifying precipice Good Mind grappled with Wind and the two wrestled, each endeavoring to throw the other over. It was a terrible battle and Wind tore great rocks from the mountain side and lashed the water below, but Good Mind overcame Wind, and he departed moaning in 66defeat. Once more Good Mind called, “My father, where art thou?” In awesome tones the voice replied, “A son of mine shall endure the flame,” and immediately a flame sprang out of the mountain side and enveloped Good Mind. It blinded him and tortured him with its cruel heat, but he threw aside its entwining arms and ran to the mountain top where he beheld a being sitting in the midst of a blaze of light.

“I am thy father,” said the voice. “Thou art my son.”

“I have come to receive power,” said the son. “I wish to rule all things on the earth.”

“You have power,” answered the father. “You have conquered. I give to you the bags of life, the containers of living creatures that will bless the earth.”

Thus did the father and son counsel together and the son learned many things that he should do. He learned how to avoid the attractive path that descended to the place of the cave where Hanishe´ono^n’ dwells.

Now the father said, “How did you come to find me, seeing I am secluded by many elements?”

The Good Mind answered, “When I was about to start my journey Sky Woman, my grandmother, gave me a flute and I blew upon it, making music. Now, when the music ceased the flute spoke to me, saying, ‘This way shalt thou go,’ and I continued to make music and the voice of the flute spoke to me.”

Then did the father say, “Make music by the flute and listen, then shalt thou continue to know the right direction.”

In course of time Good Mind went down the mountain and he waded the sea, taking with him the bags with which he had been presented. As he drew near the shore he became curious to know what was within, and he pinched one bag hoping to feel its contents. He felt a movement inside which increased until it became violent. The bag began to roll about on his back until he could scarcely hold it and a portion of the mouth of the bag slipped from his hand. 67Immediately the things inside began to jump out and fall into the water with a great splash, and they were water animals of different kinds. The other bag began to roll around on his back but he held on tightly until he could do so no more, when a portion of the mouth slipped and out flew many kinds of birds, some flying seaward and others inland toward the trees. Then as before the third bag began to roll about but he held on very tight, but it slipped and fell into the water and many kinds of swimming creatures rushed forth, fishes, crabs and eels. The fourth bag then began to roll about, but he held on until he reached the land when he threw it down, and out rushed all the good land animals, of kinds he did not know. From the bird bag had come good insects, and from the fish bag had also come little turtles and clams.

When Good Mind came to his grandmother beneath the tree she asked what he had brought, for she heard music in the trees and saw creatures scampering about. Thereupon Good Mind related what had happened, and Sky Woman said, “We must now call all the animals and discover their names, and moreover we must so treat them that they will have fat.”

So then she spoke, “Cavity be in the ground and be filled with oil.” The pool of oil came, for Sky Woman had the power of creating what she desired.

Good Mind then caught the animals one by one and brought them to his grandmother. She took a large furry animal and cast it into the pool and it swam very slowly across, licking up much oil. “This animal shall hereafter be known as niagwaih, (bear) and you shall be very fat.” Next came another animal with much fur and it swam across and licked up the oil, and it was named degiiă’´goⁿ, (buffalo). So in turn were named the elk, the moose, the badger, the woodchuck, and the raccoon, and all received much fat. Then came the beaver (naⁿgaⁿniă´goⁿ’), the porcupine and the skunk. Now Good Mind wished the 68deer to enter but it was shy and bounded away, whereupon he took a small arrow and pierced its front leg, his aim being good. Then the deer came and swam across the pool and oil entered the wound and healed it. This oil of the deer’s leg is a medicine for wounds to this day and if the eyes are anointed with it one may shoot straight.

Again other animals came and one by one they were named weasel, mink, otter, fisher, panther, lynx, wild cat, fox, wolf, big wolf, squirrel, chipmunk, mole, and many others.

And many animals that were not desired plunged into the pool of oil, and these Good Mind seized as they came out and he stripped them of their fat and pulled out their bodies long. So he did to the otter, fisher, weasel and mink. So he did to the panther, wolf, big wolf, and fox, the lynx and the wildcat. Of these the fat to this day is not good tasting. But after a time Evil Mind secured a bag of creatures from the road to the Cave and unloosed it, and evil things crawled into the pool and grew fat. So did the rattlesnake and great bugs and loathly worms.

Thus did Evil Mind secure many evil monsters and insects, and he enticed good animals into his traps and perverted them and gave them appetites for men-beings. He was delighted to see how fierce he could make the animals, and set them to quarreling.

He roamed about visiting the streams of pure water made by Good Mind and filling them with mud and slime, and he kicked rocks in the rivers and creeks to make passage difficult, and he planted nettles and thorns in the paths. Thus did he do to cause annoyance.

Now Good Mind sat with his grandmother beneath the tree of light and he spoke to her of the world and how he might improve it. “Alas,” said she, “I believe that only one more task awaits me and then I shall go upon my path and follow your mother back to the world beyond the sky. 69It remains for me to call into being certain lights in the blackness above where Heavy Night presides.”

So saying she threw the contents of a bag into the sky and it quickly became sprinkled with stars. And thus there came into being constellations (haditgwă’´dā’), and of these we see the bear chase, the dancing brothers, the seated woman, the beaver skin, the belt, and many others.

Now it seems that Good Mind knew that there should be a luminous orb and, so it is said, he took his mother’s face and flung it skyward and made the sun, and took his mother’s breast and flinging it into the sky made the moon. So it is said, but there are other accounts of the creation of these lights. It is said that the first beings made them by going into the sky.

Shortly after the creation of the stars (gadjĭ‘´soⁿ’´dă’), the grandmother said unto Good Mind, “I believe that the time has come when I should depart, for nearly all is finished here. There is a road from my feet and I have a song which I shall sing by which I shall know the path. There is one more matter that troubles me for I see that your brother is jealous and will seek to kill you. Use great care that you overcome him and when you have done so confine him in the cave and send with him the evil spirit beasts, lest they injure men.”

When morning came the Sky Woman had departed and her journey was toward the sky world.

Good Mind felt lonely and believed that his own mission was about at end. He had been in conflict with his brother, Evil Mind, and had sought, moreover, to overcome and to teach the Whirlwind and Wind, and the Fire Beast.

Soon Evil Mind came proposing a hunting trip and Good Mind went with him on the journey. When they had gone a certain distance the Evil Mind said, “My elder brother, I perceive that you are about to call forth men-beings who shall live on the island that we here have inhabited. I propose to afflict them with disease and to make life difficult, 70for this is not their world but mine, and I shall do as I please to spoil it.”

Then did Good Mind answer and say, “Verily, I am about to make man-beings who shall live here when I depart, for I am going to follow the road skyward made first by my mother.”

“This is good news,” answered Evil Mind. “I propose that you then reveal unto me the word that has power over your life, that I may possess it and have power when you are gone.”

Good Mind now saw that his brother wished to destroy him, and so he said, “It may happen that you will employ the cattail flag, whose sharp leaves will pierce me.”

Good Mind then lay down and slumbered, but soon was awakened by Evil Mind who was lashing him with cattail flags, and yelling loudly, “Thou shalt die.” Good Mind arose and asked his brother what he meant by lashing him and he answered, “I was seeking to awaken you from a dream, for you were speaking.”

So, soon again the brother, Evil Mind, asked, “My brother, I wish to know the word that has power over you.” And Good Mind perceiving his intention answered, “It may be that deer-horns will have power over me; they are sharp and hard.”

Soon Good Mind slept again and was awakened by Evil Mind beating him with deer-horns, seeking to destroy him. They rushed inland to the foot of the tree and fought each other about it. Evil Mind was very fierce and rushed at his brother thrusting the horns at him and trying to pierce his chest, his face or tear his abdomen. Finally, Good Mind disarmed him, saying, “Look what you have done to the tree where Ancient One was wont to care for us, and whose branches have supplied us with food. See how you have torn this tree and stripped it of its valuable products. This tree was designed to support the life of men-beings and now you have injured it. I must banish you to the region 71of the great cave and you shall have the name of Destroyer.”

So saying he used his good power to overcome Evil Mind’s otgont (evil power) and thrust him into the mouth of the cave, and with him all manner of enchanted beasts. There he placed the white buffalo, the poison beaver, the poison otter, snakes and many bewitched things that were otgont. So there to this day abides Evil Mind seeking to emerge, and his voice is heard giving orders.

Then Good Mind went back to the tree and soon saw a being walking about. He walked over to the place where the being was pacing to and fro. He saw that it was S’hagodiiweⁿ‘´gōwā, who was a giant with a grotesque face. “I am master of the earth,” roared this being (called also Great Defender), for he was the whirlwind. “If you are master,” said Good Mind, “prove your power.”

Defender said, “What shall be our test?”

“Let this be the test,” said Good Mind, “that the mountain yonder shall approach us at your bidding.”

So Defender spoke saying, “Mountain, come hither.” And they turned their backs that they might not see it coming until it stood at their backs. Soon they turned about again and the mountain had not moved.

“So now, I shall command,” said Good Mind, and he spoke saying, “Mountain, come hither,” and they turned their backs. There was a rushing of air and Defender turned to see what was behind him and fell against the onrushing mountain, and it bent his nose and twisted his mouth, and from this he never recovered.

Then did Defender say, “I do now acknowledge you to be master. Command me and I will obey.”

“Since you love to wander,” said Good Mind, “it shall be your duty to move about over the earth and stir up things. You shall abandon your evil intentions and seek to overcome your otgont nature, changing it to be of benefit to man-beings, whom I am about to create.”

72“Then,” said Defender, “shall man-beings offer incense tobacco to me and make a song that is pleasing to me, and they shall carve my likeness from the substance of trees, and my orenda will enter the likeness of my face and it shall be a help to men-beings and they shall use the face as I shall direct. Then shall all the diseases that I may cause depart and I shall be satisfied.”

Again Good Mind wandered, being melancholy. Looking up he saw another being approaching.

“I am Thunder,” said the being.

“What can you do to be a help to me?” asked Good Mind.

“I can wash the earth and make drink for the trees and grass,” said Thunder.

“What can you do to be a benefit to the men-beings I am about to create?” asked Good Mind.

“I shall slay evil monsters when they escape from the under-world,” said Thunder. “I shall have scouts who will notify me and I shall shoot all otgont beings.”

Then was Good Mind satisfied, and he pulled up a tree and saw the water fill the cavity where the roots had been. Long he gazed into the water until he saw a reflection of his own image. “Like unto that will I make men-beings,” he thought. So then he took clay and molded it into small images of men and women. These he placed on the ground and when they were dry he spoke to them and they sprang up and lived.

When he saw them he said unto them, “All this world I give unto you. It is from me that you shall say you are descended and you are the children of the first born of earth, and you shall say that you are the flesh of Iagĕⁿ’´tci, she the Ancient Bodied One.”

When he had acquainted them with the other first beings, and shown them how to hunt and fish and to eat of the fruits of the land, he told them that they should seek to live 73together as friends and brothers and that they should treat each other well.

He told them how to give incense of tobacco, for Awĕⁿ‘hā´i‘, Ancient Bodied One, had stripped the heaven world of tobacco when she fell, and thus its incense should be a pleasing one into which men-beings might speak their words when addressing him hereafter. These and many other things did he tell them.

Soon he vanished from the sight of created men beings, and he took all the first beings with him upon the sky road.

Soon men-beings began to increase and they covered the earth, and from them we are descended. Many things have happened since those days, so much that all can never be told.

There were once three brothers who had spent their lives as hunters. At last one growing tired of the chase suggested that, as a break in the monotony of existence, they would walk to the end of the earth where the sky touched the water of the great seas. This proposition met with favor with all and together they set out on their long journey. Many years of adventure were spent, when at last they reached the spot where the sky bends down to earth (gaenhyakdondye).

For two changes of the moon they camped near this spot and watched the mysterious things that happened about the blue dome’s rim. Each day it rose high from the earth and fell back upon the sea. When it rose the water would recede and when it fell the water would rise high on the shore. Finally two brothers desired to run upon the sand beneath the rim of the bowl but the third brother hung back and was afraid, but seeing the others afar off he ran beneath the rim and hastened to overtake them but just as the two stepped out from the farther side of the blue wall it came down and the third was crushed; but his spirit sped forward like the wind on its journey. The two mourned the loss of their brother in this summary way but continued their adventure.

Now on the other side of the sky all things seemed turned around. Before them was a high rounded hill and when they ascended it they found a large village in the distance. A man came running toward them. It was their brother.

“How came you here, brother?” they asked. “We did not see you pass us,” but all the other brother would say was, “Never hesitate, never delay!” and passed on.

They saw an old man approaching. His youthful vigor and strong, well-proportioned body surprised them. No 75earthly symptoms of old age had he. His white hair alone betokened that.

Coming near he greeted them. “I am the Father of All,” he said, “and my son is T‘hahoⁿ’hiawă’´koⁿ, the Great Spirit. He is the ruler of all below. Now let me advise you. When you see him call him quickly and say ‘Nya‘wĕ‘´skäno’’! If you fail to speak first he will say, ‘you are mine,’ and you will no more be men but spirits as your brother is.”

The brothers went their way and came to a high white lodge. As they walked up the path a tall handsome man stepped out.

“Nyawĕ‘´skäno’!” shouted the brothers in chorus.

“Dogĕⁿs!” responded the being. “Come in. I have been watching you a long time.”

The brothers entered the lodge.

“How are your bodies, men?” asked the being.

“Good indeed!” replied the brothers.

“Untrue,” said the great being. “I am the Master of Life and know! One of you must lie down and I will purify him first, and then the other.”

One brother placed himself upon the ground. Master of Life took a small shell, placed it to his lips, tapped him upon the neck, and then carefully sealed the shell with a lump of clay. He now began to skin the prostrate man. He stripped every muscle from its fastenings, took out the organs, and separated the bones. He cleansed each fibre from corruption and disease with a fluid from his mouth and then put the man together again. The same process was repeated with the second brother. Then, placing the shells upon their mouths, he loosened the clay and tapped the necks of the men. Sitting up they said, “It seems as if we have slept.”

“Every power of your bodies is renewed,” said the Master of Life. “How would you like to test your skill now?” And, leading the way, he entered a beautiful forest surrounded 76by a hedge. The borders of the grove were lined with beds of vegetables and flowers.

“Come into the inner part of my garden,” said the Master of Life, “and see my droves of deer.”

A stalwart buck with proud branching antlers came bounding toward them.

“He is the swiftest of all my runners,” said the Master of Life. “Try to catch him.”

The men followed after and easily overtook the fleeing deer.

“He has given us good speed,” said the brothers, nor was this the only power. For long they tried their skill in every way and found it equal to any task that creatures could perform.

Returning to the great white lodge the brothers saw a messenger of wondrous swiftness come speeding toward them. Upon his wide expanded chest was suspended a brilliant ball of light. In some unknown tongue he shouted as he dashed by on his journey.

“Do you understand his words, or do you even know him?” asked the Master. “He is Sun, my messenger, Ho‘sĕⁿ’äge‘´dagōwā. Each day he brings me news. Nothing from east to west escapes his eyes. He has just told me of a war raging even now between your people and another nation, so come, let us look down upon the earth.”

Going to a high hill the men looked down through a hole in the sky and saw the struggling bands of men, saw the flaming lodges, and even the cries of anguish and rage.

“Such things men will ever do,” said the Master of Life as he led them away.

The brothers lived long in the upper world and learned much that their tongues never could tell. They saw untenanted villages awaiting the coming of tribes yet to be born and saw their own lodges where they should be when they came again as spirits. Many good things the great Master of Life told them, and our preachers proclaim them now.

77At last the Master told them they must depart, and, guided by two messengers, they descended to the earth by night and slept on the ground.

In the morning they discovered that their native village was overgrown with trees, and following a path through the woods came to another settlement. In a council they told their story and no one knew them except a sister, aged and on the verge of the grave.

“The war of which you speak,” said they, “took place fifty years ago.”

The men did not love earth now but longed for their lodges in the sky world. They were men of wonderful physical power and neither pestilence nor enchantments could kill them but two fiery shafts of the sky did. They then journeyed back to the great white lodge, but this time could not return.^[11]

Now the old folk say this is true.

Two boys were fast friends and always were seen together. Their favorite sport was to play in the waters of a deep lake that washed the feet of a tall white-headed mountain that lay a distance from the village.

One day as they splashed in the water, swimming, diving, and sporting as boys do, one suggested that they both dive at the same instant and see which could remain below the surface the longer. This suggestion was at once acted upon and each time they dove they remained below a greater time.

In the course of the game one of the boys, Oohoosha, by name, discovered a flat projecting rock to which he could cling. As he lay holding fast to the rock after a dive he saw a hazy indistinct object approaching him and when it neared him he saw that it was a tall warrior whose smooth glistening body was the color of the sky or the color of clear water when the clouds pass over.

“Come with me,” said the man, in a friendly manner and although he had never heard this language before, Oohoosha strangely understood it now. So, marveling, he followed.

The dark green water began to clear and in the distance, he thought he saw a number of boys playing ball. The guide led Oohoosha into a large moss-covered council hall where a stout preacher, with a yellow and pink face, swaying body and large round eyes was declaiming to the people.

“God created all good things and made men as well as fish!” he shouted, as the bubbles floated up from his mouth. “The earth people are his children as well as we, so why should not we who know and foreknow many things, notify them that trouble is coming and warn them to avoid it?”

79“I will go,” said the boy’s friend, as he pulled his cap. “It is my office.”

The preacher rolled his eyes and looked at the speaker, with a shudder and then called out, “Gaă‘sioñdie´t’hă’ has promised to go. May he succeed!”

The preacher sat down and the dances began, and long and solemnly the people danced. After these ceremonies the boy’s friend told him that he must go up to the earth-world and warn men of disaster. He took him to his lodge and bade him care for it during his absence. He was to have free access to everything save the back room of the lodge which he must shun. With a few general instructions he departed, leaving Oohoosha to care for his interests.

For four moons the boy kept watch, over the lodge and dwelt there but no one came near him, and when at last the friend returned Oohoosha asked how he had fared.

“Ah!” sighed the man, “do not ask me. You must not stay here longer, for in my madness you may see me as I am. I am the messenger of death. He is Sondowekowa, I am Gahachendietoh. I am in disguise but should you see me you would soon die, so depart and preach what I whisper that henceforth mankind may profit.”

With trembling limbs and blanched face the boy listened to the whispered words of his friend and when he had learned all, he shot upward to the surface of the lake. Striking out he swam to the shore and searching beneath a rock shelter he found his clothing as fresh as when he had doffed them. Dressing, he set out to find his comrade. He came to the village but found on its site only charred and blackened frames. A deep-trodden trail bordered with the bones of dogs and fragments of kettles led away to the west, and following it Oohoosha saw a new village, but only a few houses were there. The people who moved like ghosts silently about were gaunt and scarred.

Suddenly a lodge door opened and out rushed his old comrade, who seeing Oohoosha, drew back with a cry of 80fear and surprise; but Oohosha calling, he came forward timidly and took his hand. Looking at him doubtfully he spoke.

“Oh, Oohoosha!” he cried. “How came you back from death! I thought you drowned four moons ago when we dived in the lake.”

“While I clung to a rock,” answered Oohoosha, “a man came to me and said ‘follow!’ I did not drown but lived this while in the underwater world. Now, tell me, why is the village so altered and why do the people stalk silently about, with dull eyes?”

“Ah me!” said the comrade. “A devastating war has been waged and we are reduced in number; a terrible famine has swept away the game and crops; a pestilence carried away all but a handful of our people, then to add to our trouble a marauding band came and burned our village while we slept.”

“And did no warning sign appear?” asked Oohoosha.

“Yes, but we knew it not as such until it was long too late and then we noticed a blue panther floating high in the trees. He had no visible face but from his tail shot flames of fire.”^[13]

“That creature,” exclaimed Oohoosha, “is the herald of disaster. His name is Gaă‘sioñdie´t’hă’ and when he is seen all men must burn tobacco. Tobacco incense is the sign that disaster is not wanted and when he has breathed it he will go away satisfied with the offering and turn aside the impending evil. But come, I must call a council and tell the people.”

In the days of the first people, before the creation of our kind of man-beings, there were seven brothers. All were hunters, but one was not as skillful as the others, and he was called the Lazy One.

The brothers on a certain occasion had failed to find any game though they had hunted many moons. They became very hungry and their minds were charged with magic because of their long fast. When their hunger seemed unendurable they resolved to go out and make one last effort to find game. One brother was reluctant to go and clung to his bed, but the others wrestled with him and forced him to go with them, but he assumed to be so weak that they had to make a burden litter upon which they carried him. Four brothers carried this burden, one went before with a torch and one behind with a kettle, hoping for food.

When they had gone a long way in this manner the leading brother said: “By aid of my torch I see the tracks of a large bear. I believe that we shall soon overtake him.” When he had said this the lazy brother in the litter said, “I am very weak and you must bathe me with your salivary fluid.”^[14] They paused to do this though the brothers did not like to delay their hunt.

After a time the bear tracks appeared to be fresh before them and all five brothers made ready for the hunt. The rear brother commenced to gather firewood for the feast. Thus they traveled for three days more until the bear appeared just ahead. “We must now abandon you, brother,” said the litter-bearers, “for we are weak and all of us shall have to assist in killing him before he overpowers us. Now, we shall leave you here alone and we hope you may recover.”

82When the lazy brother found himself abandoned he leaped up and ran ahead. Being full of power from the bath he had received and from his rest, he quickly engaged the bear and killed it with an axe.

When his brothers came up he had skinned the bear and had cut off some meat. Soon the brother who bore the torch made a fire and the brother with the kettle had placed the meat therein.

When all were satisfied they looked about them and discovered that they were far up in the air and that the earth was a good ways below them. They looked down and saw that the blood and oil from the bear had stained the leaves of the trees and made them red, orange and yellow. This is how the autumn leaves became colored.

After a time they went on their journey and soon found that the bear had revived, though they had killed and eaten him. So they again pursued him, being hungry, and when they killed him it was autumn again.

This bear chase keeps up all the time,—year after year, and has been so since the first people came. If you will look into the sky where the bear-chase cluster is seen to the north, you will find the man with the torch at the end of the group (big dipper or great bear constellation), and will see the man with the pot in the middle of the handle.

It seems also that there is a cave in which the bear hides and out of which he comes at the time the brothers are very hungry. Then he is pursued until killed by the brother who has saved his strength. This keeps on forever. So we call those stars Nia´gwai’ hadēs´he’ (Bear they pursuing are).

Seven brothers^[16] had been trained as young warriors. Each day they practised in front of their mother’s lodge, but this did not please the mother. With the boys was an uncle whose custom it was to sit outside the lodge door and drum upon a water drum, that the boys might learn to dance correctly.

In time the boys became perfect in their dancing, and then announced that they were about to depart on an expedition to test their skill. The seven assembled about the war post and began their dance. They then went into their mother’s lodge and asked her to supply them with dried meat and parched corn for their journey but she sent them away, scoffing at their presumptions.

