Part 14

"I will try that food," said Karkit. He went and ate. Next Hus ate, then Yipokos. Now these three men ate deer meat since that time, and will always find meat by the smell,--this was the first time they ate venison. Tsihl and Wima, called also Bohemba, ate all they could from the little basket, yet the food was not less by one bit. Patit ate plenty. Hus ate, and so did Sedit. All ate as much as they could; still each basket was full. The food grew no less. Waida Dikit kept saying,--

"You people, here is food. I do not need it. Come and eat what there is."

He sent Tsudi around to ask each man if he had eaten. All said they had eaten till Tsudi went half around, when he found one man, Memtulit, who said that he had not eaten, but was willing to eat.

"I will eat if I see anything good," said he.

"Well, go and eat," said Tsudi.

"What kind of food have you?"

"Venison and acorn porridge."

"I do not eat that kind of food."

"Here is a man who has not eaten," said Tsudi; "he cannot eat that food."

Farther on was found Kiriu, who had not eaten, and a third, a very young man, Tsararok. "I should like to eat," said he, "but I am timid. There are so many people here eating."

"What kind of food do you eat, Kiriu?" asked Tsudi.

"I cannot eat venison. I eat what lives in the water." The other two men said the same.

Waida Dikit went to his old house, where he had dried fish. He caught besides a net full of little fish. He cooked both kinds and carried them to the sweat-house, set them down in the middle, and said, "Now come and eat."

Memtulit ate, so did Kiriu. Tsararok came after a while. He began to eat the little fish, didn't see the other kind; this is why Tsararok likes small fish to this day.

The old man asked again, "Have all eaten?"

"We have," answered all.

There was as much food in the two baskets as at first, and the old man put them outside the house. Sedit saw this, and was angry. He said that people should leave nothing.

"Don't talk so," said Patkilis. "What is done is right."

"You are all free to stay longer," said Waida Dikit, "but I suppose that you wish to go home, I suppose you are in a hurry."

"Why should we go so soon?" asked Sedit. "The people from the west might tell us what they know; we ought to tell them something."

"Keep quiet, Sedit," said Patkilis. "I told you not to talk. There are many big men here, better men than you, but they don't talk. Waida Dikit says that we have stayed long enough; that is what he means; you ought to know it. He spoke as he did because he wished to say something nice to us and be friends; but you must keep still."

A man on the west side rose now and came toward the middle of the house, near the fire, stood there, looked about, and spat on the ground. All the people saw him spit, and in an instant they saw a small basket rise out of the spittle. Inside the basket were acorns of mountain live oak. This man was Patit. He went back to his place and lay down. Waida Dikit set the basket in the middle of the sweat-house, picked out an acorn, ate it, and said,--

"People, come and eat. My friend Patit has made this for you,--this is his food."

They never had acorns of that kind till then. Nop came first to the basket to eat, and to this day he is fond of acorns. Then Tsihl and Wima and Tichelis and Tsudi and Tsaik went to the basket and ate, and all are fond of acorns now. No matter how many they took from the basket, the acorns were none the less.

Sedit sat back ill-natured; he wanted them to eat all the acorns. Waida Dikit put the basket outside.

Tsihl rose now, went to the place where Patit had spat, and put an empty basket on the ground. He untied a wide strap, or braid of grass, which he wore around his wrist, and held down his hand. Something flowed out of it, like water, till the basket was filled. Then he tied up his wrist again. The basket was full of seeds of sugar pine. Waida Dikit ate of them; then called all to eat. People came and ate all they wanted. The basket was as full as before. Sedit was very angry.

Hau came forward and put down a stone cup. He held his ear over it, scratched the ear, and out came a stream of manzanita berries. These were the first manzanita. No one had ever seen those berries in the world before. Waida Dikit ate a handful of the berries and sat down--said nothing. All the people hurried to eat, crowded around the cup, ate as long as they were able, but could not decrease the berries. Presently Waida Dikit began to itch. He did not know what troubled him. Soon spots came out all over his body--red, yellow, and black. This was because he had eaten the berries. His spirit was afraid of what he had eaten. His spirit did not wish that he should eat berries, they were not his kind of food; and that was why the spots came out on him. It was his spirit's fear that brought out the spots, and he has been spotted ever since. He ate not because he wished, but because he was master of the house. It was for him to taste everything, or people would think it bad food.

