113. A Legend of an Anthropomorphic Tribe of Rattlesnakes
In the ancient country of the Oneida, which they occupied when the League of the Iroquois was formed, were a number of subterranean caverns, which, it was said, were inhabited by various tribes of men. The following legend is about one of these caverns:
It was said that in the olden time a certain young man of a good family while out hunting in this region saw a large raccoon ahead of him, which seemingly was attempting to escape from him. At once the young hunter started in pursuit of the raccoon, and soon the race became interesting, for the raccoon was gradually gaining on its pursuer. It was not long before the raccoon had gotten out of his sight, so the hunter was able to follow it only by following its tracks in the snow that lay on the ground to the depth of a span. After a very long pursuit the hunter finally tracked the raccoon to a large river, the banks of which were very high and rocky. The tracks led along under one bank for a long distance. The young man was becoming quite exhausted when finally he came to the mouth of a cavern in the river bank, into which the tracks of the raccoon disappeared. The entrance to this cavern was just large enough to admit the body of the hunter, and he decided to go in; but before doing so he set up his bow and arrows and walking stick beside the entrance. He found that the passageway inclined downward at a gentle grade. After entering the passage the young hunter found that the way was long. Having gone so far in that the light from the entrance had entirely faded away, at last he was delighted to see that it was becoming light ahead of him. So he kept on until finally he emerged from the cavern. Thereupon he was surprised to see that the tracks of the raccoon led out of the passageway into the open. The young hunter stood quiet for some minutes, viewing the country around. He was greatly surprised to find further that the climate of this region was quite different from that in which he commonly abode, for he found black raspberries ripe or ripening, although there was much snow on the ground in the country whence he had just come. Then he resolved to follow a well-beaten path, which led farther into the new country. As he went along he blazed the trees bordering the path, or broke twigs and branches off the trees in such manner that these would serve as signs by which he could retrace his steps in the event of losing his way. He noticed that the path leading from the entrance to what he thought was a cavern led inland, turning to the right a short distance from the entrance. He followed this road because he saw in the dust of the path the tracks of the raccoon which he had been following.
As he walked along, keeping a sharp lookout for whatever might happen, he saw in the distance a lodge, which from its appearance [[540]]seemed to be occupied; he noticed smoke arising from it, hence he inferred that people were dwelling there. He resolved to go ahead to see who lived in that lodge. As he continued on he still saw the tracks of the raccoon which he had been following. On reaching the lodge the young hunter entered, finding within two very aged people, seemingly a man and his wife, who appeared to be superannuated. The old man was the first to greet the hunter, saying, “My grandson, it is indeed well that you visit our lodge and home.” Then the old woman joined her husband in welcoming him with the words, “My grandson, it is indeed good that you visit our home.” The hunter replied to these words of welcome, “I am indeed glad that you two are still living in health in this world.” The heads of these two old people were white and partially bald, for their years were many; but they set food before their guest, which he ate heartily and thankfully, for he had become quite exhausted from his long pursuit of the raccoon. When he finished his meal he conversed with the old man concerning the affairs of that country.
In a short time the old man said, “The chiefs of this settlement have invited me to meet them in council this evening, and I should be much pleased to have you accompany me to our lodge of assembly (“Long-lodge”).” Here the wife of the old man added, “My grandson, you should go with him and so become acquainted with our people and see the country.” The young hunter consented to accompany his aged host, for he learned that he was a noted chief in his land. Thereupon the aged chief said, “My grandson, when we arrive at the lodge of assembly you must not remain outside; you must enter with me; and when they begin to dance you must return here at once, for if you should remain there you would meet with a terrible misfortune. I am giving you warning in due time. Moreover, you must not linger along the way homeward, but you must make all possible speed. Yonder is a hut, which rests on a platform supported by four posts, in which hut you must retire for the night. There is a ladder leading up to the entrance of the hut, which, when you have reached the platform, you must pull up after you and lay on the scaffolding outside the lodge. I warn you further. You must not consent under any consideration or persuasion to let down this ladder to enable a person or persons to go up and be with you, for should you give this consent a most appalling thing will befall you. Do not forget these warnings. Your safety depends on your obeying what I have said to you, for I am telling you these things for your welfare.” The young hunter assured the old man that he would obey his warnings. Looking out he saw the elevated hut to which the old man said he should retire for the night, and he noticed that the supporting posts had been peeled and carefully oiled to prevent anything from climbing them to reach the hut. This fact [[541]]aroused the young hunter’s curiosity, but feeling that he should not pry into the affairs of his hosts he held his peace.
