Part 21

Kalaslákkas walked around the swimming place on the mountain; he piled up stones and then sat down to rest. He couldn’t keep his eyes open; he fell asleep and dreamed that the great bear of the swimming place was angry with him, and said: “If your child had been a girl, you could have come here, but it is wrong to come here when a boy is born.” The bear roared at him terribly, then the young man saw his grandmother there by him. The bear sprang at her and tore her to pieces.

When Kalaslákkas woke up, he knew that he had done wrong. He sat on the mountain all day, afraid to go anywhere. He thought: “My grandmother told me that whenever I dreamed of my kin it meant me.” Toward dark he got up and started for home; when he got to the house, he found his wife and grandmother crying.

The grandmother said: “I am sorry that I raised you and tried to teach you our laws. It was wrong for you to go to the mountain without asking me. I have been long in this world. You will die soon unless the child dies. If he dies he will take the dream back. You must build a fire on top of the mountain and talk to the mountain, tell it everything, tell it how sorry you are. If you make a big fire in the evening and it burns bright and fast, it is a sign that your dream will soon come to pass. But if you have to work a long time to get the fire lighted, it is a sign that the drill delays the dream, and the earth wants you to live a little longer.”

Kalaslákkas took his drill out of his quiver and started. At sundown he got to the top of the mountain and began to build a fire. The drill worked hard and the fire was long in kindling. Then he said to the mountain: “My mountain where I traveled when I was a boy, be good to me. Fire, you can burn up everything; I want you to burn up my dream and my wife’s dream. My earth and wind, I want you to let me live a little longer.” He talked to everything, talked a long time. Then he started for home. He had gone to the mountain slowly, for he was sorry to die, but he went home quickly, for he felt stronger.

Blaiwas and his people had moved away, scattered to different places. Kalaslákkas camped by a spring. “Who owns this spring?” asked he. “The one who made it,” said his grandmother. “Old Kówe lives way down under the water; she is in every spring in the world. She is our grandmother. If she gets mad at anybody, she can dry up the deepest water.”

“There are many roots around here,” said Kalaslákkas; “we had better stay and dig them.”

“I am afraid here,” said the old woman. “Nobody can stop a dream. This is a dangerous place.”

“What can I do?” asked the young man. “We must have something to eat.” He went to a small lake, not far away, to hunt for duck eggs. He found all he could carry.

“Don’t go on the south side of the lake,” said his grandmother; “that is the side that Lok always comes on.”

That day Kalaslákkas’ wife broke her digging stick. Kalaslákkas said: “I will go to the mountain and get you another.”

“You mustn’t go,” said his grandmother, “I will go.”

But the young man went. His wife and grandmother cried: they were afraid. He went to the top of the mountain, where there were large pine trees. He cut two long sticks, then started for home. There were trees and brush on the side of the mountain. As Kalaslákkas was coming out of a clump of brush, he heard something following him. He looked and saw a great bear right there near him. He ran to a tree, caught hold of a limb, and was pulling himself up, but the bear sprang at him, pulled him down, and tore him to pieces.

When he didn’t come home, the grandmother knew that the dream had come to pass. As soon as it was daylight, they tracked him to the tree where he cut the digging sticks. Not far away the old woman saw crows and she screamed: “There is where my grandson is!” They found only bones. The old woman said to the bones, “You see what this earth can do when she gets mad with us. She has large eyes, she can always see us. You didn’t do as I told you.”

They gathered up the bones and put them in their basket. As they went down the mountain, they built fires to let old Kletcowas know that they were in trouble.

Kalaslákkas couldn’t be brought to life while his child lived. The mother wanted to have the child killed, but Blaiwas said: “He is too old to kill.”

When the boy heard people talk about killing him, he laughed, and said: “Do you think my father would come to life if I died? No, he will never come to life. I will not die, but I will turn to something else, and I will live on the mountains. I killed my father and I shall kill many people. My life will last always in this world.”

Right away he lost his mind and went off to the mountains. Every evening he ran around the place where his grandmother lived and called out to her, but he wouldn’t go into the house.