Now Wima came, put down a basket, and untied a white wristband which he wore, held his hand down, and wild plums dropped into the basket and filled it.

This time Waida Dikit sent Tichelis to taste the plums and set out the basket. People ate, but there were as many plums as before.

These different kinds of food were given to the world for the first time then, and this is why we have them now.

Tsaik came to the middle of the sweat-house. He tapped the ground with his nose, and out came a great pile of acorns.

Sedit had eaten as much as he could, and was angry because any was put away. He kept saying to Patkilis, "I don't like that."

"Sedit," answered Patkilis, "I have warned you against talking so much. Don't you know that after a while all the new kind of people, the people to come, will use food in this way, eat what they want, and put the rest away?"

"You people have talked and been friendly," said Waida Dikit. "This is the food we need; this will be our only food hereafter."

"Well," said Kanhlalas, standing up, "I think we have almost finished. If we stay here too long, some bad people may see us and talk about what we are doing."

Others said: "Yes, we have given all the food we have. If this gathering lasts longer, bad people may find us and make trouble."

"That is true," said the assembly; "let us part."

"We will part," said Waida Dikit. "I am going to my old house and will stay there forever. If salmon come up the Wini Mem, they will come as far as my house and go back."

Next morning all set out for their homes. Tsihl changed his mind on the road, and went back to Tede Puyuk, where he found that all had gone except Sedit, Patkilis, Nop, and Hau. These four were outside the sweat-house, and Tsihl said,--

"We have come back to look at this place again; it pleases us."

They stayed awhile, travelled through the country, and when Olelbis sent people down here, coyotes, jack rabbits, deer, red-foxes, and black bear came to Tede Puyuk, and there were many of them ever after around that whole country.

NORWANCHAKUS AND KERIHA

PERSONAGES

After each name is given that of the creature or thing unto which the personage was changed subsequently.

=Eltuluma=, ----; =Hubit=, wasp; =Kériha=, ----; =Kuntihlé=, a small bird unknown; =Lasaswa=, large spider; =Nodal Mónoko=, ----; =Norwanchakus=, ----; =Norwinte=, ----; =Patkilis=, jack rabbit; =Pawnit=, kangaroo rat; =Pom Norwanen Pitchen=, daughter of the Southern Border, the same as =Norwan=; =Puriwa=, dark; =Supchit=, ----; =Sanihas=, daylight; =Tsaik=, blue jay; =Tsiwihl=, blue-breasted lizard; =Waida Werris=, polar star.

* * * * *

The two brothers Norwanchakus and Keriha were on this earth before any place or thing had a name. When Olelbis took the sky pole and made a deep furrow from the foot of Bohem Puyuk to the lower valley, and a river came, the two brothers were at the end of the furrow and started toward the north. Norwanchakus was the elder; Keriha was very small.

When the brothers started, they could not see well. There was no sun then; there was only a kind of dim twilight. Waida Werris was in the sky, and saw the brothers. Fish had got into all rivers now from the southern pond, where Kuntihle Herit had caught the first fish.

"There are fish in the river," said Keriha; "let us catch some. Let us take a net up the river and come down with it."

"We have no net, and there is no light; we cannot see anything," said the elder brother.

"Go, my brother," said Keriha, "to where the sky comes down on the northwest; go out under it. You will find there the plant kúruti; bring it."

"I cannot go there," said Norwanchakus; "you go, my brother."

Keriha went through the air quickly; brought the plant--brought all there was.

"We must have more," said Norwanchakus.

"Well, go and get it," answered Keriha. "It grows beyond the sky in the southwest."

"I cannot go there; go you," said the elder brother.

Keriha went beyond the sky on the southeast; found plenty of kúruti. The elder brother made strings of the fibre.

"I am in a hurry to fish," said Keriha. "You are slow, my brother."

"Go straight east beyond the sky," said the other, "and get ash wood while I am making a net."

Keriha brought the ash. Norwanchakus had the net made, and now he fixed the ash stick.

