Part 21

"Build a good fire," said he to the women when he reached home that night. "Give me four big water-baskets." They gave the baskets. He filled these with water, and put hot rocks in them. Then he emptied the ten otter-skins into the water.

"Stay all night in your houses. Let no one put a head out. I will stay in the sweat-house," said he.

The four baskets boiled hard. Just at daylight the largest basket fell over; then the second, the third, and the fourth fell. After that there were voices all around the sweat-house, hundreds upon hundreds of them.

"We are cold; open the door," cried the voices.

When full daylight had come, Chichepa opened the door, and all hurried in. Jewinna came first, and with him his son. All followed them, dressed as they had been when they went to Kedila's; all alive and well, strong and healthy. Jewinna laughed. He was glad.

On the way home Kedila's two daughters had two sons, the sons of Jewinpa. The boys were born the next day after Jewinpa had looked on their mothers. They had come from the eyes of their father. He had just looked through his fingers at Kedila's two daughters.

After Jewinna's son had been killed and then brought to life by Chichepa, he went east to Kedila's great sweat-house, stayed five days and nights there, then took his two wives and two sons and went back to his father's.

Kedila's youngest son, born when his father was old, came to life. He had sat always at the central pillar, at the edge of the ashes, and had always kept moving his arms, but he had never danced on that or on any floor. He had burned his face because he had sat so near the fire, and had sweated often from being so near it.

Every one laughed at him; jeered at that "Burnt Face," who sat night and day in the ashes. He spat always in one place. Kedila's eldest son had said many times,--

"If we are killed, we shall come back to life again."

"I don't think that you will," said Burnt Face; "but when I am killed I shall live again through my own power."

Burnt Face went out to fight, and was killed with the others. Now a little baby came right up out of the spittle of Burnt Face, a boy. The women took him and washed him. In one hour he had grown a good deal, in two hours still more. On the following day he had full growth.

Then this young man who had risen from the spittle went out of the house. He followed the course of the struggle, found all Kedila's people dead, struck each with his foot, turned him over. All came to life and rose up, as well as ever.

When Jewinna came for his wives, their brothers and brothers-in-law gave the women presents; but when his two wives and two sons went home with him and old Jewinna saw them coming, he took two bearskins quickly, and when they were on top of the sweat-house, he caught the young boys, put them into the bearskins, rolled them up, and put them away to be Weanmauna.

SUKONIA'S WIVES AND THE ICHPUL SISTERS

PERSONAGES

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

=Chikpitpa=, young weasel; =Jahtaneno=, a kind of shell creature; =Metsi=, coyote; =Ichpul=, frog; =Sukónia=, a name of pine martin, whose ordinary name is Demauna; =Tsoré Jowá=, a kind of eagle.

* * * * *

Old Jahtaneno had a great many daughters, and all but two of these were married.

At that time Sukonia was a great chief in this country about us. He had a large sweat-house, and many people to serve him.

One day Jahtaneno called his daughters and said: "My girls, I want you to go to Sukonia's house. I have heard that he is very rich; go and see him. He has no wife yet; he may marry you. Rise early in the morning, bathe, comb your hair, go and see the chief Sukonia."

The two sisters made no answer, said nothing, obeyed their father. They rose early next morning, bathed, combed their hair, painted their faces red (young people painted red always). Their mother gave each girl a nice basket; she hung beads on their necks, and put food in their baskets.

"If any man meets you on the road," said Jahtaneno, at parting, "do not look at him. A man richly dressed and wearing many beads will come toward you, will speak to you; do not look at that man; he is no one but Metsi."

The two girls began to sing when they started, and their song was:--

"Au ni á, au ni á, mo a wé, he ló, Au ni á, au ni á, mo a wé, he ló."

They went northeast, the way which the old man had told them to go. He warned them further, saying,--

"There is a house this side of Sukonia's, and not very far from it; two women live in that house, two old maids. Be sure not to stop at that house. Do not go near these women; pass their place quickly, do not stop before it, do not talk to the women. They are bad, evil women. If you go into their house, you will never come out of it; if you go, you will be killed there."

