Part 13

"My friend is very old now," said Waida Dikit: "he is Kanhlalas Kiemila."

"I will go and bring him," said Tsaroki.

"Go, my grandson. I will show you a trail, but do not go near the east side of my sweat-house. It is not far. Kanhlalas lives northeast from here."

Tsaroki found Kanhlalas's sweat-house on the trail. He heard music inside, beautiful music. He stood awhile listening, then went in and saw an old man lying on his back playing. The old man stopped playing, but did not speak. Tsaroki touched him on the shoulder and said,--

"My grandfather, I have come for you. Waida Dikit, my grandfather, sent me to ask you to visit him."

"I will go," was all that the old man said. No questions were asked or answered. "I have come for you," "I will go;" no more. Those people of long ago talked in that way; they didn't talk much.

Tsaroki went home. Kanhlalas made ready to go, and went under the ground. Waida Dikit was lying in his house when on a sudden Kanhlalas rose at his feet. Waida Dikit sat up when he saw him, took a pipe, and told him to smoke. Kanhlalas smoked, and the two old men talked a good while. The young men played, first one, then the other. It was dark in the sweat-house, but after Kanhlalas came he shone and gave light like a torch in a dark house. You could see some, but not very much. Kanhlalas was a grandfather of Waida Werris.

"I sent for you," said Waida Dikit, "for I thought you might teach my grandsons to play better. They like to make music. They think of nothing else."

"I am old," said Kanhlalas. "I am not as I used to be. I cannot play much now. When I was a boy, when I was young, I could play. But I will play a little."

About dark he said a second time, "I will play a little." So he lay on his back, took his own flute, which he had brought with him, and began. The two brothers lay and listened. Kanhlalas never took the flute out of his mouth from the dark of evening until daylight. Next day he played, and all night again. When morning came there was a light stripe down his breast, and when the sun rose his breast was white, for the breath was nearly out of his body. That morning old Waida Dikit said,--

"Now we will invite all people in the world who can play, to come here."

"If you invite all people in the world who can play," said Tsaroki, "this house will be too small for them."

"No," said the old man, "it will not be too small. You will find it large enough when they come."

Tsaroki was sent to the northwest to invite people. He went very fast. In a little while he was at a place just this side of where the sky touches the earth. He went to Nop Hlut. When near the sweat-house he heard stamping in a dance. He went in and saw a very big house full of people sitting around at the wall. Only one woman and a young girl were dancing in the middle of the house, Nop Pokte and Nop Loimis. The girl was very small, and had fawn's feet tied behind her head. These rattled so sharply that you could hear them when far away. As Tsaroki was coming in through the door on the south, he saw an old man lying on the north side. This was Nop Kiemila, the master of the house. Tsaroki went straight to him, put his hand on his shoulder, and said,--

"I have come for you."

"What kind of call do you make?" asked Nop.

"My grandfather is going to have a playing on flutes."

"I will go," said Nop.

"My grandfather is inviting people from all parts of the world. All will be invited who can play on the flute."

Waida Dikit himself went south to invite people living in the water, and sent Tsaroki to invite all the land people. They went far and near to invite all. After a time both grew wearied, and wanted to get some one to take invitations. They thought who would be best in heat and cold, light and darkness, and thought that Kinus would be; so they called him, and hired him to go.

Kinus went as far as he could go, went around the whole world to a distance a little this side of where the sky comes down. After a time he returned and said,--

"This world is wide and big. I called all the people as far as I went, but I was not able to go everywhere,--this world goes farther than I went. Whole days I could get no water, no food; but I invited all the people that I saw."

Now, while Kinus was speaking the invited people were listening; and there were many of them then at Waida Dikit's. Lutchi sat at one side and listened.

"There is," said Waida Dikit, "a man that we should like to see here. Waida Werris and also a man who lives far in the East, Patkilis; he lives behind the sky, beyond the place where the sky touches the earth, and Sedit lives with him. We want these three. Now Kinus cannot go to them,--nobody that we know is able to go to them. What shall we do?"