Kalaslákkas’ son is on the mountains yet, a little person, so small that he can scarcely be seen, but he often appears to doctors. He can throw an arrow into a person’s body. The arrow is so small that a man cannot see it, but it hits his life and kills him.

If Kalaslákkas’ son meets a man, he turns him to a bird or a creeping thing.

THE SLOÄ BROTHERS

CHARACTERS

Blaiwas Eagle Gäk Crow Kéis Rattlesnake Sloä Wildcat Tskel Mink Wámanik Bull Snake Wûlkûtska Marten

Five Sloä brothers and their two sisters lived together. All the brothers were married, except the youngest. That one was beautiful; he had long blue hair, and his face was white and bright. His father and mother kept him in a basket under the ground. Every night his mother brought him out, washed his face, combed his hair, and gave him nice things to eat; then put him back before his brothers and sisters were awake.

The sisters hadn’t seen him since he was a little baby, but the elder sister liked him so well that she wouldn’t marry anybody else. Each night she lay on the ground near the hole where his basket was. The eldest brother didn’t like that. He said: “Our sister has no sense. She acts as if she were no kin of ours.”

There were many people in the Sloä village. One day all those people went off to hunt deer. When they came together to roast meat, Wûlkûtska said to Blaiwas: “Why doesn’t your son marry Sloä’s sister?”

“My son isn’t old enough yet; he hasn’t much sense. She is a nice-looking girl; you should marry her yourself.”

“I will try,” said Wûlkûtska. He told old man Yaukûl to ask Sloä’s mother if he could have her daughter.

That evening Yaukûl said to old woman Sloä: “You must be tired of keeping your daughter after she is old enough to marry. The chief’s youngest brother wants her. He will give you nice things for her.”

The old woman told her daughter that Yaukûl said Wûlkûtska wanted her. Her father said: “You are growing old; the chief’s son is a nice-looking young man; you should marry him.”

The girl was mad; she said to her mother: “If you want him in the house, you can marry him yourself; I don’t want him.” The girl was cross. She wanted to make everybody do as she liked.

The next morning, after the brothers had started off to hunt, and the sisters had gone to swim in the river, the father and mother took their youngest son out of the basket to bathe him and give him roots to eat.

He said: “My sister uncovers my basket and talks to me. I want you to hide me in some other place.”

Out in the ocean there was a little island as big as a house; the eldest brother made a place there to keep his blue-haired brother. While he was making the place nice, he pretended to be off hunting; when it was finished, he carried his brother there and hid him under the ground. One day, when he took roots to the island, his little sister went with him to watch that her older sister didn’t follow them. They went home after dark, for they didn’t want their sister to see which way they came.

The elder sister spent all of her time out of doors, swimming and gathering wood. The third time the brother went to the island, he left his little sister there to take care of her brother and keep the elder sister away.

For five days the sister hunted for her brother. She hunted everywhere,—over the mountains, under the rocks, and out on the flats. Then she said: “I wonder where my little sister has gone. If I find her, maybe I will find my brother, too.”

When she asked her mother, the old woman said: “Your sister is in the south, with your brother.”

“Why did you stop bathing my brother and why have you carried him away?” asked the girl. “Some day I will kill you all.”

When she had hunted everywhere else, she went to the island and there she found tracks, then she knew that her brother and sister were somewhere on the island. She pulled up the tula grass and looked under each blade of it, but she couldn’t find them.

When the little girl saw her sister coming straight toward the island, she took a spear of tula grass and scraped it out with her finger nail, made it like a canoe; then she put her brother in it and they went under the water, went home.

When the elder sister couldn’t find them, she knew that they had seen her and had gone away. That made her mad. She said: “We will see who is the most powerful!” When she got back to dry land, she lay down, and rolled over and over on the sand, and cried “Wah-ha-ha! Wah-ha-ha!” Then she sat up on her knees and began to travel fast; all the time calling out “Wah-ha-ha.” Right where she had rolled and along the trail she traveled, fire roared and blazed up to the sky. She went around the village where her father and mother lived and each minute she called: “Wah-ha-ha! Wah-ha-ha!”

The whole place began to burn. The people were terribly scared. Gäk turned to a crow and flew up to the sky; Blaiwas became an eagle; Witkátkis turned himself to a hawk and flew away. Tskel and Wámanik and Kéis and their kin went deep under the ground and were saved. All the other people, and the girl’s own family, except her little sister, were burned up.