Again they danced and again returned for food. “I will not give you so much as a small cake of corn bread,” said the mother hoping to restrain them. But they went back to their dance. A third time they returned but again were repulsed.

The fourth dance started and the oldest youth changed his tune to the song of Djihaya. With great enthusiasm he sang compelling his brothers to dance a dance of magic.

Hearing the wierd music the mother rushed out of the lodge and saw her sons dancing in the air over the trees. This greatly startled her and she cried, “Return, my sons! What manner of departure is this?” But the song continued and the boys danced higher and higher.

Again the mother cried, “Oh, my eldest son, will you not return?” But the eldest son would not listen, though his heart was touched. Then the mother screamed, “Oh my eldest son, will you not hear your mother’s voice? Only look down to me!” Then was the oldest son’s heart touched 84very deeply, but he did not respond, for fear of making his brothers weak.

“Oh my brothers,” he called. “Heed no sounds from the earth but continue dancing. If you look down you shall fall and never more be able to dance.”

The mother now gave a heart-broken cry and called, “Oh my first born son, give your mother one look,—one last look or I die!” This weakened the heart of the oldest son and he looked down toward the figure of his mother with outstretched arms, weeping for him.

As he looked he lost his power to master the air, and began to fall. With great rapidity he fell until he struck the earth and penetrated it, leaving only a scar where the soil came together again.

The mother rushed to the spot and swept aside the rubbish, but no trace of her son could she find. Finally looking up she saw her other boys dancing far up in the sky. They had become the “dancing stars.”

In deep sorrow the mother with covered head sat beside the spot where her first born had fallen. For a whole year she wept as she watched.

Winter came and her dancing boys appeared over the council house and each night were observed overhead, but no sign of her eldest could be seen.

Came springtime and the time of budding plants. From the spot where the eldest had disappeared a tiny green shoot appeared. This the mother watched with great solicitude. It grew into a tall tree and became the first pine. This tree was guarded by the melancholy old woman and she would allow no man to touch it; she knew that it was her son and would sometime speak to her.

The winds blew and the tree swayed, it began to speak, and the mother heard. Only she could interpret the sounds that came from the waving branches, only she could see the face of the young warrior with his plumes.

A careless hunter slashed at the tree and blood flowed, 85but the mother bound up the wound and drove other intruders away. In time the tree bore small short feathers (cones), and more trees grew. These the hunters slashed in order to get pitch for canoes and ropes.

Every winter the pine tree talked to its dancing brothers in the sky and the mother knew that her eldest son should be her comfort while she rested on this earth.

GENERAL NOTES. This legend I had from Edward Cornplanter but being so familiar with it I made only a few rough notes which I have transcribed. This myth is similar to the Huron and Wyandot forms recounting the origin of “the cluster.”

Now this even happened a long time ago in the days when the whole world was new. Our Creator it was (S‘hoñgwadiĕnnu’k´dăon), had finished his work.

One of the first men beings lived with his nephew in a lodge near a river. The river was broad and had a wide sandy shore. The nephew received the name Djinaĕñ’´dă’ and his uncle sent him away to dream on the shore of the river, there to stay and dream until his dream helpers appeared. For a long time he did not eat, but drank water and sweat himself in a sweat lodge.

One night he thought that he saw a light upon the water and he looked and saw lights moving toward him. Hiding in the reeds on the shore he watched. Soon he saw seven shining young women dancing^[18] in the water against the shore and they made no splashing but went up and down. He heard them speak but could not understand what they said. He observed them all intently, for all were without clothing and were very beautiful of body. The youngest appeared the most beautiful of all. The young man watched her and thought that she would do for a wife.

Hoping to catch her he rushed out from his hiding place but the maidens were alarmed and leaped into a great corn basket and were drawn rapidly up into the sky and he looked and said, “They are dancing,” (De‘hoñnont´gwĕⁿ‘).

Djinaĕñ’´dă’ (Elk) continued his vigil and the next night he saw the dancers swing back over the water in their basket. Soon they came to the shore and alighted. Again he heard their voices and again they began their bewitching dance. Djinaenda’s eyes were upon the youngest dancer and she appeared more beautiful than ever. He waited until she danced very near to him and away from the 87basket, then he rushed out from his hiding place and pursued the maidens, at length grasping the youngest before she touched the basket, but she gave a leap, and the youth holding to her was drawn upward as she fell into the basket. She looked to see who held her so tightly and immediately both fell to the earth.

The maiden gazed upon Djinaenda and asked him what he wanted. “I want to marry you,” he said. “You have caused me to love you.”

“Then we shall be married,” said the maiden, “but we must return to the sky and prepare for living upon the earth.” So the basket came down and drew them into the sky.

Djinaenda was taken to the lodge of the dancing sisters and then led to the lodge of a great chief who caused him to recline upon the ground. The chief then took him apart, joint by joint and removed all his organs. After cleansing them he replaced them and Djinaenda was regenerated. He now felt very strong and able to do mighty things.

His bride now came to him and said that she would now return to the earth with him and live as his wife. The sisters then placed the couple in the basket and lowered them to the earth. They came down on the beach of the river but it was changed and there was a great village of men beings there.

Djinaenda inquired where his uncle lived but no one knew. Finally an old man said, “An old man such as you describe lived in the woods with his nephew near this place more than a hundred years ago.”

The couple now tried to live contentedly but could not understand the ways of the people, and so, in time the two returned to the sky. The wife rejoined her sisters but she had lost her brightness, and Djinaenda roamed the sky world hunting game which he captured by running it down.

My grandmother told me that they are up there yet.

In the ancient times when this world was new an old man wandered over the land in search of a suitable camping spot. He was a fierce old man and had long white flowing hair. The ground grew hard like flint where his footsteps fell, and when he breathed the leaves and grasses dropped and dried up red, and fell. When he splashed through the rivers the water stopped running and stood solid.

On and on the old man journeyed until at last on the shores of a great lake by a high mountain he halted. He gathered the trees that had been uprooted by hurricanes and made a framework for a dwelling. He built the walls of ice and plastered the crevices with branches and snow. Then, to guard his lodge against the intruder, he placed uprooted stumps about on every side. Not even bad animals cared to enter this house. Everything living passed by it at a distance. It was like a magician’s house.

The old man had but one friend. It was North Wind, and it was he alone who might enter the door of the stronghold and sit by the fire. Very wonderful was this fire and it gave flames and light but no heat! But even North Wind found little time to enter and smoke with the old man, for he took greater pleasure in piling high the snow and driving hail, like flints, against the shivering deer or hungry storm bound hunter. He liked to kill them. There came times, however, when North Wind needed new tricks and so he sought the advice of the old man,—how he might pile up the snow banks higher, how he might cause famine or make great snow-slides to bury Indian villages.

One very dismal night both North Wind and the old man sat smoking, half awake and half dreaming. North Wind could think of nothing new and the old man could give no more advice. So, sitting before the fire, both fell 89asleep. Towards morning each sprang to his feet with a cry. Not their usual cries, either, were their startled yells, for instead of a shrill “agēē! agēē! agēē!” the North Wind only gasped hoarsely and the old man’s jaw opened with a smack and his tongue, thick and swollen rolled out on his chin. Then spoke the North Wind:

“What warm thing has bewitched me? The drifts are sinking, the rivers breaking, the ice is steaming, the snow is smoking!”

The old man was silent, too sleepy to speak. He only thought, “My house is strong, very strong.” Still the North Wind called loudly:

“See, the rivers are swelling full, the drifts are getting smaller.”

Then he rushed from the lodge, and he flew to the mountain top where snow made him brave again. So he was happy and sang a war song as he danced on snow crust.

At the lodge of the old man a stranger struck the doorpost. The old man did not move, but dozing, thought, “oh some prank of North Wind.” The knocking continued and the old man grew more sleepy. The door rattled on its fastenings but the old man’s head did not raise to listen but dropped on his chest and his pipe fell down to his feet.

The logs of the lodge frame shook,—one fell from the roof. The old man jumped to his feet with a war yell.

“Who is it that dares come to my house in this way? Only my friend North Wind enters here. Go away, no loafers here!”

In answer the door fell down and a stranger stood in the opening. He entered and hung the door upright again. His face was smiling and as he stirred the fire, it grew warmer inside. The old man looked at the stranger but did not answer his pleasant words, but his heart was very angry. Finally when he could no longer keep silent he burst forth:

“You are a stranger to me and have entered my lodge, 90breaking down my door. Why have you broken down my door? Why have your eyes a fire? Why does light shine from your skin? Why do you go about without skins when the wind is sharp? Why do you stir up my fire when you are young and need no warmth? Why do you not fall on my wolf skins and sleep? Did not North Wind blow the sun far away? Go away now before he returns, and blows you against the mountains. I do not know you. You do not belong in my lodge!”

The young stranger laughed and said, “Oh why not let me stay a little longer and smoke my pipe?”

“Then listen to me,” yelled the old man in anger. “I am mighty! All snows and ice and frosts are my making. I tell the North Wind to cut the skins of men to let the blood through to make war paint on the drifts. I tell him to freeze things that are food. Birds and animals run away from the North Wind. I pile the drifts on the rocks on the mountains and when it gets very high the North Wind knocks it off to crush the villages beneath.”

Listlessly the stranger viewed the raving old man, and only smiled and said, “I like to be sociable, let me stay a little longer and we will smoke together.”

So, shaking with fear, the old man took the pipe and drew a breath of smoke and then the warrior sang.

“Continue to smoke for me, I am young and warm, I am not afraid of boasting, I am young and strong. Better wrap up, you are old. I am here. I am here, keep on smoking. I am Dedio‘s‘nwineq´doⁿ, the Spring. Look at your hair, it is falling out, look at the drifts, they are melting. My hair is long and glossy, see—the grasses are sprouting! I want to smoke with you. I like smoking. See—the ground is smoking! My friend Dăgā´ĕⁿ‘´dă, the South Wind, is coming. I guess your friend is dead. You had better wrap up and go away. There is a place. You cannot own all things always. See—the sun is shining. Look out now!”

91As the young warrior sang the old man shrank very small and shriveled up smaller until his voice only whispered, “I don’t know you!”

And so the young warrior sang, “I am the Spring, I am the chief now. The South Wind is coming. Don’t be late. You can go yet while I sing.”

A rushing wind made the lodge tremble, the door fell in and an eagle swooped down and carried Hă’´t‘howā´ne‘ away toward the north.

The lodge fire was out and where it had burned a plant was growing and where the provisions were buried in a hole a tree was starting to have buds.

The sun was shining and it was warm. The swollen rivers carried away the ice. So the winter went away and in the morning it was spring time.

When the world was first made men-beings did not know that they must die sometime.

In those days everyone was happy and neither men and women nor children were afraid of anything. They did not think of anything but doing what pleased them. At one time, in those days, a prominent man was found prone upon the grass. He was limp and had no breath. He did not breathe. The men-beings that saw him did not know what had happened. The man was not asleep because he did not awaken. When they placed him on his feet he fell like a tanned skin. He was limp. They tried many days to make him stand but he would not. After a number of days he became offensive.

A female man-being said that the man must be wrapped up and put in the limbs of a tree. So the men did so and after a while the flesh dropped from the bones and some dried on. No one knew what had happened to cause such a thing.

Soon afterward a child was found in the same condition. It had no breath. It could not stand. It was not asleep, so they said. The men-beings thought it was strange that a girl man-being should act this way. So she was laid in a tree.

Now many others did these things and no one knew why. No one thought that he himself would do such a thing.

There was one wise man who thought much about these things and he had a dream. When he slept the Good Minded Spirit came to him and spoke. He slept a long time but the other men-beings noticed that he breathed slowly. He breathed (nevertheless). Now after a time this man rose up and his face was very solemn. He called the people 93together in a council and addressed the people. The head men all sat around with the people.

The wise man spoke and he said, “The Good Minded spirit made every good thing and prepared the earth for men-beings. Now it appears that strange events have happened. A good word has come to me from the Good Minded spirit. He says that every person must do as you have seen the other persons do. They have died. They do not breathe. It will be the same with all of you. Your minds are strong. The Good Minded spirit made them that way so that you could endure everything that happened. So then do not be downcast when I tell you all must die. Listen further to what I say. The name of the one that steals away your breath is Shondowekowa. He has no face and does not see anyone. You cannot see him until he grasps you. He comes sometimes for a visit and sometimes he stays with us until many are dead. Sometimes he takes away the best men and women and passes by the lesser ones. I was not told why he does this thing. He wants to destroy every person. He will continue to work forever. Every one who hears me and every one not yet born will die. There is more about you than living. Any moment you may be snatched by Shondowekowa, he who works in the thick darkness.

“You must now divide yourselves into nine bands, five to sit on one side of the fire and four on the other and these bands shall care for its members. You must seek out all good things and instruct one another, and those who do good things will see the place where the Maker of all things lives when their breath goes out of their body”.

There was once a boy who had no home. His parents were dead and his uncles would not care for him. In order to live this boy, whose name was Gaqka, or Crow, made a bower of branches for an abiding place and hunted birds and squirrels for food.

He had almost no clothing but was very ragged and dirty. When the people from the village saw him they called him Filth-Covered-One, and laughed as they passed by, holding their noses. No one thought he would ever amount to anything, which made him feel heavy-hearted. He resolved to go away from his tormentors and become a great hunter.

One night Gaqka found a canoe. He had never seen this canoe before, so he took it. Stepping in he grasped the paddle, when the canoe immediately shot into the air, and he paddled above the clouds and under the moon. For a long time he went always southward. Finally the canoe dropped into a river and then Gaqka paddled for shore.

On the other side of the river was a great cliff that had a face that looked like a man. It was at the forks of the river where this cliff stood. The boy resolved to make his home on the top of the cliff and so climbed it and built a bark cabin.

The first night he sat on the edge of the cliff he heard a voice saying, “Give me some tobacco.” Looking around the boy, seeing no one, replied, “Why should I give tobacco?”

There was no answer and the boy began to fix his arrows for the next day’s hunt. After a while the voice spoke again, “Give me some tobacco.”

98Gaqka now took out some tobacco and threw it over the cliff. The voice spoke again: “Now I will tell you a story.”

Feeling greatly awed the boy listened to a story that seemed to come directly out of the rock upon which he was sitting. Finally the voice paused, for the story had ended. Then it spoke again saying, “It shall be the custom hereafter to present me with a small gift for my stories.” So the boy gave the rock a few bone beads. Then the rock said, “Hereafter when I speak, announcing that I shall tell a story you must say, ‘Nio,’ and as I speak you must say ‘Hĕⁿ‘´,’ that I may know that you are listening. You must never fall asleep but continue to listen until I say ‘Dā´neho nigagā´is.’ (So thus finished is the length of my story). Then you shall give me presents and I shall be satisfied.”

The next day the boy hunted and killed a great many birds. These he made into soup and roasts. He skinned the birds and saved the skins, keeping them in a bag.

That evening the boy sat on the rock again and looked westward at the sinking sun. He wondered if his friend would speak again. While waiting he chipped some new arrow-points, and made them very small so that he could use them in a blow gun. Suddenly, as he worked, he heard the voice again. “Give me some tobacco to smoke,” it said. Gaqka threw a pinch of tobacco over the cliff and the voice said, “Hau’nio’´,” and commenced a story. Long into the night one wonderful tale after another flowed from the rock, until it called out, “So thus finished is the length of my story.” Gaqka was sorry to have the stories ended but he gave the rock an awl made from a bird’s leg and a pinch of tobacco.

The next day the boy hunted far to the east and there found a village. Nobody knew who he was but he soon found many friends. There were some hunters who offered to teach him how to kill big game, and these went with him to his own camp on the high rock. At night he allowed them to listen to the stories that came forth from the rock, 99but it would speak only when Gaqka was present. He therefore had many friends with whom to hunt.

Now after a time Gaqka made a new suit of clothing from deer skin and desired to obtain a decorated pouch. He, therefore, went to the village and found one house where there were two daughters living with an old mother. He asked that a pouch be made and the youngest daughter spoke up and said, “It is now finished. I have been waiting for you to come for it.” So she gave him a handsome pouch.

Then the old mother spoke, saying, “I now perceive that my future son-in-law has passed through the door and is here.” Soon thereafter, the younger woman brought Gaqka a basket of bread and said, “My mother greatly desires that you should marry me.” Gaqka looked at the girl and was satisfied, and ate the bread. The older daughter was greatly displeased and frowned in an evil manner.

That night the bride said to her husband, “We must now go away. My older sister will kill you for she is jealous.” So Gaqka arose and took his bride to his own lodge. Soon the rock spoke and began to relate wonder stories of things that happened in the old days. The bride was not surprised, but said, “This standing rock, indeed, is my grandfather. I will now present you with a pouch into which you must put a trophy for every tale related.”

All winter long the young couple stayed in the lodge on the great rock and heard all the wonder tales of the old days. Gaqka’s bag was full of stories and he knew all the lore of former times.

As springtime came the bride said, “We must now go north to your own people and you shall become a great man.” But Gaqka was sad and said, “Alas, in my own country I am an outcast and called by an unpleasant name.”

The bride only laughed, saying, “Nevertheless we shall go north.”

Taking their pelts and birdskins, the young couple descended 100the cliff and seated themselves in the canoe. “This is my canoe,” said the bride. “I sent it through the air to you.”

The bride seated herself in the bow of the canoe and Gaqka in the stern. Grasping a paddle he swept it through the water, but soon the canoe arose and went through the air. Meanwhile the bride was singing all kinds of songs, which Gaqka learned as he paddled.

When they reached the north, the bride said, “Now I shall remove your clothing and take all the scars from your face and body.” She then caused him to pass through a hollow log, and when Gaqka emerged from the other end he was dressed in the finest clothing and was a handsome man.

Together the two walked to the village where the people came out to see them. After a while Gaqka said, “I am the boy whom you once were accustomed to call ‘Cia’´dōdă’.’ I have now returned.” That night the people of the village gathered around and listened to the tales he told, and he instructed them to give him small presents and tobacco. He would plunge his hand in his pouch and take out a trophy, saying, “Ho ho’! So here is another one!” and then looking at his trophy would relate an ancient tale.

Everybody now thought Gaqka a great man and listened to his stories. He was the first man to find out all about the adventures of the old-time people. That is why there are so many legends now.

Now (it seems), there were twin brothers one named Younger and the other Driven. The brothers were accustomed to play about two hills. Driven would go up one hill and jump to the summit of the other. Younger would stay in the valley between and amuse himself by shooting arrows at him as he jumped. Now as Driven jumped Younger sang a song:

Now their grandmother always forbade them to use a certain arrow. This arrow belonged to their father who used it. They played day after day in this manner. After some time they began to discuss among themselves why it was that their grandmother had forbidden them to use the arrow. Then they decided notwithstanding to use the arrow. So Driven ascended the hill and made ready to jump. Then Younger fixed his arrow ready to shoot. Then Driven jumped and Younger shot the arrow. Now an arrow never before had struck Driven as he jumped but this forbidden arrow pierced his body and carried him in a northward direction. Now as he flew with the arrow the arrow sang,

because it was feathered with the feathers of a wild duck. When Younger saw what calamity his arrow had wrought he gave a scream of alarm and started off in the direction of the arrow. He ran a long distance and after some time found the body of his brother transfixed to the earth with the arrow. He was not dead so he lifted him up and placed him on his back. Then Driven directed him to follow a northward road.

102“There is a house a certain distance away,” said Driven, “where a number of women are gathered dancing. We must pass this house but we must not look upon them. Oh brother, cast not your eyes upon one of them!”

Now as they passed along they heard the women singing. They heard the echo of the songs and the sound of dancing. Soon they came near the house and the women saw them and called out inviting them to look up and see them. “Oh what have you on your back? Look up and behold us!” Now Younger did not look up nor did he make reply for he knew that the women were witches and that one glance of their eyes would be fatal to him. So when he passed by he kept his eyes directed to the ground and stooped over. So then they were safe.

Now again the brother spoke and said, “There is yet one more danger and it is the last. It may be fatal. A company of women is making a quilt of young men’s eyes. They gouge out the eyes of young men and sew them into a blanket (quilt). Now the eyes live and wink as in life for the skin of the eyelids are with the eyes. Now we must pass through their lodge and if we can do so without looking at the awful quilt we will be safe then.”

Now the lodge was a long one and when the two brothers entered the women saw them and said, “Bend not so low. Look up and see the beautiful quilt we are making. It is beautiful. What is it that you have upon your back? Look up!” Younger gave no heed to the words of the women but continued through the room. They were about to emerge from the door at the back when one woman held the quilt before the eyes of Younger. She held it where he saw it. Then Younger saw no more. He was blind and he had no eyes in his eye-sockets; they had jumped out and into the quilt. Driven leaped from his back and jumped out of the door. He did not know where Driven went.

Now Younger could not see, so he crept on his hands 103and knees. He crept a long ways and after a time he came to a place where corn was planted. There he halted for he thought that some one would surely notice him when they came to examine the corn. So he lay down there, and there he lay day after day. After a long time he heard the sound of a woman’s voice singing. And soon the woman saw him and was surprised to find a man in the field. She ran home to her sister and told her that a man was in the field and that he had no eyes in his eye-sockets. He was a human being, blind and alive. His eye-sockets were hollow. Then the older sister said, “We must not leave a human being in distress. We must take him into our house and nurse him to health. He will be a companion for us. We are alone.” So they went and found him and brought him to their house. They cleansed him and fed him on bear’s oil, for he had not eaten for a long time. Afterwards he was given stronger food. They gave him nourishment until he was stronger. After a time he grew strong and then they asked him how he came to be in so bad a condition. So he related how it happened.

“I was passing through a house,” he said, “and there were women within making a quilt of young men’s eyes. They put the quilt under my face and I saw and then I became blind. My brother was on my back for an arrow was through him. He disappeared. I know not where my brother is. So did the accident happen.”

Now Younger recovered his strength and then the older sister said, “You must marry my younger sister and live here as our companion.” So he consented and married the younger sister.

Now it appeared that after a certain time his wife gave birth to twins, boys. The older one they named Hanonni-da, meaning, he is a thistle, and the younger one they called Ho-da-da-o meaning, he cries. At the time of their birth the older sister called out their names and tossed them into the adjoining room. Then she told the husband that he was 104the father of twins and he gave thanks. Now the children seemed to be wizards. They did not suckle but played alone together in the room. No one talked to them but they talked. After a time they asked for a net ball that they might play lacrosse. So a net, a net-club and ball were brought to them. Then they played lacrosse in the room. Then they went out doors and played and again they went into the ground under the house and played. After a time they asked for bows and arrows. Then they went away for long periods of time, no one knew where. After a time the older sister brought them into the living room and said, “It is time for you to see your father.” So they said, “We will see our father.” Then the father felt over them for the first time and touched them. They climbed over his lap and played with him. After a time they began to laugh at him and the Last said, “How can he be my father since he has no eyes? I believe that he is not my father.” Then he asked his father, “Where are your eyes?” Then the father answered him, “In a certain place there are women making a quilt from young men’s eyes. Once I had to pass through their house and I would not look upon the quilt but they forced it under my face and that was the last that I saw. My brother was on my back and he jumped. Now I know not where my brother is. He has gone from me.” The Last replied, “Father, we will go there and get back your eyes.” But the older folk said, “Do not try, the women are horrible witches and we would lose you. We forbid you to go. So do not go.” So the boys went out and played together.