All talked about this. Lutchi sat back in silence, and listened to what they were saying.

"This sweat-house is too small," said Kanhlalas.

"You will see," answered Waida Dikit.

The sweat-house was spreading out, growing gradually, growing all the time as the people came. A great many came that afternoon. The house extended now as far as the eye could see. Whenever new people came, Waida Dikit would blow and say, "I wish this house to be larger!" And the house stretched, became wider and longer and higher. In the evening great crowds were there already.

Kinus and the rest talked all night and the next day. "Nobody can go to Waida Werris, Patkilis, and Sedit. That was what they said."

They asked all present, and each answered, "I cannot go to them." They talked and talked. At last one man said to another, "Let's ask that Lutchi Herit over there; maybe he can go." A third said, "Yes, let's ask him." And the three said to Waida Dikit, "Ask that little man; perhaps he can go." "He is small," said Waida Dikit, "but I will ask him." He went up to Lutchi, touched him on the shoulder, and asked,--

"My grandson, can you do something for me? You are small, but I am asking you."

Lutchi said nothing; just raised his brows, which meant "Yes." As soon as he did this, Waida Dikit put his hand under his arm and took out a kunluli (a delicate blue flower that grows near the water), and gave it to Lutchi. Lutchi took it in his open palm, looked at it, rubbed it between his two hands, spat on it, and made a paste which was a beautiful blue paint. Then he rubbed his face, arms, breast--he became blue all over (to this day Lutchi is blue, he was white before). He went out among the people then, and said,--

"People, look at me! What do I look like? Haven't I a nice color now?"

"You are beautiful," said the people. "You look well."

It was at the point of daybreak. They could see just a bit of light. When he was ready to start, Lutchi said,--

"I don't know how far it is, but if I go to those places I shall be back here at sunrise. If they are very far away, I shall be here when the sun is as high as the tree-tops."

"Do you think you will be back by sunrise?" asked Kinus. "Those places are very far away."

"I know they are far away," said Lutchi.

"I have been all over the world," added Kinus. "I was gone a long time, but those places are farther away than any spot where I have been."

"Ho! Now I am going!" said Lutchi; and he darted straight up into the sky, next down, and up and down again. Then he called out,--

"How do you like that? Do you think I can go to those people? This is the way I travel."

He shot away east and returned. Then he went west and came back in a twinkle. Next he turned north and was gone. He had never travelled through the air before. Till that morning he had always walked on the ground, just as we do now. He went straight to Waida Werris's house and went in. It was dazzling there, and seemed to him just as bright as daylight seems to a man coming out of a dark place.

Lutchi saw some one inside, who was young and beautiful. He could not look at his face, it was so bright. There were two brothers in the house. The younger was Waiti, the elder Waida Werris. Waiti never left the house; never went abroad or wandered, stayed at home all the time.

"I have come," said Lutchi, "to invite you to meet people from all the world at a flute-playing in Waida Dikit's sweat-house."

"I will go," said Waida Werris. He knew all that was going on. He had seen it while travelling early, before daylight.

"I am going now," said Lutchi to Waida Werris. And as soon as he was outside he rushed off toward the west, came back, rose in the air, came down, and then shot away, like a lightning flash, eastward to find Patkilis and Sedit. Soon he was in the east, where the sky comes to the earth. He took a sky stick, which he had brought with him, pried up the sky, raised it a little, and then he went under to the other side. When the sky came down again behind him and struck the earth, it made an awful noise which was heard over the world. The whole world shook. All the people at Waida Dikit's heard the noise and wondered.

"What can that be?" asked they. "What awful noise is that?" Waida Dikit knew what the noise was, but he never told any one.

Lutchi went straight east from the other side of the sky, and never stopped till he found Patkilis and Sedit. They were in another world, another sky came down to their world, and they lived almost at the edge of that second sky. Lutchi went into their sweat-house. They were sitting just inside the door, one at one side, the other at the other; the door was on the east side. When Lutchi had sat a little while, Sedit rose and said,--

"My grandson, which way have you come?"

