Otʻhegwenhda soon came to a lake called Onyudetdji (Rough Lake). Putting on the water a piece of slate, he said, “I want you to take me across.” Sitting upon the slate, it carried him quickly over the water to the other side, where he left it, saying: “Wait here until I return. Then I shall need your help again.” Soon reaching Dionondadenion, a beautiful country, he inquired until he found the chief’s lodge. When he entered he saw an old man, to whom he said: “I have come to see you.” The old man was silent. The youth spoke again, but received no answer. “Why do you not speak?” thought he. A third time he spoke, whereupon the old man replied, “Why do you not hurry and eat up all my people?” “I have never killed any of your people. I have saved many of them from Dewaqsentʻhwûs, and I thought you would be glad,” said the youth. “Well, there is a man around here eating up all my people. He looks like you, though he is an old man.” “I came to help you,” said Otʻhegwenhda, “and I will kill this man.” “Well, he is coming now,” said Honigoneowanen. Presently a man kicked the door open and came in, saying, “I have come to see you a few moments.” His mouth was smeared with fresh blood. Otʻhegwenhda, standing up, said: “I have come to fight with you. You will have to conquer me before you kill these people.” “Very well,” said the man-eater, whose name was Djiniondaqses;[340] “come out.” Thereupon they went out, and they fought until night; then until dawn. Next morning Otʻhegwenhda was nothing but bones, while the man-eater, too, had lost all his flesh. The two skeletons fought all that day, and when night came, their bodies were broken up, nothing being left but the two skulls. The skulls fought all night, and when daylight came the skull of Djiniondaqses was crushed to pieces. The skull of Otʻhegwenhda was sound, and it kept on rolling over the ground where he had fought. As it rolled around, the bones of his body began to reattach themselves to it, and soon the skeleton was complete. Then the skeleton rolled in the blood and flesh where he had fought, and straightway the flesh and blood grew to it, until at last Otʻhegwenhda stood up sound and well as ever.
When Otʻhegwenhda went into the chief’s lodge, Honigoneowanen said: “I am very glad and thank you. I will now give you my daughter, and when you are old enough, you shall marry her.” Otʻhegwenhda took the chief’s daughter to Hetgen Tgastende and they lived there. [[389]]
70. Okteondon and Haieñtʻhwus[341] (the Planters)
Okteondon was a youth who lived with his maternal uncle, Haieñtʻhwus, in an arborlike lodge in the forest. From his earliest babyhood Okteondon lay carefully hidden from the eyes of the people, having been for this purpose securely fastened under the roots of a large tree, around which his uncle had erected his lodge.[341a] Okteondon had now reached the age of puberty.
One day while Haieñtʻhwus was in the neighboring field planting corn, he heard his nephew singing in a loud voice: “Now, I am rising. Now, I am rising.” Dropping his planting-stick and shouting, “No, my nephew, you are not ready yet; you are in too great a hurry,” Haieñtʻhwus ran home, where he found that Okteondon had raised his head by partially uprooting and overturning the sheltering tree. Haieñtʻhwus therefore pushed him back into his place, admonishing him, “I will tell you when it is time for you to arise.”
The next day Haieñtʻhwus again went out to plant corn. He had hardly reached the field when he heard once more his nephew begin to sing and to strive to arise. Haieñtʻhwus at once started for the lodge, running with so much haste that he lost on the way all his seed corn from his seeding basket. When he reached home he found the tree half uprooted and leaning far over to one side. So he pushed his nephew back into his place, but he was unable to reset the tree as firmly or as nearly upright as it was before.
On the third day Haieñtʻhwus again went out to finish his corn planting, but the moment that he began to drop the grains of corn he heard still again the singing of his nephew. So Haieñtʻhwus without delay rushed back to the lodge, but while running he heard an awful crash and crackling of limbs, from which he knew that the tree had fallen. When he reached the lodge he found Okteondon sitting on the ground. Haieñtʻhwus did not return to the field to complete his corn planting, but remained in his home to look after his nephew and to make the necessary preparations for the coming marriage of the young man.
Early the next morning they heard sounds outside the lodge, and shortly afterward a woman and a beautiful younger woman, who were Wadiʻoniondies, entered the lodge. One of the women, addressing Okteondon, said, “I have come purposely to take you home with me.” “It is well. I consent,” answered the youth, who started at once to cross the lodge to accompany her and her companion. But Haieñtʻhwus stopped him with the remark: “You must not go yet. You have friends who are coming to escort you, and must wait for them.” Then “The Planter” hastened to prepare some food to eat, and for this purpose placed a large kettle of hominy over the [[390]]fire. About the time that the hominy was ready three young men came into the lodge, who were invited by Haieñtʻhwus to eat. When Okteondon, the young men, and Haieñtʻhwus had eaten the boiled hominy, the old man began to pack some garments in a small bundle. When he had finished his parcel, he said to his nephew, “When any one of your friends is in need of things such as these you will find them in this parcel.”
Then Okteondon, after putting on his snowshoes, instructed his friends, saying: “You must follow me, and in doing so you must step in my tracks;” then he started. The three young men in stepping in his tracks found that it was like walking on solid ground, although the earth was covered deep with snow. Toward evening they came to a place where they saw smoke floating like clouds among the trees. When they drew near to an opening they saw a number of fires, around which were four young women. Thereupon Okteondon, addressing his companions, said: “We will stop here and kindle our fires near these women.” When their fires were burning briskly Okteondon, going up to the four young women, who had kettles of hominy boiling over their fires, overturned the kettles and scattered the fires with his feet. This greatly angered the women except the last, who was the youngest. After doing this Okteondon returned to his friends, and remarking that he was going out to hunt for fresh meat, started off into the forest. He had not gone far when he came to a tree on which he saw marks made by the claws of a bear. Walking up to the tree he exclaimed: “Thou who art in this tree, come forth.” In a moment a bear came forth, which he killed; after dressing it he brought the meat to the camp. Then he said, “I am going to fetch my uncle’s kettle,” and passing around a big tree standing near the camp, he returned with a large kettle. In this kettle they placed the meat to cook over their fire. When the meat was cooked they sat down and ate it. After they were through eating Okteondon said: “Let us now go to our wives. I wish you to follow my advice, too. Take none of this meat to your wives, for if you do we shall have bad luck. Some misfortune will befall us.” When they reached the camp of the young women they found that the latter had hominy cooked and were cooling it. They sat with their backs turned toward the men. The youngest sister, whom Okteondon claimed as his wife, asked him to come over and eat with her. The others said nothing. Okteondon ate, but the other men did not. That night they slept with the women. Hotʻhoh,[342] one of the three men who accompanied Okteondon, was naked. He had a hole slit through the skin of his hip, in which he carried his war club. He chose the eldest of the Wadiʻoniondies[342a] sisters, and Okteondon the youngest. The women kept their canoe near the four fires, and when they undressed they placed their outdoor garments in the canoe. [[391]]The next morning the men returned to their fires. One of the men, however, had lost his leggings and his moccasins, for the woman with whom he had slept had robbed him of them. The sisters warmed up the cold hominy for their breakfast, and after eating it went aboard their canoes and sailed away through the air, leaving a trail[343] therein.