The two sisters went out after a time to get provisions and the father was left alone with the boys. He heard them talking together. It was strange and he did not understand them. “Hang on, hang on,” they were saying. “Hang on and after a time we will reach where father is and he will help us.” So they talked and pulled and called out each other’s names. Now it happened that they took their father 105by the hand and placed upon him the body of a human being. They had pulled it up through the ground. Now the body of the man they had, had an arrow in his chest. Also he had no eyes in his eye-sockets and he was nearly dead. The man was the father’s brother. Then the children said, “We will go and borrow some eyes for you that you may look upon each other.” So they went into the forest and when they had found a fawn they asked if she would give her consent if they should ask for her eyes to put in their father’s eye-sockets. The fawn consented when she heard their story and gave them her eyes. So they gave her moss to eat while they were gone. They went home with the fawn’s eyes and placed them in the father’s eye-sockets. Then he saw how his children looked and he was glad. So, moreover, they saw how he appeared when he had eyes in his eye-sockets. And they said, “Father, how long your eyelashes are!” for the fawn’s eyelashes were long. Now also the father saw his brother and was glad that it was he. Then said the boys, “We are now going in search of both of your eyes and you will have a joyous time.” Then they took the eyes of the fawn and carried them back to her and thanked her for their use.

Now they went on their journey to the place where their father had told them the house of the women quilting was. After a time they found it. Now on their way they had been discussing their plans. They decided to hide at the spring. Last was to transform himself into a duck and Thistle-like was to wait in hiding. They reached the spring and the younger brother changed himself into a duck and swam upon the surface of the spring. The older brother hid himself. Now after a time the youngest sister from the house came down to the spring for water and saw a duck swimming in the spring. So she tried to catch him but the duck dodged whenever she tried to grasp him. Then as she jumped over the spring the duck entered her body. Then she went home and the old woman of the house said, 106“Daughter you look as if you would soon have a child. It must be by the Creator for no man has passed this way.” So after a short time the daughter gave birth to a boy and the mother said, “It must be the gift of the Creator for no man has passed by.” Now the child would cry and would only be pacified when some valuable object was shown him. But soon again he would cry and they would show him another treasure. Now he began to cry very hard and nothing would pacify him, not even all their valued treasures. So the old woman said, perhaps the quilt of human eyes would please him, so the quilt was brought and he ceased crying and played with the quilt. Then the women all went out to work in the field. Now when they were gone he took the quilt and folded it and ran out of the house. The women discovered him and pursued him with hammers. They closed about him endeavoring to strike him but he dodged and they struck each other and killed each other, all but one and he killed her. Then he went and found his brother.

Now they returned home and greeted their father. They asked him what kind of eyes he had had and the father answered, “Oh they were peculiar eyes. They had a reddish cast.” Now the Last found the eyes and took them off the quilt and placed them back in his father’s eye-sockets. And when the father had his own eyes he said, “There are the eyes of my brother.” So the boys took them from the quilt and placed them in their uncle’s eye-sockets. And they saw each other and were very glad. Then the younger twin said, “We must now go and find the bones of the dead and restore them their eyes.” So they went and found the graves of the dead and gathered together all their skeletons,—half as many as there were eyes. And a voice from the pile spoke and said, “We are under the cover of a white bear.” So the boys found a white bear and skinned it and built a lodge like a sweat lodge and covered it over with the skin of the white bear. In the lodge they placed the bones of the dead men. In a short time the 107wigwam began to quiver and then the younger brother ran to an elm tree and began to kick it and it fell over and as it was falling he cried, “The tree is falling upon you. Flee for your lives.”

Now as they heard his warning the skeletons arose and ran out of the wigwam and into the woods. Now the eyes had been placed upon the skulls and the people had time to select their own, but Last was too hasty in kicking over the tree and they had little time to find their own bones. Thus when they came together in the woods they found themselves in a mixed condition. Some had legs too short, some had long arms and short legs,—their limbs, ribs, feet and finer bones were mismated. Then Last was sorry he had been so hasty. So he asked them all where they lived and some knew but some did not. He told all that knew to go to their homes and he told all that did not to come home with him. Now they went home with him but the house was too small to contain all. Then Last paced out the dimensions of a large house and his footprints outlining it were on the ground. Then he commanded a house to spring up and it did and was large enough to hold all the men and they lived there. Now these were cripples and deformed people and from them sprang the deformed and ugly people of today. Now the uncle recovered his health and the older sister married him so there were two couples in the house. So everything came out well and everyone was happy. So the legend ends.

NOTE.—The legend of the magic arrow and the quilt of eyes is a typical Seneca transformation myth. Its characteristic elements are, the orenda of twins, the magic arrow which they were forbidden to use, the transfixing of one party with an arrow and the tests of magic. The conception of the quilt of young men’s eyes appears in other stories, as also does that of borrowing eyes from animals to assist persons who had lost their eyeballs. The theme of the magical twins who grew to immediate maturity and played under the ground is also one employed elsewhere. The idea of conception through entering into a female to be born of her, also is a more or less frequent episode. As in other legends, the hero who acquires great orenda ends his career by restoring the bones of the magically slain and hastening their resurrection to such an extent that they appear with mismated limbs, thereby being the first monsters and cripples.

This legend was related in the Seneca tongue by Edward Cornplanter, and translated by William Bluesky, whose language forms the bulk of the version here presented. Certain corrections were made after reading the recorded account to Cornplanter.

In a clearing in a thick pine forest there lived an old man and woman. Their lodge was far away from any Indian village, for they had no liking for the company of other people. They were a strange couple and often talked with trees, and the trees would answer them.

With the old folk lived a boy, their grandson, but he found no pleasure in the society of his grandparents, for they would never speak to him except to admonish him not to wander beyond certain limits.

“Go east, go west, go north,” they said, “but not away from the sound of the corn grinder. We have named you Corn Grinder so that you remember. Listen, never go south. Remember!”

Each morning after breakfast Corn Grinder would run into the woods with his bow and pass his time hunting birds. He became an expert marksman and could bring down a bird as far as his arrow could fly. By the time he was twelve years old he was familiar with the woods, to the east, the west and the north as far as the sound of his grandmother’s corn grinder reached. As he grew older he began to wonder why it was that daily the old people repeated the same old charge. “Go east, go west, go north, but not away from the sound of the grinder. Never go south!”

“Ho!” he exclaimed, “I will go south as far as I please.”

Taking his bow and quiver he ran from the lodge, skirted the clearing and came around to the southern border. With arrow fixed for instant use he skulked from tree to tree. He was going toward the forbidden south! Surely there must be some hideous monsters, poisonous reptiles or terrible witches here, that made his grandparents enjoin him to shun the south woods. They would not tell him what 109it was and because of this he was determined to find out at any cost. He listened at every footstep and glanced anxiously in every direction. His fears began to subside, however, when he saw nothing unusual. The same kind of birds flew in the trees and fell when his arrows pierced them. Plainly there were no witches here. He strode on bolder than before nor halted until in the distance he heard the sound of a corn mortar. He was on the alert in an instant, dropped on his hands and knees and crawled forward, covering his approach by the trunks of the pines. Presently he saw a few paces ahead an opening and drawing nearer saw an immense bark lodge in the clearing. A gigantic woman was standing beneath a tall tree cooking corn soup in a huge kettle. An extraordinarily large baby board leaned against the tree but no baby was in sight. Crawling, serpent-like, he wriggled his way through the high grass to the lodge. Entering it he saw a large fat baby, tall as a warrior and as fat as an old woman. The day was hot and the baby was without clothing as it lay on a couch of skins. Peering stealthily from the door he saw that the giantess was coming toward the lodge. Trembling yet determined to learn all he could of the strange folk, he concealed himself under the hemlock branches beneath the bed.

The woman came in and stretched herself out on the floor for a nap. The baby commenced to cry and then nearly crushed Corn Grinder by rolling over the very spot beneath which he lay. This made Corn Grinder angry indeed, and crawling out as best he could he ran from the lodge, skimmed a ladle full of scalding grease from the soup and running in threw it upon the baby’s abdomen and fled to the edge of the woods.

The infant awoke with a piercing shriek and began rubbing its stomach in frenzy, howling like a stricken wolf with agony. This awoke the mother who did her best to 110soothe her child and discover how it had been so mysteriously injured.

Meanwhile little Corn Grinder had thrown a bunch of pungent weeds into the soup and hastily concealed himself in a thicket.

Soon the gigantic woman emerged from the lodge and began stirring the soup. She drew a deep breath as its appetizing vapors reached her nostrils and said, “Age-wiu, how good!” Presently she began to sneeze. Again she sneezed and again and again, until she could scarcely stand, tears streaming from her eyes, water from her nose and saliva from her mouth. “Agē! Agē!” she gasped, “Some witch must be near.”

Little Corn Grinder chuckled with glee and rolled over and over, his sides quaking with merriment, to think how his weeds were destroying the giantess.

The fire died down, the steam ceased rising and the strangely affected woman stopped sneezing. The soup was done by this time and going back to the house the woman strapped the baby to the board and grasping a basket of bread and meat in one hand and the kettle of soup in the other, started off in a southerly direction. Corn Grinder followed close behind and saw her stop at a huge dead tree.

sang the woman in a low voice. The ground beneath them rumbled and in a moment the tree opened and out stepped a tall giant saying “Onĕk to-ha!” He greeted the woman with a friendly slap, patted the baby and then poured a laddle-full of soup down his throat. The pungent weeds burned the giant’s mouth. Wildly he danced around the tree tearing up the sod and holding his mouth open, drew his breath in and out to cool his blistered throat and tongue. When the smarting sensation ceased he ran toward the offending dish, and gave the kettle a kick that sent it flying 111over the trees and spilling the soup over the frightened woman and baby. The angered giant then began to berate the giantess for the mean trick she had played on him and kept grumbling until he had devoured the bread and meat and disappeared into the tree.

Corn Grinder’s eyes bulged from his head and he shuddered as, ear to the ground, he heard strange subterranean roarings. “Wah!” he exclaimed, “why can not I say ‘Luk-ste, luk-ste’?”

Gliding through the grass and bushes he followed the woman back to the lodge where she began to wash corn previous to preparing another meal for the giant in the tree.

“When the sun stands high she’ll be ready again,” said Corn Grinder to himself. “Then I will say ‘Luk-ste, luk-ste!’—that’s fun.”

With this determination he crawled back and hid behind a tree facing the mysterious dead trunk.

When the sun had risen to the mid-heavens Corn Grinder arose from his hiding place and walking cautiously to the mysterious tree struck it sharply with his bow, singing in a low tone the woman’s song, then jumped quickly back and fixed his arrow for instant use.

The ground trembled, the tree shook, then opened and the giant came forth. He looked around in all directions and growled in rage when he failed to discover any one: “More tricks,” he yelled.

Corn Grinder watched his chance and when the giant’s back was turned, he let fly an arrow piercing him through the stomach. Without a groan the giant fell. Corn Grinder looked down the path, saw the woman coming and fled with all haste back through the forest to his grandparents’ lodge. Bursting in the door he exclaimed breathlessly, “Oh grandmother! I killed him, I killed him!”

“Hold on,” said his grandmother, “who did you kill? Tell me all about it.”

112Corn Grinder obeyed, omitting no detail of the adventure.

“Agē!” wailed the old woman. “You have killed your father, my own son. You must go on a long journey to a high mountain and obtain certain magical roots to restore him! You must go immediately! O grandson, why did you disobey us? How often did we tell you never to go south. All your family are wizards and witches and we hoped to save you! Agē, Agē!”

“I went, grandmother,” replied the boy, “because you told me not to go. If you had told me everything I should never have gone. Now hurry and get food for our journey,—two are going.”

As he was speaking the giantess and the baby came running down the path and rushed into the lodge.

“Corn Grinder has killed his father!” screamed the giantess.

“Where is he, where is he? We are going to kill him!”

“All right,” said Corn Grinder, popping out from under a bed, “kill me if you can.”

The furious giantess seized a corn mortar, the baby a pestle, and each strove to hit the boy with these weapons.

Corn Grinder dodged around in glee,—the excitement was exhilarating. The possibility of receiving a blow from the pestle or being smashed with a mortar made his feet nimble as never before. Finally when he had been hit and his doom seemed sealed he said to himself, “If I belong to the family of witches, I must be a witch as well,” and bounding into the air he jumped down the giantess’ mouth, slid down her throat, wrenched her heart from its fastenings and when she had fallen dead, he crawled out again, grabbed the pestle from the baby’s hands, cried “Da, da, da, da, da, da!” and killed the infant with a blow.

Without the least sign of excitement he said, “Now 113grandmother, hurry with my lunch. It will soon be dark and my friend and I wish to go early.”

“What friend?” asked the grandmother. “Why Da-ga-ga-we-so-da-de (Standing cob is coming),” replied Corn Grinder, “but you can’t see him. We have been companions since we were babies. Hurry, grandmother.”

Mutely the old woman obeyed and soon had a basket of food prepared for the journey.

Corn Grinder started on and entered the north woods where he must meet his friend Cob.

For a day they tramped through unknown forests, crossed mirey swamps and struggled through windfalls and at night lay down beneath a sheltering rock. The next day passed as the first, but the third presented increased obstacles. Wild beasts growled all around them. Toward noon, as Corn Grinder was munching a slice of corn bread, a monstrous dog rushed toward them. Ever prepared to ward off danger, Corn Grinder threw down his slice and spat out the morsel he was masticating. The dog bent his head to eat and the two boys ran out of sight, but not into safety, as they had imagined, for before them was a gigantic wild cat with wide open mouth. Without pausing in his flight Corn Grinder flung a chunk of meat into its jaws and ran faster than before. Exhausted, he sat down a moment to rest but as he did so a big bear rushed at him with a growl. Corn Grinder jumped form his seat, flung a dish of honey into its eyes and summing up all energy hurried on once more. Cob ran at his side and kept encouraging him to keep a stout heart.

At length they reached a clearing near the base of a mountain. Some one high in the air seemed singing a song over and over. They halted a moment and then pushed aside the underbrush, pausing again to listen to the song, which seemed growing louder. They were startled when they caught the words.

“Some strange thing is heralding our approach,” said 114Corn Grinder, and pushing aside the bushes he came out into the open.

A great multitude of people were assembled about a tall pine, shooting at something in the topmost branches of a tall pine. The two boys came nearer and noticed that whenever an arrow struck the tree near the creature in the branches, drops of water would run from its eyes and striking the ground become wampum. Corn Grinder was about to pull his bow when Cob struck his arm and said, “Stop! That is your father up there. Hurry on and let us get the medicine. If you do not soon his tears will cease to flow and they will kill him.”

The two boys ran panting through the crowd. Cob was invisible and Corn Grinder might as well have been for no one noticed him. They labored up a mountain, crossed great rocks and chasms and at sunset, in a deep rift in the mountain side, at the foot of a cataract found a wonderful plant.

“Grab it!” whispered Cob. “It is the medicine!”

Corn Grinder snatched at the plant, which flew from the ground and eluding his grasp soared upward but wary Cob with a high leap caught it by the roots before it was entirely beyond his grasp.

Cob instructed Corn Grinder to chew the roots of the plant and then rub his saliva over his body, his clothing, his bow and his arrows. This he did and felt new vigor thrilling every fiber. The journey down the mountain seemed easy and his feet were lighter than ever before.

Toward nightfall they reached the great pine again and saw people busy as before, shooting at the creature in the tree, but the tears were fewer and the wampum less.

“Hurry,” cried Cob. “Unless you shoot him before the next man’s arrow strikes he will truly be dead.”

Grinder spat on his arrows, rubbed the roots in his hair and then shot. The arrow struck the creature and it instantly vanished. Simultaneously, both Corn Grinder and Cob 115were pulled from their feet by some unseen force and sped through the air like the wind. High into the sky they went and when the moon began to shine they dropped down to earth again at the doorway of a new lodge, which they entered.

A woman was chanting a song to a baby. Corn Grinder looked closely and saw that it was the same woman and baby that he had killed but each had now become smaller. He looked back and saw the giant he had shot. He, too, had become smaller.

“I am your brother,” said the baby.

“I am your father,” said the man.

“I am your mother,” said the woman, “come, let us eat!”

GENERAL NOTES.—The story of Corn Grinder is another tale of an enchanted family. Corn Grinder is cared for by his grandparents who wish to shield him from his parents who are evilly magic people. He is told that he may venture from his grandmother’s lodge but to the south at no greater distance than the sound of the corn pounder, though in other directions he might go as far as he liked. The time comes when Corn Grinder resolves to disobey and travel south, where he discovers a lodge of giants and a gigantic infant. By craft he disturbs the giants, annoying them without being discovered, finally shooting the male giant. Rushing home he tells his grandmother who reveals to him that the giant is his father, and orders him to make haste to procure medicine roots to effect a restoration. When the giantess and infant pursue him to the lodge he escapes them and jumping down the giantess’ throat tears out her heart, soon afterward killing the infant.

He then reveals that he has an “unseen friend” who will aid him in his search for the medicine roots. After overcoming great dangers they obtain the roots and fly through the air to a new lodge where Corn Grinder discovers his parents restored to normal form. The injection of the beast in the tree wailing and transforming its tears into wampum brings into the story a common theme, that of a being excreting wampum. The songs and magical words used in this tale are not Seneca.

In the old days when the Senecas were strong on the Genesee there lived near a large hill that rose from a river, a boy and his uncle.

When the boy was born he was named Hatondas, meaning He goes to listen. This name was bestowed because just before his birth his mother had dreamed that when he should arrive at a marriageable age two singing women would come from afar to be his wives. The mother also dreamed that she would die. In order to prepare him for his marriage she therefore sewed three bags that were witched. She filled one with great quantities of wampum, the second with beautiful clothing but the third was left empty. Though the bags were scarcely the size of a man’s hand they could hold things hundreds of times their own size.

When Hatondas was yet young his mother as her dream had foretold became mysteriously sick and shortly died, leaving her baby son to the care of his grandfather. The uncle knew the prediction of the mother’s vision concerning the coming of the women for the child, and, being a widower of many years and unable to secure a wife by fair means, resolved to disfigure the boy and claim the women destined for him. And so it was that when the boy reached the age of fourteen the old man each morning and evening would send him up the hill to listen.

“Listen nephew,” he commanded, “go up the hill, stop in the pines near the trail and listen. When you hear a strange sound hurry back and tell me. Be sure you sound it exactly.”

The boy would thereupon run as fast as possible to the hill top and secrete himself in the pine woods. The old 117man had used every artifice to make the boy cowardly and so when he heard an owl hooting in the darkness of the wood he trembled and ran in wild terror down the hill and rushed into the lodge.

“O O O—uncle, I’ve, I’ve—I’ve heard—”

“Now wait a bit my son, wait ’till I smoke.” And when the old man had finished his pipe he asked, “Well, what did you hear?”

“Noise like this,—O-O-O-Owah! o-o-o-owah!”

“Ugh, that’s nothing,” said the old man. “You are no good.” So saying he thrust a ladle into the fire and drew it out full of embers and bidding the boy stand fast threw them on his legs. Maddened by the pain the boy rushed from the lodge with cries of agony.

The next day Hatondas was again sent on the same errand and again terrified by a strange sound ran back to the old man and reported.

“Stop, stop!” the old fellow yelled. “Let me smoke first!” And when the last curl of blue vapor had been drawn from the old stone pipe he spoke, “Now tell me!”

“It was gak-gaw-gak-gaw-gak-gaw! O grandfather!”

“Chisnah! That was nothing,” the old man replied, and again threw hot ashes on the boy.

Day after day the same procedure continued and after a year the boy, once handsome and lithe, was scarred and crippled. The grandfather now devised new schemes. When he had sent He-goes-to-listen up the hill he stretched a deer tendon across the door way, and returning, the boy tripped and fell, severely bruising his face. The old schemer laughed and said, “Good joke, good joke, I’ll never do it again.” But each day as he sent the boy up the hill he would break his promise and the youth would be frightfully cut by the fall over the thong. However, after a while in spite of the old man’s promises the youth became wary in his pell-mell rush into the lodge and would step over the cord.

118One autumn in the seventeenth year of He-goes-to-listen he returned from the hill in unusual haste and in great excitement. “O grandfather!” he exclaimed, and before the old man had time to smoke he cried out, “I heard noise, singing, like this: (SONG).

“Well, that all?” said the grandfather in a voice that revealed his suppressed excitement, “Well, I will thrash you hard for that.” Thereupon Hatondas received a most brutal beating and was thrown into the roaring fire. The next day the boy was bidden listen to every word in the song he should hear and report immediately.

The old man rubbed his face with oil and painted it with streaks of vermillion. He tied sinews to his flabby cheeks and pulling the wrinkles back, tied the strings behind his neck and let down his long black hair to hide the ruse. His sole idea in abusing and disfiguring the boy was to make him such a horrible sight that the mysterious women would refuse to marry him. He wanted them himself, and thus on the night after the singing, decked himself in his best, hoping to gain their favor. Hatondas had set out early in the morning but entranced by the singing did not return. On came the voices until he saw the singers themselves and saw them pass down the hill and enter the lodge.

The old man decked in his feathers and paint arose to meet them. “Welcome, welcome, my women,” he said. “Come in, the house is yours.”

But the women only said, “Where is Hatondas?”

“Oh I am he!” ejaculated the old reprobate.

But the women again asked, “Where is Hatondas?”

“Oh he? He is lying around somewhere with the dogs in the garbage,—but never mind him,—come sit by me.”

The women did not obey but sat on the low bench that belonged to Hatondas, and the would-be-youthful old man with all his smooth cheeks and decorations could not get them to converse with him.

“Come, come, better stay with me,—marry me,” he 119pleaded. “I am handsome,—Hatondas is crippled and ugly. Say ‘yes,’ you will marry me. Of course, say so.”

“Where is Hatondas?” was the resolute question.

The old man shuffled up and touched one of the women in a pleading way and she promptly knocked him down.

Hatondas returned. He had suddenly become bold. All his former fear of his grandfather had flown, likewise his fear of sounds and moving things. Courageously he entered the door and saluted the women. Seating himself on his grandfather’s bench he spent the entire afternoon chatting with them. As evening came on the women cooked his supper, leaving the old man to fare the best he could.

Night came and the time for sleeping. Hatondas threw himself upon his husk mats and rolled up in his skins. The two women lay on either side.

The old man frowned fiercely and the strings slipping from their fastenings let fall his skinny jowls, now more wrinkled than before.

“Ugh!” he exclaimed. “I say, two women don’t want one husband!” But as the women did not stir the frustrated old fellow lay down with a disgusted groan.

That night as he slept his heart changed and the next morning he awoke without any ill feeling toward Hatondas.

