So the Turtle set forth once more; but as he is a slow traveller, it took him two days to reach the witch’s home. “What is the matter, Grandma?” he asked. “Alas!” she cried, “Āl-wūs-ki-ni-gess has killed me!”
Turtle then drew his hunting-knife and finished her.
SUMMER
There lived near “Kīsus,” the Sun, a beautiful woman named “Niffon,” Summer. She dressed in green leaves, and her wigwam was decked with leaves and flowers of many different sorts. Her grandmother, Sogalŭn, Rain, lived far away, but when she visited her granddaughter, she always warned her never to go near “Let-ogus-nūk,” the North, where her worst enemy, “Bovin,” Winter, lived, saying: “If you do go, you will lose all your beauty, your dress will fade, your hair will turn gray, and your strength will leave you.”
But Niffon paid no heed to her grandmother’s warning. One fine morning as she sat in her wigwam gazing northward, and saw no signs of Bovin,—the sun was shining and she could see for a long distance,—a beautiful region lay stretched before her, broad rivers, and lakes, and high mountains,—something within her bade her go forth to see that strange country; so she started on her long journey. She knew that her grandmother could not see her, and though she seemed to hear her say: “Do not go near your enemy; he will surely slay you,” she did not heed it, but journeyed on and on. The mountains and lakes seemed far away; but she did not lose heart. Looking back, she could see nothing of her own lovely home. The bright sun overhead was the only thing not new and strange to her. She felt a vague sadness and distress; and when once more a voice murmured: “Do not go, my daughter,” she resolved to turn back, but it was too late. Some unseen power now forced her towards the north. Still the mountains and lakes were as far away as ever; her dress was beginning to fade; her long hair had turned gray; her strength was failing fast; the sun, too, had lost his power; and, as she neared her journey’s end, she saw that the mountains were but heaps of snow, the beautiful lakes but fields of ice.
Meantime her grandmother, seeing no smoke rise from Niffon’s wigwam, grew alarmed and concluded to visit her. When she got there, she found the wigwam empty, the green boughs on the floor withered and dry, and the leaves faded. “Oh, my poor grandchild is in the clutches of Bovin,” she cried, and summoned her bravest warriors, “Sūwessen,” the South Wind, “Hy-chī,” the East Wind, and “Snoteseg-du,” the West Wind, and bade them hasten northward and fight like devils to save Niffon.
These invisible warriors started on their journey, and as they did so, Bovin felt that something was wrong, and ordered his braves, “Letū-gessen,” North Wind, and “K-lkegessen,” Northeast Wind, to hurry southwards and meet the foe.
Sweat began to pour from Bovin’s every limb, his nose grew thin, and his feet shrivelled away. Another day and the giants met; large flakes of snow mixed with raindrops flew in every direction; sharp gusts of contrary winds were heard. The drops of sweat on Bovin’s brow grew larger and larger. By this time, the hair on Niffon’s head was snow white and her dress tattered and faded.
The roar of the wind grew ever louder and sharper; the snow and rain fell faster and thicker; at last Bovin fell from his place and broke one of his legs, and Niffon knew her enemy was conquered.
Bovin bade one of his warriors tell Niffon to depart; he will harm her no more.