Having completed their small preparations, the aged chief and his young guest departed for the council. When they reached the lodge of assembly (“Long-lodge”), they found that they were on time. The hunter saw what was usual on such occasions and gatherings—that those whose intentions and purposes were good had already taken their places inside the council lodge, and that those who had evil designs and propensities were going to and fro outside. He noticed, too, that when the frivolous young women saw him and recognized him as a stranger, they at once guyed one another at his expense, jostling and hawing and clearing their throats, in order to make the young stranger look at them and to join them; but he paid no attention to their ruses. On entering the lodge of assembly the aged chief and his guest found that it was already well filled with the orderly people of the settlement, and that the chiefs were all present, quietly awaiting the arrival of the host of the young hunter. When the two had taken their seats the Fire-keeper chief arose and in a formal speech uncovered figuratively the council fire, expressing with much feeling the public thanks for all the good things they enjoyed and for the preservation of their lives. He made these remarks in a loud voice, giving thanks to the Master of Life. After forbidding the commission of bad deeds by everyone there present he carefully stated the purpose of their session. He asked every chief to employ wisdom and mercy and justice in the conduct of the business. After a number of the chiefs had discussed the matter pro and con before them, and had in their parlance “cooked the ashes,” and the business of the council had been transacted, the Fire-keeper again arose to close the session formally, by saying, among other things, “We now cover the fire with ashes. And after the dancing, which will begin now, we will disperse to our homes.”
The young hunter, hearing these last words and remembering the strict injunctions of his host, hastened out of the lodge and at once started for home at a rapid pace. But his movements had been watched by four young women, abandoned characters of the settlement, who at once pursued him swiftly, laughing, hawing, and calling to him to stop and await their pleasure. This conduct, however, only caused the young hunter to travel ahead as fast as it was possible for him to go. Soon he was chagrined to find that he was not leaving the young women, for their voices did not die away, so finally he started to run at top speed. After a time, becoming exhausted by the exertion, the hunter slackened his pace to a brisk walk, whereupon he soon heard the sounds of the laughing and guying voices of the pursuing women, who seemed to be rapidly gaining on him. Again he started on a brisk run in a seemingly vain effort to [[542]]outdistance his fleet-footed pursuers, for just as soon as he would relax his efforts in the least, the sound of their voices could be heard not far behind him. The serious injunctions of his aged host urged him onward as rapidly as it was possible for him to go. Thus closely pursued, he finally reached the hut and lost no time in ascending to it by means of the tree ladder, which he drew up after him, as he had been directed to do by the old man. Having entered the hut and secured its bark flap door as well as he could from the inside, he anxiously awaited events. Soon the four wretched women arrived and clamorously asked him to let down the ladder to enable them to climb up to his room, but the young man gave no heed to their importunities. Through small crevices in the walls of the hut he watched them while they attempted to climb the posts, but as these were greased the women were unable to do so. Throughout the night they remained at the foot of the posts clamoring for the ladder. At daybreak the women ceased their attempts and noise, and the young man fell asleep from exhaustion. When he awoke he arose, and unfastening the door flap of bark, he went out on the platform around the hut. On looking down, he saw at the foot of each of the posts a huge female rattlesnake, coiled and asleep; these he divined were the four wretched women who had pursued him the previous night. His movements over their heads awakened them, and at once they crawled away into the neighboring thickets without indicating in any manner that it was they who had just tormented him.
Having gathered up his few belongings and let down the ladder, he descended to the ground and hastened to the lodge of his aged hosts, which stood not far away. On entering, he was astonished to find the aged host, in the form of a huge rattlesnake, coiled up on the couch, but he was reassured by seeing the old woman, who was up, and who had taken the precaution of assuming human form again. Though at first somewhat nonplused by what he had just seen, the young hunter asked the old woman, “Where is my grandfather? I suppose he has gone out into the forest?” Without showing any perturbation, the old woman replied, “Yes; he has gone out, but he will soon return. Back of the ledge you will find water with which you may wash your face and hands. The morning meal is now ready, and we will eat it just as soon as you return.” Having washed, as suggested, in a bark trough in the rear of the lodge, he returned to join the old woman and her husband at the morning meal.
While eating the young hunter took occasion to examine the furnishings of the lodge more thoroughly than he had had an opportunity of doing sooner. In the room he saw numerous bark vessels of many sizes with various kinds of nuts, dried fruits, and berries; wooden vessels containing honey; and small bundles of the dried twigs of the spicebush shrub for use in making a beverage [[543]]to be drunk hot with meals. The youth was further surprised to see in a corner of the room, curled up on a mat, the raccoon which he had pursued so persistently the previous day. He was now fully convinced that he was the guest of a family of rattlesnakes, for when he returned from washing himself at the back of the lodge he found that the old man had again assumed human form, appearing to him as he had the day before, and greeting him with, “Well, my grandson, did you rest well last night?” The young man replied, “Yes; I rested quite well.” When the old woman had placed the food on the bench, she addressed the young man, saying, “My grandson, now you must eat your fill, for there is plenty here. So do not be afraid of eating all you wish.”