"I come here for you and Patkilis," answered Lutchi. "Waida Dikit sent me to invite you to a flute-playing at his sweat-house. Nobody else could come to you, so he asked me to come."

"We are glad," answered they. "We will go. You go ahead. But how shall we pass the sky?"

"I will wait at the edge for you," said Lutchi; and he went on.

When Sedit and Patkilis were ready, Sedit said, "I wish this road on which I must travel to be short, very short."

They started, and found the road so short that Lutchi was waiting at the edge of the sky only a little while when they were with him. Lutchi pried up the sky a second time, and the three passed under to the western side. Again there was an awful noise, and the whole world trembled.

"Now I am going quickly; you can move as you like," said Lutchi. He went west like a flash, and just as the sun was peeping over the mountains he was back at Waida Dikit's.

"Have you heard what is going on in this world that makes such a noise?" asked Waida Dikit. "These people heard an awfully big noise."

"That was my travelling," said Lutchi. "Kinus, whom you sent first, could not go to those three people. I went. They are on the road, and will be here in a few days."

All the people heard this and were glad.

"Now we shall hear great music," said they.

While travelling along together, Patkilis spoke to Sedit and advised him. "When we are in Waida Dikit's house," said he, "don't talk much. Sit down like a wise man and look on; be silent; don't act like a little boy."

Sedit was talking all the time. He told Patkilis what he was going to do. He would do this and do that, he said.

Two days passed, and the two men had not come. On the third day, near the middle of the forenoon, people saw a beautiful little arrow come down just by the door of the sweat-house,--a bright arrow. When it struck the ground, it made a grating noise, and they said,--

"That is a nice arrow. Who sent such an arrow?" And all liked it.

There were crowds of people in the sweat-house. Some of them wanted the arrow. "Let's pull it up!" said they, "and see who made it;" but Waida Dikit would not let them touch it. "Let it stay where it is. Do not touch it," said he, for he knew that it was Patkilis's arrow, and that it meant: "I am coming. I shall be there soon."

While the people were talking about the arrow, two men swept in through the door. No one saw their faces or their heads, just their legs and shadows.

"Give them room, let them in," said Waida Dikit.

"Where can they sit?" asked Tsaroki.

"Give each a place on the east side," said Waida Dikit.

The two, Patkilis and Sedit, went to the east side and sat down. Nobody had seen Waida Werris come, but he was in the house.

When leaving home that morning, Waida Werris said to Waiti, his brother,--

"You will stay and keep house, as you do always. You will be here, but you will see me all the time, you will see me night and day. Watch me; they will do other things there besides playing on flutes."

Patkilis and Sedit asked Waida Dikit if Waida Werris had come.

"I do not know where he is," replied the old man. "No one has seen him."

"Oh, he will not come," said many people. "What kind of a person is Waida Werris? He is nobody. What do we want of him?"

Waida Werris was sitting there all the time listening. Waida Dikit knew well what kind of person he was, but said nothing. That night after all invited people had come, Waida Dikit said:

"Listen, all you people here present. I have called this gathering to find who is the best flute-player, who can make the best music in this world. Let us begin. Let each play alone."

Tsaroki began the trial. "I will begin," said he to his brother Hawt, "then let the others play. You can play when you like."

"I am satisfied," said Hawt. "I will play last."

"That is well," answered Tsaroki. "I will play first, all will follow, and you may play last."

Tsaroki began. He played a little while, not long; played well. Kanhlalas played next. All liked his music. Watwut Kiemila played third; played splendidly.

"Go ahead and play, all you people," said Waida Dikit.

Tsileu Herit played best up to his time, played till almost morning, till just before daylight. The inside of the sweat-house had become red, and some asked,--

"Why is it red everywhere inside the sweat-house?"

"We do not know," answered others; "something makes it red."

One man went up to Waida Dikit and asked, "Why is it red inside the sweat-house?"

"I will tell you. Do you see Tsileu Herit there? Well, he has been playing all night, the breath is gone out of him, he is all red, and the whole sweat-house is red from him."