Jahtaneno's daughters started, walked away quickly, singing as they went,--

"Au ni á, au ni á, mo a wé, he ló, Au ni á, au ni á, mo a wé, he ló."

Metsi heard the song; he listened and said to himself: "That is a good song, that is nice singing; I like to hear that song. I think those two girls are going to the chief. I think they are going to visit Sukonia Mujaupa. Now, otter-skins be here before me, and beads in plenty, and beautiful shells."

He wished for all other things that he liked. Metsi dressed himself richly and waited.

Jahtaneno's daughters walked and walked on without stopping, met no one on the way till they came to where Metsi was waiting. The younger sister was walking ahead; she saw Metsi at one side of the trail, but would not look at him a second time. The elder sister looked a second and a third time.

"I think that is Sukonia Mujaupa," said she.

"Your father would not say so," answered the younger sister; "that is Metsi."

But the elder sister liked the stranger's appearance; she looked at him many times.

"I think this is Sukonia," said she.

"Come on with me," said the younger sister. "Have you lost your eyes? That is Metsi."

The younger girl was ahead now some distance; the elder stopped to look at the stranger more closely.

"Which way are you going?" asked Metsi.

"Our father sent us to Sukonia the chief."

"Oh, I am chief," said Metsi; "you are to come with me. I will start for home very soon."

"My sister is ahead, she is waiting. I must hurry and tell her first. I will come back to you then."

She caught up with her sister and said: "I will go with this man; this is Sukonia, the chief. He said he was chief."

"You must have lost your mind," answered the younger sister; "that is Metsi. He is no chief, he is not Sukonia."

The elder sister went with the younger, but she wanted to go back to Metsi, she wished to go with him; she liked his dress, his words pleased her, she believed him. Both went on, though the elder went against her will.

"You will see two black bearskins hanging over the sweat-house door," said the father, when his daughters were starting. "Stop there; that is Sukonia's house, that is the house to which you are going."

Toward sunset they came near the place where the Ichpuls lived.

"Let us stop here," said the elder sister, "and get something to eat. I am hungry."

"Our father told us to pass this house; he told us not to stop near it, not to go to it, not to look at it," said the younger sister; and she went on without looking, she went straight ahead.

The elder sister followed her, but followed unwillingly. At last both came near Sukonia's, and saw the two bearskins hanging out over the sweat-house.

Chikpitpa, Sukonia's little brother, was on the roof, and Tsore Jowa, his sister, was at work making a house for herself a little way off at one side. Chikpitpa ran into the house, calling loudly,--

"Two girls are coming! Two girls are coming with baskets!"

The old man, Sukonia's father, brought bearskins for the young women to sit on, and waited. The sisters came in and took the places shown them. Chikpitpa was in a corner when the sisters sat down. He ran to one and then to the other, looked at them, sat on their laps. He was very glad that the sisters had come; he liked to be with them and talk to them.

Old Sukonia went out and called to Tsore Jowa, "Come, my daughter; bring food to our guests, to the young women who have come to us."

She brought deer's marrow; she brought other kinds of food, too. The sisters had put down their baskets outside, near the door. On the way they had said to the baskets, "Let the food in you be nice;" and when leaving them at the door, they said, "Be large and be full."

The two small baskets stood outside now, very large and full of every good food. Sukonia came home with, his men about sunset. Chikpitpa sprang up to the roof of the house, and called to his brother,--

"Two guests have come to our house. Two women are sitting inside. They are sitting in your place."

The men came in, and Sukonia sat down with the sisters. They pleased him; he liked their looks.

"Have you brought food to our guests?" asked Sukonia.

"I brought some," said Tsore Jowa.

"Oh, give more. Bring plenty of everything!" The two baskets which Jahtaneno's daughters had brought were carried into the house. The sisters invited all present to try their food. All the men ate food from the baskets and praised it. Sukonia, the chief, was pleased more and more with the sisters that evening, and married them.

After all the people had eaten next morning, Sukonia went to hunt. He took many men with him.

That day Sukonia's sisters showed his wives every place in the house and outside it,--showed them where venison, roots, and acorns were kept; showed them where the water was. The spring was in the house in one corner, carefully covered.

