Part 18
The man took the little boy on his back and started. As soon as he was away from the house, he forgot all that his wife had told him. When he got to the village he stood around a good while; then his youngest sister saw him and called out: “My brother has come!” She cried, she was so glad to see him. He left the little bundle of seed on top of the house and went in.
When Tusasás saw the man and child, he said: “That is just what I thought!”
The women pounded Tusasás; told him to keep still, and not make the young man feel badly.
The young man said to his sister: “Go out and get what my little boy brought.”
Then he told his mother to put down five white skins. As soon as they were spread out, he put five pinches of seed on each skin, and right away the skin was covered with nice, white seed. Tusasás put a whole handful in his mouth. It increased and spread, till it came out of his ears and his eyes and his mouth. It made his stomach so big that he thought he was going to die.
The young man said: “You thought nothing of me when I was here; now you see what kind of a wife I have. She has all kinds of roots and seeds and meat, but she never digs or hunts.”
When the sun was going down, the children wanted to play with the little boy. He was pretty, they liked him and tried to be nice to him, but the boy didn’t want to play.
Blaiwas said: “Let the child alone. He is a little fellow; he might get hurt, and then he would cry for his mother.”
The children were playing and shouting, but the child paid no attention to them. His aunt carried him around; she liked him, she wanted to keep him in her arms all the time.
The mother didn’t feel happy. She knew what was happening at her father-in-law’s house. She wanted her husband to take care of the child himself, as she had told him. When she heard the children whooping and running, she got frightened and started off to save her child.
The young sister began to play with the children. She put the boy down, and he ran around, too, but he began to run the way a bear runs. He slapped one child, then another. He pushed them down and drove them around. The children screamed, they thought he was a real bear.
When the mother was half-way, she began to cry. She knew harm would come to the boy before she could get to him.
There was a great noise among the children. Tusasás screamed. “People! People! A bear is eating your children!” The boy was just playing as a little bear plays. Tusasás got his bow and arrow and shot the child under the arm. That minute he was a little boy again. The father thought his sister had the child in her arms. When he heard the noise he knew what had happened. He called to the people: “That is my child! That is my child!” but he was too late; the boy was dead.
The mother came with a terrible roar. The earth trembled. When she shook herself, it was as if the earth was turning over. She tore up the ground, pulled up trees; tore big rocks from under the earth and threw them around like little stones. When she got near, she shook herself; the earth moved and the houses fell. A terrible storm of dirt and wind came with her. She was in the middle of the whirlwind. It was dark and nobody could see her. [15]
There were two orphans, a boy and girl, in the village. They were little people; they didn’t grow any, but the girl was strong and she knew things. She always carried a long stick, sharp at both ends. When the people thought they were going to be killed, the girl told her grandmother to paint her stick red. Then she painted red lines across her forehead, breast, and stomach, and on the top of her arms, and went and sat down in front of where Lok Snewédjas was coming, twisting and tearing up the earth. Lok Snewédjas turned and passed on the right side. Just then the girl punched her stick into the middle of the whirlwind. The storm stopped that minute, and there on the ground lay a beautiful young woman in a dress covered with beads and porcupine quills.
The young man cried. He knew that he had killed his wife and child by not doing as she had told him to. He got Gäk’s medicine basket and put it on the boy, then he stepped over him and the child came to life. But he couldn’t bring Lok Snewédjas to life in that way. Everybody felt sorry. They didn’t know who lived in the world that could make the woman alive again.
The young man said: “If we can bring her to life, she will never be a bear again.”
Blaiwas said: “I will give nice things, deerskins, shells, and porcupine quills to anybody who will bring this woman to life.”
The young man stepped over her five times, then ten times, and twenty times; she only moved a little.
Some of the people said: “There is an old woman among the rocks by the lake, Skoks is her medicine, maybe she could make the woman alive again.”
They sent a man after her; when she came, she said: “I want somebody to scream for me. This woman’s spirit has got near where the sun goes down; but maybe we can make it hear.”
Skoks went into a man and screamed loud.
Then the old woman said: “Her spirit has turned around. It is coming back!” Soon she said: “The spirit is here! It is going into its body.”