Having finished his meal, the young hunter thanked his rattlesnake hosts, and after bidding them farewell he started for his own home. He returned to the mouth of the cavern, for such was this place, and crawling back through the passage he reached the surface of the earth in his own country, where he found his bow and arrows and his walking stick just as he had left them. He quickly made his way home to his family, to whom he related his experiences in the cavern. He was so astonished at what had befallen him while in pursuit of a raccoon that he had the chiefs call a council of their chiefs and people to hear the strange recital. He told them that he had indeed visited the rattlesnake people, and that they assumed at will human form and attributes and lived under human institutions. He was thanked by the council and people for his recital. But the young hunter never afterward took advantage of the invitation of the old rattlesnake chief to revisit him and his wife.
114. The Twins: Grandsons of Gahoⁿʻdji’dāʹʻhoⁿk[421]
In ancient times a certain family, consisting of seven brothers and one sister, lived together contentedly in a large bark lodge. It was the duty of this sister while her brothers were out hunting to cut in the neighboring forest the firewood used by the family and to bring it to the lodge.
It is said that the sister was uncommonly comely, although her size and stature were above the average for women, and that she possessed unusual strength. In the performance of her duties she was accustomed to be absent from the lodge during the entire day, returning with her burden of firewood in the evening. Now, the youngest of the seven brothers was a recluse—that is to say, he was deanoäʹdoⁿʼ.[422] As the duties of the sister did not require her to go far from the lodge, she was usually the first to return to it in the evening, while the brothers, who had to go many miles away to find game and fish, did not return at times until very late at night. [[544]]
There came a day, while the six normal brothers and their sister were absent, and while there was no one in the lodge except the recluse, when a young woman, daughter of the noted witch, Gahoⁿʻdjiʼdāʹʻhoⁿk, came to the lodge bearing a huge basket of marriage bread. There were, of course, eight beds to accommodate the seven brothers and their sister, which were properly arranged along the sides of this long lodge. The bed occupied by the youngest brother, the recluse, was nearest to the doorway on its side of the lodge. The witch’s daughter had been instructed by her mother to take her seat on this bed. But upon entering the lodge the young woman, after looking around, set her basket down in front of the third bed and took her seat thereon. This bed was the third one from the doorway, counting from the entrance on the left side of the lodge. Feeling, however, that she had not followed her instructions, the young woman did not sit there long, but took her seat on the next bed, because she imagined that it had a better appearance than the one on which she had been sitting. But she kept on shifting her position from bed to bed until she finally came to the seventh bed. Here the second of the seven brothers and his sister found her on their return to the lodge.
Seeing her seated on the bed and noticing the basket of marriage-proposal bread, they inferred that she had come to marry their brother on whose bed she sat, so they said to her kindly, “We are very thankful that you have come to our lodge, oh, our sister-in-law.” She made them no reply but by her actions showed her appreciation of this welcome reception on their part. In the order of their ages the other brothers returned to the lodge, and with the exception of the eldest one all saluted her with words of welcome in the same manner as the first two had expressed their delight at having her for their sister-in-law.
The eldest brother was the last to return to the lodge, and by the young woman’s own choice seemingly by sitting on his bed with a basket of marriage-proposal bread before her, he was her chosen husband, so he addressed her as his accepted wife. Noticing at once that he was blind in one eye, she was chagrined for not having obeyed her mother’s instructions with regard to the bed on which she should await her future husband. She thought it best, however, to seem to ignore her disturbing discovery and her unhappy feelings in consequence, so she began to study her surroundings in the lodge. She saw that some one whom she had not noticed before was lying on the bed next to the doorway on the left-hand side of the entrance, the one on which she had been told to sit on entering this lodge. She made the discovery also that the person lying on this bed was the recluse of the family, that in fact he was deanoäʹdoⁿʼ, and as such was “secluded” from all persons. She noticed, too, that no [[545]]one paid the slightest attention to the recumbent figure, which was heavily covered with robes of skin from head to foot. Hence her curiosity was thoroughly aroused, especially as it was on this bed that her mother had directed her to sit.
