73. Deoyadastatʻhe and Hadjowiski[353]
Hadjowiski lived with his family, consisting of his wife and seven children, in a large lodge in the forest. Only the youngest of the seven children had a name—Deoyadastatʻhe. He was so small that he never went outside the lodge, nor did he play within it. He remained under the bed at all times, where he played with his dog, which was a flea. The father of the family, Hadjowiski, was very poor, for although he went forth to hunt at sunrise, sometimes even before, he brought home but little meat.
One morning his wife, who was chagrined by the failure of her husband to provide a sufficiency of food for herself and little ones, said to him: “Can you not bring home more meat than you do? We are very, very hungry.” Hadjowiski, dissembling, replied, “No; I can not kill more game, for I have not efficient orenda (magic power).” But the suspecting wife persisted in her questioning: “Well, your back always looks as if you had killed plenty of game. What do you do with it after you have killed it?” To this the husband answered: “Nothing. I never have good luck.” The wife did not believe him, however, so she retorted, “I think that you are doing something wrong with what you kill.”
That day Hadjowiski did not bring any game home, but his back bore traces of fresh blood. In further chiding him his wife said: “There is fresh blood on your back, so you must have killed some game today.” But he replied: “No; I killed nothing. That blood came from my getting hurt by a hemlock tree falling on me.” But she did not believe him at all.
The next morning he was on the trail long before sunrise. His wife, now thoroughly aroused, stealthily followed him. Just at midday she saw him kill with a small stone a large bear. Taking the [[407]]bear on his back, he started off, trailed by his wife. He soon reached a lodge, which he entered, wholly unaware that his wife was following him. Creeping up to the lodge, she listened outside to what was being said within, and overheard the voice of a woman, saying, “The next time you come you must stay here, and you must not go back home again.” Hadjowiski replied, “It is well; I shall do so.” Thereupon he came out of the lodge, in which he left all the meat he had killed that day, and started for home.
His wife ran on ahead, and, reaching home ahead of her husband, she said to her boys, “Sons, your father has another wife, so I shall not remain here any longer.” Then putting on her panther-skin robe, she departed. When Hadjowiski arrived at his home, not finding his wife, he asked: “What is the matter? Where is your mother?” One of the boys told him that his mother had been gone all day, and that, returning but a short time before, she had put on her panther-skin robe, declaring that she was going away. Hadjowiski hung his head, but at last he asked, “Why did she go away?” The boy replied: “She told us that you have another wife.” To this the father answered: “It is well. My sons, I shall follow her. I want you to remain in the lodge while I am away. If I am alive then, I will be back home in 10 days.” Hadjowiski departed and traveled all night. The next morning he found his wife’s tracks, and discovered that she had doubled on them, but he kept straight ahead, knowing well that she had done this in order to deceive him. Soon afterward he was again on her trail, going directly westward. After traveling for some time he came at last to a lodge in which lived an old man, who said: “You are traveling, my friend?” Hadjowiski replied: “Yes. I am following the woman whose tracks come to this lodge.” Then Sʻhagoiyagentʻha,[354] for such was the old man’s name, who belonged to the Nosgwais people, answered, “I do not know where she has gone.” Hadjowiski again declared, “Her tracks come here, anyway.” Sʻhagoiyagentʻha replied: “It is well. You can look for her, if you like.” So Hadjowiski searched for her everywhere, but he could not find her. Finally the old man resolved to send him off, so he asked him, “Do you want me to tell you which way she went from here?” Hadjowiski replied, “Yes; I do.” Thereupon Sʻhagoiyagentʻha brought a small canoe made of flint, telling the man to sit in it. When Hadjowiski had done so the old man shoved the canoe out of the doorway, and at once it rose into the air, through which it passed with great rapidity. Finally the canoe collided with a high rock, and the renegade Hadjowiski was flung out; falling among the rocks, he was killed. The canoe, which was endowed with life, returned to the old man.