The little girl was like her sister; she was powerful, could do anything she wanted to, and she got outside the ring of fire.

The elder sister took her brothers’ hearts, put them on a string and tied the string around her neck; then she swam back to the island. She was glad now.

The little sister wandered around and cried, she felt so lonesome. At last she stopped crying and began to watch her sister when she swam in the lake. The sister would call in different ways, sometimes like a duck or a water bird, sometimes like an animal, but she always looked like a woman. Once, when she had been all day swimming and dancing in the water, she went to the island and right away fell asleep. The little sister made her sleep.

Then the girl took a spear of tula grass, changed it into a canoe, and went to the island; she cut the string of hearts from her sister’s neck and put it in her bosom: then she cut her sister’s head off and went back to land.

The head went back to the body, and the young woman was alive again. She made a mournful noise, like an animal crying.

The little sister heard her, and said: “Cry all you want to; you can’t kill me!” She took up a handful of ashes, threw them toward the island, and said: “You can never burn people up again. You will always live in the water. When the coming people taste of you, they will say: ‘This meat doesn’t taste good,’ and they will spit it out.”

The young woman heard what her sister said. She was mad; she made a motion up and down with her hands; they were turning to wings. Right away she became a large, spotted sea bird and swam off on the lake.

The little sister got dry grass from the mountain and spread it down on the ground where each house had been. In one day there were as many houses as there had been before the fire. She gathered all the bones she could find and put them in a basket of boiling water; then she said to herself: “I mustn’t get up when they call me. No matter what they say, I must lie still and not answer.” She rolled herself up tight in a mat and lay down.

At sunset the people began to come out of the basket. Each person went to his own house and soon the houses were full again. The five brothers came back to life. Their father was the last one to get out of the basket; he stepped on the little girl’s feet, and then she got up. Her brothers and father and mother were lying by the fire. She saw smoke coming out of all the houses and knew that everybody was alive. Then she was glad, and all the people were glad.

COLTZ AND WUS

CHARACTERS

Coltz Porcupine Wŏn Elk Wus Fox

Coltz started to travel. On his journey he came to a deep river; he followed it up, and then followed it down, but couldn’t find a crossing place. Then he sat down on the bank, and looking at the water, wondered what made it so deep. He sat there three days, then some of the Wŏn people came to the river to cross. One of them, an old man, traveled slower than the others. He waited, and when the rest had crossed, he said to Coltz: “Why do you sit there looking at the water? Why don’t you cross?”

“I can’t,” said Coltz.

“Why don’t you swim, as we do?”

“The water is deep. I feel scared.”

“Get on my back,” said Wŏn, “I will take you over.”

“I am afraid that I would get washed off.”

“Sit behind my head.”

“You might turn your head around and drop me off.”

“Creep into my ear.”

“You might shake your head, and I would fall out.”

“Take hold of my neck and hang on tight.”

“I couldn’t hold on long enough; I should get tired and drop off. Then I would get drowned.”

“I don’t want to leave you here looking at the water. It makes me feel sorry. You must come. Hurry, now, my people have left me; they are far off by this time. Creep into my mouth; I won’t chew you.”

Coltz crept in, then went down and sat right by Wŏn’s heart.

When Wŏn got across the river, he felt sharp things sticking into his heart; he forgot that he had let Coltz creep into his mouth. The sharp things hurt worse and worse. He lay down on the ground and died.

Coltz crept out of Wŏn’s mouth and went to hunt for a piece of sharp rock (obsidian) to cut up the body. As he hunted, he talked to himself, said: “I wish I could find something to skin Wŏn with. I’ve nothing to scrape my arrows on.” He said different things, so if any one heard him, they wouldn’t know what he was talking about.

Wus was near by; he heard Coltz talking and he listened. He thought: “I wonder what that old man is saying.” He waited, heard Coltz say the same words again, then he said: “Hach! hach! hach!” and ran a little nearer. He heard the same words a third time, then he scratched his head and thought hard. “I believe that old man has killed an elk,” said he. Then he called out: “Hach! hach! hach!” ran right up in front of Coltz, and asked: “Old man, what did you say?”