The next day, when all the other persons of the lodge except the recluse and the bride wife had gone out into the forest on their various errands, she arose from her couch, and crossing over to the other side of the fire, went to the bed on which lay the covered figure and cautiously drew down the covering from the head of the person who was fast asleep. There she saw with longing eyes and half-suppressed passion a handsome youth of finely developed figure. She stood there partly bent over the sleeping youth, sorely infatuated. By gently shaking the young man she finally succeeded in awakening him, whereupon she said to him, “Arise, my friend, and come to my couch and let us talk together.” But the youth neither arose nor would he speak to her, notwithstanding all her fervent entreaties to embrace her. Naturally this conduct only intensified the young wife’s desire, so she continued during the entire day to tease and coax the youth to go over to her own couch. But he made no response to her persistent efforts. When she thought it was about time for the other persons living in the lodge to return, she went back to her couch, where she had remained of her own choice the previous night. She did not love her husband since she found out his misfortune and her great mistake in choosing his couch (contrary to her instruction) for a resting place when she first came to the lodge.
When all the family had returned to the lodge for the night and had prepared, cooked, and eaten their supper of corn bread, boiled venison, and spicebush tea, they retired to their several couches, whereupon the bride began to tell her husband a story invented for the occasion. She declared that when he and his brothers and sister had left the lodge the day before and she was alone with his deanoäʹdoⁿʼ, or recluse brother, the latter had come over to the side of her bed and had made improper proposals to her, and that she had great difficulty in resisting his attempted assaults. Her husband, however, made no reply to this carefully concocted story.
Again, the next day, when all the brothers excepting the recluse, and their sister, had left the lodge, the bride went to the bedside of the recluse, and after awakening him, coaxed and begged him to come to her own couch. Knowing her motive, the youth made no response to her importunities except to tell her that she should be satisfied with her own choice of a husband, reminding her that she had been satisfied to reject the speaker when she first came to the lodge, although she had been instructed to take a seat on his bed as a token [[546]]of a marriage proposal. Completely baffled by the attitude of the youth and enraged by his conduct in refusing to gratify her desire, she returned at last to her own couch with a heart filled only with bitter thoughts of revenge on him. Then, in order to make her contemplated story appear true, she lacerated and bruised her neck and face and breasts and arms with her own hands and fingernails, in order to support her intended accusation against the youth of an attempted assault upon herself.
When the other members had returned to the lodge in the evening, and after they had eaten their suppers and had retired for the night, the young bride again told her husband with much simulated emotion that his recluse brother had made that day another attempt to assault her when the other occupants of the lodge were absent, showing her lacerated neck and arms and face in corroboration of this false story. Still the husband made no response to her accusations against his youngest brother. The next day, however, when he was out in the forest hunting with his other brothers he related to them the story which his bride had told him. They, too, received this information in silence.
On the third day after the arrival of the young woman in the family she still had hopes of entrapping the recluse by inducing him to share her bed with her. In fact, she had been sent by her notorious mother, Gahoⁿʻdjiʼdāʹʻhoⁿk, to marry this youth, not because the mother thought he would make her daughter a suitable husband, but rather because she wished to get him into her power, for, on her own account, she feared to allow him to grow to manhood without an attempt to destroy him, knowing well that all who were regarded as deanoäʹdoⁿʼ[423] were possessed of most potent orenda (magic power), which they would put into use as soon as they attained manhood—at the age of puberty. The recluse youth had foreseen for many months the events which would come to pass after the arrival of this dutiful daughter of Gahoⁿʻdjiʼdāʹʻhoⁿk. He knew well that the great witch had sent her for the express purpose of getting him into her power in order to destroy him before he could develop into manhood. Hence, he sturdily resisted all the wiles of the daughter to get him to embrace her, as he knew that such action would place him at the mercy of her mother. He feared being bewitched; he realized that he must exert to the full his orenda against that of the great witch, for he was aware that the penalty for being defeated was death. In order to carry out her scheme the young bride arose on the third day when all except the recluse and herself had left the lodge, and going over to the bedside of the youth, again entreated him tearfully to come to her couch. But he was obdurate, rudely repulsing her advances, until finally she returned to her own side of the fire. Despairing of accomplishing her purpose by gentle [[547]]means, the young woman, whose anger was thoroughly aroused by the youth’s refusal to be seduced by her, went out of the lodge into a dense thicket, and, baring her legs, she plunged into the midst of briers and thorns, which lacerated them very badly. In this condition she returned to the lodge to await the coming of her husband. When her husband and his brothers and sister had returned the young woman kept her peace for a while, although she pretended to be troubled in mind. But after they had eaten their supper and had retired for the night she told her husband a story of another attempted assault on her by his youngest brother, and to confirm this she showed him in the ill-lighted room her torn and blood-stained legs and thighs. Her husband made no reply, although he had decided what to do.
The next day after their morning meal all except the young wife and the recluse left the lodge on their daily trips into the forest, the brothers to hunt and the sister to procure bark and fuel for the fire. When the brothers had reached their rendezvous in the forest the eldest told the rest what his wife reported to him, and also that she had shown him her bleeding legs and thighs in confirmation of her story. After a short parley, the brothers solemnly decided that it was their duty to kill their youngest brother; so they returned to the lodge that night with the firm determination to carry out their resolution. The next morning, after they had eaten their breakfast, they informed him of their decision to kill him in order to put a stop to his scandalous conduct toward his brother’s wife. The youth, knowing that he was innocent of the charge and that the young woman had falsely accused him to his brothers, calmly lay down on his couch in silence that his brothers might kill him.