"My brother," said Keriha, "we cannot see anything. How can we fish? There are people around us in the world, perhaps, but we have no good light to find them."

There was a kind of dim light all the time. The two brothers started, came north as far as Nomlopi, opposite Pas Puisono, and sat down.

Keriha heard voices in the north and asked, "Do you hear shouting?"

"No; I hear nothing," answered Norwanchakus.

"Let us go toward the shouting," said Keriha.

They went to a place about six miles beyond the river, where they found a sweat-house.

"These are the first people we have seen," said Keriha. "We shall call this place Tsarau Heril." They stood near the door of the sweat-house.

"Oh, my brother," said a big man who saw them and came to the door.

"Yes," said Keriha, "you are our brother, you are Norwinte."

Another came and said, "Oh, my brother!"

"You are our brother, too," said Keriha; "you are Eltuluma."

"It is dark. We do not know what to do," said Norwinte.

"And we do not know," answered Keriha.

"Not far from here are more people," said Norwinte. "Let us send to them to come here. Perhaps we may learn what to do."

Norwinte sent a messenger to the north. He brought a new person soon, a good-looking man; and when this stranger had talked a while he said, "There is a person in the southeast who can help us."

"Will you bring him here?" asked Norwinte.

"I cannot go there," said the stranger.

"You go, Keriha," said Norwanchakus. "No one can go there but you."

Keriha went, and was not long gone. He brought back Patkilis.

"My brother Patkilis, do you know of any more people anywhere?"

"I know of no more people. I have seen none; but in the far east I hear shouting, with dancing and singing."

"Well, my brother, I wish you would go and see what kind of people are making that noise there."

"I will go," said Patkilis. "I don't think it is very far from here to where they are."

Patkilis was gone a long time. When he came back, he said: "I saw many people, but they did not see me. There is a hill beyond the sky in the east. On the northern slope of it are houses. On the southern slope there are houses, also. A river flows from this hill westward. South of the hill every one is dancing. I went into the houses on the north side. All were empty except one. In the middle house of the village I found a blind boy. I looked around and saw much in the house. 'Why have you so many things here?' asked I of the boy. 'What are they good for? I live on the other side. We haven't such things in our houses.' He said nothing. I talked a long time to him, asked many questions, but got no answer. All he said was, 'My people have gone to dance.' There were piles of acorns inside and outside, great baskets of them put around everywhere. I sat down. 'What is this?' asked I. 'What is that? What is in those baskets there?' 'Oh, something,' said the blind boy; and that was all the answer he made. There were many bags, all full of something. I saw two small bags hanging in the house, and they were very full. 'What is in those small bags that are so full?' asked I. 'Can you tell me, little boy?' 'Why do you want to know everything?' asked the blind boy. I asked about those two bags in different ways, but he wouldn't tell me for a long time. I teased him and teased him to tell. 'You want to know everything,' said he, at last; 'I will tell you. In one is Puriwa.' 'Well, what is in the other bag? Tell me. You have told about one, now tell about the other.' He thought a while and asked, 'Why do you want to know so much? Sanihas is in the other bag.' He would tell no more, and I came away."

When Patkilis had told all this, Keriha said, after thinking a while: "This is the best news that we have heard in this world yet; some one of us ought to go there. We must bring those two bags here. If we open one, the world will be dark; if we open the other, there will be daylight. Those acorns, too, are good. You must send some one for those two bags."

"There is a man up north here, Pawnit. He could go; send for him," said Patkilis.

They sent for him, and he came. They told him what they wanted.

"I can go for those things," said he, "but I don't like to go alone. My brothers, you bring a man here who lives up north, Tsaik. He is blind of one eye."

When Tsaik came and heard about the acorns, he said: "I should like to have them; they are good. If I go, I will take the acorns, and you can bring the two bags," said he to Pawnit. "When you come to that hill in the east," said Patkilis to Pawnit, "you will see many houses on the north side of it, and many on the south, where people are dancing; but go to the north, and right in the middle of the village you will see a big house, with the door toward the south. When you go in, don't let the blind boy know that there are two of you. Let one talk to him while the other takes the bags. The one talking will make him believe that he came from the south side of the hill, where people are dancing. When you are going in through the door, you will see the two bags right opposite, both smooth and very full. Get those bags, so that we can see what kind of place this is. We want plenty of light. We want darkness, too, so that there may not be too much light."

