Now, the tutelar deity of the presiding chief was a hen harrier called ʼnwiʻʹʼnwiʻ in the vernacular. This the chief caused to float in the air at double the height of the tallest tree, as the mark at which all must shoot who were invited to the feast.[427] All the young men who knew the nature of the prize that the chief had offered as the reward for the best marksmanship kept shooting daily at this bird floating in the air; but they were all shooting to no purpose, for some of the arrows would not attain the altitude of the hen harrier, while others which did so flew wide of the target.
Finally, the chief said to the Master of Ceremonies: “Now, after this, let each man try only once more and then let those who have failed to hit the target retire … from the group of candidates, and place them in a separate place from those who have not made this last attempt.” This was ordered, and as quickly as a man took his last shot he was placed at a distance from those who had not yet made the trial, lest some mistake be made and someone be unwittingly given two or more chances. Finally, when all the candidates had shot, it was suddenly discovered that Djĕñgoʹʻseʻ had failed to take his chance. All had failed before him to hit the hen-harrier hawk, so his friend urged him to make the attempt, but he as steadily refused, saying, “I do not want to kill it.” Notwithstanding his positive refusal, his friend placed his bow and arrow in his hands, and with Djĕñgoʹʻseʻ resting his hand upon it, he pulled the arrow to its full length and then let it fly. The arrow shot upward and transfixed the body of the hen-harrier hawk, which fell to the ground. Then the chief himself informed Djĕñgoʹʻseʻ that in winning the contest for marksmanship he had also won his daughter as the prize of the victor in this contest.
Djĕñgoʹʻseʻ informed the chief that he had not known until then that there would be a prize for the winner in this contest for marksmanship, [[570]]and that as he himself had been adjudged the winner of the contest and also of the chief’s daughter, he felt constrained to thank him for thus considering him worthy of these great honors. The chief replied by bidding him to repair to his lodge to claim his bride. This Djĕñgoʹʻseʻ did.
When the competitors and suitors saw that Djĕñgoʹʻseʻ had won the prize for which they had striven for so many days, they were greatly chagrined, and, moved by jealousy and malice, they went forth and secured the aid of sorcerers to compass the death of their more fortunate competitor. The sorcerers were asked to permit Djĕñgoʹʻseʻ to live with his wife until the dawn of the following day, when a messenger of death should pierce his heart so that he should die.
With a light heart Djĕñgoʹʻseʻ repaired to the nuptial bed of his newly won spouse and they two were very happy. But at the dawn of day on the morrow he expired in his wife’s arms. Stricken with grief, the widowed bride, divining the cause of her affliction, went out of the lodge to see how near daybreak it was and lest her lamentations would disturb the repose of the spirit of her dead husband. She was not afraid … for she was alone in the yard adjoining the lodge. Presently she heard the door, which she had just closed after her, open, and looking back again she saw her husband come out of the lodge and walk briskly past her without speaking to her. At once she followed him as rapidly as she could, but she could not overtake him. She did not become weary in her pursuit, feeling no fatigue nor hunger. She kept up her pursuit all that night, all the next day, and all of the following night. Thus, for three nights and days she kept closely on the trail of her husband. He had, of course, outwalked her, and so she could not see him on the trail ahead of her.
At dawn on the fourth day she suddenly came to a narrow passageway[428] in which stood two men, who accosted her, saying: “What do you here? What brings you into this place, seeing that you are not dead? This is not the land of the living.” She quickly answered them: “I am following the tracks of my husband, which appear to lead through this passageway; I am seeking him.” As they seemed to be not satisfied with her reply, she related to them in detail what had happened to her and her husband. When the men had learned her story they decided at once to aid her, for no one who had not seen death could pass without their permission freely given. They informed her that some distance farther on there was another passageway, guarded by two fierce panthers, which would rend her in pieces unless she was provided with the usual toll. So they gave her two roasted pheasants, of enormous size, saying: “When you reach the next passageway throw one of these to each of the panthers [[571]]and you may pass safely through. When you arrive at the third passageway you will there find a man who will instruct you as to what you must do further to accomplish your purpose.”
Taking the two pheasants and thanking the two men for their kindness, the woman again followed the trail of her husband. When she had gone a long distance she saw the couchant panthers guarding the way of death and the dead. Following the instructions of the two men, and throwing a pheasant to each, she quickly passed them. After following the trail a long time, she finally came to the third passageway. The man who guarded it said to her: “What do you here? What brings you to this place, seeing that you are not dead?” She answered him: “I am following the trail of my husband, which leads through this passageway.” Then she briefly related to him the events which had caused her to undertake the journey hither. The warder replied: “I will assist you in recovering your husband. You must take with you this gourd, which is closed with a tendon, for in this receptacle you will have to bring back the soul of your husband, carefully shut up. You must take also this small gourd bottle, which contains the fat or oil of man; you must take it with you for you will need it. When you reach a very large strawberry field stretching on both sides of the path, you must rub some of this oil on the palms of your hands. In this field you will see an elderly woman picking berries; she is the hostess of this country, and she will aid you in all things, telling you just what to do. After anointing your hands with the oil you must hold them up with the palms turned toward the berry picker. Now start on your way.”
With a light heart the woman again took up the trail of her husband, with the firm resolve to follow the instructions of the warder of the last passageway. Finally she reached the large field of strawberries, and taking oil out of the small gourd bottle and rubbing it on the palms of her hands, she held them up toward the elderly woman, whom she hailed in a loud voice. The woman, who was picking berries, heard her call and stood attentive until the other woman came up to her, whereupon she said: “What do you here, seeing that you are not dead?” Answering the Mother[429] of Ghosts, the woman said. “I come here seeking my husband, whose trail comes into this place,” and so saying, she gave the two gourds to the Mother of Ghosts. The latter replied: “I will put your husband into this empty gourd bottle, so that you may take him back with you. Come then to the lodge.” The widow followed the elder woman to her lodge, which stood a short distance from the field of strawberries. When they reached it the elder woman concealed her guest under some bark in one corner, at the same time saying: “Now, keep very quiet, for all the people come here to dance every night, and they [[572]]will flee from me should they discover that you are here.” So the woman lay quiet under the bark cover.
When night came the approaching whoops of the gathering ghosts could be heard. Finally, one by one they began to enter the lodge of the Mother of Ghosts. At once the hostess began to sing and to beat on the drum used in the Great Feather dance. Then the concealed guest heard the ghosts begin to dance. The ghost of her husband, however, had not yet entered the lodge. When they had danced through a number of songs there was a short recess, to give the dancers an opportunity to rest and to readjust their apparel and ornaments. At last, the hostess asked the bystanders: “Where is the newcomer?” They answered that he was outside of the lodge, being still bashful among so many strangers. The hostess then said: “Bring him into the lodge; let him, too, dance and be merry.” So they persuaded him to enter the lodge, and when the hostess again began to sing and beat the drum he joined in the dancing.
After dancing a short time the dancers, sniffing the air, said: “What now? We smell the odor of a human being!” At once they started to flee from the room, but the hostess chidingly said: “Oh, pshaw! It is only I that you smell, for I am now getting very old again.” So they did not leave the room, but began to dance again. When the ghost of the newly arrived husband approached quite close to the hostess, she attempted to grasp him, but he deftly eluded her hand, and the dancers all fled from the room. But the hostess remonstrated with them, saying: “Oh, pshaw! It is only I scratching myself. Why do you flee from me?”