First, the eldest brother solemnly approached the couch, and drawing his flint knife from his pouch he passed it across the throat of his youngest brother; whereupon he was astonished to see that the knife had made no cut. After sawing away with his knife until he had worn it out, he abandoned the attempt with grave misgivings that all was not well with his brother. Then the rest of the brothers tried in turn to cut the throat of the youngest, but in this they failed completely. When they fully realized that they had been foiled by some unknown power, the recluse said to his astonished brothers: “None of you possesses the orenda (magic power) to enable you to kill me. My sister alone possesses such potency; hence she can kill me. When she has done so, you shall build a log lodge of massive construction, and you shall put over it a roof of the largest logs, so that the lodge shall be entirely secure. But before putting in place the roof you shall lay my body in the lodge and also leave my sister alive therein. Further, you shall [[548]]place my head in its correct position with relation to the rest of my body. Finally, seal up the lodge with the logs as I have said.”
Then the sister of the youth, with her flint knife, beheaded her brother, afterward withdrawing in deep sorrow. Thereupon the six brothers of the dead youth set to work constructing the log lodge as they had been instructed to do, using the largest logs they could handle. When they had finished this task they placed their sister alive in the lodge with the body of the slain brother, just as he had directed, and covered the rude but strong structure with the largest logs it was possible for them to obtain and handle. Then they returned to their own camp.
When the brothers arrived there they were somewhat surprised to see that the bride of the eldest had mysteriously disappeared. They marveled greatly at this singular occurrence, which they could not explain, for there were no traces of her having been attacked by an enemy.
While they were thus perplexed there suddenly arose a terrific hurricane and windstorm, which was the work of the notorious witch Gahoⁿʻdji’dāʹʻhoⁿk, the mother of the missing bride. At the height of the tempest, within the lodge of great logs, the head of the youngest brother became reunited to his body, and the youth came to life. At once he said to his sister, possessed of potent orenda, “Oh, my sister! press with all your might both your hands over both my eyes and keep them there until I tell you to remove them.” The sister quickly obeyed her brother, for she knew that the storm maidens would snatch away the eyes of her brother if possible. The tempest swept the ground in all directions from the lodge as far as the eye could see, trees being torn up by the roots and tossed about as if they were grass stalks. The camp of the six brothers was swept away and they were destroyed with it.
Nevertheless the lodge in which the youngest brother and his sister were inclosed was left intact, and the two inmates were unharmed, except in one respect: When the rage of the storm had subsided, the brother said to his sister, “Now you may take your hands from my eyes, for it was of no avail for you to have held them there. Gahoⁿʻdjiʼdāʹʻhoⁿk has overmatched me in sorcery; her orenda has overcome mine.” From this speech the sister learned that the youth claimed to be a wizard, possessed of orenda of abnormal potency and efficiency. But she was greatly astonished and agitated to find that her brother’s eyes had been snatched out from under her hands during the storm and that consequently he was blind, for on removing her hands from his face she saw the eyeless sockets.
Without any ado the brother said to his sister, “Let us leave this place. Remove the roof of logs so that we may get out of this lodge.” Then the sister, who was abnormally strong for a woman, [[549]]set to work removing these logs, and, when she had removed enough of them to enable her brother and herself to climb out, they regained their freedom. Thereupon the blind brother said, “Let us go home now; and in order to do this we must travel directly southward from here.”
The sister, agreeing with this proposition, at once set to work making preparations for the journey. In order to be able to bear her brother on her back she constructed a kind of harness or carrying-chair (gaʼnigoⁿʹʻhwāʼ). When she had completed her task she placed her blind brother in the “chair,” and by means of the forehead strap bore it on her back. Thus burdened, she started at once southward for their home.
Having traveled a long distance without stopping to rest, they finally came to a place in which the sister saw a covey of wild turkeys. She wished, mentally, it were possible for her to secure one of the birds for food for her brother and herself. The former, being aware of her thought, said, “Oh, my sister! make me a bow and an arrow, and I will kill one of the wild turkeys.” The sister, having done as desired, brought the bow and arrow to her brother, who said, “Oh, my sister! tell me where the turkeys are and turn me so that I may face them as I shoot.” As soon as his sister had placed him in the proper position, with one shot he killed a turkey. The sister, who was delighted with their good fortune, at once proceeded to dress and cook the turkey for their supper. But when she told her brother that the turkey was ready to eat he refused to partake of it, telling his sister that she would have to eat it by herself. At this, without asking him his reason for not eating his portion, she ate what she desired. Then she constructed a temporary lodge (kanoñsʻhäʼ) with boughs, strips of bark, and other suitable material, in which she and her brother remained for the night.