“I didn’t say anything; I’m hunting for a stone to sharpen my arrows with.”

Coltz was terribly scared.

“No,” said Wus, “you said you had nothing to skin Wŏn with. I’ll lend you my knife, if you will tell me where your elk is.”

“I haven’t any elk. I was just talking to myself, and making believe I had one.”

“You have killed an elk. Tell me where it is, and I’ll help you cut it up. You are an old man, but I am young; I will skin the elk for you.”

“I haven’t any elk. How could I kill a big elk? I have no bow or arrows.”

“You are wise,” said Wus. “You have power; you can do anything. You are a big man.”

Coltz began to feel proud. At last he said: “Come and see what a big elk I have killed.”

When Wus saw the elk, he said: “Now, Coltz, let’s play a game. We’ll run and try to jump over the elk. The one that jumps best and farthest will have him.” Wus had made Coltz think he could do anything.

“How far shall we jump?” asked Coltz.

“Not far,” said Wus.

Coltz said “Chi! Chi! Chi!” and ran. He jumped and fell on top of the elk. Wus tried; he hit the elk and fell back. (He was fooling Coltz.)

Wus said: “We’ll try again; I’m sure you will beat.”

“It is mine, anyhow,” said Coltz.

Wus ran first, hit the elk, and fell back. Coltz landed on top of the elk.

“You’ll beat,” said Wus.

“What will you bet?” asked Coltz.

“I’ll bet my knife; then the elk and knife will be yours, and you will have something to skin the elk with.”

Coltz was glad. He wanted the knife. “This is the last time,” said Wus. “If neither of us get over, we will divide.”

Wus ran hard this time, jumped, and went over. Coltz came down on the elk. “The elk is mine!” said Wus.

“Let’s try again,” said Coltz. Wus jumped over six times, then he said: “I am through jumping. The elk is mine.”

“Won’t you give me a piece?” asked Coltz. “Give me the heart.”

“Go away,” said Wus. “If you make me mad, I’ll kill you. This is my elk. I want it all.”

“Give me a little piece of the fat,” begged Coltz.

Wus drove him away, but he came back. Wus jumped on him, took a stone and pounded him till he thought he was dead. Then he divided the meat, said: “This is for my mother; this is for my children; this is for myself.”

Coltz began to move. Wus jumped on him and pounded him till he was dead. He made a great pack of some of the meat, and when he was ready to put it on his back, he took off his cap (it was full of holes, like a little round sieve), put it down by the elk, and said: “My cap, if Coltz moves, shout for me.” He put the load on his back and started.

Coltz moved a little. Cap called out: “He’s alive! He’s alive!” Wus went back, pounded Coltz, smashed him all up. Then he said: “My cap, shout if Coltz moves!” He put the pack on and started again.

Cap called: “He’s moving! He’s alive!” Wus dropped his pack, ran back, and smashed Coltz up again. But he hadn’t gone far when Cap called: “He’s alive!”

Wus was mad. He said: “I wonder what kind of old man that is. Why can’t he die?” He pounded him a long time, broke him all up, then he threw the pieces away. “He is dead now!” thought Wus, and he ran off as fast as he could, got beyond the mountain. Coltz came to life, but he didn’t move for a long time: he was watching Cap.

At last he said: “I’ll kill you, old Cap.” He sprang at it, and before Cap could shout, he tore it to pieces, and said: “I never heard a cap talk before. This kind of person has no mind. You’ll never talk again, you’ll never be alive again!”

When Wus got home, he fed his children. They were glad to eat meat; they were almost starved. Then he said to his mother: “You must get up early in the morning and help me pack all the meat home. We will dry it. There will be lots to eat.”

When Cap was dead, Coltz carried to the top of a high tree, all the meat Wus had left; he built a fire, and began cooking.

When Wus and his mother and children came, the meat was gone. Wus tracked Coltz to the tree; he called him “brother,” and teased him to give him some of the meat. At last he said: “Brother, drop us down just a little piece. We are hungry.”

“Stand in a row and shut your eyes,” said Coltz. “I’ll throw you a piece.” When they were in a row, he threw down the backbone of the elk and killed Wus and his children and his mother.

