After the feast was over, the wife of Okteondon told him that the next trial was one among all others the most severe and exacting. She said to him: “My mother will say tonight, ‘I dreamed that my son-in-law was killed and skinned, and that I made a pouch of his skin.’ I do hope you can survive this ordeal.” In reply Okteondon said, “When she kills and skins me and places my flesh in a bark bowl, you must set the bowl on the top of the lodge.” Toward evening Kahenchitahonk, the old witch, muttered, “The sky is clear, so we shall have a very cold night, and I must get logs to make a big fire.” At night she made a great fire in the lodge, and after all had retired she began to moan and toss in her sleep; finally she rolled into the fire, scattering the firebrands around the room. Quickly rising and seizing the corn-pounder, Okteondon struck her on the head, saying: “Oh, mother-in-law! What is the matter? What are you doing? What are you dreaming about?” She replied, “I dreamed that I killed you and made a pouch of your skin.” Okteondon replied, “Oh! go to sleep now; we will see to that in the morning.” So the next morning Okteondon said, “Now, mother-in-law, I am ready.” Thereupon the great witch laid on the ground a piece of bark sufficiently large for the purpose, telling Okteondon to lie down upon it. When he did so, she knocked him on the head with a club, killing him. Then she carefully flayed him,[347] removing the skin with the hands and feet attached to it. Afterward she placed all the flesh in a large bark bowl. As soon as the wife of Okteondon saw her put the last piece into the bowl, she placed the bowl on the top of the lodge. Then the old woman next cheerfully sewed up the skin in the form of a pouch, which she distended by blowing into it. This done, she hung it over the flames, poking the fire to make it blaze. As the pouch swayed to and fro over the fire, the old woman gleefully began to sing, “Oh! what a nice pouch have I; no one living has such a pouch.” Every time she poked the fire the pouch swayed more quickly to and fro, until at last it began to sing, “Oh! were the wind only out of me.” The old woman kept on stirring the fire while the pouch swayed to and fro faster and faster. “Oh, what a beautiful pouch have I,” said she; “it even sings.” After a while the pouch made a noise, and with a bhu! went flying up through the smoke-hole. As it flew out, the old woman cried, “Oh! I have lost my pouch; it has run away from me.” She hurried to the doorway, and in going out she met her son-in-law coming in alive and well. [[398]]
It was now Okteondon’s turn. That night he had a dream, groaning and rolling around until his mother-in-law, arising, struck him on the head with the corn-pounder, saying: “Wake up! What is the matter? Are you dreaming?” “Oh! I had a dream,” said he. “Well, what was it?” said the old woman. “I dreamed,” he told her, “that I must hunt and kill the great Ganiagwaihe and give a feast. I will invite all the people in the village.” The next morning Okteondon killed the Ganiagwaihe, and having brought it into the lodge, singed it and cut it up while Hotʻhoh set a kettle of water over the fire. When the flesh of Ganiagwaihe was cooked, Okteondon said to his mother-in-law, “Go and invite all to come.” So going out, she invited all those personages whom she herself liked. While she was gone, Okteondon said to his wife and his two friends who had accompanied him from his uncle’s home, “You must get out of this lodge at once”; so they fled from it. Then all the newly invited guests entered—the old woman, her other two daughters, and the people of the place. Addressing them, Okteondon said: “Here is the flesh, the fat, and the bones. Eat all up clean; I leave all to you.” One of the chiefs said to the people, “We have now all eaten.” Passing out of the lodge, Okteondon ran around it, singing, “Let this lodge become stone and the ground under it stone, so that the greatest witch can not get out of it, and then let it become red-hot.” So while the people were inside the lodge eating and drinking and saying, “Hoho! this is a grand feast,” the building began to grow hotter and hotter, until finally it became red-hot. Some one on the inside exclaimed so loud that he was heard without, “Let us get out of here as fast as we can; something is wrong!” They tried to do so, but they could not get out. One leaped up to the spot where the smoke-hole had been, but those outside heard him knock his head against the solid stone roof and fall back. Soon another said, “I will go out through the ground.” After a while the sound of the voices and the screaming inside began to die away, and all was quiet. Then the lodge of stone burst, falling to pieces, and the heads of the people inside burst, one after another, and out of them sprang screech owls, horned owls, common owls, and gray and red foxes, which rushed away, out of sight. The people invited to the feast were all Oñʹgweʻ hĕñʹneks goñʹneks-kho.[348] The sisters sailing in the canoe deceived men all over the country, luring them to this village to be devoured by the inhabitants. All except the wife of Okteondon were thus burned up with the old woman.