“Now, my boy,” he said after breakfast, “you must go away from here. Long time ago your mother left three bags for your journey. One bag is empty,—I will fill it.”

Bringing out a bag the size of a man’s hand he filled it with a basket of parched corn mixed with maple sugar, put in a bow and a bundle of arrows and last of all a buckskin suit and then charged Hatondas not to speak to a living creature other than his wives while on his journey, and warned him that if he should it would cause the loss of a bag.

Hatondas with his wives set out on the trail that led to the far country. Reaching the top of the hill that he had so often climbed one of the women said, “Oh here is a hollow 120log. There is an animal in it! You are ugly, Hatondas,—crawl in and see if you can scare it out.” The husband obeyed and wriggled through the log. He felt strange and when his head emerged from the other end of the log he felt like a different person. Looking in the next spring he saw that his face was smooth and handsome. He lifted his legging and saw a limb clean and unscarred. More than this, he noticed that instead of his filthy clothes he was clad in a new suit of white skin.

His delight was so great that he immediately forgot all warnings and talked without fear to two strangers whom he met, while his wives strode on ahead. Having satisfied their curiosity the strangers started on. Hatondas ran with great strides and after some time overtook his wives who immediately asked, “Where is your magic bag?” Alas, it was gone with all the wampum that it contained. This meant that when Hatondas should enter the strange country, it should be without honor and that he should be as a common man.

For several years Hatondas dwelt in the land of his wives and so well did he fight in battle and so brave was he in all things that by deeds he gained great fame. However, he tired of the strange land and longed to return and visit his own old home. After preparation he set out on the return journey, each of his wives bearing a large bundle of presents for the old uncle.

After a weary journey and after many days he reached the old lodge by the hill but found it tied fast.

“Kway!” he cried.

“Kway!” came the answer in a cracked voice. “Who are you?”

“Hatondas and my two wives.”

“Well, how do I know that?” asked the same cracked voice.

“Let me in and see.”

121“Don’t you dare come in! If you try I’ll shoot you through the door-hole.”

“Well, I am going to go in so tell me how.”

“Well put your hands through the peek-hole and I will tie them to the post. I will come out and see and if it is real Hatondas you may come in.”

Hatondas did as bidden and some one inside tied his hands around the post. Then a decrepit old man came out with a hatchet.

“Aha! You were deceiving me just as I thought. You are not my nephew! Aha! I will kill you. So!”

“I am your nephew but my face is changed. Look and see if you don’t recognize my women.”

“No, I don’t know any of them. You must be killed now.” (Uncle sings death chant.)

“Hold on, old uncle, can’t we come to a bargain?” asked Hatondas.

“Ugh!” exclaimed the old fellow. “Bargain? Yes, guess so. Let me see. Yes, give me one of the women.”

“Truly, truly, if she will take you.”

In haste the grandfather cut the thongs that bound Hatondas and bade the entire party enter the lodge. When all were seated he said, slyly, “Well, I guess I like this one best.”

“What do you mean, uncle?”

“I mean I like this one for cutting you loose.”

“Ha! ha! ha! ha!” laughed Hatondas. “She won’t have you!”

Then the uncle laughed too and said it was all just for fun and that he knew them all the time.

As Hatondas looked about him he saw that the elm bark house had grown old and moss covered and in one place a tree had commenced to grow, but before another moon had come all things were as new again, but the old man grew older.

Hatondas was a poor orphan boy who lived with his uncle, an old man who was very wrinkled. They lived in a lodge far removed from any settlement, so that the boy grew up not knowing how other people acted.

The old uncle became more and more abusive and threw hot coals on Hatondas seeking to mutilate him. The boy never lifted his hand to strike his uncle but received his wounds without murmuring.

After a time the uncle said, “Now is the time when you must go up the hill and listen to all kinds of sounds. When you hear one that you never heard before, return to me.”

Soon Hatondas returned and imitated the notes of a chickadee. “No, no, that is not anything different!” exclaimed the old man, and straightway fell to abusing the boy.

Day by day Hatondas listened, hearing an owl, a hawk, a woodpecker, a deer and a bear. With each report his uncle threw coals of fire down his shirt or beat him on the face with a paddle.

One morning he heard a song, and listening, heard his own name called out.

Listening with strained ears he caught the words, “Hatondas, Hatondas, I am coming to marry you now. You hear this song so make ready.”

Quickly Hatondas ran to his uncle and reported what he had heard. The uncle now became greatly enraged and threw all manner of filth at Hatondas, then fell to beating his face with brands from the fire. When he had finished scolding the boy, the uncle washed his own face and put on his best clothing. Then he greased his hair 123and tied his cheeks back with a string, tying the string behind his head under his braid, to give the appearance of smooth cheeks.

Hatondas could not sleep that night for his bed was infested with vermin his uncle had put into it, and it was foul with refuse that his uncle customarily threw there to make Hatondas an unsavory person.

Morning came, and all kinds of birds began to sing. Hatondas listened as before, and at sunrise he arose and went up the hill where he was accustomed to wait listening for the sounds which his uncle ordered him to report.

Again he heard the sound of distant singing, and it was a woman’s voice. Now Hatondas began to feel very sad, for his appearance bothered him. He was dirty beyond all measure and his hair was encrusted with dried refuse. So he felt very lonely and without friends.

Soon again he heard the song and saw a woman a long ways off. She seemed calling his name, so he listened more intently. Then he saw a fine-looking young woman running toward him. As she neared him he saw that she had a basket of marriage bread. She looked at him in great pity and asked him to lead her to his lodge.

When they entered the lodge the young woman greeted the uncle, and said, “I have been sent by my mother to find a man here.”

“Oh I am the man you are looking for,” said the uncle, at the same time ordering Hatondas to leave the lodge. “I am so sorry my nephew is filthy,” said the uncle, in his most gracious language. “He is very dirty and utterly no good.”

“He is the man I have come to marry,” said the young woman.

Then the young woman took out a pot of oil and heated it, and calling Hatondas to her cleaned his head, lifting off a great mass of filthy crusts. At this the uncle was furious, and demanded that the young woman leave the boy alone. She continued her work until she had cleansed him when 124she said, “Oh, he will make a good husband when I clean him!”

“You must marry me,” cried out the uncle. “I have been waiting for you many years. See, my side of the lodge is very clean, and you could never sleep where Hatondas is accustomed to lie.” But the young woman repulsed him and went out into the woods with Hatondas, whereupon the old man burst into great rage, breaking his cheek-strings and making himself look hideous. “Oh, I knew it would come,” he screeched, “but I did not think so soon.”

When the young woman had found a hollow log she required Hatondas to crawl into it and then through to the other end. When he emerged he was clean and healed of his scars.

That night they were married, but at midnight a queer sound awoke Hatondas. He rose up and listened. Then the young wife awoke.

“He is upon us!” she cried, and leaping up, she called upon Hatondas to flee with her. Jumping upon the fireplace she scattered the glowing embers about the room and in a moment the lodge was in flames.

Together the two ran to the top of the hill to the rear of the lodge. The young wife drew from her garment a small bundle and dropped it upon the ground. Taking the whip she struck the bundle a smart blow. A tiny growl issued from the skin wrappings and grew louder as she continued to ply her switch. Presently a dog burst from the bundle and stood wagging his tail at her feet. She continued to lash it and with each stroke the dog grew larger and finally so large that both she and Hatondas were able to mount its back and sent it dashing onward at great speed.

After some time they arrived on the shores of a vast expanse of water. The wife patted the dog back into its bundle and dropped it in her pouch and with her husband leaped into a large canoe that lay moored to the shore. 125Untying the line, each grasped a paddle and swept the canoe out into the lake. They had gone but a short distance when a loud snort caused them to look back and there on the shore was a gigantic bear in the act of casting a long fish line, and even as they looked it fell, wrapping around the stern of the canoe. The craft stopped in its course with a sudden jerk and then began to speed backward to the shore.

“Quick, Hatondas,” exclaimed his wife, “empty your pipe on the line,” and Hatondas obeyed with surprising alacrity. The line snapped and with a sweep of the paddle this wife sent the canoe back into its track.

Foiled in his attempt to capture the pair the enraged monster pawed up the sand and pebbles. Swelling to an enormous size he thrust his mouth into the water and gulped it down in such immense quantities that the lake changed its current and flowed toward the mouth of the monster. Death seemed certain to the young couple for the canoe was drawn with great rapidity toward the beast, but ever resourceful, the young woman steadied herself, aimed and threw a round white stone directly at the creature’s belly. It struck him with great force causing him to jerk up his head with a roar of pain and then belch the waters back into the lake. In the swiftly outflowing stream, spurred on by the paddles, the canoe shot back to its former course.

The great bear was furious with disappointment and roared, “You cannot escape me, soon I will catch you. I am Nia-gwa-he!” and then began to blow his icy breath upon the water. Ice commenced to form and when he judged it sufficiently thick he galloped out over the surface of the lake. “You cannot escape me!” he bellowed, “I am Nia-gwa-he!”

The canoe stood fast in the ice and doom seemed certain to its inmates.

126“Don’t be downcast, Hatondas,” said the wife, “only trust me.”

The wife knelt in the bottom of the canoe where she had a little fire burning and a pot of water.^[24] She was apparently resigned to the fate from which there seemed no escape. Then when the bear was almost upon them she stood upright and flung a kettle of steaming water at his feet. The beast stopped with a sudden jerk as the clay pot broke into fragments and the water splashed upon the ice. This momentary halt was fatal, for the water softened the ice and the monster sank beneath the waters and disappeared. The ice vanished and the canoe sped on once again.

Late in the day the canoe grated against the base of a high cliff that rose perpendicularly from the water. The wife called up to the top. A woman leaned over the edge far above and seeing the couple below dropped down two pairs of claw mittens. These Hatondas and his wife fastened to their hands, and, with their aid, made their way slowly and cautiously to the summit.

The wife’s sister greeted the bridal pair, and lead the way to a spacious lodge where a savory supper awaited them.

The wife told the story of her adventure expressing great joy at her escape from the monster bear.

After the evening meal the time for sleeping came and together the happy couple lay down upon a new bed of spruce boughs and wrapped themselves in soft newly-tanned skins.

A year passed and to the wife came twin baby boys. And so precocious were they that at their very birth they felled to the floor two curious men who had intruded into their mother’s lodge. They grew so rapidly that in a few hours they had become mature men of prodigious strength and great agility. The old woman provided them with warrior costumes and gave them presents of bows and 127brought a bear and a deer for the larder. A half starved settlement now feasted. New houses were reared, and new canoes built by these wonderful boys and great riches came to the family.

The mother was happy in her offspring and proud, but in the midst of her joy she began to contrast her present fortune with the unhappy days of her girlhood. She fell to brooding, and, as she lay upon the ground, the roar of a monster echoed through the forest. The twins rushed to her side exclaiming,

“Oh mother, here comes Nia-gwa-he looking like a buffalo!”

The boys stood guarding their mother as toward them rushed the huge beast. It dashed full upon them. The boys sank to their knees, and stabbed it on the bottom of its foot. When they arose their arms were wrapped around the creature and in a moment it was thrown through the air into a grove of oaks and there they buried it.

In a lodge that stood alone in a land of hills lived Dadjedondji with his older brother Hawiyas. Dadjedondji busied himself each day in the forests hunting game, catching fish, gathering fruits, berries, roots and nuts and studying the wonders of the woods. He prepared his own meals in the lodge and always ate them alone, for, strange to relate, his brother steadfastly refused to eat with him or, indeed, to eat in the presence of anyone. He never hunted or cooked, but sat all day smoking moodily.

The boy often pondered over the strange difference between his brother and himself and at length resolved to pretend to start on his daily hunt, then turn back and secretly watch his bother. He did as he had planned but failed to discover his brother, Hawiyas, eating or at any extraordinary practice. Night came and the two boys lay side by side with their feet toward the fire. Dadjedondji remained awake in order to continue his watch and toward midnight heard his brother stir. In his anxiety to spy upon him Dadjedondji sat upright and his brother seeing him dropped back upon his couch. Dadjedondji chided himself for his impulsiveness and when, some time later, Hawiyas asked in an undertone, “Are you awake now?” he remained quiet and did not reply.

Later Hawiyas arose cautiously believing himself unobserved and crept to the side of the lodge. Dadjedondji was peeping through a hole in the skin that covered him. Hawiyas pushed aside a sheet of bark and drew forth a small kettle and a tiny bag. From the bag he took a small nut from which he scraped a few shavings with a flint. Casting them into the kettle he poured in a quantity of water and shaking the kettle placed it over the fire. The water soon began to heat, and as it did so, the kettle increased in size until a pudding was cooked, when he dipped 129it out, cleaned the kettle, shook it and stored it away with the bag. Then he began to eat greedily, and, having satisfied his hunger, lay down and slumbered again.

The next night Dadjedondji concluded to try the experiment and while his brother slept crept to the hiding place, found the kettle and bag, and did exactly as his brother had done. He ate the pudding and found it most delicious. Wishing more, he threw the entire contents of the bag into the kettle and set it on to boil again. It was not long before the kettle began to expand so much so that it filled half the house. Moreover the pudding began to boil over in enormous quantities.

With a cry of dismay the brother awoke.

“Oh what have you done?” cried he, “Oh! I am dead, you have killed your own brother. Oh!”

“What troubles you, brother?” asked Dadjedondji as he skipped out from the lodge, “You do not look very much like a dead man.”

“Oh!” exclaimed the brother, “you have used all my food. It is all I eat and can eat. No one can obtain more of its kind for it is far away and charmed, so you have killed me!”

Scarcely had he spoken when the walls bulged and the building collapsed.

“Oh, do not worry brother,” said Dadjedondji, “there is more where this grew.”

“Ah yes, but no man can get it, use what magic he may.”

The brother raved throughout the remainder of the night but Dadjedondji slept unmoved.

When the morning came Dadjedondji sprang from the ground and expressed his surprise at his brother’s sober countenance. “Tell me the full history of your magical food,” he commanded.

Moodily the brother answered, “To the east is a great gap in the earth. Beyond it is a monstrous serpent whose poisonous breath kills all that comes where it blows. Should 130a man by chance, escape him, beyond are two panthers. Should some cunning magician creep by unobserved, beyond, high in the tree that bears the wonderful nuts, is a witch whose very look makes men fall apart, and her six sisters devour their meat. So boast not my brother, you cannot reach the tree. Know only this,—you have killed your brother.”

Dadjedondji thought about it and said to himself, “All these things are strange. They are not right, neither are they in according with the ways I know about, and, therefore, I can conquer all these obstacles.”

Boldly he set out with his face toward the rising sun. After a day’s journey he came to a chasm that extended far beyond the eye’s reach. “This is not right,” thought the boy, so whittling a doll from a soft chunk of decayed log, he threw it across the chasm and followed it with a running jump. He landed safely on the other side and immediately resumed his journey. For a time he hurried onward and then nearly rushed into the yawning jaws of a big snake that leaped from a hidden cavern.

“Oh, get out of my way,” said Dadjedondji flinging a wooden doll into its mouth.

Presently from a thicket appeared two panthers. Dadjedondji drew two more dolls from his pouch and cast one into the mouth of each beast. Then, without looking behind hurried onward again. A song came floating through the air and following the direction Dadjedondji came to a large branching tree. In its topmost branches hung the singer,—a flayed human skin,—but her charm song had no effect upon the boy for he said, “It is all wrong and I am right, therefore evil cannot befall me.”

The skin-woman lifted her voice and sang with increased vigor, “An intruder comes to our clearing.”

“Come down here,” called Dadjedondji, “I have a present for you, gaswe’´da, wampum. Promise you will be kind.”

131The skin-woman seeing the handsome purple quills descended and accepted the gift with many grimaces and then drew back into the tree.

Now wampum is the emblem of truth and the skin-woman was entirely controlled by evil. Holding the beautiful necklace in her hand she sang, “I have been bribed by a present of wampum not to tell of a stranger’s approach.”

While she sang she threw the beads over her head and around her neck and the beads grew tight and choked her into silence.

Out rushed the six sisters that had been called ravenous cannibals, but their shouts were not those of anger or of gluttons, but glad cries of joy. Coming up to Dadjedondji they saluted him and with extravagant flattery thanked him for coming to rescue them from their evil sister.

They gave him a great bag of brown nuts and sent him back on his journey. The great witch had now no food and perished.

On his return the panthers angry at the deception he had practiced on them, pounced from the bushes.

“Go away, you are not doing right. I never heard of panthers acting as you are. Are you not ashamed? Go now and never dare trouble men again! You are now free!”

The panthers, surprised at their intended victim’s words, rushed off in fright. Dadjedondji continued his journey and rebuked the serpent and sent it wriggling to the nearest lake. Then he addressed the chasm.

“Oh, Earth, why are you rent? This is not the way of doing things. I have never seen such fissures in my life before. Close up once again and let men enjoy themselves!” And the earth closed with a loud crash.

Walking safely across the solid earth where once the breach had been, he persevered until he reached the ruins of his home. His brother was sitting mournfully on a log 132still lamenting, but Dadjedondji bade him cheer up, and showed him the large bag of nuts. He gave him enough for several meals and then sent him on to the lodge of the six sisters where he could find a good wife to cook for him. Then he went upon the side hills and scattered the nuts over the ground and in time beautiful trees grew and now all the world has chestnuts. When they were confined to one tree they were magical but now their powers have gone and they neither spread nor burst kettles.

GENERAL NOTES.—There are a number of stories similar to this. In some the hero is a nephew living with his uncle. The adventures of the hero in overcoming the magic beasts that guard the paths to the chestnut tree are various and recited in greater or less detail. In some stories the youth pacifies the hunger of the monsters by flinging chipmunks at them which increase in size and afford them a full meal. In one version the last guard of the tree is the skin of the boy’s sister, dried and hanging over the path. The skin is alive but held by sorcery as the slave of the wicked witch sisters. When the hero presents the wampum to her she sings out: “I cannot tell you now that a stranger is about to assail us, for he has stopped my mouth with wampum.” The six sisters thereupon rush forth and finding no enemy beat the skin and tell it to tell the truth hereafter and not give false alarms. In similar stories the hero projects himself into the body of one of the witches, as is done in the story of the magic arrow and the quilt of men’s eyes. He is then born and cries incessantly for power over the tree and the witch, yielding, he becomes master of the chestnuts. He is also the deliverer of the dried skin which he conjures back to its normal self, when he finds it to be his own sister. The mole is the hero’s dream animal and it aids him to perform his deeds of magic.

A brother and younger sister dwelt in a lodge together. The sister cooked the meals and the brother did the hunting. The brother, whose name was Crow, never allowed his sister to leave the lodge. “Oh my sister,” he would say, “Do not even venture to the spring.” When the young man went on a hunting trip he would set his dog as guard over his sister and caution him to prevent her from leaving the lodge.

On a certain morning the girl began to debate with herself the reasons why she should be kept within the lodge. Soon she decided that it was wrong to keep her from seeing the world outside. So she pushed aside the curtain, exclaiming, “Now I shall see!” Being thirsty she had taken a bark water vessel and made ready to dip water from the spring. As she sank her bowl beneath the surface of the water something grabbed her by the hair and whisked her through the air. She did not know where she was going but when she again felt the ground beneath her feet she looked about and saw that she was on an island in a large lake. Soon an old man came to her and said, “This is where you are going to stay,” at the same time pointing to a great lodge.

All about the lodge were human bones from which the flesh had been gnawed, and the place was most filthy. The girl then knew that she had been abducted by a cannibal wizard, Oñgwe Iās. She knew that there was no easy way of escape but she resolved not to give up hope. Each morning Oñgwe Iās would come to the lodge with human flesh which he would demand that she prepare as food for him. Then he would demand that she bring him water from the spring, carrying it in a bark container that hung on the center pole of the lodge.

134One morning while she was at the spring she saw a young man standing before her. He looked very pleasant and soon spoke to her. “Oñgwe Iās has not been successful today,” he said. “Tomorrow morning when he asks you to bring him water he will hit you with his club, seeking to kill you. Be ready and when you reach for the bowl jump around behind the post and Oñgwe Iās will hit the pole and break his arm. Then run to the spring here and I will give you assistance. My name is Sgagedi, the Other Side.”

The next morning Oñgwe Iās was very ferocious and roared at the girl, ordering her to bring him water from the spring. Cautiously she reached up for the water bowl and then slipped around the pole. With a crash a great club swung against the spot where the girl had been but in a moment she had fled from the lodge, while the monster was bellowing with the pain of a broken arm.

Quickly the girl reached the spring where she found the young man looking very pleasant. “Be ready now,” he called. “My canoe is on the shore.”

She stepped into the canoe and sat in the center while Sgagedi with a jerk shoved it from the beach, throwing one half of his body to the bow of the canoe and leaving one half at the stern. He paddled from both ends and went very rapidly.

Oñgwe Iās soon restored his broken arm and began to sing a charm song, calling upon the winds to blow the canoe back to him. A strong wind began to blow and presently the canoe was swept back to the island, where Oñgwe Iās was waiting on shore. It seemed as though they were doomed but just as they were about to ground, Sgagedi threw tobacco on the water and called upon the wind to blow the other way, which it did. Sgagedi now did not cease to paddle but kept up his effort until the canoe was safe on the opposite shore.

With a great bump the canoe struck the beach, sliding 135up onto the sand. As it did so the body of Sgagedi came together with a snap and he became reunited.

From the beach, inland there was a path, and by this the couple ran on into the forest. Presently the path divided and as it did so Sgagedi’s body was cloven and each half ran on, the girl following the left side. The path reunited and so did the body of the man. Still the two ran on until they saw an elderly woman on the path ahead. She approached and took the girl into a lodge. “I am glad you came,” she said. “I have been waiting for you to become my daughter-in-law.”

After a while the young woman and Sgagedi were married, but the bride could not be happy for she continually was saying, “Oh where is my brother?”

Now when the brother returned to his lodge and found his sister gone he had scolded the dog and forced it to tell what had happened. “I tried to grasp the sister as the monster seized her,” he asserted, but the brother called him an unfaithful friend, whereupon the dog turned into a smooth stone. The brother grieved the loss of his sister and sat with his head down before the ashes of his lodge fire.

In due season the sister bore two sons who were twins, and they quickly grew to be large boys. Every day they would run down to the shore to see their father scouring the lake after witches and monsters, seeking to slay them. At last they, too, wished to explore the lake and so took a canoe and paddled across it to the opposite shore. “Now we will search for our uncle, for whom our mother continually cries,” said they to one another.

They noticed an old streak in the sky and followed it far inland until they came to a clearing overgrown with bushes. Looking carefully into this opening, one twin said to the other, “A bark lodge appears to have fallen down here.” So they went forward and examined the ruined lodge and in pulling aside the bark and poles they felt a 136body and it was breathing. They pulled it out of the rubbish and found it to be a man. They brushed him off and restored him to his wonted self. Then one said, “This appears to be our uncle.”

“I am your uncle,” said the old man. “My dog is a stone. Oh, will you restore my dog to life!” So the twins restored the dog and then all went back to the lake and entered the canoe.