Pawnit and Tsaik started off on their journey. How long the journey lasted no one knows. They went beyond the sky and reached the eastern hill, they saw the villages south and north of it, and heard a great noise of dancing at the south. They went to the northern village, found the big house in the middle of it, and stopped before the door.

"Go in," said Tsaik. "I will stay outside. I have a strap. I am going to carry away the acorn baskets. You go in. I will stay here and tie them together."

Pawnit went in and sat down on the west side. The blind boy was lying on the east side.

"Well, blind boy," said Pawnit, "I am cold. I have been dancing. I have come here to warm myself."

"I should like to know why you people come here while there is dancing at the other side," said the blind boy.

Pawnit made no answer, but went out to see what Tsaik was doing. "Where are you, Tsaik?" asked he.

"I am here making ready to carry acorns," answered Tsaik.

Just then they saw some one near them. "Who is this?" asked Pawnit.

"I am here," said Patkilis. "Come, Pawnit, you and I will go in and get the two bags. You, Tsaik, take the acorns."

Tsaik put a big load on his back and started on, while the others were in the house. Patkilis took daylight, and Pawnit took darkness. As soon as they were outside the house, the blind boy stood up and screamed,--

"Who was that? Some one has stolen something!"

He felt for the bags, then ran out and screamed,--

"Some one has stolen Puriwa and Sanihas! Some one has stolen Puriwa and Sanihas! Some one has stolen Puriwa and Sanihas!"

The people who were dancing heard him and said, "Some one is screaming!" Then they heard plainly,--

"Some one has stolen Puriwa and Sanihas! They have run west with them!"

When they heard this, the dancers stopped dancing and ran west. Soon they saw the three men racing off with the bags.

They saw Tsaik far ahead with a pack of acorns on his back. They could see him a long way, for the pack was a big one. Pawnit and Patkilis carried their bags in their hands. The people ran fast and shouted to each other,--

"Catch them! Catch them! Do your best! Head them off! Surround them!"

They could not overtake Tsaik. He went through under the sky before they could come up.

When Pawnit and Patkilis were rising from under the edge of the sky, those behind were ready to seize Pawnit and would have caught him, but he tore open the mouth of his bag, and that instant thick darkness spread everywhere. No one could see; all were as if blind in one moment.

The eastern people had to stop. They could follow no farther. Patkilis knew the country west of the sky, and he and Pawnit stumbled on, came along slowly in the dark, and groped westward a good while. At last Patkilis opened his bag, and that moment daylight went out of it. They could see a great distance; they were very glad now, travelled quickly, and were soon at Norwinte's.

Keriha and Norwanchakus lived for a time with Norwinte (it is unknown how long), and then took their net and went up the river to fish downward. They went up Bohema Mem and Pui Mem as far as Panti Tsarau.

"Let us fish down from this, my brother," said Keriha. "I will hold the end of the net stick that goes out in the river, so that I may take the fish quickly when they are caught. You can go along the bank."

They fished down to Nomlupi, and Keriha named all the places as he and his brother came down. He gave them the names which they have now, the names by which we Wintus call them. The first place below Panti Tsarau was Lorus Pom and Keriha left no place unnamed between Panti Tsarau and Nomlupi. They stopped at Nomlupi, built a brush house there, and lived some time in it.

One day the two brothers went to Norwanbuli to the great sweat-house where the woman Pom Norwanen Pitchen or Norwan lived.

"My brother, you must not make this woman angry," said Norwanchakus, when they were near Norwanbuli. "This is a very powerful woman; she has a great deal of food, a great deal to eat, but you must not take anything; eat nothing except what she gives; don't talk much; do just what I tell you."

"I will do what you tell me," said Keriha.

They went in at the south side of Norwanbuli, and stopped east of the door. Norwanchakus sat down, and held Keriha between his knees. The woman put her hand behind her, took acorn bread, held it toward the brothers, and said,--

"Take this, you two men, eat it, and then go away."