Right away the young woman stood up. She was beautiful and bright and well. When she saw the orphan girl, she said: “You don’t look strong or powerful. If I hadn’t had that storm with me, you couldn’t have killed me.”
She stayed three days at her father-in-law’s house, then she went back to the mountain with her husband and child.
Before they started, the young man said to his mother and his sister: “You will never see me again. I will stay with my wife always. I don’t want to kill her spirit by coming back here where I forget all she tells me.”
They left and nobody ever saw them again.
The young man’s friends hunted for them and got other people to help, but they could never find their home or see them.
Lok Snewédjas took back all her seeds; she didn’t leave one of them, so no one has ever tasted of that kind of food.
To this day people can hear voices on that mountain. They are the voices of Lok Snewédjas and her children, but nobody ever sees them.
SNAKE TRIES TO MARRY SQUIRREL’S DAUGHTERS
CHARACTERS
Djáudjau Flying Squirrel Gäk Crow Gapni Louse Juljulcus Cricket Kāhkaas Stork Kai Rabbit Káwhas Blackbird Kékina Lizard Kískina Beetle Leméis Thunder Lóluk Fire Tcoóks Crane Tusasás Joker (Skunk) Wálwilégas Butterfly Wámanik Bull Snake Weketas Frog (small, green) Wekwek Magpie Wískäk Cedar-bird Wisnik Garter Snake Wûlkûtska Marten (black) Wus Fox
Wámanik lived at Wiwĕnsi, in a hollow between two mountains. There was a creek near the place, with lots of fish in it. Wámanik caught fish and ate them. That was the way he lived.
East of Wiwĕnsi lived a great hunter who had four children, three daughters and a son. This man and his son each had a song that they sang while they were hunting.
Wámanik was a good hunter, too. One day, he went, with two other men, to hunt deer. When he was on the south side of a mountain looking for tracks, he heard a man singing. He thought: “It must be a beautiful man who has that nice song. This is the first time I have heard any one sing on this mountain. I would like to see that man, but maybe I’d scare him.” He went up a little higher; he looked around everywhere, then waited. At last he saw a young man coming along the trail with a deer on his back. He passed near where Wámanik was hidden in the grass, but Wámanik didn’t see his face. He ran ahead to get where he could turn and look back at the man, but even then he couldn’t see his face.
The young man thought: “I feel scared, as if somebody were looking at me. I never felt this way before.”
When Wámanik got back to his party, each man had killed a deer; and they were roasting meat. They asked: “Didn’t you find a deer?”
“No,” said Wámanik, “I didn’t see a track.”
Just then the men saw Tusasás coming along with a fawn. They said: “There is the young man who always talks smart.”
Tusasás came up and threw the fawn on the ground. “Here is meat,” said he. “Cook it for yourselves.” He felt proud.
Wámanik said: “Go home and get something cooked for us.” (Wámanik was chief).
When they started for home, Wámanik asked Wisnik, one of his kin, to go with him by another trail; then he asked: “Have you ever seen, on the mountain, a young man who sings all the time he is hunting?”
“I have seen him a good many times,” said Wisnik. “It is strange you have never seen him; you often travel around near where he lives. His father is old man Djáudjau. He belongs to this mountain; he has lots of power. The young man has three sisters, nice-looking girls.”
“I have never seen him,” said Wámanik, “but his song is nice; I like it. You must go and get those girls for me.”
“They wouldn’t like such a big man as you are,” said Wisnik.
“I can turn to a small man, if I want to.”
“Maybe they have men,” said Wisnik.
“We will go and find out,” said Wámanik. “I must have those girls.”
“You stay at home,” said Wisnik, “and I will go. Maybe you would frighten them.”
Wisnik always sang as he traveled. On the road to the old man’s house he sang all the time, sang loud.
When the second sister went to the spring for water, she heard some one singing, far off; when she got back to the house, she said: “Some one on the mountain is singing. I like the song: it sounds nice.” The eldest sister said: “Maybe the chief of the mountain is out hunting. Wámanik always sings when he is tracking deer.”