In the morning the sister ate what remained of the turkey and then, placing her brother on her back, resumed the journey toward the south. They traveled the entire day. When the sun was setting they again came upon a covey of turkeys, one of which they killed in the same manner as they had killed one the evening before. The devoted sister, having dressed the bird carefully, boiled it by putting hot stones into the water, but the young man again refused to eat any portion of it. When the sister had eaten what she desired she reserved what remained for breakfast. Then she made another temporary shelter in which they retired for the night.
Next morning after the sister had eaten her breakfast she again took her brother on her back in the carrying cradle and they resumed the journey southward. Nothing unusual occurred during the day. When the sun was setting they again came upon a covey of wild [[550]]turkeys, one of which was killed, and after being dressed, was cooked and eaten, as the two other turkeys had been. Afterward the sister prepared a temporary shelter, as she had done twice before.
In the morning of the fourth day they again set forth on their journey southward. Toward midday the sister said, “Oh, my brother! I see a lodge in the distance ahead of us. Beside it stands a very tall chestnut tree. Shall I continue our journey?” The blind brother replied, “Yes; go on! It is the lodge in which we formerly lived. Yes; that is our lodge and home.” Thereupon the sister hastened her steps and they soon reached the lodge. Within they found everything that was common to the lodges of those ancient times, as clay pots, baskets, wooden mortars, tubs of corn and beans, and bundles of spicebush twigs for use in making a warm drink.
Nothing unusual happened to the blind brother or to his sister until the third day after their arrival at their old home. On the morning of that day, while the sister was out in the neighboring forest gathering fuel, she was surprised to hear some person, seemingly near to her, say, or rather whisper, “Chit!” Quickly turning in the direction whence the sound proceeded, she was startled to see a short distance away a handsome young man looking intently at her. After talking with her a few moments he made her a proposal of marriage, in reply to which she told him that she could not give him a definite answer without first consulting her brother. Then she asked him to meet her at the same time and place on the following day. The young man agreed readily to her proposition, whereupon they separated without further ceremony.
When the sister returned to the lodge she told her brother of meeting the young man, and asked his advice with regard to her acceptance or refusal of the offer of marriage. He replied that it was his wish, prompted by wise policy, that she should accept the offer, since the young man was a noted wizard, son of the notorious witch, Gahoⁿʻdji’dāʹʻhoⁿk; for, if she did not marry him, her refusal would be tantamount to a sentence of death on each; hence, they must accept the inevitable.
During the following night the blind brother explained in detail the reasons for his advice to her to marry the young man, who was the son of the great witch, Gahoⁿʻdji’dāʹʻhoⁿk, the relentless enemy of their family and kin.
The next morning the sister went into the forest to keep tryst with the strange young man, whom she found there awaiting her coming. She told him at once that her brother had been happy to consent to have her marry him. He seemed greatly pleased at her reply and merely said: “It is well. I will be at your lodge tonight. So, I go away now.” So they two parted in this abrupt way. That night, when darkness had come, the strange young man arrived at [[551]]the lodge of the sister and her blind brother. He remained overnight with his wife, but left the lodge at the dawn. Before leaving, however, he assured his wife that he would return at night. Accordingly, he came to the lodge that night also and remained with his wife until the dawn, when he departed as he had done on the previous morning.
Thus he came and departed for seven nights. Then he said to his wife: “It is my wish that you return with me to my mother’s lodge—my home.” His wife, knowing well who he was and who his mother was, readily consented to accompany him; by so doing she was faithfully carrying out the policy which her blind brother had advised her to pursue toward him. On their way homeward, while the husband was leading the trail, they came to a point where the path divided into two divergent ways which, however, after forming an oblong loop, reunited, forming once more only a single path. Here the woman was surprised to see her husband’s body divide into two forms, one following the one path and the other the other trail. She was indeed greatly puzzled by this phenomenon, for she was at a loss to know which of the figures to follow as her husband. Fortunately, she finally resolved to follow the one leading to the right. After following this path for some distance, the wife saw that the two trails reunited and also that the two figures of her husband coalesced into one. It is said that this circumstance gave rise to the name of this strange man, which was Degiyanēʹgĕñʻ; that is to say, “They are two trails running parallel.” Not long after the two reached the husband’s home, the residence of the notorious witch, Gahoⁿʻdji’dāʹʻhoⁿk, who welcomed her daughter-in-law to her lodge.