Then Coltz said to Wus: “As long as this world stands, you will live by stealing.” Wus’ spirit answered: “Hereafter you will not be a person. You will never have an easy time again; you will live on grass and not kill game.”

THE BAD BROTHER

CHARACTERS

Blaiwas Eagle Dásläts California Lion Djáudjau Flying Squirrel Kai Jack Rabbit Kékina Lizard Kúja Rat Kujasûp Rat’s Mother Kówe Frog Lok Bear Pakol Deer Sloä Wildcat Tcakonŭs Duck (gray-headed) Tcûskai Weasel Tohós Duck Tskel Mink Wámanik Bull Snake Wisnik Garter Snake Wéwenkee Whip Snake Wŏn Elk Wûlkûtska Marten

A woman had two children, a boy and a girl. She lived with them at Yáni.

The mother gave the boy dry red roots to eat, but she always fed the little girl fresh white roots; for herself she pounded seeds. The boy was jealous. One day, when his mother was digging roots, he said to his sister: “Let us go and play. I am lonesome here.”

While they were playing, he kept saying to the little girl: “Our mother loves you better than she does me.”

His sister said: “No, she doesn’t; but I am little.” The boy wouldn’t give up; he kept saying: “Our mother loves you better than she does me.”

At last the girl said: “I don’t want to play any longer; I want to go back to the house.”

“All right,” said the boy, “but we will stay where we can see mother.”

When they got to the house, he told his sister to sit where she could look out, then he began to sing: “Nénûm, nénûm!” (Up, up!) After a while he asked: “What is our mother doing?”

The girl said: “She is down by the pond digging roots and putting them in her basket.”

Again the boy sang: “Nénûm, nénûm!” then he said: “Look again. What is our mother doing now?”

“She is putting the basket on her back.”

“Nénûm, nénûm!” sang the boy. “Look now.”

“She is starting for home.”

“Nénûm, nénûm! What is she doing now?”

“Oh! the pond is coming up!” screamed the girl. “Mother’s feet are in the water! Rain is coming down just where she is!”

“Nénûm, nénûm!” sang the boy. “What is she doing now?”

“The water is up to her ankles.”

“Nénûm, nénûm! Look again, sister.”

“The water is up to her knees; she can’t walk!”

“Nénûm, nénûm! Look now.”

“Oh, the water is half-way to her body!” cried the little girl.

“Nénûm, nénûm! Look out again, sister.”

“The water is up to her arms.”

“Nénûm, nénûm! Look now.”

“Oh, it is up to her neck!” He kept singing.

“The water is rising fast now; I can only see mother’s eyes!” cried the girl.

“Nénûm, nénûm! How is it now?”

“Our mother has gone down in the water; I can’t see her!” cried the little girl, and she fell on the ground and screamed. She cried all day, cried herself to sleep.

The boy was singing and fixing his arrows. He was glad that his mother was dead.

The next morning, while his sister was sleeping, the boy shot an arrow into her leg. When she cried, he said: “Get up! You are a young woman now. You must go and hire somebody to sing for you, so you can dance your maturity dance. You must dance five nights without sleeping.” He gave her rattles, and said: “When you get to a spring, stand there till Kówe comes for water. She will see you and take you home with her. When the five nights are over, you can come back here. I will stay on the mountains while you are gone.”

The girl started; with each step she took she grew a little taller. When she got to the spring, she was a young woman. She was covered with red bark. She drank water from the spring, then stood in the low grass and waited.

Soon Kówe came to get water. As she was starting away, she saw a shadow in the water and stopped to look at it. “Oh,” said she, “I didn’t know I was so nice! I’m glad!” She looked a long time, then turned to go away, but she came back and looked a second time. She looked a third time, then she saw a beautiful girl dressed in red. She jumped at her, caught hold of her arm, and said: “Oh, my grandchild, where did you come from?”

She wrapped her blanket around the girl, took her under her arm, and carried her home.

That night she called to Tohós and all the Kówe people to come and sing for her grandchild to dance.—She called the girl grandchild, but she was no kin to her.—When they came and began to sing, Kówe danced with the girl to show her how.