29. THE FLINT CHIP THROWER.
Long ago Tĕg´wandă’[[37]] married a beautiful maiden and went far away with her to his hunting grounds.
Tĕg´wandă’ was famous as a successful hunter but his wife’s family had “dry bones”,[[38]] so her elder sister and mother took council together and said, “Come, let us go and live with Tĕg´wandă’ and we shall ever be filled.” The prospect of a never failing supply of venison and bear was tempting to those who had long subsisted on tubers and maize.
The wife of Tĕg´wandă’ was kind and never questioned his actions. He never went long from the house, yet he ever had game in abundance and skins piled high in his stores. This made her marvel, but she never made inquiries. The lodge was divided in two compartments but the couple lived only in one. The other was almost empty, but Tĕg´wandă’ often went there. She would hear him singing alone in the room, then there would come a crash like a splintering tree and soon afterward Tĕg´wandă’ would bring in a new pelt and the carcass of some beast. This made her marvel but she never questioned.
The young couple lived contentedly and never quarreled. No trouble or sorrow came to mar their happiness until one day, unheralded, came two women to the door of the lodge. These were the wife’s mother and sister. When the unbidden guests had eaten their fill of good and mealy nut pudding they began to seek the excuse for complaint. Then, oh the railing, the endless rebukes, the sneers and sarcasm! At last the matters turned from the lodge to the couple themselves.
“How does Tĕg´wandă’ obtain his meat? Surely he must be a wizard and likely to eat all of us women when his charms fail. He is evil, he is lazy! Let us drive him away.” These and other things the mother said to her daughter. So it came to pass that the sister insisted she must go with the husband wherever he went and learn something of his habits.
“If you must go,” said the wife, “obey him implicitly, else evil will occur.”
The husband was downcast but would not yield to his fear of the woman. Taking a basket of salt he sprinkled the white crystals upon a flat rock and entered the closed room with the woman.
“Do not move or touch a thing,” he commanded. “Let no fear, let no surprise cause you to stir!”
Then he commenced to sing. The woman looked about critically. In one corner was a pile of quarry flakes, beside them a bench and in a heap before it was a pile of keen edged flint chips. A sudden sound drew her attention from the lodge. Tĕg´wandă’ ceased singing. Outside some creature was snorting, “swe-i-i-i-sh, swe-i-i-i-sh!”
Picking up a handful of flint chips the man flung them with all his strength against the wall nearest the flat rock. The woman was now curious to find what was outside and pushed aside the curtain to get a glimpse of the mysterious things. Instantly the entire door curtain was torn from its fastenings and a monstrous elk rushed in and trampled upon Tĕg´wandă’. Then tossing him upon its antlers, bounded out and fled through the forest. The frightened woman ran after the elk, but fell back dispairing. Moaning she crept back to the lodge and confessed to the wife.
The wife burst into tears and then bitterly chided her sister for her meddlesome ways. Throwing on her robes she hastened to rescue her husband. Carefully she tracked the elk and after many days journey she heard a low trembling song. She knew her husband was near, so cautiously advancing she came to a spot where she could see a herd of elks feeding in an open. A deer was grazing near by. Gently she whispered. “Come, good brother, lend me your coat. You can do me good service thereby.” “Certainly,” responded the deer with alacrity, and, walking inconspicuously into the bushes, she removed her coat and threw it upon the woman. In her new habiliments the wife bounded off into the midst of the elks. In the middle and surrounded by the rest was a large reclining elk whose antlers held the emaciated form of Tĕg´wandă’. In a feeble whisper the husband sang.
Walking toward the elk she made a sudden dash and inserting her horns beneath her husband’s body lifted him off and dashed away before the astonished animals could remonstrate, and indeed, they were too frightened to do so. Galloping breathlessly into the thicket she set down her husband, removed the deer’s skin and gave it back with expressions of gratitude. Then lifting her husband upon her shoulders, she carried him homeward.
On her journey she pondered how she could restore him. He was exhausted and covered with bruises and wounds, his body had wasted away to a skeleton covered with skin and his mind was turned with his sufferings. Sitting down upon a hollow log she pondered. A sudden inspiration came. Quickly she pushed her husband into a hollow log and gave him a shove with her foot that sent him sliding through. When he emerged from the other end he was completely restored.
Together they tramped back home happy to be together once more. Entering the lodge the husband cast out the inquisitive sister and quarrelsome mother and sent them running down the trail.
“One woman is sufficient female company for any man,” he said. “More in one house make great trouble.”
VII.
HORROR TALES OF CANNIBALS AND SORCERERS
HADUI MASK OF THE FALSE FACE COMPANY.