They looked toward the mountain and listened. Soon they saw Wisnik coming. He had a bow and arrows. He was playing on the bowstring and singing.
The youngest sister always worked, dug roots and helped her mother. The two older sisters were lazy; they sat around, they wouldn’t work. Their hair touched the ground; they wore bead-covered dresses, and white caps made of deer fat.
When old Djáudjau saw Wisnik, he asked: “Where did you come from?”
“From home,” said Wisnik.
Djáudjau could always talk with people’s thoughts without their knowing it, and right away he knew why Wisnik had come. Old woman Djáudjau got the young man something to eat.
The eldest sister said: “I am hungry. I am going to get something to eat.”
The second sister said: “I am hungry, too,” and they started off.
Their food was the inside bark of pine trees. Their mother had told them to always begin at the bottom of the tree and work up, for if they began at the top the bark would fall, and kill them.
While the girls were gone, old woman Djáudjau said to Wisnik: “You have never been here before, and I have never seen you traveling around.”
“I am on the mountains all the time,” said Wisnik. “I often see you. I came here because my chief sent me. He wants to know what you think about your daughters; he wants to marry them.”
Old man Djáudjau said: “My son has gone somewhere; he takes care of those girls.” In his heart he was afraid of Wisnik. “My son wants to get good men for his sisters. He doesn’t want them to be abused. You must stay till he comes; then he will tell you what he thinks.”
At midday the young man came with a large deer on his back. He was frightened when he saw Wisnik. Wisnik looked at him hard; he thought he was nice.
Old Djáudjau said to his son’s mind: “What do you think about it? That chief over in Wiwĕnsi wants your sisters.” The young man was so frightened that he didn’t know what to do. The old woman went outside and cried. Everybody knew that Wámanik was a bad man when he got mad, and that he got mad easily. The young man thought: “I sha’n’t live long if Wámanik marries my sisters.”
Old man Djáudjau said: “I don’t know how Wámanik found out about us. I am sorry he wants my daughters. It is easy for him to get mad. He kills a great many people. I don’t care for myself, but I am afraid something will happen to my son.”
When Djáudjau’s daughters came home and saw their mother crying, they asked: “What are you crying about?”
She told them, and said: “My daughters, you must say something. Your brother never harms anybody. All he knows is how to be happy. If you don’t marry Wámanik, trouble will come to us.”
“Why doesn’t Wámanik marry a woman of his own people, one that lives in the ground?” asked the eldest sister. “We are not of his people; we wouldn’t be happy in his house.” Then she began to make fun of Wisnik.
When Wisnik got home, he said: “Those girls won’t marry you. They say they can’t live with our people. They told me to ask you why you didn’t marry a woman of your own kind. They are afraid of you; you get mad so easily.”
“Those girls needn’t be so proud,” said Wámanik. “I was only trying them; I don’t want to marry them.”
The next day Wámanik and Wisnik went to hunt for deer. They killed one and stopped at the foot of the mountain to roast some of the meat. Wisnik wanted to go home, but Wámanik said: “We will camp and stay here all night.”
The next morning young man Djáudjau went to hunt. He didn’t kill anything; he couldn’t even find a track. Wámanik and Wisnik stayed in their camp for five days. Wisnik was singing all the time, but Djáudjau didn’t hear him. After five days Wámanik sent Wisnik home; he said: “You needn’t come again; I am going to stay here for ten days and hunt deer.”
“Why do you do that?” asked Wisnik. “Old Djáudjau said you had no home; that you made it anywhere. You had better come back with me.” Wámanik wouldn’t go and he wouldn’t listen to anything Wisnik said.
The young man hunted deer for five days, but couldn’t find even a track. Then he said to his father: “I can’t call deer; they don’t come when I sing. What can I do to get them?”
The old man heated rocks and had his son steam himself; then he gave him some of the sweet-smelling stuff that comes out of the corners of a deer’s eyes, and said: “Swallow this; if you are going to kill a deer the smell of this stuff will come out of your mouth.” No smell came from the young man’s mouth, but he went to hunt. He tried to sing, but Wámanik drew his song from him; he couldn’t sing any longer. He went home and lay down.