When all was over, Okteondon and his wife and his two friends went to the shore of the lake, where they found a large heap of bones of men. These they gathered into some order near a large hickory tree, whereupon they pushed the tree over toward the bones, saying, “Rise, friends, or the tree will fall on you!” At this warning, [[399]]and by the great orenda (magic power) of Okteondon, all the bones sprang up living men. “Now,” said Okteondon to them, “You have come to life, friends, and you can now go to your homes.”[349] At this they departed.
“We will go home, too,” said Okteondon to his wife and two friends; so they went to the lodge of his uncle, Haieñtʻhwus. When Okteondon left his home his uncle hung up in a corner of the lodge a wampum belt, with the remark, “The deeper you are in trouble, the nearer will this belt come to the ground, and if you die, it will touch the ground.” Of course it had been low and had even touched the ground; hence the old uncle had concluded that his nephew was dead and had mourned for him. But at this time the belt was again hanging high. While the nephew was absent many persons had come, pretending to be Okteondon, in order to deceive the old man; so now when the real nephew asked him to open the door-flap he would not believe his ears, but said, “Put your arm through the hole in the door.” Okteondon did so, whereupon the old man tied it, saying, “Now, I have you,” unfastening the door-flap so he could strike. But seeing Okteondon and his wife and his two friends, he exclaimed with delight, “Oh, nephew! wait a moment, until I clean up somewhat inside.” Saying this, he went inside and pushed away the ashes and dirt. (End.)
71. Okteondon and Haieñtʻhwus—II
(Another version of the first part of the legend)
Okteondon lived with his uncle, Haieñtʻhwus, in the forest. Beside his uncle’s lodge stood a large, tall elm tree. Okteondon, the nephew, always remained at the foot of this tree, and finally its roots grew over and around his body, thus binding it firmly to the ground.
Now Haieñtʻhwus, being very fond of his nephew, always brought him everything that he liked to eat and drink—roasted venison, boiled squashes, dried berries, broiled fish, and all kinds of shellfish. The first thing that Haieñtʻhwus did in the morning was to put corn into a wooden mortar for the purpose of making cornmeal for boiled cornbread; then with a wooden pestle he struck it a single blow, which crushed the corn to fine meal. The people far and near, it is said, heard this blow, and would say, “The uncle of Okteondon is well-to-do and strong.” The old man made bread with the meal which he boiled; when it was cooked he brought some of it to his nephew and also ate some himself. On certain days he went to the forest for firewood. It was a practice with him to burn logs into pieces of such length that he could bring them to his lodge. When the fires on one log were burning well he would light fires on [[400]]other logs, and so would go from one to another, keeping them in order. When the pieces were burned off and ready, the old man would carry them or drag them home, and as he threw them down they made a deep, pleasant sound on the earth. Thereupon all the people of the region round about, even to the most distant places, heard the sound, and would say, “The uncle of Okteondon is well-to-do and strong.” On some other days Haieñtʻhwus would go out to gather beans and squashes or to dig wild potatoes.
One spring morning, in the planting season, Haieñtʻhwus went to his clearing in the woods with two baskets of seeds strapped to his belt. Before starting he left plenty of food with his nephew, saying, “I am going to put these seeds into the ground.” The old man was in the field engaged in making holes in the earth with a stick forked at one end and sharp at the other. Into these holes he dropped seeds, closing them with fine earth. All at once he heard a song accompanied with the words, “Oh, uncle! I am going to rise; I am going to rise.” He knew at once that what he had heard was his nephew’s song; so dropping his pointed stick for planting, and forgetting all about the seeds in his two baskets, he rushed home. As he ran the baskets struck the trees on both sides of the narrow trail, scattering the seeds so that all were lost on the trail. When Haieñtʻhwus reached the lodge he saw that his nephew was resting on one elbow and that the tree was inclined toward the earth, with its roots starting from the ground. “Well, nephew, what is the matter?” asked the old man. “I am getting thirsty, uncle,” said the youth. The old man gave him some water and pushed the tree back into its upright position; then looking into his baskets, he saw that they were empty. So Haieñtʻhwus spent the rest of the day on his knees, picking up what seeds he could find along both sides of the path.