"This woman has a great deal to eat," said Keriha. "Let's stay here a while with her. Let's not go away, my brother."

"Be still," whispered Norwanchakus. "Don't talk."

"My brother, I'm hungry. Tell her to give us more bread. This isn't enough."

Norwanchakus barely tasted the bread, but Keriha ate with great relish. "Now, my brother," said Norwanchakus, "we must go. I will carry you." He put his brother on his back, drew Keriha's arms around his own neck closely, and started. When they were almost out of the house, Keriha began to struggle and kick.

"Let me go, my brother," said he, "let me go!"

Norwanchakus held him firmly. Keriha pulled and pulled till he got his right arm free. At the door was a large basket of acorns. He seized a handful of those and kept them. Norwanchakus went out, and when a short distance from the house he felt the ground swaying, rising, and falling. He stopped and saw the earth open around him and sink slowly. Then he made one great spring and came down on Bohem Buli. He was barely on that mountain when it began to crack, and he was sinking again. He made a second leap, and came down far away southwest.

Keriha dropped the acorns, and the earth stopped opening that moment. The brothers stayed some time in the southwest, then went to Tsik Tepji. This was a strong eddy of the river in which it was easy to catch salmon. They made a brush hut at the river bank, and a house not far from the river, on a hill. Norwanchakus caught a great many salmon, and Keriha ate and ate; he ate all the time and never grew larger. Norwanchakus scarcely ate anything. One morning Keriha was in the house while his brother was fishing. A stranger came, a very small man, no larger than a boy five years old. Keriha looked at him, then jumped up and ran to his brother.

"Oh, my brother," said he, "some one has come to our house." Norwanchakus said nothing.

"There is some one at our house," repeated Keriha.

"Did he say anything?" asked Norwanchakus.

"No."

"Did you talk to him?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"I don't like him, he is so little."

"Never mind, go back and give him something to eat; call him uncle."

Keriha went back and stared at the stranger. After a while the little man looked up and asked,--

"Why do you look at me so? I left a small bag of roots north of the house. Would you bring it here? The roots are very good to eat."

Keriha went. The bag was small. There were roots in one corner of it, not many. He snatched at the bag, but could not lift it; he tried with both hands, couldn't stir it; tried every way, couldn't move it; scratched his arms and legs in trying, left the bag, and went back without it.

"I cannot lift that bag," said he to the little man. "How did you bring it, you are so small?"

The stranger, who was Nodal Monoko, went out, brought the bag to the house in one hand, and put it down outside. Norwanchakus knew who the stranger was, and he brought up a great sturgeon. Keriha cooked the fish, put it down before their guest, and said, "Eat this."

The little man said nothing, waited till the fish was cool, then raising it to his mouth in one hand, he swallowed all at a mouthful.

Keriha cooked for the little man all the forenoon, while Norwanchakus was fishing. About midday their wood was nearly all burned.

"My uncle," said Keriha, "we are going to cook a great deal of fish. Would you help me and bring wood?"

The little man said nothing.

"My uncle, will you bring wood for me?" asked Keriha.

The stranger sat a while, then went out to a mountain, took the largest dry trees, pulled them up by the roots with one hand, put a great many in a pile, and tore up two young green trees; with these he bound the dry ones, and took them on his shoulder to Keriha.

Now Keriha saw what kind of person the little man was. He cooked salmon and sturgeon till midnight without stopping, and still the little man was hungry. Keriha cooked fish the whole night, and Nodal Monoko ate till daylight.

Norwanchakus came up from the river next morning and said to the little man, who looked as if he had eaten nothing,--

"My uncle, you wish to go home, I suppose. If you want fish, fill your bag; it will hold a couple of good ones. The fish did not come up last night very well, but I can give you enough to fill your bag."

So saying, Norwanchakus went back to the fishing-place. Nodal Monoko went out and emptied his bag. When the roots were thrown out, there was a pile of them many times higher and bigger than the house. It covered all the open space, while some roots rolled down the hillside and fell into the river.

Nodal Monoko's bag would hold mountains. He could put the whole world into it. Nodal took his bag to the river, where Norwanchakus had been fishing all night, and saw salmon in piles there.

"Take all the salmon you can," said Norwanchakus.