When the sons of Hadjowiski had been at home for several days the eldest went out to hunt. When night came he did not return to [[408]]his home. So the next morning the second brother started off to find him, if possible. The brothers who remained at home waited all day, but he, too, failed to return. The second morning the third brother went to look for the two others, but he likewise did not come back. Thus, day after day passed, until at last the six brothers had gone out and not one had returned. Only Deoyadastatʻhe was left of the family of seven sons.[355] He was always under the bed playing with his dog, which was a flea. Finally, judging from the unbroken silence reigning in the lodge, Deoyadastatʻhe exclaimed: “It seems to me that there is no one in the lodge, for I hear no one moving around. I shall see about it.” So saying, he came forth from under the bed and looked around, but saw no one; then he listened for some sound, but he heard none. After listening for a long time, he exclaimed: “It seems to me that I hear my mother crying. It must be that she is weeping in the far west. I shall therefore go to her.” Going outside the lodge, he stood still, listening, while his dog stood behind him. He now heard quite distinctly the sound of weeping in the far west. By low half-uttered growls his dog showed that it, too, heard some unusual sound.
Deoyadastatʻhe finally declared: “That is my mother who is weeping, for I recognize her voice. I must go to her.” As he started, both he and his dog, rising in the air, flew along over the highest trees, directing their flight toward the west. At last in the far distant west they alighted at the edge of a village. Making their way into it, they finally entered an old hut in which they found two women, an aged grandmother and her granddaughter. To the grandmother Deoyadastatʻhe said, “I have come to visit you.” She replied: “We are too poor for that. We have nothing to eat, and you would get very hungry.” “Oh! I do not care for food,” Deoyadastatʻhe answered; “I want only shelter at night.” “It is well; you may remain,” said the grandmother. One morning when Deoyadastatʻhe had been there several days some one came on the run to the lodge, and kicking the door-flap aside, said: “You are invited tonight to the burning of the woman’s feet and to pick up wampum beads from the tears that she sheds. All are pressed to be at the lodge of assembly tonight.” When the messenger had gone, the grandmother exclaimed: “Oh! how very wicked are the people of this village. That old man, Sʻhagoiyagentʻha, is the evil servant of the Chief Dihdih.[356] (The rest of the people belong to the Gaqga[357] family.)” Now, the grandmother, whose name was Yeqsinye, also belonged to the Gaqga family. She was in the habit of making bark thread by rolling it on her legs. When night came Deoyadastatʻhe went to the lodge of assembly, where he saw a great multitude of people. Entering the lodge, he saw his mother tied to a post—the war post of torture. And as soon as Deoyadastatʻhe entered the room his mother, scenting him, knew [[409]]that he was there. Then Chief Dihdih arose and said: “Now all be ready. Look out for the beads.” He had two daughters, who lighted the torches for the people who were intending to burn the woman’s feet. When they held the torches under the woman’s feet tears flowed from her eyes which fell on the ground, where they became beautiful wampum. The people rushed forward to pick up the beads. Deoyadastatʻhe was watching for an opportunity to rescue his mother; so when the people were on their knees gathering the wampum, quickly unbinding his mother, he led her out of doors. Then he said, as he ran around the devoted lodge, “Let this lodge become flint and let it become at once heated to a white heat.”[358] This at once took place, and the people within the lodge, becoming too hot, ceased picking up wampum and tried to escape, but they could not. There were fearful shrieks and wails, but these continued only for a moment before all were dead. The heads of the dead people burst asunder and from them came owls, which flew out of the smoke-hole of the lodge.
Then Deoyadastatʻhe told his mother that they must leave that place. So calling his dog, they started for the lodge of old Yeqsinye. In passing through the village a blue lizard attacked Deoyadastatʻhe and his little party, but the young man tore it to pieces. As the pieces fell to the ground the dog carried them away so that they would not fly back into place again before they became cool. Then the young man said, “You thought that you were going to kill me, but I have destroyed you.” When Deoyadastatʻhe arrived with his mother at the lodge of old woman Yeqsinye, he said to her, “I have killed all the people of the wicked village, so you shall now live in peace.” For this the old woman thanked him.