In due course the wife of Degiyanēʹgĕñʻ gave birth to male twins. The great witch, who acted as midwife to her daughter-in-law, cast one of the children under a bed and the other under another, and then nursed her daughter-in-law and instructed her as to her conduct during convalescence.
Some days elapsed, when the inmates of the lodge were surprised to hear sounds issuing from beneath the beds under which the twins had been cast. At once the great witch, making two small balls of deer hair and buckskin and also two lacrosse ball clubs, gave a ball and a club to each of the twins. At once each of the twins began to play ball beneath the bed under which he lived, and it was not long before each of the little boys was seen to pass from under his bed beneath that of the other. Thus they amused themselves the entire day, but at night each of the twins returned under his own bed. Day after day the twins visited back and forth. There came a day, however, when one of the twins tossed his ball up in such wise that it flew out of the doorway of the lodge. Thereupon the two youngsters followed the ball so nimbly and swiftly that they were able to [[552]]overtake it before it struck the ground. So they kept batting the ball high up into the air and overtaking it before it could reach the ground again. After playing thus for long hours, each would return to his own retreat beneath the bed under which he lived.
This outdoor sport was indulged in by the twins for a long time. One day, on being tossed into the air, the ball at once took a course directly toward the lodge of their blind uncle, but the twins kept up with it, hitting it with their bats before it could touch the ground. They did not notice that they were approaching a lodge, hence they were greatly surprised to see it finally fall into the smoke hole of the lodge. They cautiously approached the lodge and, peering through the crevices in its bark walls, they saw their ball in the hands of a man with eyeless sockets.
One of the boys said to the other, “Lo. Go in, and get the ball,” but the other replied, “I fear him. You go.” Finally they entered the lodge together to ask the man to give them back their ball. As they drew near the man, he said to them: “Do not be afraid of me. Fear not; I am your friend. It is I who have caused you to come here to my lodge. By sorcery I caused your ball to fall into my hand. Indeed, I am your uncle, your mother’s brother. I should very much like to see you two, but you observe I have no eyes, so I can not do so.” At this the twins exclaimed together: “Oh! maternal uncle, how did you lose your eyes?” The uncle replied: “Your grandmother, Gahoⁿʻdji’dāʹʻhoⁿk, overmatched me in sorcery, and as a penalty she took out my eyes, so I am blind.” The twins answered: “Oh, uncle! we desire very much that you see us.” To this the uncle replied: “As it seems to be an impossibility for me to see again, it would probably be useless for you to wish me to see you.” But the twins said: “We will try to make you able to see us.”
With this remark the twins left their ball and their lacrosse clubs and went into the neighboring forest. They had not gone very far before they met Degĕñsʹgē (the Horned Owl). They asked him to lend them his eyes for a short time, promising to return them to him uninjured. Complying with their request on this condition, he removed his eyes and handed them to the twins; then he sat down to await their return. Delighted with their success, the twins hastened back to the lodge to their uncle. Placing the borrowed eyes in his sightless sockets, they asked him whether he could see with them, whereupon he told them that he could see nothing. Disappointed with this result, the twins removed the eyes from their uncle’s head and returned them to the Degĕñsʹgē (Horned Owl) in the forest, thanking him for his kindness.
Going a short distance farther into the forest, the twins met Ke’kʹʻhowā (Barred Owl), whom they asked to lend his eyes to [[553]]them for a short time. He readily consented on condition that they return them within one day. So the twins soon had his eyes, which they carried back to the lodge as swiftly as their feet could take them. But after inserting them into their uncle’s eyeless sockets, they were again disappointed to hear him say: “It is indeed too bad; I can not see anything with them.” So removing the eyes, the twins carried them back to Ke’kʹʻhowā, whom they thanked for his kindness.
The twins were not to be easily defeated, however, in their purpose, so they went still farther into the forest. There they met Odoñnyoñʹdăʻ (the Eagle), and they at once asked him to lend them his eyes for a short time. The Eagle readily consented to part with them for a day, and in a moment the twins were hurrying homeward with them. After they had placed these in their uncle’s sockets he told them that he could not see things clearly, merely faint outlines of them. So once more they removed the eyes and gratefully returned them to the Eagle.
Not to be thus baffled in the attempt to enable their uncle to see them, one of the lads proposed to the other that each lend their uncle an eye from his own head. To this proposal the other readily consented. Each of the lads having removed one of his eyes, the two started for the lodge of their uncle. When they reached his side they placed the eyes in their uncle’s head, who at once exclaimed in delight: “Oh! I can see. Oh! I am so glad to be able to see you two, my nephews.” Then, after taking a glance around the lodge, he returned the borrowed eyes to his wonderful nephews, who said to him: “We will now go away to get back your own eyes; so be of good cheer for a short time. We start now.”
