18. THE BOY WHO LIVED WITH THE BEARS.
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 his 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.”
“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 around 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.”
THE BEAR DANCE
In this drawing, by Jesse Cornplanter, the ceremonial dance in honor of the spirits of the bears is represented.
On 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.
“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.
19. THE SEVENTH SON.[[28]]
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.
Then 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 and 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 and 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 had 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.
20. THE BOY WHO OVERCAME ALL MAGIC BY LAUGHTER.[[30]]
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 (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. Only 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 have. 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 Gajihsondis 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 the 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 me.” 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 of 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.
The 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 he 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.
He 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.
There 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.
VI.
TALES OF LOVE AND MARRIAGE
MRS. JOHN BIG KITTLE.
Chief matron of the Cattaraugus Seneca Wolf Clan. Mrs. Kittle was born on Buffalo Creek Reservation in 1822.
Photo by E. C. Winnegar.