His mother asked: “What is the matter?”
“I feel as if I couldn’t walk any longer. I feel as if I had to fly.”
They steamed him again, and gave him sweet roots to eat. His mother said: “If deer are to come to you, the roots will smell out of your nose.” She held her nose to his, but there was no odor. Then she said: “My son, I don’t know how you are to be cured.”
“I will try once more,” said the young man. He went out to hunt, but didn’t see any game. That night he dreamed that he was lying against something hard, that something heavy lay across his body and crushed him down on stones. When he told his dream, his mother cried. To hide his dream she got an old panther-skin, burned it in the fire, and rubbed his face with the ashes.
Old Djáudjau’s nephew, a little bit of a man, came from the East to visit his uncle. The girls were glad to see him; their brother was off trying to find a deer. The little man asked: “How far is it to Wûlkûtska’s house?”
“It is very far,” said his uncle; “you must stay here to-night.”
When the young man came, he was glad to see his cousin; they talked a long time. When he went to sleep, he dreamed that the little man choked him to death, and then went far off on the mountain. He thought he saw his mother and sisters crying.
The next morning, after the little man had gone, the young man asked his father to go and show him where he used to hunt when he was young. They went, but when they got to the place, they didn’t find any deer.
The young man said: “I feel as if I were dead.” The next morning he said to his father: “I am going away. I want you to stay at home and not to feel lonesome in the world. I shall die to-day. I feel as if somebody had tied me up and was going to kill me.”
He went to Wámanik’s mountain. Wámanik was singing to draw him there; he couldn’t help going. When the young man got to the mountain, Wámanik began to stretch. He stretched out far from the foot of the mountain. Then he stretched around the mountain and began to crush it. The young man heard a terrible roar. Trees were breaking, and stones and rocks were cracking. A great storm of wind and stones came. The young man lay down and tried to hold to the earth. But Wámanik pressed the mountain still harder. His body looked like the sun. He kept stretching till his head was right there by the young man; then he asked: “Are you afraid?”
“No,” said the young man, “I am not afraid of you. I have never done you any harm. I feel like a little child.”
“I feel badly for you,” said Wámanik, “but I want to punish your sisters. I want to show them what I can do when I am mad. I caught you in this way, so I could talk to you.”
That night Wisnik dreamed that he saw the young man’s head and Wámanik’s head. He was scared. The next morning he started early and walked till he got to where Wámanik was pressing the mountain, then he said: “Now I know why you wanted to stay here. You wanted to kill this man. He is not to blame for what his sisters did.” He felt sorry for the young man.
“Go home,” said Wámanik. “I don’t want you around here.”
“One of those girls said that if you married them you would kill all of their family. You are making those words true!” said Wisnik. He was mad at Wámanik. He pretended to go home, but he went to old man Djáudjau’s house. The youngest sister was crying. “When did your brother go away?” asked Wisnik.
“More than two days ago.”
“Wámanik has caught him,” said Wisnik. “He has him on the mountain and is crushing him. You must make up with that man, or he will kill you all. He has lots of power.”
“We won’t talk to him or see him,” said the eldest sister.
“Then your brother will die soon. Wámanik has pressed him to the mountain for two days. He feeds him. He wishes food and drink to be in his mouth, and right away it is there. He keeps him alive to torment him as long as he can.”
When the little sister heard this, she ran off to the mountain to find her brother; she was crying. When she came where he was, she said: “I want you to tell Wámanik that I will be his wife as soon as I am old enough.”
“No,” said her brother, “I don’t want you to pay for me; I shall die soon.”
Wámanik heard what they said and he didn’t like it. “I won’t have her,” said he; “she is too young. I want your other sisters.”
Wisnik listened to what Wámanik said; then he told old Djáudjau: “Your son is alive yet, but his heart is almost dead; it feels flat. Wámanik wants your daughters.”
“We won’t go,” said the girls. “He has our brother; let him keep him. We won’t change our minds.” They laughed at their mother because she cried all the time.
Wisnik went back to Wámanik, and said: “No matter what you do, those girls won’t have you; they hate you worse than ever.”