By rapid paddling they reached home that day and when the sister saw her brother she knew him and was very glad.

A youth who had wandered out into the plains of the West in search of game, lost the trail, and though he searched with all diligence he was unable to find it again. Throwing himself upon the ground he brooded over his ill fortune and longed with all the intenseness of his soul that he might be again back in his native village.

It was sunset and in the gloaming the youth saw a company of people gathered about a fire, evidently in earnest council. Cautiously he advanced, hoping to learn who the people were. For several minutes he lay concealed in the tall rank grass and creeping nearer was surprised to learn that it was he, himself, who formed the subject of the discussion. Much greater was his amazement when an old lady arose, and walking directly to his hiding place lifted him to his feet and said, “Come, I have adopted you.”

“Oh is that it!” exclaimed the boy in disappointment, “I was hoping you would guide me home.”

“No, not yet,” said the old lady, “you must learn first.”

Marveling at her words, the youth followed the old woman to her lodge and dwelt there.

It seemed strange to him that the people of the village never hunted but traveled together in bands over the prairies. He wondered at the shaggy heads of the men and their dark hairy leggings. He seemed as in a dream and yet all he saw and did seemed real. He learned much of the wondrous tribe with which his lot had been cast, and as the months went by he learned more and more. Often he danced in the ceremonies of the tribe, often he sang and often he made medicine in the council lodges on the prairies until he knew almost everything that a tribesman knew. Although his sojourn was one full of incidents and adventures he never ceased to mourn for his own home and people and often plead to be shown the trail, but his foster 138mother would only say, “No, not yet, for you have not learned all.” What this meant he did not know and pined as before for home.

One night he was awakened by the far-away sound of a drum. Its slow dull note made the youth more melancholy than before. His heart seemed to stop in its natural course and beat slow to the tap of the drum. Greatly depressed, he crept to the bedside of his foster mother and pleaded for a guide to his home trail.

“No not yet, my son,” said the old woman, “but perhaps very soon. Listen to the sound of that far distant drum. Now let me tell you that which you have not known. Far away to the west beneath a great hill lives the great chief of all buffaloes and an evil chief is he. When he drums it is a sign he wishes all to gather around his mound for he is anxious for a race. He has an evil plan. Being a mighty runner he often calls us to his lodge and he whom the chief selects must race until death strikes away his life from the unequal chase. The terrible race continues until the evil chief has satisfied his insane fancy and dismissed the assembled throngs. Soon you will hear the chief sing and when he does all of us must answer his call by starting immediately on the journey.”

“How is it that a buffalo is your chief?” asked the youth.

“Because we are all buffaloes,” was the answer.

The youth bit his lip and felt much chagrined to think he had not known this before. Surely he had had sufficient evidence.

Supplementing the note of the drum came a song. Simultaneously there was a great stamping. Everyone was rushing at a furious pace in the direction of the song. The youth ran with his mother. For ten days and ten nights the wild rush continued, ever led on by the song.

On the evening of the tenth day the rushing multitude reached the hill from whence the song issued and rested.

139That night the old lady came to the youth and said: “This has been a terrible rush and many have died from exhaustion, many from wounds and many have been trampled to death. Many children have been left behind to die. Oh that this may be the last mad stampede! Now listen, he will challenge you to a race. Do not fear, but take this medicine and when he calls you, race him to death. Shoot him in the red spot on his hand. When you awake tomorrow I will give you a bow and arrow.”

The youth awoke late the next morning and to his amazement saw a great herd of buffaloes gathered around the hill. From the summit of the hill came a great roar. It was the chief buffalo speaking.

“There is a human boy among us,” it said, “I command him to race me.”

Trembling, the youth walked toward the hill and as he did so a shaggy buffalo came sauntering slowly up to him. On her neck was a bow and arrow.

“I am your mother,” said the buffalo. “Remember if you run swiftly you may overcome the evil chief. Remember his body is, under the skin, covered with a bony plate. His ribs have all grown together so that no arrow can pierce to his heart. No matter what is said, shoot only at the spot on his hand, for as a human he runs.”

“Come boy, it is time to run,” roared the buffalo chief.

Around the great hill-like mound stretched two circles of animals. Between them was a path over which the contestants must run. The buffalo chief started the race by shouting, “Catch me or at sunset I will trample you to the dust.”

Undaunted, the boy leapt to the course and ran his best. Toward noon the chief, surprised at the endurance of his intended victim, yet believing himself safe, sat down for rest, but the youth strode faster the longer he ran and doubly fast when the buffalo lagged.

140Springing toward the chief the youth shouted, “I’ll catch you, yow! yow!”

Up leaped the buffalo and panting, ran around the course at the top of his speed. Close behind him was the youth, disconcerting him with his cries of derision, and his calls of “Yow! Yow!” Calling up all his energy the buffalo sprinted ahead and sat down for rest, but hardly had he touched the grass when the youth with his aggravating “Yow Yow!” sped toward him shouting, “I’ll catch you soon. You have not seen me run yet.” So, fearing defeat, the buffalo chief ran as fast as his magic could send him but to his intense annoyance the boy stuck close to his heels.

The sun was sinking low and as it sank large and red to the level of the western prairie the buffalo chief fell with a groan and moaned. “Oh I am worsted, I am disgraced! Shoot me, boy, shoot me, your one arrow will transfix my heart, oh I am beaten!” The crafty beast was endeavoring to deceive the boy but the human boy saw through the beast’s subtilty.

“Arise!” commanded the boy, “I am ready to shoot you!”

“Oh my heart,” moaned the defeated chief as he arose.

“Throw up your hands!” and quicker than thought the boy sent an arrow speeding into the red spot on his hand.

A great shout rent the air. The buffalo chief had fallen, had perished. The glad cry of the assembled herds floated far over the plains and rumbled like the echoing voice of the thunder gods. Long did the stamping herds roar their shout of thanksgiving and afterward heaped upon him honor and praise and called him their deliverer. They promised him all the power that the race of the buffaloes could bestow.

“When you wish health and fortune, when you wish a balm for fear and a panacea for trouble, and a cure for disease burn tobacco and call upon the spirits of the 141buffalo,” was the instruction of the new chief who was chosen.

The throngs of animals dispersed in bands, each led to its range by its chief.

The youth accompanied the old woman back to her lodge ten days journey away and listened attentively when she imparted to him all the secrets the buffaloes knew.

“You know our dances, our songs and our mysteries. Preserve these things forever in a society of human creatures,” said the buffalo woman. “Now you may go to your home among the man animals. Now I bid you adieu, my son, I am sorry you must go. A guide will lead you to the trail.”

The youth bade the people farewell and last of all his good foster mother and followed the guide to the trail that lead to the land of the human.

After many days the youth came to a village of his people and calling a council told his adventures. To all but the old folk he was a stranger, but when he made friends he selected a company and to them he imparted the secret of the buffaloes.

Thus originated the Society of Buffaloes, which today exists as a power among the Seneca.

There was a boy who had been reared in the woods by an old woman who never thought it worth while to teach him oratory^[25] or rhetoric^[26]. He had never attended a council or listened to a sachem’s speech and so he never learned the use of words. When the old woman died the boy’s grandfather came and took him home with him hoping to make him useful. The boy was very obedient and obeyed every word commanded. His grandfather began to have confidence in him and one day sent him out to locate a bear tree. “Now when you discover the tree wade’´ode”, (leave your nails on it),” said the grandfather.

Now the boy thought this strange advice but hastened to obey his old protector. After some wandering he found a bear tree and then remembering that he must leave his nails upon it tore off his finger nails and stuck them in the bark of the tree. This caused him most excruciating pain and he was hardly able to get home. However, he thought that this was to make him brave and he was confident that his grandfather knew best how to educate a warrior. He went to his grandfather and proudly displayed his bleeding fingers. “See, grandfather,” he said, “I have found a bear tree and have left my finger nails upon it.”

The old man looked at the boy in wonder. “What have you done?” he asked.

“Left my nails upon the tree,” answered the boy.

“Oh, you poor ignoramus,” laughed the old warrior, “I did not mean that you should tear out your nails by the roots and stick them in the bark. I meant that you should put your eyes on the tree when you saw one. When I said 143‘put your nails on it’ I meant that you should remember the tree so that you could take it at any time you wished. Go now and put your eyes on the tree (ĕⁿse‘´ganeiondĕⁿ’).”

“Oh, grandfather,” moaned the boy, “why did you not say what you meant!” and ran out to put his eyes on the tree. He found the tree again, and began pulling at his eyelids and eyes. Having no nails he could not get a good hold and the operation was most painful. Finally he gouged out one eye with a stick and hung it on the bear tree. Going back to his grandfather’s lodge he greeted him.

“I have left one eye on the tree, grandfather,” he said. “I kept the other so that I could find my way home.”

The old man looked at his grandson and was angry. “You are most foolish!” he said. “When I say, ‘leave your eyes on a thing’ I mean that you must be able to recognize it instantly when you see it again.”

“Oh, grandfather,” wailed the boy, “why do you never say what you mean?”

“I do,” said the grandfather, “but you do not easily understand my meaning.”

Now when the boy was recovered from his bruises the old man asked that the boy take him to the bear tree that they might kill a bear. Each had a bow and quiver of arrows. When they reached the tree the old hunter climbed up the trunk and lighted a torch and threw smoke wood down the hollow to smoke out the bear. “Now, grandson,” he said, “shoot him here when he comes out,” and the old man patted his heart.

The bear came out on a run and as he did the boy lifted up his bow and aimed at the old man’s heart. It was the place that he had been instructed to shoot, so he thought.

The old man was exceedingly angry and yelled out, “You shoot the bear, not me.” The boy shot the bear and the old man slid down the tree. “You fool,” he yelled, “so you were going to shoot me!”

“You told me to shoot right there, grandfather,” pleaded 144the boy, “and I wanted to obey for I thought you knew best.”

“No, I meant the bear,” retorted the old hunter. “Now we will cut him up.” So they dressed the bear.

Now it is customary to call the pancreas, the oskwi´sont (tomahawk); the diaphragm the o’kăā (skirt); the fat around the kidneys the face (ogoⁿ’´sa’), and the ventral portion (oho´a), door. So the old man said, “I have placed the door, the tomahawk, the false face and the skirt aside. Go home and cook them for me and I will return. Split a stick and put the tomahawk in it and put it in the fire. When it snaps yell ‘Hai-ie’ and I will come.”

Now the grandfather busied himself cutting up the bear and cutting its meat into strips and chunks. He also prepared its skin. Then he was ready to go home. He glanced at the log where he had laid the organs and found them still there. “I wonder what blunder the boy has made now,” he mused and took them with him to the lodge. When he arrived there he found that the stupid orphan had torn the door from its fastenings and had split it into pieces. Moreover the boy was running around the lodge yelling, “Hai-ie!” Inside the old man saw his best stone tomahawk in the fire. It was red hot and when a draft of air struck it it would snap and every time it did the boy would whoop, “Hai-ie!” In a cauldron a false face, a breech skirt and the splinters of the door were boiling.

“It is too hot within!” explained the boy. “Hai-ie!” he paused to say as the tomahawk snapped. “It’s too hot, so I am watching outside and—hai-ie!”

The patience of the long suffering grandfather was exhausted and he said some things that the boy thought himself much aggrieved for he said, “Why did you not tell me what you meant?”

The grandfather took matters in his own hand and cooked the meal. The time was at hand also when he must notify his charge that by right of birth he was a chief and 145that on the morrow he must commence his duties as a runner. The next day the old man with due solemnity told the boy that he was a secondary chief. “We will have a great feast,” he said. “I want you to run and notify all the tall trees (Gai´esoⁿs), all the rough places (Ain´djatgi), all the swamps (Gaiⁿ´dagoⁿ), and all the high hills (Gai´nonde). When you return do not fail to ‘jounce your uncle on your knee’ (esĕⁿ´sĕnt’o’).”

Now the young chief thought this peculiar but he found tall trees in plenty and invited them all to the feast, likewise he invited the mountains and the swamps and returning gave his uncle a kick that knocked him down. The uncle immediately did the same thing to the impudent boy who ran rather lamely back to his grandfather. The old man listened to the tale with impatience and then explained that the ‘tall trees’ were the sachems, the ‘mountains’ the war chiefs, and the ‘swamps’ the common warriors. By ‘uncle’ he meant the relatives of the family and by ‘jouncing with his knee’ simply to notify them. “Oh,” gasped the boy, “why do you never say what you mean!” Of course he had the work to do all over and the feast came in due season. When it was over the boy said, “Grandfather, there is meat left and soup also.”

“Well,” said the grandfather, “give each one half a spoon.”^[27]

The lad did not see what good that would do but he instantly obeyed, going to the shed and chopping twenty wooden spoons in halves and then giving each guest a piece.

“Here you,” some one objected, “What are these things for?”

The boy was about to say that he had but obeyed his grandfather when the old man himself looked up and saw that the stock of finely carved spoons had been destroyed by his stupid ward. “Shawĕn´noiwĭs!” roared the old fellow. (Sha-wen-noi-wis means incurable fool.) “Why have you ruined my good spoons?”

146“I did just as you said,” was the meek answer. Then he answered, “There is yet meat left, Haksot!”

“De sa di wa o gwut, tie it on your head and let it hang,” commanded the grandfather, meaning that it should be distributed to the particular friends of the family.

The boy took an elm bark rope and tied the juicy meat on his forehead.

“It is disagreeable, grandfather,” he complained, “for the juice and oil drip into my eyes.”

The old man explained, and the boy feeling much abused answered, “Oh why can you never say what you mean?”

The time came when the boy chief must marry. The grandfather told the boy where a family of lovely girls lived. “Go shove your legs in the door,” (Satci´nondăt—show your leg), said he, meaning that the boy should go visiting.

The young chief stuck his legs under the door and sat there all night. The next morning the old woman within gave him a blow with a corn pounder and he ran limping to his advisor to discover the trouble. “Oh you fool,” said the old man, “I meant that you should ‘shake the old lady’s skirt’,” meaning that he should seek a daughter. When he did this however he was kicked and pounded until he could hardly crawl. Now he had a very difficult time courting for it is hard to describe in direct words how to court and to marry, so when he followed his grandfather’s words he found much trouble. Now when he married his wife made him understand and he learned many new things. Now this is all that I can tell.

GENERAL NOTES.—The Boy Who Could Not Understand is the only tale of its kind secured by the writer among the Seneca. It is related as a humorous commentary on the literal meanings of certain idioms of the Seneca that are so well understood that they never cause confusion. The author of this tale must have deliberately analyzed each term and sought to give it a literal application. One might suppose that a captive Algonkin invented it to explain his own plight in learning the Seneca tongue.

This tale was related by Edward Cornplanter and it has been recorded essentially in his own language, except where better grammar or a better word straightens out the English. I am sure that Cornplanter might have expanded his story considerably, but he hastened it to a conclusion to give me the Seneca equivalents of some obscure bits of slang frequently heard in English. His own literal translations of American slang into Seneca made him wax merry, and he concluded by saying, “So you see it don’t make any sense at all.”

Hono‘ was an unloved stepson. His foster father never had a kind word for him and begrudged the very food that little Hono‘ ate.

“You eat like a wolf,” the harsh man would snap. “It is a nuisance to feed you.”

“Agē´,” sighed little Hono‘, “when I am a man and can hunt and fight I will repay you. Then will you like me?” implored the boy, but his evil guardian only growled.

At length the stepfather began to cast about how he might rid himself of the child and after some meditation decided to feign friendliness and lure Hono‘ away on a hunting excursion. So it happened that one day he said pleasantly, “Come now Hono‘, it is time for you to learn to hunt. How would you like to go on a journey with me?”

Hono‘ was delighted and promptly replied he would go.

The two traveled for some time through the bush lands and Hono‘ thinking this strange said, “I always thought hunters went to the deep woods and not in the bushes.”

“Don’t worry,” the stepfather replied, “I am an old hunter and know my business. Come hurry along, I will show you a wonderful place.”

“Well where is my bow and my quiver of arrows?” asked Hono‘ anxiously. “I ought to have one.”

“Oh after a while,” was the retort. “Now hurry along.”

“And when I am a great hunter will you be good to me always?” asked Hono‘, dreaming of the success he hoped to achieve, but the only answer was a grunt.

After a journey of several miles the stepfather stopped abruptly and simulating surprise said excitedly, “See, look, look! There is a hole. Hurry Hono‘, crawl in and catch the game. Oh you will be a big hunter now!”

Little Hono‘ was happy that he could be of service and in imagination saw glorious days ahead. Dropping upon 148his hands and knees he crawled into the hole in the ground and ran down the tunnel until he could no longer see, because of the darkness. Then, as he was about to return he saw the round opening ahead suddenly grow dark and with it the entire cavern. Guided by the walls he ran forward with speed born of terror and crashed his head into the stone that obstructed the opening.

Outside the evil man laughed in savage glee as he thought how easily he had shaken off the untaught Hono‘.

“He will never push that boulder away,” said he, as he strolled back to his lodge.

The blow had stunned the boy but after some time he was awakened by the sound of voices. Listening he discovered that on the earth outside a council was in session and his name was being frequently used. He had not long marvelled over the matter when he heard someone endeavoring to remove the stone. Finally it rolled down the hill and a voice called down the hole.

“Come out upon the earth if yet you are living,” it said.

Shyly the boy emerged from the hole and sat down upon the grass. About him on every hand were animals.

“The boy is rescued,” said a porcupine, who seemed to be the spokesman. “Who will care for him?”

Instantly there was a prolonged medley of cries. Each animal about him was either barking, yelping, grunting or screeching. Everyone was shouting “I’ll care for him!”

“Hold!” cried the porcupine. “Do not volunteer without reason. You must be fit for the task. Let each tell his temper and his habits and most of all what he eats, then the boy may choose his own guardian.”

Acting upon the suggestion each one extolled its own merits to the boy, but all in turn were rejected until a bear woman said, “I am old and rather surly, but I have a warm heart. I live happily in summer and sleep much in winter. I eat honey, nuts and berries.”

149“Oh you will do,” interrupted Hono‘, shouting as loudly as he could. “I can stand that all right!”

To Hono‘ the strange part of the proceedings was that all the animals seemed human creatures and yet like beasts. They all spoke in one language and acted as friends although Hono‘ believed many mortal enemies.

The council adjourned and Hono‘ followed his bear mother down a trail that led to a thick wood.

On the way the bear spoke. “I wished you to become my grandson,” she said, “because I have lost one and wish you to take his place and drive away my sorrow.”

The two soon arrived at a great hollow stub and the bear taking the boy by the neck like a cub drew him into the hollow. Hono‘ looked about and found his quarters very comfortable. He was greatly pleased when the grandmother introduced him to two young bears, her grandsons, and told him they were his playmates.

When Hono‘ was hungry the grandmother bear gave him a honey-comb and some dried berries. When he was thirsty she gave him her paw to suck.

Hono‘ found his playmates boisterous fellows and many a time he received hard knocks but gave back as many as he received.

“Have care, Hono‘,” his grandmother warned him. “Wherever you get scratched hair will grow. So take caution, for unless you do you will look like a cub.”

Summer came and the berries ripened. The bear grandmother suggested that it might be sport for the boys to go with her and gather the winter store of berries. The boys were delighted and consented instantly. Then the old bear said: “Now, Hono‘, we always have much trouble while gathering berries. Bad animals and bad men and bad birds swarm to the berry patches and seek to harm us. Now you are a warrior and I wish to dress you in skins, to paint your face and to give you a bow and a quiver of arrows. Run 150around the hill and shout and whoop as loud as you can, and if enemies appear, shoot without mercy. This done we will have a prosperous season.”

Hono‘ did as was asked and returning reported that he had shot many birds but nothing else. The bears, therefore, went upon the hillside fearlessly and gathered great baskets full of berries.

The summer season grew into autumn and nutting time came.

“This is a dangerous time,” said the old bear, “and I feel that evil will befall us. Hunters swarm the woods now after autumn fruits, roots and game.”

It was cautiously, indeed, that the bears gathered up the winter’s store of nuts but for some time no human hunter was seen. One day, however, the old bear exclaimed, “Ah, here he comes. Now Hono‘, I will show you the classes of hunters you humans have. I do not fear this one for he is a Do-sko-a-o, or brush-in-the-mouth-hunter. See, he is chewing a pine twig. This gives us the scent and we can flee long before he reaches us, for this ‘brush-mouth’ is too careless.”

The bears were hiding in a large hollow tree, and, true to the mother bear’s prophecy, the hunter did not see them but plodded along trailing his bow and chewing the pine. When he had passed by the bears scampered back to the chestnut tree and climbing it shook down the delicious brown nuts.

On the morrow, as Hono‘ and the bears were starting out, the old bear exclaimed in a whisper, “A hunter is coming, but fear not, he is a blind man. See, he is eating and holds his bowl so far over his eyes that he cannot see anything before him. When he walks through the forest he looks neither right nor left but walks unconcerned, yet strangely hopes for game. Look again, for another hunter will shortly appear. He is ‘heavy stepper’ and warns before he comes. Still another hunter comes,” continued the bear woman, “He is ‘swinging mouth’; keep away from his chin and you are safe. Notice, he appears to be singing loudly, but in reality he is only humming very low or even only thinking of his song. Listen to me Hono‘, bears can hear singing if only thought and sung in the mind.”

152On their homeward journey the old bear putting her nose to the ground said: “Alas, alas! We must hurry now and hide for real evil is coming.” The bears hastened their steps and soon were safely concealed in their tree. Then the wise old bear looking through her window in a frightened tone said: “At last, a true hunter has come. He is of the class we call four eyes. He has a dog with him and no sign escapes their eyes. See even now he is approaching this tree. Ah, he is a great hunter and is your own evil foster father. When he cuts down the tree let me run first, and, last of all, Hono‘ you follow.”

Scarcely had she spoken when the hunter approached the tree and surveyed it critically. Gathering some dry leaves and twigs he built a fire around the dry old stub and as the flames ate in he cut out the coals, leaving a fresh surface for the fire. In a few minutes it crashed and fell. The old woman bear rushed out and began to run towards the west but had only taken a few leaps when an arrow pierced her heart, but her ghost-body ran on. The two cubs emerging met death in a similar way, then Hono‘ crawling out cried, “Father, are you going to shoot me, too?”

“Agē´!” exclaimed the hunter in surprise. “How came you here,” and Hono‘ told his story.

The stepfather was greatly impressed, and taking the boy by the hand, said, “I am sorry, my boy, I was ever unkind. I am sorry I killed your friends. If you had only called me I should have hearkened and all would have been well, but now Agē´! I shall always have bad luck!”

The hunter looked upon his stepson with great awe and invited him back to his home, for he was afraid of the bear ghosts.

153“And am I useful now?” asked the boy, “and will you like me?”

The hunter said, “truly.”

He never dared hunt again but Hono‘ did.

