Seneca myths and folk tales

by Arthur C. Parker

Woodchuck Leggings hurried forward, ever ready to be where there was a chance of being looked at.

“Build a sweat lodge of fat bear skins, bring large lumps of fat and them heat fire-stones and bring them in,” directed Two Feathers.

Woodchuck Leggings built a little dome-shaped lodge by sticking the ends of flexible poles into the ground and bending them over, and after a hunter had skinned a fat bear, he covered the lodge frame with the skin, hair-side out. When the hot stones were brought in they heated the interior to such a degree that the fat on the skins melted and ran down in streams. After Two Feathers’ body was drenched with the oil, he asked that his “doctor” rub him until it had been well absorbed by the skin. He then requested the famous “medicine man” to pack a lump of fat between his shoulders, cover it with a small skin and place a hot stone over it. A cold one was selected. “Hotter, Uncle!” said Two Feathers, for the first time calling him by this name. The second stone was only slightly warmer, “Hotter yet, Uncle!” Another stone was placed on the skin but Two Feathers still shouted, “Hotter yet, Uncle.” The next stone was dull red and Woodchuck Leggings slapped it on with a thud. “Dogeⁿ’s wi’ o!” shouted Two Feathers and putting his hands to the back of his neck he threw off the poultice. He grasped the bark which had worked partly out. He gave it a hard pull. Woodchuck Leggings grew suspicious and began to tremble with fear. With a loud cry Two Feathers pulled the bark point from his neck and before the cringing man before him had time to utter a sound, Two Feathers struck him a heavy blow over the neck. The death charm sank into the flesh, passed between the bones in his back and Woodchuck Leggings lay dead.

“The sick one has recovered!” shouted Two Feathers. “Every one go away while I dress.” The wondering throng which had sat chanting about the lodge during the ceremony, went to their lodges, curious to know what had happened, for the voice which they had heard commanding them was one which in itself compelled obedience and awe, and seemed to come from neither of the men whom they had seen enter the lodge.

Two Feathers washed his body in ashes, put on his old suit which Woodchuck Leggings had ruined, but which was restored as it touched his body, and ran out into the council grounds. The people looked at him in astonishment. Who could it be? The handsome man seemed like someone whom they had known before, and yet no one ventured to say who it was.

“I shall call a council for tonight; I bring news!” shouted Two Feathers.

Two Feathers took the speaker’s seat and addressed the people. “Brothers! I am Two Feathers, the same who once delivered you from the famine, by the power of my charms, I delivered you from the two grim sisters that breathed into your faces and almost stopped your breath. So soon have you forgotten me, but remember, I am not blaming you, for I know the reason, and you are not to be blamed.”

“Brothers! I was stricken in the forest by the treachery of Woodchuck Leggings, who thought that by taking my life he could take my power, but he was mistaken, for he has taken neither. For a long time I have suffered, alone, neglected and despised by all the people, but now that I have recovered, he who designed my misfortune himself has met it. I have killed him with his own charm.”

The gestures of Two Feathers, his face and his voice thrilled the people and with one accord they shouted, “Nio’´!”

“Now friends and brothers, let us rejoice in my restored life and power. See, I smoke! Fly birds, fly and bring me a light.” The birds flew from his hat with chirps of joy. They fluttered up and down and flew through the council house from end to end. They went into the fire, pulled out a brand and placed it in his pipe. They brushed against his face again and again singing. Two Feathers caught them in his hands and placed them back on his feather cap. He spoke to his pouch, “Dance, pouch, dance,—be my spotted fawn.” The pouch leaped from his side and danced better than it had before. It danced in a circle around him as he stood on the floor, it jumped over his head, rolled and tumbled, rubbed against his legs, leaped and gave every sign of life. “Enough!” exclaimed Two Feathers, and reluctantly it ran back to his belt, nothing but a limp skin pouch. “Now brothers, bring a skin.” Someone brought him the pelt which Woodchuck Leggings had used. “What, spoiled by worms? See, I smoke.” A puff of smoke purified the skin. “See, I breathe. Now look.” Wampum dropped from the frost of his breath and piled up in a heap on the skin.