“Go home and stay there,” said Wámanik. “I know what I will do.”
“You will kill that man for nothing,” thought Wisnik, but he didn’t say anything, he went home.
Wámanik said to the young man, “I won’t take your little sister. I don’t want her; I want your two older sisters, but I will let you get up and go home.”
Wámanik drew himself in, loosened the young man, and let him go home; then he went home himself. The girls laughed and were glad. They thought that Wámanik hadn’t much power. They didn’t feel afraid of him; they talked about him and made fun of him.
Wámanik stayed at home and laughed and sang. He didn’t talk about the girls, but he had made up his mind that when seed time came he would get them.
When seeds were ripe, the sisters went, each day, off toward the lake, to gather them. Then Wámanik sent Wisnik to tell Wus he wanted to see him. When the old man came, Wámanik said: “I want you to go to Djáudjau’s house and get his two oldest girls for me. I don’t want the little one. Tell the old man I shan’t ask for those girls again.”
In the evening Wus got to Djáudjau’s house. The old man asked: “What do you want? Why do you come here?”
“The chief sent me to say that he must have your two daughters. If you don’t send them to him, he will get mad and kill all of your children.”
“I like Wámanik,” said the old man. “He let my son live. I am glad, for he is all the boy I have.” Then he shook the girls, and woke them up.
“Come and talk to this man,” said he. “Wámanik is mad. He let your brother live, but if you don’t go to him he will kill us all. You must say right away what you will do. This man won’t wait long; he wants to go back. You were not made to live single, you didn’t come up from the earth.”
The eldest sister pushed her father away, and said: “Go off and leave us alone; we want to sleep.”
The brother said: “Don’t talk to them. Don’t try to make them go to Wámanik, if they hate him. He is just as good as any man. He has a clean skin, and it is bright and beautiful; I like him.” Then he said to Wus: “Tell Wámanik that I have done what I could for him. If he wants to kill me, he can. I am not afraid to die, but I can’t make these girls go to him. If he wants them, he must come and talk to them himself.”
Wus said to the girls: “You must do as I tell you; I love everybody in this world. I love you, but no one can save you from that man if you make him mad.” Wus talked all night, talked nice, but the girls didn’t listen to him. At daylight he went back to Wámanik.
While Wus was gone, Wámanik made two flutes with many holes in them. When he saw Wus coming, he went to meet him. He asked: “What did they say? Are they coming?”
“I wouldn’t walk so slowly,” said Wus, “if they had said they would come. The father and brother are willing, but those girls hate you.”
“I wonder why they hate me. I can be a man. See.”
He pulled off two blankets and became a nice-looking man.
“I am a man. I shall never stay old; each year I shall be young again. They will grow old and die, but I shall always be young.” He stuck his flutes up in the ground and hung on them the blankets he had taken off.
Wus said in his heart: “He is awful mad. It is too bad to kill such nice-looking girls. I am sorry for them.”
The girls grew sleepy; they wanted to sleep all the time. Old Djáudjau said to them: “You haven’t done as your brother asked you to. Now trouble is coming to us. Go off and sleep in the bushes. Stay by yourselves.”
When the girls were asleep, Wus made lots of Wámanik’s kin and hung them on the bushes where the girls were sleeping. He had power and he did this by wishing hard. The eldest sister dreamed of snakes; when she woke up and saw them, she screamed.
Her brother called out: “Why don’t you keep still? What do you make such a noise for? You don’t let us sleep. If dreams frighten you, go off into the woods and jump around and scream. You have had your own way; now when trouble comes you must show us what you can do.”
Every time the sisters fell asleep, they dreamed of snakes, and when they woke up there were snakes all around them. They were terribly scared.
The next morning the young man said to his father: “I want to go and see my cousin, Wûlkûtska. I don’t want to stay where my sisters are. I don’t like them any longer.”
“I will go, too,” said the old man. And they started.
The younger of the two sisters asked: “Where have my father and brother gone?”
“They have gone far off,” said the mother. “They don’t like to be here. You scream and keep them awake nights, and you won’t do as they say. They know that trouble is coming.”