GENERAL NOTES.—In this legend an unloved stepson is lured to a hole in the ground by his foster father and caused to enter it on the pretense of looking for game. The hole is then closed by a boulder and Hono‘ left a prisoner. Soon he hears animals talking about his fate and in a few moments the boulder is rolled away and he emerges to hear a lively discussion by the animals as to who can best care for him. A bear mother finally secures him and takes him with her, instructing him in the ways to avoid the human beings who hunt bears. In the end the bear mother gives up her life to save Hono‘ and he escapes only to find that this foster father was the hunter. The two become reconciled.

The ideas of the bear mother and of the bear wife of a human man are common Seneca concepts.

This legend was related during the winter of 1904–1905 by Edward Cornplanter. Later I secured versions from Mrs. Aurelia J. Miller and David George. From the notes of all these versions this present version has been compiled. I am aware that it is in my own words rather than in the language of any one of my informants. I have added nothing, however, and have carefully kept the story to its original form.

My grandfather used to tell it to go to sleep by.

There were seven brothers two years apart. Their grandparents took care of them. They were all extra hunters. It seems the way my grandfather told it, each one shot an animal and used its skin for a short skirt; one had bear skin and the others different skins.

The grandparents knew of a family of beautiful daughters a good ways east that would make good wives, but had bad habits. Oh my, they were queer folks.

It seems each boy must go out when he was come to manhood and listen for signs of women,—the women to marry. So when the oldest was a man the grandfather said, “Now you must go away and listen, then come back.” All right, so he went away and by and by he came back and said: “Oh Grandfather!” “Now wait,” said the grandfather, “I must smoke first.” So he filled up his pipe hard and took a coal and made big clouds,—smoke, it was. Then by an’ by he said, “Now you tell me.” So the boy,—man now,—said, “O-whoo-oo-o. Whoo-ho-wa-a!” “All right,” grandfather says, “next morning you go off again. Go east and don’t stop. You keep right on.” So he went on and didn’t come back.

By and by the second son said, “I am a man now. Now’s my time to go off.” All right, so he went off and came back and heard a wren and he said he had heard something. When the grandfather finished smoking he said: “Now you follow that on and keep right east and don’t stop ‘tall.” So he never came back.

So turns came to all and they went too, same way and heard crow, rabbit, deer, cracking sticks, and they followed the sounds.

155Then the seventh son came of age and he was a kind of a witch [sic] and he dressed up in his best. Now I am going to describe his dress. He had a short skirt to the middle, most to his knees, made of nice spotted deer-skin,—yearling,—and he had nice moccasins and nothing else only a ga-gē-da, (a breast sash). And so he was like a big witch.^[29] He went off and he didn’t turn round when he heard a noise but kept right on going.

By and by he came to a path and saw one man’s tracks, by and by two, three, four, by and by, good many,—regular path. Pretty soon so many that the path, it was good deal dust in it, and he kept on. Then he noticed other tracks and paths coming on,—the big road it is, now, from every direction. Now way off in the distance he saw smoke rising. He kept looking. He thought something was going to happen. He was all alone on the big path in the dusty plain. Path gets wider the more he goes along. By and by he thinks he’d better look nice so he stripped off some bark and rolled it and spit on it to make a nice neck-string. My! it was a nice one and shined where he spit on it. By and by he went along and he saw a bush and a big thing on it—what hornets live in,—hanging down. It was a very big thing, so he went up slow and took some moss and clay in his fingers and made a plug and pasted up the door where hornets came out. Then he picked it off and he was a big witch, and rolled the big,—why, I guess it’s nest, you call it,—roll in his hands and got it small like a little bottle and he spit on it. My, it shined! Then he fastened the bottle to his neck on the bark. Oh it looked nice! Then he shook up the bottle hard. Oh! Then he went along and he saw a milk-weed stalk with pods popped open. So he pulled out the white threads and cut the stalk and got his hands sticky—and rubbed it on his long hair. Then he spit on it some more and stuck in the white stuff and worked a long time 156and it looked nice. You couldn’t see his black hair. It looked all white, like a dandelion. So he went along and he thought he would spit on his hands and rub it on his body and he did and it got all colors and they changed. Oh my! And he went on and he began to notice he was going down hill and he went on and the hill got steeper. He saw smoke all the time and now he saw it coming out of a big house and the road went right into the door. And the hill got steeper and by and by very steep and slippery. And he got there and said, “Yo hoh´! I am in for it now!” So he looked sharp and saw a woman in the door and he was all right. Then all of a sudden he looked around and oh my! his foot slipped and he fell right down the hill and didn’t stop until he landed right in the middle of the room. Now the old woman there said, “Yes, get the kettle ready. We’ve been waiting long enough for that animal.”

Now there were seven sisters there and the oldest was an old maid and all were except the youngest, and the oldest said, “Go get the knife and we will butcher him.” So they tied his body to a post and they were ready to kill him. Then the youngest said, “Oh look, he isn’t like the others. He has curious hair and his body shines! His skirt is nice, it is spotted and pretty and has deer’s hoofs rattling for a fringe. Let us look at him.” So she touched his hair and pulled it and said, “My, it is funny, it won’t pull out. Let’s not kill him yet.” So she looked at him some more. Pretty soon she says, “Oh what a funny bottle,” and she pulled out the cork and all of a sudden, out came something, bump, on the floor. Now he was a great witch and when the hornets struck the floor he used his great magic, and oh! it was strong magic! Now when the women looked, Ah-gey! the hornets were warriors! And they kept falling out until the house was full and the hornet captain took out his knife and cut the strings on the post and then he stopped up the bottle.

The old woman called her youngest daughter to her 157and said: “I am a big witch but he is a bigger one. If I get beaten you must burn down the house and all things in it. You must burn all the medicine because it will kill you all if you don’t. Then have all the ashes of me and everything buried.” Then the mother rushed and yelled, “Kill him!” and she tried it but a hornet-man warrior raised his tomahawk and he didn’t hit her but she fell down dead. So the oldest sister ran to stick a knife in him and a warrior raised his arm and she fell dead and he didn’t hit her. And they were all afraid and stood back and the youngest daughter kind o’ cried and said, “I’ll give up my way and eat what he eats and I’ll take him for my husband.” So right away the chief hornet married them.

So there was no more fighting and it was dark and he and the seventh daughter went to bed because they were married and the five sisters planned to kill him as he slept but it was so he had a friend, a guard who was a star. And the star came down and sat on his eye and the witch sisters thought him awake and by and by the star went away, but it was morning then and they couldn’t kill him.

So that day he ordered the big lodge to be burned and all the medicine in it and the body of the mother in it. It was a very big fire and hot and after awhile the mother’s head burst open and up in the smoke flew all kinds of evil birds that no one eats,—owls and screech-owls, and hawks and crows, and big crow buzzards, and black eagles and wild poison animals with feathers. Now the wife said he must not kill those animals but let them fly away. She told him before her mother died that must be the way. So that’s how it happened all kinds of mischief got scattered around.

Then the sisters told him that once in a fight all of their men were killed and everybody else only them and they didn’t have any men and wanted some now because they had made up their minds that they wouldn’t eat any more people. So some of his warriors married the sisters and others he sent out to find wives for some of the hornet men 158had no hornet wives. He wanted to make a big village there.

So then he went back and brought his grandparents to the new village and they were surprised and knew he was a big witch then. Now when all the warriors had returned with wives he said, “You are mine.” Then he uncorked his bottle and let out more warriors for his grandparents. So they went to another village and the warriors built houses and boats and cleared land and made a big town.

Now the youngest daughter told her husband where his brother’s bones were hidden. And she showed him the spot and he dug up the bones and was in a hurry to match them and smoked on them and they came to life again but he had been in too much of a hurry. He didn’t put the bones together the right way they ought to be and that was very bad because when the meat grew on again some had long legs, some long some short, some had broken arms, some too many fingers, some not enough, some had not enough ribs and so were soft and bent over. Oh they were in an awful fix! Their bones were not a match and some were missing because they had been chewed up. Oh! But the brothers had lots of hornets to work for them and it was easy. So now that’s why crooked and lame people come to be born. They are the grandchildren,—way down,—of the brothers, and it is awful!

Now that’s only how far my Grandfather told us because he said we wouldn’t go to sleep if we listened to more and he never finished it but next time began it all over again.

GENERAL NOTES.—This is a characteristic Seneca legend and its elements are not at all unusual. As a variation I have given it almost exactly in the same language as originally related to me by Mrs. Aurelia Jones Miller. My informant was a woman of unusual natural intelligence and spoke English fairly well, but she frequently omitted the articles, “the,” “an” and “a,” and in other ways her language was picturesquely provincial, but typical of the reservation brogue.

The conclusion of the story copies a common theme, that of restoring the bones of persons slain by witchcraft. The hero is in too much of a hurry and forces the skeletons to assemble so quickly that the bones are mismated, producing cripples and misshapen people when they are conjured back to living flesh.

The world was once visited by a demon of enchantment who scattered all the people and bewitched all the animals, all the trees, all the lakes, all the rivers, all the boys and girls and all the older people. Strange to say, nobody knew that they had been enchanted; they only knew that all their wishes were thwarted and that there was misery everywhere.

Now, Gajihsondis did not know that he had been placed under an evil spell. He was a boy and was filled with all the ambitions of a boy, but all his desires were curbed by his queer-looking old grandfather. The boy did not even know that it was strange to live in a hole in the ground under his grandfather’s bed or to be whipped with burning switches.^[31] He only knew that he wanted to do things,—to play down by the spring and to go hunting. After a while he grew curious to know the reason of things and so asked many questions.

One day when he had grown to the age of twelve years he asked: “My grandfather, where are my parents? Why have you never taken me to my father and my mother?”

His grandfather eyed him curiously and refused to give Gajihsondis any satisfaction. But the boy kept questioning until the old man growled like a bear and said: “My grandson, you should not ask questions. You have forced me to speak and you must not blame me for the trouble that you have now brought upon the world. You shall now die because I am about to answer you. There is a spring near the path that leads from this lodge into the deep forest. I have never let you go there because in that spring is a terrible monster that is filled with great magic. His orenda 160(magical potence) is more powerful than anything else in the world. If you go far from this lodge the beast will reach out with his long claws and devour you. You have never been allowed to stray from the doorway because of this. But now that you know this circumstance you must learn to use a bow and arrow. You must become a hunter, for what I have told you has made me very old and I shall soon be unable to hunt.”

The old man, looking more ugly than ever, went to his hunting pouch and took out a small bow and a quiver of arrows. “Now, take these, my grandson. Go and hunt. Find your first prey on a tree.”

Gajihsondis went out of the lodge very happy. “I am now a hunter,” thought he. “I shall soon bring in all the meat.” He watched carefully for signs of game. Then he spied what he thought a great bird upon the trunk of a tree. He lifted up his bow and shot but missed his quarry. Thereupon he ran back to the lodge and cried: “Oh grandfather, I have been unable to kill my prey.” Then he wept with disappointment.

“I thought you would fail,” said the grandfather. “You have never had practice. I will hang up the foot of a raccoon and you must shoot this wherever I hang it. When you hit it every time without missing once you may go on a hunt again.” He then hung the coon’s foot by a cord to the roof-pole and allowed it to dangle over the fire. “I am going on a hunt now but it will be my last. If you are unable to hit the raccoon’s foot by the time I return we are lost.”

Thereupon the grandfather took his hunting equipment and departed. This gave Gajihsondis his chance. After many failures he hit the foot and when he became proficient he tried other things.

After many days the grandfather returned. “We are lost now,” said he. “The beast is coming to devour us. 161Only four days remain for us to live.” “I’ll shoot it,” exclaimed Gajihsondis. “I am a good marksman now!”

The old man laughed. “Oh no,” said he. “I gave you an arrow that can never hit its mark. You cannot shoot.” “But my grandfather,” contradicted the boy, “I never miss the mark.” The grandfather grunted, “Wha-a-a-ah.”

Gajihsondis then shot the raccoon’s foot. This made the old man look up. “It is only a chance,” he said. “You had power with you but for a moment. Never more can you do it. I will place the foot elsewhere. Thereupon he threw it to the top of a tall tree. “Now you cannot hit it,” he said.

Gajihsondis took easy aim and hit the foot knocking it from its hanging to another tree much higher and with a second arrow he knocked it again, bringing it to the ground.

Instead of being pleased the old man was very angry and said: “Who has been here to guide you? There is some evil thing lurking about. Well, never mind this, you can not kill real game. You have no arrows to hit anything.”

Gajihsondis then went out and saw the bird he first had aimed at. Again he shot, and killed it this time. Taking it up he ran in great glee to his grandfather. “Oh contempt!” exclaimed the old man. “You have killed nothing but a chickadee.” But even so, the old man worried, for he knew that his grandson had killed the first creature which by custom a child is permitted to kill when he learns to hunt.

Again the boy went out and soon returned with a raccoon. It was a fine fat animal and made a good meal for the two, but the grandfather ridiculed the boy and said it was only temporary luck, for the boy possessed no orenda (magical power). Again the boy tried his skill and killed a fine turkey which the old man dressed and cooked, at the same time sneering as before. On his fourth excursion Gajihsondis killed a deer and brought it in. This time the old man angrily exclaimed, “It is not right that you should become proficient as a hunter but it seems that you 162have. Oh now we shall all die for you will consider yourself able to leave this lodge and to follow the path.”

Now, this is just what Gajihsondis wanted to do. He had only one desire,—to overcome the monster that barred him from his father and mother. “Now I am going,” said he, without further ado. “I shall slay the monster.”

The old man scolded and wept, but Gajihsondis was soon out of sight down the well-beaten path that led from the lodge into the deep forest. After a day’s journey he found a gigantic frog crying out terrible threats. “Whoso comes near this spring,” he croaked, “shall die. I eat whoever comes near this spring.”

Gajihsondis was not a bit frightened; he simply drew his bow and shot the frog, and though it was larger than he, he tied its feet together and hung it to his carrying frame and returned to his grandfather’s lodge. The old man was very angry but the boy only laughed. Now he had learned a new trick, that of laughing. He had never done this before and to have him laugh made his grandfather even more angry.

The grandson went out a second time and found a gigantic duck guarding the spring. It cried out threats and proclaimed its great power. This did not daunt Gajihsondis who merely fixed his bow and shot it. Again he returned to his grandfather who became even more angry. “How could you do this?” he asked. “By magic the path was changed, but you found the spring again. You shall not find it again.”

For a third time the boy went out on his hunt for the spring and easily found it, for as plain as day he could see a path leading directly to it. (Now this was strange for it was not a path that ordinary eyes could see, which made the grandfather believe that it could not be discovered.) When he neared the spring he heard the cries of a great beaver threatening to gnaw anyone in twain who approached the pool. It was a very terrifying beaver but 163Gajihsondis found it an easy mark for his arrows. He laughed as he trussed it in his carrying frame and laughed as three days later he flung it down at his grandfather’s doorway. The old man roused himself in furious anger and flung his “bundles”^[32] in the fire. He pawed the earth like a beast and shouted until his throat bled, but Gajihsondis only laughed again and went away, saying, “Oh it is very easy!”

Now when he went down the path Gajihsondis knew that it had been changed. First he had gone north, then west, then south, and now he was going east over the path, that while invisible to common eyes, was visible to him, yet he did not know how he could see it. For if he tried to look he could see nothing, and when he did not try he could see everything. He also knew something that he would not tell.

For a fourth time he drew near to the mysterious pool. It was most beautiful and the trees about it were very tall. There were rocks looking like enchanted beasts asleep about it. The water, itself, was very clear and sparkled as if the sun were upon it, even when it was night. Gajihsondis went right up to the spring and flung in a fishing-line. In an instant he had a bite and some terrifying thing began to pull him into the water, but though he was sore pressed and saw himself falling over the edge of the pool he laughed, and when he did he gave a great pull, staggered backward, and pulled out a lizard four times his own length. It was the blue Dagwĕⁿ´’nigoⁿ´ge. Though he had hooked it the creature was not dead, but as Gajihsondis looked at it, it sprang toward him with a cry and bit off both his legs. This made Gajihsondis laugh with all his might and he laughed so hard that the beast grew weak. The creature then despairing of killing the boy stabbed him in the breast with its tail, crying, “Put me back in the spring.”

Again the boy laughed. “Oh how can I put you back in 164the spring,” said he, “seeing that I have no legs wherewith to walk? Replace my legs and I will put you back.” Then he laughed again.

Now the lizard was a creature of great magic and it conjured a man and a woman who came forth from the water and made Gajihsondis’s legs whole again and smoothed up the wound where the incision had been. The boy laughed and instead of thanking them caught them with his fish line and cut off the heads of each. “I know you,” said he. “You are the evil servants of Lizard.” So saying he cast them in a fire and burned them to ashes. When the heads were consumed they burst with a loud explosion and out flew a great flock of screech-owls. He then threw the lizard back into the pool, saying, “I despise you for your lack of magic.”

Laughing as he went, Gajihsondis followed the path until he came to a clearing. Though he greatly wondered what was in the clearing, for he heard human voices, he could not proceed, for there, hovering over the path, were many white owls, screaming at him and swooping down to pluck out his eyes.

Gajihsondis now thought of a plan to overcome the owls. It seems best to be truthful, he thought, and so he determined what to say. So he called out, “I claim this land. It is mine and I shall possess it, but I am willing to make one of you owls chief with me.” The owls then began to quarrel among themselves as to who would be chief. They made a great noise and soon had clawed each other to death. None remained to rule with Gajihsondis, so he went forward. As he proceeded he found that the path had changed and that instead of entering the clearing from the north he was entering from the west. Soon he paused for the path was guarded by powerful panthers.

Again he resolved to declare his intentions. “I claim this land,” he cried. “It is mine, I shall possess it, but am willing to make one of you panthers chief to govern with 165me.” The two panthers then began to quarrel and soon were engaged in murderous combat. In a few moments both were dead. Gajihsondis then went on, but noticed that the path had changed and that he was entering the clearing from the south.

He paused as he was about to enter the clearing for there, guarding the path with lowered antlers, were two elk. He saluted them calling out, “This is my land. I shall possess it, but I shall make one of you chief to help me govern.” As before, the creatures fought themselves to death, each one desiring to be chief. Gajihsondis then journeyed on, finding as before that the path had changed. This time he approached from the east.

As he was about to enter the clearing two enormous serpents rose up and hissed at him. As before he loudly proclaimed: “I claim this land. It is mine and I shall possess it, but I am willing to make one of you rattlesnakes chief with me.” Then did the great serpents begin to fight and after a fierce struggle both bit one another and both died.

Gajihsondis strode on into the clearing and found a great lodge within. It was strongly built and large enough to hold a great company of people. Entering the lodge, he found an old man cooking corn mush. The old man said nothing until the food was cooked when he said, “Come eat; it is ready.” The two finished the meal for Gajihsondis was very hungry and was especially fond of corn pudding. “We will now sleep here,” said the old man pointing to mats on the floor.

Both lay down on the mats instead of upon the long shelf-like beds that were on either side of the lodge. As the old man lay down with all his clothing, his pouch leaped from him and went to a peg on the center pole; his leggings drew from him and rolled up in a corner; his moccasins leaped to a bench, and his breech-cloth came off and hung itself over a pole. Then all the supper dishes leaped about, the pot emptying itself and then jumping to the upper shelf 166of the lodge. After a while the old man went to sleep, and as he did a white deer emerged from his breast, leaped into the air and sailed away through the smoke hole. Gajihsondis watched far into the night. He could not sleep for the utensils in the lodge moved about and talked to each other.

Gajihsondis conceived the idea of robbing the house of its magical objects and finally decided it might be better to escape without a burden. Carefully he crawled out from his skin coverings and made haste to withdraw. He did this with entire success, and ran a long way into the night. Soon, however, he saw a white deer dart down from the sky and enter the smoke hole of the lodge. He knew then that the old man would awake and pursue him. Nor was he mistaken, for soon he could hear the old man running after him. On and on he came until when just behind Gajihsondis he waved his war club and struck the boy on the head.

“I have killed another,” shrieked the old man, as he sawed a knick in his war club with his flint knife. “No man escapes me.”

The old man then went about the forest and restored all the animals slain or dead through the craft of Gajihsondis. At length he found the lizard in the pool and told it all concerning his work of restoration. “It must be Gajihsondis who has done all this,” said the lizard after he had been restored to his own magical power. “Only Gajihsondis could have slain all these helpers. I greatly fear that he has acquired sufficient magic to slay us all.”

“But I have slain him and he will trouble us no more,” said the old man.

“Oh, no,” replied the lizard. “Gajihsondis will revive. Then let us beware.”

The old man returned to his lodge and passed the body of Gajihsondis and to his great satisfaction saw the great crows picking at it. “He is dead,” he thought, and went straightway to sleep.

167The boy soon recovered consciousness and, completely restored, he crept into the old man’s lodge. “I will now be truthful,” he thought. “I will address the war club.”

“War club,” he commanded. “Stand up,” and the club stood erect. “Now war club, in you is power. I want you to be my friend and assist me in slaying my enemy. I am a man and will not be denied.”

The war club then pointed to a bed far away from the door and Gajihsondis went to the bed and saw a pile of soft tanned pelts. Removing these he saw a sleeping maiden. He took a brand from the fire and held it over the girl. “I have now come for you,” he said. “I am going to rob this house and take you with me. This is my land and I shall rule it.” The girl looked at Gajihsondis and was pleased. She liked the looks of Gajihsondis. “I will go,” she said, “but first you must slay my uncle. It is because he fears you will find me that we are all bewitched.”

The boy then went over to the old man and awakened him. His clothing flew upon him, a white deer entered his body and then he sat up. “What do you want?” he inquired.

“I want to fight with you,” said Gajihsondis.

“Now just wait,” said the old man. “I must get my war paint ready.” So saying he threw charcoal from the fire in the corn mortar and made a black paste. Then he took red paint from a box. He applied black to one side of his face and red to the other.

“Now I am ready,” he announced. “Why do you wish to fight me?”

“I want all your things and I am going to take your niece,” said the boy.

At this the old man became very angry and whooped. He then sang a magic song and grasped his war club, and rushed upon Gajihsondis. The young man grasped his war club and then the two began to fight. In a short time the old man was overcome and exhausted. Gajihsondis bound up the old man and put him in his carrying frame. Then 168he took the girl by the hand and led her away to his own lodge.

Reaching his grandfather’s lodge he noticed for the first time that it was identical with the one in which he had had his fight. His grandfather and the old man looked the same. There was no difference.

When the old man, his grandfather, saw that Gajihsondis had brought home the old man bound and also the girl, he was very angry but said nothing. He made up his mind to kill the boy and to marry the girl. Now when the boy slept and the girl had crawled into her robes afar from the door, the old man grasped his war club and sang to it. Now the prisoner sat up and did likewise, and both did exactly as the other did. “I will kill the boy now,” said the old man, and so saying, he shot three arrows into his back.

In a short time the boy awakened, being in great pain. He arose and went out of the lodge. Near the creek he found a sweat lodge and as he stood near it a voice spoke: “Go in,” it said. “I will help you.” He looked and there saw another person exactly like himself, only very white and clear. “I have always known you were my friend,” said Gajihsondis. “But this time I see you.”