After some days Sukonia said to his wives: "I want you to tell me what your father said when you were leaving him. When does he want you to go back? When does he wish you to visit him?"

"He did not tell us when to go to him. He did not tell us to go back at all, he only told us to come here; but we want to see him. We want to tell him how we live here."

"Well," said Sukonia, "go to-morrow; go to see your father. What does he eat? What does he like?"

"He eats salmon; he likes nice beads, furs, and shells."

"I will send him some of my meat, I will send him venison. I will send him beads and furs."

"May I go with my sisters-in-law?" asked Chikpitpa.

"No, I want you here," said Sukonia. "I want you here, my little brother."

The two women rose early next morning, and Tsore Jowa helped them to make ready. Sukonia gave them fat venison, and every kind of bright beads and rich presents for their father.

They started; went as far as the Ichpul house, where the two frog sisters lived. The two old maids were in the road and spoke to Sukonia's wives. They were very kind and pleasant.

"Put down your baskets and sit a while with us to talk," said they.

The Jahtaneno sisters were frightened. They did not wish to stop. They feared the Ichpul women, did not like to make them angry by refusing. They were afraid to sit down, afraid to refuse.

"Oh, how your hair looks! let me see your head," said one Ichpul woman to the elder sister.

"Oh, how your hair looks!" said the other to the younger sister; "let me look at your head."

"Put your head on my lap," said each Ichpul sister to each of Sukonia's wives.

Each was afraid, but still put her head on the old maid's lap. The Ichpul sisters killed Sukonia's wives, flayed their bodies, and put their skins on themselves.

About sunset next day the two frog women went to Sukonia's house; went in and sat where Jahtaneno's daughters had always sat; took the place of Sukonia's wives; looked just like them because they had their skins on.

About dusk Sukonia came home from the hunt. Chikpitpa, who ran ahead, rushed into the sweat-house to see if his sisters-in-law had come back from their father's. He saw the two women, looked at them; they seemed like his sisters-in-law, but when he came near he cried out at once,--

"Phu! they smell like frogs! The Ichpul sisters are here: these are the frog old maids!"

He cried and ran out to meet his brother.

"Brother," said he, "the Ichpul women are in our house. They killed my sisters-in-law to-day. I know they did." And he kept crying, "They killed my sisters-in-law, they killed my poor sisters-in-law!" and he cried without stopping, cried bitterly.

The two old maids wearing the skins of Sukonia's wives were making acorn porridge. When it was almost ready, Sukonia looked at the two women. They seemed like his wives, and he was in doubt, till all at once he thought: "I will ask them to bring water from the spring. If they know where the water is, they are my wives; if not, they are false."

"Bring me water, my wife," said he to one of the women.

She stood up, took a water basket, turned toward the door, and said to Chikpitpa, "Come out with me for water, my little brother-in-law."

"Wait," said Sukonia. "You need not go now."

She came back to the fire and sat down with her sister. Sukonia knew now that those were strange women.

"Whip me," said Chikpitpa to his brother, "I will cry, roll around and kick. I will kick those nasty frogs! I will kill them."

When the acorn porridge was boiling hard, Sukonia struck Chikpitpa with a switch and scolded him: "Why are you crying? I can do nothing, you cry so."

The boy rolled on the floor, cried more than ever, kicked, rolled around, kicked as hard as he could, rolled toward the fire and kicked, kicked one woman into the boiling porridge, kicked the other one into the burning fire, and in this way he killed the false sisters.

Chikpitpa was glad; he laughed. Sukonia threw the two women out doors, and mourned all that night for his wives. Next morning early he rose and said, "Stay home to-day, all of you."

"Where are you going?" asked Chikpitpa.

"Stay here, my little brother," said Sukonia. "I am going somewhere."

Sukonia followed the trail of his wives, reached the place where the Ichpul sisters had stopped them, and found their dead bodies. He took out his bow-string of deer sinew, struck the two women, called them, raised them to life.

"How were you killed?" asked Sukonia; "how did it happen? Did you go to the Ichpul house?"