But their blind uncle replied: “Knowing what I do, it seems impossible for you two lads to accomplish your purpose. So take courage and be brave.” Then, after a moment of silence, he added by way of advice: “Remember this: My eyes are partly bloodshot, and they are attached to the swaddling wrappings of a female child, who is still fastened to a cradle board, and whom they serve as breast ornaments. The lodge in which this child may be found has a fox skin as its clan mark and stands far away in cloudland. And, my nephews, no one can enter that land unseen by the sleepless eyes of the grim warder, who is called Haneʹʻhwăʼ,[424] and who on the approach of a stranger gives the alarm by three terrific shouts. So have courage, my nephews.”
Undaunted, the lads left the lodge, and going to a neighboring swamp they set to work industriously collecting a vast quantity of swamp grass, which they placed on a large pile. When they had collected a sufficient quantity they set the pile on fire, and when the flames leaped the highest the lads, casting themselves into their [[554]]midst, were borne aloft on the huge billows of smoke, which mounted ever higher and higher, and were soon in cloudland, where they came down in the form of cinders.
Then one of the lads called two mice, which he instructed to creep cautiously under the leaves, grass, and rubbish to a certain lodge having a fox skin for a clan mark, and to emerge from the trail as near the lodge as possible without being apprehended by the warder, Haneʹʻhwăʼ. Then each lad entered one of the mice, and the two mice, burrowing along under the leaves and other rubbish, soon came out just where they had been directed to emerge. Notwithstanding their caution and ruse, Haneʹʻhwăʼ knew the purpose which the two mice had in coming, but before he could give the alarm one of the lads said to him: “Keep silence. We will give you a quantity of wild beans if you consent to our request.” Believing the lads to be harmless and to be on a mere sporting expedition to show their powers of metamorphosis, he readily consented to permit them unheralded to pass to their destination.
Having thus easily passed the warder of the lodge of Gahoⁿʻdji’dāʹʻhoⁿk, the two lads, assuming the form and size of fleas, at once entered the portico or porch of the lodge, in which several of their aunts, sisters of their father, were pounding corn in wooden mortars with wooden pestles. As fleas the lads, unnoticed, quickly crawled up the legs of these women, and by vicious bites soon caused the corn pounders to fall to fighting among themselves, believing that they had been cruelly pinched by their mates. By crawling on and biting the legs of all the women the lads were able to make all of them fight. In fighting, the women, influenced by the orenda of the boys, employed their wooden pestles in striking their opponents on the head, fracturing their skulls. Thus, in a short time the women had destroyed one another.
After all the women were either dead or stretched out unconscious with fractured skulls, the lads cautioned the warder, Haneʹʻhwăʼ, not to inform Degiyanēʹgĕñʻ, their father, what he had seen them do, should he come there inquiring about his sisters. They told him to sing for their father the following song:
Yekĕⁿnĕⁿnéʹʻhoʻ skahetchonăʼ otiʹʼsĕñ.
Oekĕⁿnĕⁿnéʹʻhoʻ skahetchonăʼ otiʹʼsĕñ.
The warder consented to do what his boy friends had asked him to do. Thereupon the lads quickly entered the lodge to which was attached the fox skin clan badge. They soon found the cradle board on which was fastened the female child, even as their uncle had told them, but they were greatly astonished when they saw that the eyes of many persons adorned the swaddling clothes (wrappings). Quickly but carefully examining these eyes, which served [[555]]as the breast ornaments of the child, they soon found the eyes of their uncle, which were partially bloodshot. When they had secured these they removed also the others, in pairs, and, tossing them up into the air, said to them: “Return to the place whence you were taken by stealth.” At once these eyes took flight and returned to their owners. After killing the female child and compassing the death of the treacherous Haneʹʻhwăʼ, the lads started for home with their uncle’s eyes.
When the boys reached the point whence they must descend they assumed the size and form of fleas, and, using the seed heads of the dandelion as parachutes, they easily floated down from cloudland to the earth. Going directly to the lodge of their uncle, they returned to him his eyes. He was delighted beyond measure when he found that his nephews had been successful in their expedition and had so speedily brought back his eyes.
The lads had killed the baby in cloudland by means of potent drugs given them by their uncle while they were still on the earth. Before starting their uncle had told them not to fail to put this deadly drug on the baby, for he knew that the child was the life itself of the great witch, Gahoⁿʻdjiʼdāʹʻhoⁿk. Through its death the witch herself necessarily died, because the child was her life, not her baby, as it appeared to be. Thus, Gahoⁿʻdjiʼdāʹʻhoⁿk was destroyed and the young deanoäʹdoⁿʼ man at last was revenged on her, partly through the potent orenda of his nephews and partly by means of the potent “medicine” with which he had armed them before they had started on their expedition into cloudland.