Gajihsondis went into the lodge and took a sweat, and when the arrows had come out he took an emetic. After a while he saw clearly in the dark. He saw his friend walk toward him and enter his body. The two became one. “This is the power that has guided me,” he thought. “But I will never tell anyone I have seen him, until the day I am about to die.”

Thereupon he returned to the lodge and awoke his grandfather. “Come and fight me, grandfather,” he exclaimed. “I believe that you have done me a great wrong.”

The old man sprang from his bed and as he did so the prisoner became as a mist and floated into him. Then the grandfather grasped his war club but it was no longer strong like good hickory, but soft like wet rawhide. He could not fight.

169He began to whimper. “Oh, my grandson,” he moaned. “Do not kill your grandfather. My strength is gone. I will confess. I have been a great wizard and have created many evil monsters and slain many people by magic. Now I am undone. Oh restore my nature and make me human again. Do not kill me.”

“Then tell me everything,” demanded Gajihsondis, and the old man told him of his conjuring. The girl, he said, was fore-ordained as Gajihsondis’ wife, his parents were in the ground back of the lodge in the clearing. He had exercised his magic in order to claim the girl. He and the old man in the house in the clearing were one and the same person, though dual by magic. The path was well trodden because he had traveled over it so many times.

“I must now go out and kill all the monsters,” said Gajihsondis. He did so and killed all the magically evil creatures. He dug up the ground back of the lodge in the clearing and there found a bark house hidden by the roots of the trees. There he found his mother, his father and his sister. All were very happy that Gajihsondis had released them and together they made their journey back to the grandfather’s lodge. When he saw them returning he died and turned into a shriveled human skin. This Gajihsondis rolled into a bundle and hid it in the rafters. Then he called to the girl and she came out of the blankets from the bed at the far side of the lodge. She was a beautiful young woman and dressed in fine garments.

“Who is this?” asked Gajihsondis’s father and mother.

“This is my wife,” he replied. “We shall all live in a new house.”

So he took them all away and he showed them a new lodge of bark he had built. So this is the story of Gajihsondis.

GENERAL NOTES—The introductory paragraph of this legend is not a part of the story but is the answer which Cornplanter gave me in response to my inquiry how it happened that so many stories began with a recital of unnatural conditions.

170There are interesting allusions in this tale, and many of them are characteristic. These include the theme of the orphaned boy living with an uncle or grandfather, cruel beatings or punishment by fire, living in the ground, the boy suddenly becoming self-confident through the reception of orenda or magical power, overcoming all obstacles and destroying the source of evil enchantment.

There are other elements, which while characteristic in a measure, are so striking as to be worthy of comment. In this story the cycle of four attempts emphasizes the importance of the number four in Seneca folk-thought. Gajihsondis kills four animals in his attempts to learn to become a hunter, he overcomes four beasts at the spring, he finds four paths, each in one of the prime cardinal directions, he overcomes four magical guards of the trail. When he finally enters the clearing and discovers the bark lodge he discovers a new obstacle.

The unusual elements now follow. These are the discovery that the lodge in the clearing is after all only a replica of the one in which his grandfather and he had lived together (although the story does not at first make this clear); the strange conception of clothing flying from the body of the wearer, completely undressing him, and returning to him when he awakens; the idea of the man’s name-genius (the white deer), leaving his body when he sleeps, the talking war club (which seems somewhat symbolic), and finally the concept of a double personality, one portion or unit being unseen. Gajihsondis had a soul-self which materialized and guarded his life, gave him information and pointed out his means of restoration. The grandfather also had a double in the person of the evil wizard in the identical lodge.

This legend has another element which seems quite unique; it is the power of laughter over wizardry. Gajihsondis had only to laugh at a monster to overcome it, though he did not always do this.

I cannot help but feel that in the form here presented this tale of the occult and mysterious is only a portion of a fuller story, the details of which are only partially developed in this version. This comment may apply to many of the legends, for inquiry about certain points always brings forth additional information and frequently other episodes.

Long ago a whole tribe had been exterminated by powerful sorcerers. Of all the tribe only three persons remained. These were an old uncle and his two nephews, one very young and the other on the borderline of manhood.

The older boy was known as Two Feathers (Doä’danē´gĕⁿ’), and the younger received the name Turkey (Osoon), because he wore a robe made of a turkey skin. It was a magic skin and the little fellow was able to fly to the tops of trees, which gave him great pleasure.

There came a time when the uncle after watching the older nephew for some days, said, “My nephew it is my opinion that you should prepare yourself for your manhood. It is customary to depart from your abode and fast until your protecting friends appear unto you. Go forth to the river and build a sweat lodge, and when you have purified yourself, await the coming of your protectors.”

In obedience to his uncle’s directions Two Feathers departed and built himself a sweat lodge where he purified himself and fasted. On the tenth day he saw a great spider dropping down from the tops of the trees, and it spoke to him saying, “When you are in great distress I will be your protector.” Again he saw a great black snake rising from the ground and when it had reached the tops of the trees it spoke saying, “When you are in great distress and need a strong friend, I will be your protector.”

When Two Feathers returned to his uncle’s lodge he was a man and he knew that unseen powers were his friends. His uncle looked at him carefully and said, “My nephew, it is my opinion that you have become a man. Now it is customary for a man to seek a wife. It would make 174our lodge pleasant to have a young woman cook for us. Now, far away from here in a country to the east is a great man who has two daughters. It is my wish that you prepare for the journey and bring back a wife. It will take you several years,—how many I do not know.”

Two Feathers prepared for his journey and as he made his weapons his uncle watched him. “Come here,” said the uncle. “I would like to inspect your clothing.” So saying he looked at his nephew and then told him to disrobe. “You are not in the condition to make a woman receive you,” he said. “I will find a better costume for you.”

Opening his treasure chest, which he kept under his bed, the old man took out a fine fur robe made of raccoon skin. It was most beautiful and the fur was long and glossy. “Put this on, my nephew,” he said. Two Feathers donned the new costume and advanced for inspection. The uncle looked at him to discern any imperfection. “This robe is not good enough,” he said. “You are still not in condition to seek your wife. Disrobe and I will seek further among my treasures.”

The uncle now drew forth a robe of wildcat skin. It had short hair and was made so that it hung down like a long shirt with many tails. There were ears sewed around the neck and there were eyes on the sleeves. After looking at this shirt for a moment, the old man said, “Now, my nephew, this is a very old shirt and the wearer becomes very powerful in magic. It has eyes and ears and will guard the wearer when he sleeps. Put it on and let me see how you look.”

Two Feathers put on the shirt which just fitted him. It was very fine and he greatly admired it and wished to keep it as his shirt. The Uncle, however, surveyed it with a critical eye. Finally he said, “This shirt is not good enough. You are still in no condition to seek a wife and to overcome all the obstacles that lie in your trail from this lodge to 175where she resides. Disrobe, I must find something different.”

This time Two Feathers disrobed with reluctance. He wanted to keep that beautiful shirt. But as he watched his uncle he saw that another fine outfit was forthcoming. At the bottom of the treasure chest was a bundle done up in a deer skin folded into a case. This was opened and the uncle took out a panther-skin shirt, a pair of leggings, a pair of moccasins, a bow and quiver, a fisher skin pocket (pouch), a warclub and a pipe. “Now put these things on, my nephew,” said the uncle.

Two Feathers dressed and found that the panther shirt had the head of the panther as a cap and that the cap had two heron feathers above it. The whole costume was wonderful to see and Two Feathers now felt that there could be none better in all the world.

“Now, my nephew,” said the uncle. “I will show you what can be done with your clothing and accoutrements. The heron feathers on your hood will watch out for you and when you are in danger they will speak. Your fisher skin bag is alive and should anyone seek to harm you when asleep it will bite him. Your pipe and medicine root are in the bag. The medicine will give you power to spit wampum. The black end of the root will make dark wampum and the white end will make white wampum. Your pipe has the head of a bear upon it and it will growl when an enemy touches it, while the snakes on the bowl will hiss when you light your tobacco. Your bow looks old and useless, but it is filled with powerful magic and will guide your arrows straight.”

The uncle continued his instructions. “Now as you journey from here you will find three enchanted spots, and all must be avoided. You will pass a certain tree where there will be a boy playing about. He will ask you to lift him from the ground and place him in the long branch where he would like to swing up and down. Do not touch 176the boy for a sorcerer lives in the tree and when you lift up the boy the sorcerer will grasp you by the hair and tie you to his arrow and shoot you far away, and you will fall through the smoke hole of a witch’s lodge and will be eaten by her. She is the sorcerer’s wife. Further along the trail is a deep spring where there is sparkling water. Oh nephew, do not drink this water for there are monsters living in it who will draw you in and drown you. Further along and near the settlement where you are to go is a grove of very tall trees. Here you will see an old man who will hop around strangely. He will ask you to shoot a raccoon. Oh my nephew, do not pay any attention to him. He will be the cause of your ruin if you heed his pleas.”

Two Feathers now understood how to proceed and was about to start when Turkey, his younger brother, began to cry that he also wanted to go. Neither the uncle nor Two Feathers could dissuade him, and so he, too, made ready for departure.

Off they went on the journey. Turkey flew ahead in short flights and called back from the tree tops the condition of the trail, for it was very early in the morning and it was still quite dark. Very rapidly they traveled, until by noon they had traveled a distance that takes ordinary people three years to go. This was because Turkey flew and Two Feathers wore magic moccasins which made him take very long strides. They now saw a trail lodge and sat down to rest. Soon they espied a small boy playing about a large oak. As he played he came nearer in a friendly manner and asked to be placed in the long branch of the tree that he might swing up and down. Two Feathers placed the boy on a stump and put this under the tree. As he did this there was a great roar as if the wind were moving through the forest, and two gigantic arms came down and grabbed the stump, at the same time fixing it to the tip of a large arrow, and soon the stump flew through the air and into the witch’s lodge and knocked her into the fire.

177Two Feathers and Turkey now went on their journey and in a short time came to a clearing where there was a fine spring of bubbling water continually outflowing. “Oh brother, do not drink,” said Turkey. “Remember what our uncle told us.” Two Feathers went on, but being very thirsty turned back and knelt by the spring to drink. As he leaned over a horrible creature leaped from the water and endeavored to pull him in. Two Feathers gave a pull and jumped back, throwing the monster into the clearing. “Oh put me back,” it cried. Two Feathers asked Turkey to watch it, then he went back to the spring to drink, but as he did so another monster covered with hair leaped at him and hung onto his head. Two Feathers pulled again and dragged the monster out, placing it in the care of Turkey. A third time this was repeated, after which both boys drank from the spring. The clearing was a spot where had once been a prosperous village, but sorcerers had poisoned the spring and killed all the people by dragging them into the depths of the water.

Two Feathers and Turkey made a fire and burned the monsters, and their heads bursting with shrieks, there flew away a flock of screech-owls.

The journey continued until it was near sunset. The boys sat down again and soon observed that they were in a grove of very tall trees. Presently they noticed an old man dancing about and shouting, “Hai‘, hai‘, hai‘, hai‘.” In a moment he approached and said, “Oh my nephews, there is a raccoon on that branch and I have no bow or arrow. I wish you would shoot it for me.”

Two Feathers would not listen to Turkey, who flew about gobbling, in order to draw his attention to the warning their uncle had given.

“Most truly, my uncle,” said Two Feathers. “I will shoot that raccoon for you. It is a very easy matter.” So saying, he took out an arrow, strung his bow and shot. 178“Hiñg,” went the arrow and hit the raccoon, piercing its heart.

Now in an altogether unexpected way the raccoon ran from the limb to the trunk of the tree and down a large hole at the top where the tree was broken off.

“Oh my nephew,” cried the old man in distress. “I am too old and weak from lack of food to climb after the raccoon, which has gone into its hole to die. Oh my nephew, climb after it for me.”

“That will be easy uncle,” said Two Feathers. “I will climb now.”

“Oh no, no, no! Do not spoil your clothing which I see is very nice. Take it off beneath the tree and I will watch it for you.” So Two Feathers took off all his clothing and climbed the tree.

Up he went like a squirrel and soon was at the top, but as he stood looking down into the hole he heard a noise behind him and caught a glimpse of the old man who shoved him into the hole. Down went Two Feathers into the hollow of the tree, and down into a pit beneath the roots where he smelt the flesh of victims and felt their bones beneath his feet. He knew that he had been trapped. Outside he could hear Turkey calling with a gobbling call, and he knew that something evil was in progress.

The old man descended the tree by a route known to himself by long familiarity, and then he went to the clothing which Two Feathers had left behind. “I have been looking for nephew’s clothing for I expected that he would pass this way. Now I shall be able to cross the river and take the great man’s daughter as my wife. Now I shall possess great magical power.”

Off went the old man, looking renewed in body and becoming more and more handsome with every step. Soon he reached the river and standing upon the bank he gave a loud clear call that could be heard for a long ways. On the other side of the river was a long house and the voice 179penetrated it. The elder of two sisters, ran out and taking her canoe paddled it across the stream.

When the imposter was in the canoe he said, “I have come a long ways to reach this place. I am a great hunter and am looking for a wife.”

“I think I would like to have you for my husband,” said the girl. “I will take you to our lodge and show you where we live.”

When the imposter came to the lodge he met the chief, and said he had come as a son-in-law. “You will do,” said the Chief. “Go in and see where we live.”

Going into the lodge the Chief’s wife gave him food and then the young woman showed him her bed. It was a fine bed with many soft robes of skin and a curtain made of fox skins sewed together. “Here is where you will lodge, as my husband,” said the girl. So that night Imposter ate wedding bread and was married.

When Two Feathers awoke the next morning he was very sick and could scarcely stand. His bed had been a place of filth and terror. His head felt light and he could see lights before his eyes. He began to think how he might escape, and then remembered that he had dreamed of the spider. “Come, my friend Spider,” he called, “release me, for you promised to be my protector.”

In a moment a great spider appeared above the opening and let down a braided strand of web. Two Feathers grasped it and was drawn up nearly to the top, when the web broke and he fell into the tree. He was greatly disappointed, but determined to call upon the black snake. “Come, my friend Black Snake,” he called, “release me, for you promised to deliver me from trouble.” In another moment a great serpent had climbed the tree and let down its tail, which coiled about Two Feathers and drew him forth. It then vanished.

Turkey was happy to see his brother and helped him put on the dirty clothing left by the old man. Two Feathers 180dressed with great difficulty and when he had put on the stiff worn-out moccasins and scabby looking cap, he looked like a very old man who was very sick. Slowly Turkey and he walked down the trail to the river. At length they reached the bank, and Two Feathers called, but his voice was so weak it could not be heard. It was like a whisper. Turkey then called and when he did so a young woman went down to the river and leaped in a canoe. Imposter saw her. “O do not go across,” he said. “It is only a dirty old man with a turkey.”

The young woman did not like Imposter, and gave him no heed. Across the river she went and took Two Feathers and Turkey in her canoe. When they were part way over the river Two Feathers said, “I have come a long ways to this place. My name is Two Feathers and I am a young man seeking a wife.”

“It is apparent that you are an old man,” said the girl. “I am the only girl whom you can marry, but how can you who look so old and filthy expect to secure a wife?”

“I met with trouble as I approached the river,” answered Two Feathers. “I helped an old man who wanted me to kill a raccoon but it was only a wizardly creation of his and he required that I should take off my clothing and climb after it. I removed my clothing, which had great power, and climbed the tree. When I was looking into the hole he pushed me in, and there were bones beneath.”

“Alas,” said the girl, “I am of the opinion that my brothers are among the victims.”

When they landed on the opposite side, the girl led the lame old man to the lodge and told him to look in. “I have brought my husband,” said she. Thereupon Imposter spoke to the Chief and asked if he would allow his daughter to marry a diseased old man. The Chief looked at Two Feathers and answered, “I am of the opinion that my daughter knows her own mind in this matter.”

So the girl took Two Feathers into the lodge and showed 181him her bed. It was a most beautiful bed and its robes were of the softest doe skin, with a mattress of deer hair beneath. The walls and top were covered with porcupine quill embroidery like a box, and the curtain was of martin skins sewed together, and the apartment had sweet herbs hung within, to make it pleasant. The platform over the bed was arranged as a sleeping place for Turkey.

At supper Two Feathers ate marriage bread, but nobody spoke to him but his wife, for he was not attractive in appearance and added nothing to the strength of the lodge, only providing another mouth to feed, when famine was almost upon them. When all had eaten Imposter took off his pouch of fisher skin and said that he would now smoke. He placed his hand in the mouth to reach for the pipe, and gave a wild cry, for the fisher bit his wrist and caused him great pain. In dropping the bag the magic medicine fell out, and being only like a withered root it was not noticed, so Two Feathers grabbed it and hid it in his bosom.

The time for sleep came and all retired. Imposter would not lay off his garments, much to the disgust of his wife. He was afraid that Two Feathers would steal them, and he knew that though he slept Turkey was watching.

Many days passed and Two Feathers looked more sick than ever, while Imposter grew more bold. Yet he never went on a hunt for he had no bow and arrows; these he had failed to pick up from Two Feather’s outfit, for they had looked so old and ill made. One night Two Feathers told his wife that he must have a large bowl when he awoke, for he had eaten an herb. So the next morning he called for the bark bowl, and taking it opened his mouth and blew into it, filling it with dark wampum, to the brim. “Present this to your father,” said Two Feathers, and the young woman did so to the great delight of the old man, who said, “Ah, I knew that he was a great man.”

Now when Imposter saw what had been done he felt 182that he had lost favor, so he asked his wife for a bowl and taking an emetic filled the bowl with all manner of foul lizards, toads and worms that he had eaten. Ordering his wife to take this to the Chief, he strutted about proudly. When the Chief saw the malodorous mess he roared in great anger and drove his son-in-law from the lodge.

The next night Two Feathers ate of the root again and called for the bowl. This time he filled it with white wampum to the delight and gratification of the Chief, who again said, “I am of the opinion that we entertain a great man.” Imposter tried to imitate Two Feathers once more but only produced little round worms that so fouled the bark bowl that the Chief ordered the wife to scrub it all day to clean it.

That night there was a great feast and Imposter ate so much that he was forced to remove his clothing, and he was so sleepy that he threw it at the foot of the bed and on the floor. Long he slept, and failed to awaken in the morning. Two Feathers was up very early and before anyone else. He took his bow and magic arrows and killed a great quantity of deer which he dragged to the lodge. Then he took his own fine clothing, which had become frayed and soiled and put it on. Immediately it became bright and new. Two Feathers also began to grow more and more youthful until he entirely recovered. His wife was very happy. The Chief, moreover, was glad and called all the people to a council.

Two Feathers was the central figure in this council and exhibited the powers of his costume. He pointed his pouch toward a woman and she fell down dead; he sprinkled her with medicine and she rose to her feet. He smoked his pipe and the bear upon it blinked its eyes and opened its mouth, while the snakes on the stem wriggled as if alive. The eyes of the panther hood glowed and the feathers spoke. Then again Two Feathers made wampum. Everybody was satisfied, most of all the Chief and his daughter.

183After a while Imposter awoke and found his wife looking at him in disgust. “You are a filthy old man,” she said. “I will have no more to do with you.” She kicked him out of bed and made him put on his old clothes. “You lied to me,” she said and led him to a hole where the women customarily threw their garbage and thrust him in. Then she went away from him and nobody ever saw him again.

The Chief then said that it was his wish that all the people follow Two Feathers back to his home, for he was a great man and had slain all the wizards and monsters that infested the path. So they went and it took them a good many years to return. Turkey was now a man and took off his turkey clothes and dressed like a warrior. He, too, found a good-looking girl and married her.

After a long time the people all came to the uncle’s lodge and he was a very old man. Two Feathers told what he had done and the uncle was happy. He now had women to cook for him, and he felt that the world was rid of sorcerers. Then the old lodge was repaired and all the people dwelt there, and if you can find it you will find the people dwelling there to this day.

Now this is a Two Feathers story. All the old people of the old-time knew about this; and it happened a long time ago.

Do´cioweⁿ‘ was the place where they lived,—an old uncle and his nephew. The young man was called Two Feathers and the uncle was known by name as Woodchuck Leggings.

Two Feathers was a hunter and never feared to hunt any animal, but he was kind to the animals and could talk to them, so they became his friends. He had a pet bear in a small yard and he had a wolf that he had tamed. He said that it was the same as a man.

Now you ought to know that he had fine clothes. They were made of white buckskin and embroidered all over with porcupine quills. He had also a tobacco pouch made of a spotted fawn’s skin with the feet and head on and in this he kept a pipe having a bear’s head carved on it, and eyes that rolled when the jaws of the bear chewed the tobacco inside. He had a gŭstoñ´we‘ (feathered hat), with two feathers in front, and on the hat there were two chirping birds.

Two Feathers acquired magic and became very strong, but he did not let anyone know that he was Hotci´noⁿ’ga‘, (a charm holder).

One day when Two Feathers was hunting in the woods he saw an old bark house. Cautiously approaching it he found an old man inside; though at first he thought it was a wolf. The old man was very hungry and so Two Feathers gave him meat to eat. “I have been looking for you a long time,” said the old man. “You have been merciful to me and I am going to give you my arrow. It does not look 185like a good arrow, but most truly it has great power.” So saying he drew forth from a bundle in which he kept many kinds of war charms, an arrow and handed it to Two Feathers. Two Feathers was glad and leaving the old man some dried meat, departed.

After a while he came to another village across a river where he slept overnight. He noticed two girls, one older and one younger, named Drooping Flower. He looked at the younger girl and she looked at him, and something went out of his eyes into her eyes, and something went out of her eyes into his. He said to himself, “That’s the one.” One of the villagers saw this and told Two Feathers that he was now under the spell of a very evil witch, the mother of the girl.

After a time Two Feathers saw the girl again and said to her, “I am coming for you by and by.” Then he went home to his uncle who all this time had been living on woodchuck meat, because he was an unskillful hunter. The old man was angry at Two Feathers for his long absence, and upbraided him.

After a time a runner came to the village near which Two Feathers and his uncle dwelt. He called the people together and told them that all the people in the valley across the river were starving. Hunters had been unable to secure game and the corn harvest had failed.

Now Woodchuck Leggings thought this a good time to find a wife, who weakened with famine, he could overcome and drag back to his lodge. Two Feathers thought about the young girl whose eyes’ light had gone into his own. He thus prepared to take the trail along a creek having rapids and falls, and to go by a short but difficult route. Off he went in great haste, taking all his bundles and charms with him. Woodchuck Leggings noticed this and was angry for he had resolved to steal them when he had an opportunity. He now resolved to follow his nephew and slay him if he could.

186When Two Feathers reached the valley village he found the people starving. Drooping Flower was too weak to stand up. Two Feathers now asked all the women who could to gather about their doorways and play the plum-stone game and to sing:

He then went into the woods at the edge of the clearing and sang a magic song, at the same time taking out four arrows which had lain close to the arrow the old man had given him.

One by one he shot the arrows into the air, each in a different direction, at the same time calling, “Bring me meat from different animals.”