"We did not go to that house; those two women were out on the road and they stopped us. They asked us to sit down and talk with them. We were afraid to sit, afraid to refuse. We sat down, and they killed us."

Sukonia took his wives home. When they were in sight of the house, Chikpitpa was on the roof watching.

"Oh, those are your sisters-in-law," said he to Tsore Jowa; and he ran out to meet them.

"Go, now, to your father," said Sukonia, next morning. "Carry presents and venison to him, and be here at sunset."

The two sisters rose early, took two baskets, and started. At noon they were at their father's house. Old Jahtaneno was glad when he looked at his daughters and saw the nice presents.

"Our husband told us to go home to-day, and we cannot stay long with you."

They took back many presents from their father, and were home at sunset. They met no trouble on the way. The Ichpul sisters were dead, and Metsi did not meet them a second time.

THE FINDING OF FIRE

PERSONAGES

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

=Ahalamila=, gray wolf; =Au Mujaupa=, master of fire; =Chil Daiauna=, big hail; =Chil Wareko=, big rain; =Juhauju=, west wind; =Júkami=, north wind; =Jukilauyu=, east wind; =Juwaju=, south wind; =Gagi=, crow; =Metsi=, coyote; =Patcha=, snow; =Sabil Keyu=, small hail; =Shushu Marimi=, dog woman; =Siwegi=, a small bird, unknown.

* * * * *

In the beginning Au Mujaupa had fire very far down south on the other side of a big river. The people in this country had no real fire; they had a kind of fire, but it wasn't good. It just warmed a little; it wouldn't cook like the fire which we have now. People killed deer and fished, but they had to eat fish and venison raw.

In the west people had fire, but it wouldn't cook. In the north there were many people, and in the east; but they had no fire that would cook.

"There must be fire in some place," said the people at Pawi; "how can we find it?"

"I will go out to-night to look," said Ahalamila.

That night he went to look for fire. He went to the top of Wahkanopa, looked east and west, saw no fire in either place. Next he looked north; no fire in the north. He looked south; saw no fire anywhere.

Ahalamila came home and talked to the chief and people. "I saw no fire," said he; "I could not see any, but I will go to a better place the next time and take some one with me. I will go to-morrow night to the top of Wahkalu. Who here has a good head, who a sharp eye to see fire? I want to look for fire to-morrow night from the top of Wahkalu; from that place I will look all around the whole world to find fire."

"We have a man here," said the chief, "who can see through a tree, who can see down through the earth to bed rock, who can see through a mountain. You can take him to-morrow night with you. He is Siwegi."

Ahalamila went to Siwegi. "Will you go to-morrow night to look for fire?" asked he.

"I will go if the way is not too long."

"Oh," said Ahalamila, "it will not be long. I will shorten it."

Siwegi agreed to go; and when the time came, they started. Ahalamila doubled up the trail and made it short; in an hour they were on the top of Wahkalu, both ready now to look for fire. The night is very dark; they can see the smallest fire easily.

They look to the east, look with great care, look a good while, see no fire; they look to the north in the same way, see no fire; they look to the west, no fire there. Now Ahalamila looks south, looks a long time, and sees nothing: he looks half an hour to the south, sees a little glimmer like a light very far away.

"Siwegi," said he, "I see a small light down south; it seems like fire far away. I think it is fire."

"Look again," said Siwegi, "look sharply. Maybe it is fire."

"I have looked enough, I think it is fire," said Ahalamila; "but I want you to see it, I want you to look now."

Siwegi looked a little while. "Yes, that is fire," said he.

"Well," said Ahalamila, "we see fire, we know that it is far off in the south."

Ahalamila made the road short, and they were back at Pawi in an hour. "We have found fire," said Ahalamila to the chief and the people. "We know where fire is, we can have fire now."

"We must have that fire," said the people.

"There is no way to get the fire but to go for it," said Ahalamila.

"Well," said the chief, "since Ahalamila saw the fire he will go for it; but the road is long. Who will go and help him? Who will go for fire with Ahalamila?"

About fifty men offered to go, and they started next morning. The journey was long and very hard. Soon two or three men were tired and went home; not long after more were tired, and when they had gone far down to a great river, just north of where the fire was, of the fifty who started only three were left,--Ahalamila, Metsi, and old Shushu Marimi.