About daylight Tsileu stopped, and then it grew as dark as in a house when a fire is put out in the night. Now Tsaik played all day, and at sundown the sweat-house was blue, for Tsaik had grown blue.

All played to see who could play best. Every kind of people played. When any one was out of breath, he stopped playing, and received a new color. When Murope lost breath, he was spotted. When Handokmit lost breath, he became striped. Patkilis played three nights and two days, and when he gave out after sundown, he was roan. Wai Hau played five nights, and at sunrise the fifth morning he was red. Kiriu Herit played five nights, and at the middle of the sixth night he was black, and his breath gone.

And so for many days and nights they played, one person after another, till one night all had finished except Hawt. Hawt was the last to play. All were asleep now. All had lost breath, and received new colors. Tsaroki went to his brother on the north side of the house, and said,--

"Begin, my brother; over near the fire there is a place for you; go under the ground, and when you come out, you will play."

Hawt went under the ground, and came out near the fireplace. He lay on his back and began to play. He had two rows of holes in his body, one on each side; he fingered these holes, drew in air through his nostrils, and sent it out through the holes in both sides. Hawt was playing on his own body. At first, all the people were asleep, except one person, Tsudi Herit. Tsudi heard Hawt, and he heard, as in a doze, wonderful sounds. He listened a long time, thinking it a dream. When Tsudi found that he was not sleeping, he shook the man next him, and said,--

"Wake up, wake up! Who is playing? All have played, but I have never heard music like this. Many have played here, but no one played in this way."

The person he roused was Hus. Hus said nothing, he was old and nearly bald, he took a pipe and began to smoke. Tsudi roused other people, one after another.

"Wake up, rise, sit up; listen to the music somebody is playing."

They woke, one after another. "Who is playing?" asked one. "Who is it?" asked another. "We have played many days and nights, but no one played like that. All have their own flutes. Who can this be?"

At last some one said: "I know who is playing. It is Hawt."

"How could Hawt play?" asked others. "Whose flute has Hawt? He has none of his own. Each of us brought a flute, but Hawt brought none. Whose flute has he now?"

Every one heard the wonderful music, and every one said, "We should like to see the man who plays in this way."

It was night, and dark in the sweat-house. All began to say how much they wanted light to see who was playing. Waida Werris was lying back in the east half of the sweat-house, and heard every word. He, too, wanted to look at the player. He sat up, pulled one hair out of his beard, gave it to Tsudi, and said,--

"Go down near that man who is playing, and hold up this hair so that people may see him."

Tsudi took the hair and went along quietly. No one heard him. He held the hair over Hawt's head, and there was a light from it that filled the whole house. It was as bright as day there. All the people were seen sitting up, each hugging his flute. No man would lend his flute to any one else in the world for any price. All were looking toward the spot whence the music came. In the light they saw a man lying on his back with his arms across his breast, but they could not see that he was doing anything. He had no flute, he made no motion with his mouth, for he fingered his sides as he would a flute, and made the music by drawing in air through his nostrils, and sending it out through the holes in his sides.

Tsudi held up Waida Werris's single hair, and people watched Hawt to see how he made the beautiful music. He was lying on his back making wonderful sounds. He played the music of Tsaik's song, of Waida Werris's song, of Tsaroki's song. They could hear the music, but there was no motion of Hawt's mouth and they could not see his fingers play. He gave the music of Patkilis's song and of Sedit's. He gave the music of the songs of all people in the sweat-house.

"Hawt has beaten the world!" cried the assembly. "He can do more than we can; we yield, we are silent. Hawt is the best player in the world! No one can play as he plays!"

Hawt gave his own music next. No one knew that music but him, no one could play it but him. There was no other music so loud and strong, no other music so soft and low.

When the people had watched Hawt a long time and listened a long time, he stopped. All cried out then,--

"Hawt is the one great musician, the only great player on earth!"

Tsudi put down the hair and all were in the dark. He carried the hair back and gave it to Waida Werris.