Returning to the lodge of Drooping Flower he sat in the doorway and waited. Soon high overhead he heard a song. The people rushed out of doors and listened, and sure enough, there was a song in the air. The words were: “The wild animals are coming.” In a moment the song had reached the ground and four animals came running to the doorway where Two Feathers sat waiting. Each animal had an arrow sticking in its heart. On they came to the lodge and then dropped dead at Two Feathers’ feet. There was a deer, a moose, an elk and a bear.

The starving village then had food and Drooping Flower recovered. Then a council was called and all the people sat around to see Two Feathers, who sat in the middle of the hall on a bench. He took from his pouch his bear-bowled pipe and put a pinch of tobacco into it.

“My friends and cousins,” he said. “I must have an ember for my pipe. How shall I get it? Ho yo ho! Fly birds, fly!” As he spoke the chipping-birds on his hat began to flutter and then to fly. They flew to the fire and took coals from it which they placed in his pipe, after which the birds sat on his hat. Oh the fragrance of the smoke was pleasing, and the bear on the bowl rolled its eyes and chewed the tobacco. “Oh you like my tobacco?” asked Two Feathers. 187“So does my pouch. Dance pouch, dance!” What was happening? The spotted pouch detached itself from his belt and scampered over the floor a living fawn. Then he called it back to its strap.

“It is now getting late,” observed Two Feathers. “Now bring me a good deer-skin, well tanned. I will give all of you good presents.” Drooping Flower brought a skin and placed it before him. He began, then, to make a noise like “tsŭt, tsŭt, tsŭt.” Opening his mouth wide he blew out a great stream of wampum beads. Immediately there was a scramble for the beads and nearly everybody grabbed a handful.

As Two Feathers left the house he saw the jealous, blazing eyes of his uncle, Woodchuck Leggings. The old man had never dreamed that his nephew had powers like these. He then began to spread mischief by saying that Two Feathers was an evil sorcerer and that he would soon become Oñgwe Iās and eat up everybody.

Now Drooping Flower’s mother was a witch and hated anybody with power. So she called Woodchuck Leggings and talked to him. He told her how to proceed to overcome Two Feathers.

That night Two Feathers and Woodchuck Leggings slept on one side of the witch’s lodge. Midnight came and the old woman began to have a bad dream. She began to throw fire upon Two Feathers but the chipping-birds chirped so loudly they awakened him, and he saw the old woman on her knees at the fire grunting, as if in a dream, “ĕⁿ‘´, ĕⁿ‘´, ĕⁿ‘´!” Leaping up he hit her with a corn pounder, exclaiming, “What is it, my aunt?” Pretending to awaken she answered, “It is now finished. I have had a dream and must be satisfied. Oh I must have the antlers of two large buck elk that live in a cold lake. I must have them by morning or direful things will happen.”

Two Feathers immediately set out to satisfy the old woman’s dream demand. Now no one had ever seen these 188elk, which were known by their splashing only, and all persons who went into the lake were devoured by the horned serpent. Two Feathers jumped into the water saying, “I know that I can do this thing.” Long he swam into the darkness, for there was no starlight or moon. After a time he heard splashing and a noise like heavy breathing. Taking his arrow from an oiled skin bag he spoke to it and then shot. There was a great flash of light in the sky and the mysterious lake elk were revealed. The arrow had pierced both of them. Mounting one of the elks he ordered them to swim ashore. “What do you want?” they asked when they stood upon the homeward beach. “I want your horns,” he answered. “Oh that is all right, nephew,” they said and shed their antlers. “I am sorry I had to kill you, but the woman desired it in satisfaction of a dream.” The elks spoke again, “The woman has deceived you.” Then they disappeared.

The gift of the great antlers only increased the old woman’s anger and the next night she dreamed that she must have the pelts of the wampum-coated deer. They had no hair but curled shells on their skins. If they saw anyone they would trample them to death. So then, Two Feathers set forth to catch the wampum deer. He made a sweat house by the lick where the deer came in the night. He threw tobacco all around it and then waited. Soon two does came and Two Feathers shot his magic arrow, killing both. Then he lighted his pipe and began to sing. Instantly a great drove of bucks came rushing to the sweat lodge but they could not touch it, so powerful was the magic of Two Feathers. After a while he heard them stamping away and he arose and went out and skinned the deer.

The beautiful pelts covered with shells only made the old woman more angry, as Two Feathers presented them at daybreak. She screeched and scolded and called him an evil sorcerer. But the next night she again asked satisfaction of a dream.

189On this occasion she demanded that Two Feathers go to a hot lake and bring back two white beavers, reputed to be of great magical potency. “Oh that is very easy, my aunt,” answered Two Feathers, “I will bring them at daylight.” Setting forth he reached the lake and taking out his arrow spoke to it. “Speed on and find the game that I desire,” he commanded.

The arrow sped forth and soon it struck a beaver which came swimming toward him, bringing another with it on a wave. This he struck with a small white stone and both were dead. Taking them to the old woman’s lodge he threw them at her feet. “You may have the meat,” he said, “but I will keep the skins.” This made the old woman angry for the beavers were her brothers. So then again she dreamed and commanded him to satisfy her by dangerous tasks, but his magic power always won. At length, dispairing of causing him harm in this manner, the mother announced that her right mind had returned. She resolved upon a new plan, and became very kind to Two Feathers. When Two Feathers found that the mother was no longer the oracle of the spirits he started home where he might provide for his own father and mother.

The Do´cioweⁿ‘ people listened with great sorrow to Two Feathers’ story of the distressed tribesmen of Ganun dasēy and rejoiced when he told them how his luck had delivered them. But he was restless and could not bear separation from Drooping Flower, thus he announced that he was going again to the Valley of the Pleasant River to get a wife.

Woodchuck Leggings had seen Drooping Flower and he wanted her, and hearing that his nephew was to visit her, resolved to accompany him, kill him on the journey, put on his clothing, gain the magic articles, and then steal Drooping Flower. The mother of the girl had given Woodchuck Leggings a death charm and he made up his mind to 190use it upon his nephew. Moreover the woman asked him to do so.

“May I go with you?” he asked Two Feathers, when he saw his nephew ready.

“No, Uncle,” was the reply.

“But I am going nevertheless!”

“Then not with me,—never!” was Two Feathers’ answer.

Two Feathers set out the next morning and when he had traveled three days he met Woodchuck Leggings, who had a day’s start on the journey. He saw him sitting on a stump with his back toward the trail.

“Niawĕ’´skäno’!” shouted Two Feathers.

“Dogĕ‘s!” was the startled reply.

“How came you here, Uncle?”

“I am on my journey.”

“Then if it is your journey you must not expect to go with me, for I will not allow it.” Two Feathers ran on ahead leaving his uncle still sitting on the stump. When night came he set up camp and kindled a fire for cooking a supper. As he lay down for sleeping he heard the night birds scream and listening he heard the crackling of sticks. Lifting his bow, he prepared for the enemy, whatever it might be. In the dim light of the dying camp fire, he saw the shadow of a ragged old man, limping along the trail. It was Woodchuck Leggings.

“Niawĕ’´skäno’´, Uncle!” said Two Feathers in greeting.

“Doge‘s! Agī! dodŭs‘ha ä‘kwa!” “(Truly, O give me to eat)!” gasped the hungry uncle.

Two Feathers spoke to his arrows, shot into the tree tops and a large turkey fell to the ground at the feet of the uncle, who was too frightened to move.

“Pull the arrow out and cook the bird,” commanded the nephew. But his uncle was too frightened, for the arrow was magic. (Beyond this, it was not right to touch the arrows of another hunter when they were sticking in dead 191game.) Woodchuck Leggings was too exhausted to prepare his own meal and fell to the earth from weakness. So the faithful and unsuspicious nephew roasted the bird and shaking the dozing man exclaimed, “Sĕdekonĭ (Come eat)!”

So he devoured the bird and ate his fill of parched corn and maple sugar. He begged that his nephew should not turn him away in the darkness, for he was afraid of the flying heads. He pleaded for a little space on one side of the fire by his nephew’s side. Two Feathers did not relish the idea but pitied the old coward, and gave him a place in which to sleep.

The crafty old scoundrel watched his opportunity. When Two Feathers was fast asleep, he made his way, stealthily to the other side of the fire and drew from his shirt a long sharp point of hickory bark. It was the death charm. Two Feathers was lying on his side. Kneeling at his back he lifted the bark high above his head and brought it down with all his strength, plunging it into the back of his victim just between the shoulders. Removing his own dirty garments, Woodchuck Leggings replaced them with the beautiful white clothes of Two Feathers. He felt for the magic pipe and pouch and found both safe, but he had forgotten the magic arrow in his haste.

In the morning he continued his journey and at sunset came to the village. A scout noted his arrival and cried, “Here comes Two Feathers!” As false Two Feathers passed by the fires between the lodges, the people noticed with wonder that the beautiful white deer skin clothing had become soiled and torn. The tobacco pouch had caught in a bush and half the quill work had been ripped off.

He entered Drooping Flower’s lodge. “Come, we can get married now,” he said.

Drooping Flower did not need to look at him a second time. “You are not real Two Feathers,” she exclaimed. “Where is Two Feathers?”

“I am he!”

192“Sonohweh! You are a liar!”

“We shall see,” answered the pretender.

The next day he called a council and when all had taken their seats he strode through the door with great pomp and took his position on the singer’s bench. Grasping a rattle he began to sing, but his voice was cracked. He stopped suddenly, as he caught the gaze of the men. “I have a cold, brothers,” he apologized. “But now I will smoke, and the sweetness of my tobacco will please you; but where shall I get my fire,—Ho, ho! Fly little birds!” But his commands were in vain and he was compelled to get his own light. “My birds are bashful,” he explained. He lighted his pipe and began to blow the smoke into the air. The foul fumes filled the lodge and nearly stifled the people. Women held their breaths or breathed through their shawls; the men coughed and the babies cried. “My tobacco is damp tonight,” he said, “but you shall see my pouch dance for me,—dance pouch, dance!” The pouch clung to his side limper than ever. In spite of his commands and threats it would not move a finger’s breadth. “My pouch,” he explained, “is bashful and now as I am tired, if Drooping Flower will bring me a skin I will speak out wampum.” Drooping Flower refused to obey and whispered, “He is a liar!” Drooping Flower’s older sister, Wīäsoⁿ’, took pity on the unsuccessful conjurer, and hoping to win a man, took down a skin from the wall behind her and placed it on the singer’s bench.

“Now since all my things are bashful, I will pay you for the trouble in coming here, see—I blow out wampum when I breathe!” Sure enough, from his mouth flew a quantity of small white cylinders. The people bent over to pick up the valued wampum beads, but were again disappointed, for instead of wampum were clusters of loathly worms. With a shamed face Wīäsoⁿ’ returned the skin to the peg and the council was dismissed by the head sachem.

False Two Feathers felt that he must do something to 193redeem himself, so going to the woods the next morning he shot all his arrows and called for game, but failing to get any, in desperation clubbed two woodchucks to death and brought them back. No one would touch them.

The people looked at him as one who had lost power by displeasing his own charms and paid more attention to him. No one would now associate with him save Wīäsoⁿ’ who asked him to marry her, and he did.

Two Feathers awoke after several days unconsciousness and found a great herd of forest animals about him.

“Our brother, you have been sick,” said the wolf, the spokesman. “You were stabbed by Woodchuck Leggings as you were sleeping. But as you were kind, so we are not ungrateful and our blood has kept you nourished while you slept. The animal spirits are crafty and know their friends and foes. You are about to undergo misfortune but do not faint,—keep up courage and listen to what we tell you.”

Two Feathers was weak and dizzy, and it took him a long time to reach the Valley village. Painfully he crept along the sunken trail until he reached a corn field where he heard women singing as they cut the blighted corn stalks. He called, and Drooping Flower hearing his voice, found him wounded and exhausted. She stooped down and he whispered something in her ear. The crowd of women was now about him. “Where is Woodchuck Leggings?” he inquired. “You are Woodchuck Leggings; don’t you know yourself?” cried all women. Two Feathers said no more.

For nearly a year Two Feathers lived in an old bark house which hardly sheltered him from the snow or kept away the springtime rain. He looked like, and was, a sickly old man. Every one knew him by his cough and pitied him.

In those days there was a great white eagle, a magic bird. The people of the village had erected two high poles with cross-pieces, upon which the eagle was wont to alight as it passed over the settlement.

The mother of Drooping Flower worried because her 194daughter would not take a husband and asked her why she would not marry. To such inquiries the girl replied, “I shall never marry until the white eagle shall be shot. The man who sends an arrow through him shall be my husband!” These words pleased the mother and she told everybody about it and gave it out in council.

A day for the tournament was set and when it came a hundred young men from the entire nation gathered on the council grounds, eagerly awaiting the signal. The great white eagle, with whistling wings, flew from pole to pole, pausing now and then to give a scream. The signal was given, and a hundred arrows struck its feathers, broke, and fell to the earth below. Through all the day the contesting warriors shot their arrows upon the magic eagle, but he shook them off like snow flakes and mocked their efforts by his screaming.

Two Feathers, dressed in the tattered skins of Woodchuck Leggings, watched the flight of arrows from his doorway. The young men laughed at him and asked him if he were going to try his skill, but to no one would he reply. At length when no one was watching, the ugly, lame, coughing old man made his way to a corner of the council grounds. He had no bow, but in his hand he carried an arrow. Drooping Flower’s mother saw him, and recognized who he was, but kept her secret. She looked him in the eyes and contemptuously exclaimed “Chisna!” While she was still looking this despised old man made a pantomime motion as if grasping a bow, pulled his arrow and let fly. He hobbled back to his lodge, coughing violently.

There was a great shout followed by an excited hum of voices. “It was my arrow—no mine—liars, it was my arrow—wrong, I know my arrow by the painted shaft—mine—mine—no mine—my arrow, I know it by the red quill!” The din grew louder and wilder. Blows were exchanged and some struck with clubs. The older men rushed out and surrounded the excited throng and said they would shoot 195them with their arrows and commanded the riot to cease. When quiet had been restored the old sachem cried out, “That man killed the bird who can draw the arrow out!”

Man after man tried very hard but all failed. False Two Feathers made his boast and kneeling, prepared to pull it. He faltered;—his eyes filled with water. It was the same arrow that had killed the turkey for his supper on the night when he had plunged the death charm into Two Feathers! He arose and went to his house. “The eagle is shot,” said he to his wife. “No one can draw the arrow out.”

There was a great discussion and every one was asked for his opinion, but no one had any idea who the marksman was, save the mother of Drooping Flower, and Woodchuck Leggings. Then a stranger who had not hitherto ventured to speak, stepped upon a stump and shouted, “You have not asked the old man with a cough!” The people laughed at the stranger’s suggestion and watched him curiously as he ran to the abode of Two Feathers. The stranger grasped Two Feathers by the hand, by both hands, and whispered in his ear. The stranger was the wolf whom he had befriended in the lonely cabin.

Two Feathers limped to the slain bird and all the people shouted “Hōa‘ho’´! Old-Bones-with-a-cough is going to try, yo-a-hoh!”

“Old Bones-with-a-cough” touched the arrow, it clung to his finger and followed his hand into the air. All the people shouted “Whoei‘!”

The sachem took his stand and proclaimed Drooping Flower the wife of the old man with a cough, and the mother frowned as she was compelled to say, “Nio’!”

“A medicine man quick!” shouted Two Feathers. “Give me him whom you call fallen Two Feathers!”

Woodchuck Leggings hurried forward, ever ready to be where there was a chance of being looked at.

“Build a sweat lodge of fat bear skins, bring large lumps 196of fat and them heat fire-stones and bring them in,” directed Two Feathers.

Woodchuck Leggings built a little dome-shaped lodge by sticking the ends of flexible poles into the ground and bending them over, and after a hunter had skinned a fat bear, he covered the lodge frame with the skin, hair-side out. When the hot stones were brought in they heated the interior to such a degree that the fat on the skins melted and ran down in streams. After Two Feathers’ body was drenched with the oil, he asked that his “doctor” rub him until it had been well absorbed by the skin. He then requested the famous “medicine man” to pack a lump of fat between his shoulders, cover it with a small skin and place a hot stone over it. A cold one was selected. “Hotter, Uncle!” said Two Feathers, for the first time calling him by this name. The second stone was only slightly warmer, “Hotter yet, Uncle!” Another stone was placed on the skin but Two Feathers still shouted, “Hotter yet, Uncle.” The next stone was dull red and Woodchuck Leggings slapped it on with a thud. “Dogeⁿ’s wi’ o!” shouted Two Feathers and putting his hands to the back of his neck he threw off the poultice. He grasped the bark which had worked partly out. He gave it a hard pull. Woodchuck Leggings grew suspicious and began to tremble with fear. With a loud cry Two Feathers pulled the bark point from his neck and before the cringing man before him had time to utter a sound, Two Feathers struck him a heavy blow over the neck. The death charm sank into the flesh, passed between the bones in his back and Woodchuck Leggings lay dead.

“The sick one has recovered!” shouted Two Feathers. “Every one go away while I dress.” The wondering throng which had sat chanting about the lodge during the ceremony, went to their lodges, curious to know what had happened, for the voice which they had heard commanding them was one which in itself compelled obedience and awe, and seemed 197to come from neither of the men whom they had seen enter the lodge.

Two Feathers washed his body in ashes, put on his old suit which Woodchuck Leggings had ruined, but which was restored as it touched his body, and ran out into the council grounds. The people looked at him in astonishment. Who could it be? The handsome man seemed like someone whom they had known before, and yet no one ventured to say who it was.

“I shall call a council for tonight; I bring news!” shouted Two Feathers.

Two Feathers took the speaker’s seat and addressed the people. “Brothers! I am Two Feathers, the same who once delivered you from the famine, by the power of my charms, I delivered you from the two grim sisters that breathed into your faces and almost stopped your breath. So soon have you forgotten me, but remember, I am not blaming you, for I know the reason, and you are not to be blamed.”

“Brothers! I was stricken in the forest by the treachery of Woodchuck Leggings, who thought that by taking my life he could take my power, but he was mistaken, for he has taken neither. For a long time I have suffered, alone, neglected and despised by all the people, but now that I have recovered, he who designed my misfortune himself has met it. I have killed him with his own charm.”

The gestures of Two Feathers, his face and his voice thrilled the people and with one accord they shouted, “Nio’´!”

“Now friends and brothers, let us rejoice in my restored life and power. See, I smoke! Fly birds, fly and bring me a light.” The birds flew from his hat with chirps of joy. They fluttered up and down and flew through the council house from end to end. They went into the fire, pulled out a brand and placed it in his pipe. They brushed against his face again and again singing. Two Feathers caught 198them in his hands and placed them back on his feather cap. He spoke to his pouch, “Dance, pouch, dance,—be my spotted fawn.” The pouch leaped from his side and danced better than it had before. It danced in a circle around him as he stood on the floor, it jumped over his head, rolled and tumbled, rubbed against his legs, leaped and gave every sign of life. “Enough!” exclaimed Two Feathers, and reluctantly it ran back to his belt, nothing but a limp skin pouch. “Now brothers, bring a skin.” Someone brought him the pelt which Woodchuck Leggings had used. “What, spoiled by worms? See, I smoke.” A puff of smoke purified the skin. “See, I breathe. Now look.” Wampum dropped from the frost of his breath and piled up in a heap on the skin.

The sachems and head men now began to speak. Never did a man receive a better welcome. The people were glad, the women sang a welcome song and then all rushed to put friendly hands on him,—all but two. These slunk from the room, one with eyes brimming with angry tears and the other with a face drawn into a horrible frown. This one ground her teeth in rage, she ran her claw fingers down her cheeks until the blood flowed in streams. She tore her hair, and with shrieks ran into the darkness.

The council was over and there was a commotion in the lodge of Drooping Flower. The mother lay on her couch screeching as she tore her clothing into shreds, chewed the flesh from her fingers and bit them off at the joints. Then she suddenly sprang up and shook her hands before her face. The sinews dangled over the white bones and blood spurted from the meat. Suddenly the lodge became darkened,—a rush of air was felt and a yelp was heard, like that of a dog pierced with an arrow. When a torch was lighted the mother had gone. She could not be found though the people searched in forest and in open. Only tracks of a big dog could be seen leading from the lodge. They were traced to a pond which had neither inlet nor outlet, 199and there they stopped. It was found out she had been a witch.

GENERAL NOTES.—The story of Two Feathers and his jealous uncle, Woodchuck Leggings is one of the favorite tales of the Seneca. It is related in several forms but always has the same general plot. The version here given was secured during the summer of 1903 during my stay on the Silverheels’ farm, and was related by George D. Jimerson, comments being made by Fred Kennedy, a half-blood, and Peter Snyder. As auditors who nodded their approval we had Gahweh Seneca and Fred Pierce.

As here recorded this bit of Seneca fiction is an example of a folk tale taken down in note form and rewritten in the language of the transcriber. It is not an exact translation by any means. It does give, however, all the essential ideas conveyed by the narrators. The plot is followed exactly in all the peculiar turns and in some cases we have used the same expressions of the story tellers who gave the tale.

The plot is a love theme in which a hero is thwarted by a jealous uncle. Magic plays its usual part but magic is employed by the hero to bring about his own recovery in due time. The heroine’s mother turns out to be in league with the villain, and after the villain’s exposure the hero is compelled to perform certain tasks thought to be impossible. He succeeds and the evil woman stands revealed an odious witch.

When I had written out this tale substantially as here presented I read it to Edward Cornplanter. He criticized it by saying that I had received it from Christian Indians who had given locations not in the original tale and that my informants had tried to explain too much. “It is all right, though,” he said. “I do not object at all because white folks will understand it better the way you have it. Only one big mistake you have made. Now, when Two Feathers went away from that big bark house where the girl lived he made up his mind to take the girl with him to his own village. So, he grabbed her and jumped up through the smoke hole. He had his snowshoes hidden on the roof. He put on his snowshoes, grabbed the girl around the waist and then slid down the slippery roof. He was magic and sailed away right in the air for a mile and then came down on the snow as nice as you please. It was great to see it.

“Now, soon, Woodchuck Leggings missed the girl. All the time he still wants her, which makes his own woman mad. So Woodchuck Leggings tried to jump up through the roof hole but fell back in the fire and burned himself. So he climbed up on the roof with his snowshoes to sail away after Two Feathers. He started down the slippery, icy roof and went fine,—until he came to the edge of the roof. Then he fell head first in a big drift and the only thing anyone could see was a pair of snowshoes on the level with the top of the drift. This made the whole village laugh with a big roar. His wife was madder than ever for she had to dig him out, and I hate to tell you what she did to him when she got him alone. This is the best of the story.”

There was an old woman who lived with her grandson, Osoon (Turkey), in a lonely lodge a long ways from a settlement. The lodge was old and very large, but only the two lived in it, for all others had been killed by sorcerers.

Winter was coming on and the old woman was busily engaged each day in gathering firewood for the winter’s store. Every day she would cry as she started on her journey and when she returned she would cry again, for she was old and weak.