Just south of the great river Au Mujaupa had a very big village, and in the village a large sweat-house. In that house he kept the fire, and had a great crowd of people living in the country outside who served him, and kept every one in the world from stealing his fire. These people were Patcha, Chil Wareko, Chil Daiauna, Sabil Keyu, Juhauju, Juwaju, Jukami, Jukilauju.

The three, Ahalamila, Metsi, and old Shushu Marimi, were at the northern end of the bridge, and sat there watching till all at the sweat-house was quiet. The bridge was very narrow and slippery; so Ahalamila put pitch on his feet and hands, and on Metsi's and Shushu's feet and hands. All three crossed without slipping, and found every one asleep in the sweat-house.

The old chief, Au Mujaupa, had covered the fire well with ashes. All was silent within and without. Ahalamila, Metsi, and Shushu crept onto the sweat-house quietly, and looked in. All were asleep.

"I will go down first," said Metsi.

"No, I will go first," said Ahalamila. "I will get the fire and reach it to you; you take it and run very fast."

Ahalamila slipped down. Metsi and Shushu remained on the roof. Ahalamila opened the fire carefully, took out a good piece and handed it to the old woman. She put it in her ear. He handed her another; she put it in her other ear, slipped down from the top of the sweat-house, ran across the bridge, and hurried away.

Ahalamila gave Metsi two pieces. He put them in his two ears and started. Ahalamila filled his own ears and followed.

The three had run over two mountains when Au Mujaupa woke up and saw that the ashes had been opened, and that fire had been taken, that a coal had fallen near the central pillar. He sprang up, went to the top of the sweat-house, shouted, called to all his people,--

"Fire has been stolen! Fire has been stolen! Go, you, and follow!"

Now Patcha, Chil Wareko, Chil Daiauna, Sabil Keyu, and all the wind people rose up and followed, raced and stormed in every direction. So much rain came that the whole country was covered with water.

Now Juwaju was ahead of all Au Mujaupa's people chasing the three robbers. Chil Wareko came too, and fell upon the three furiously; he drenched and chilled them. Next came Jukami and Patcha, who nearly froze them.

Metsi was almost dead; the fire went out in both his ears. Ahalamila lost his fire, too. Chil Wareko, Juwaju, and Patcha quenched it, and then he let it fall.

Old Shushu was behind a good way, but she ran all the time. She kept her hand on one ear as she ran. She lost the fire out of her other ear, and when the piece fell out it broke in two and fell apart. Chil Wareko picked up the fire and took it back; he found six pieces, thought that he had all. He and the others stopped following.

Ahalamila and Metsi ran ahead, left old Shushu to get on the best she could, and reached home first. They were wet, very cold, and tired.

"Where is your fire?" asked the chief.

"I have none; Chil Wareko took my fire," said Ahalamila.

"Where is your fire?" asked the chief.

"Chil Wareko took it," said Metsi.

The chief was very sorry, and all the people were sorry. The old woman did not come, and the people said, "She must be frozen dead."

At sundown old Shushu came back; she came very slowly, was terribly tired, but courageous. She reached the sweat-house, came in, said nothing, lay down wet and cold.

"Where is the fire?" asked she; "did not Ahalamila and Metsi bring fire? They are young and strong, and had plenty of fire."

After a while she stood up, drew some wood-dust together, then sat down, opened her ear and held it over the dust; a big piece of fire came out. Wood was brought quickly, and soon the whole sweat-house was warm. The people who were cold before were warm now and glad.

"Bring meat and we will try how it tastes when 'tis roasted," said the chief.

He cut some venison and roasted it. One and another tasted the meat. "It is very good," said they; a third one said, "I'll try it," and Gagi took a taste. "Oh, it is sweet, very good," said Gagi.

Each one roasted meat and ate heartily. Next day all went to hunt, and had a great feast in the evening. A chief from another place came to the feast and got fire, took it home with him. Soon all people had fire; every one had fire in all parts of the country.

HAKA KAINA

PERSONAGES