People began to talk and ask one another: "Where did that light come from; whose is it?" One said Tsudi had it; another said, "No, he never had a light like that." "Who gave it to him?" asked a third. "Some one must have given it to Tsudi. Let us ask him about this."

Here and there people said: "Only Waida Werris could make such a light. What kind of person is Waida Werris? We should like to see Waida Werris."

"I have never seen Waida Werris, but I have heard people tell how nice looking he is, and that he can be seen from afar," said Patkilis. "If he were here he might make such a light, but he is not here, or we should all see him right away."

Waida Werris was lying near them, and heard all they said.

"Let us ask Waida Dikit," said Karkit Kiemila, a big man, lying on the west side, facing Waida Werris; and he began to talk to Waida Dikit.

"The people wish to see Waida Werris," said he. "You have invited all people in the world, and you have invited him. What will you do? Is he here? Will you let every one see him?"

"Oh, no," said one old man. "Waida Werris is bad. I don't want to see him." "We have heard that he is good," said others. "We want to see him." So they were divided.

Waida Werris smoked a while in silence. At last Waida Dikit bent toward Patkilis and Sedit and asked,--

"What do you think, shall I let people see Waida Werris or not?"

"They want to see him," answered the two. "You have invited them and invited him. If people wish to see Waida Werris, let them see him."

"Where shall I let them see him?"

"Let all the people go outside the sweat-house," said Patkilis, "and stand in two long rows, one on each side of the door, and let Waida Werris go out between them. If he goes out, every one can look at him; only a few would see him inside the house."

"Very well," answered Waida Dikit. "Now all you people go outside the house."

Tsaroki opened the door, and went out first. All followed, each saying as he went, "It is dark: we shall not see Waida Werris."

"You can see him in the dark," said Waida Dikit. "Join hands, all of you, and go around to the north side of the sweat-house."

"Go you," said Waida Dikit to Tsudi, "and search inside. Tell me when all the people are out."

Tsudi searched everywhere. "All have gone out," said he.

Waida Dikit closed the door and said: "Some of you people are sleepy, but wake up, open your eyes, be ready to see--look north."

"What can we do here? Why did we come out in the dark?" asked a certain Chirchihas. "We can see nothing at this time of night;" and, turning to Lutchi, he asked: "Have you seen him, or his brother? What sort of a place do they live in?"

"I cannot tell you now; you will see him soon."

"Be ready, all of you," said Waida Dikit. "Look north."

All looked. There was a pointed mountain not far away, and straight out before them. They saw a small light rising till it reached the top of that mountain; there it settled, and soon it seemed near them, just a few steps from the faces of the people. That was Waida Werris. The place around was as if in daylight. All could see him; all looked at him.

"Now, you people, there is Waida Werris before you; do you see him?"

"We see him."

"Hereafter all people will see him there in the north, as you see him now," said Waida Dikit. "Come back to the sweat-house, all of you."

Tsaroki opened the door, and all went in. "We will talk," said the old man, "then eat, and after that separate."

Day had come--there was light in the sweat-house. They heard some one coming, and soon they saw an old woman in the door. This was Tunhlucha Pokaila. She would not go in, but stood a while holding in both hands two beautiful baskets of water. These she put down at the door, looked in, and went away. Waida Dikit took the baskets, put them on the ground north of the fire, and said,--

"Here is a little water, but come all and use it,--wash."

The old woman was Waida Dikit's sister; she lived north of her brother's, not far away. There was a rock at that place, with a spring in it. The rock was her house. Water rose in that rock to the surface and went into the earth again in another part of the same house. The old woman had two baskets; the smaller one held water for drinking, the larger one water for washing. Great crowds of people drank from the smaller basket and washed from the other; each used what he needed, the water never grew less; it remained the same always in quantity.

"Have all washed and drunk?" asked Waida Dikit.

"We have all washed and drunk."

The old man removed the baskets, and set out two others which the old woman had just brought,--one of cooked venison, and another a very small basket of acorn porridge. He put the baskets in the middle of the sweat-house and said,--

"Now, all people, I ask you to eat."