Part 24

“Keep still,” said Tskel, “and go on till we see Wŏn.” In a little while Tskel saw Wŏn, and, not far from him, a deer. He called to Tcûskai: “Keep still! You mustn’t eat seed; if you do Wŏn will get away.”

Tcûskai thought: “I wonder what Tskel is doing. I hope he will kill the deer, too.” Tskel went between the two. Just as he was ready to shoot Tcûskai thought: “I’m hungry, I’m going to eat a few of our seeds. Tskel won’t miss them.”

That moment Tskel’s bow and bowstring broke. He knew that Tcûskai had eaten seeds. Tcûskai was scared; he ran to a spring and washed out his mouth, then came back to his brother. Tskel scolded. Tcûskai said: “What makes you so mad? I didn’t eat any seed. Look in my mouth,” and he opened it.

Tskel struck his brother. He had a deer’s head on; he took it off, put it on Tcûskai’s head, and said: “Now go and hunt for Wŏn.”

“I can kill him easily,” said Tcûskai.

Tskel said: “You think that Wŏn runs on the ground. So he does, but he runs in the air, too. He goes on all kinds of trees and he goes back and forth in the sky. You will have to follow him around the world before he will stop running.” When Tcûskai was ready to go, Tskel said: “Take some seeds,” but it was too late. Tcûskai had started.

Before Tcûskai had gone very far, he saw Wŏn and began to follow him. He ran across rocky places, ran five times over the tops of pine trees, and five times over the top of high grass, five times across mole-hills, five times across the sky, and five times around the world, then he ran east on the sky till he came near a village where Blaiwas was chief.

Kékina and Gapni were Blaiwas’ servants; they were on top of the house sunning themselves. Kékina said: “It sounds as if my cousin were coming;” again he said: “It sounds like my brother, blowing on his medicine stick. Tell the people to come out and look.”

When Gapni told them, Gäk said: “You can’t see much with your little eyes; you are not like me. I can see all over the world.”

Blaiwas said: “Little Kékina never tells a lie; somebody must be coming. Go and see who it is. Tell old man Moi to look; he can see everything under the sky and in the whole world.”

Moi said: “Somebody is coming. Tell the people to be ready to shoot when I call out.”

The people made a ring, and when Wŏn came, he rushed inside of it. Then every one shot at him; Kéis hit him in the foot, Näníhläs hit him on the horns, Blaiwas hit him in the shoulder. At last they killed him. When Wŏn was on the ground, Kéis jumped on one of his legs; he wanted to get meat from the middle of it. (Tcûskai hadn’t come yet.) People said to Kéis: “Get off; don’t make Tcûskai mad. He has been following Wŏn for a long time.”

Tcûskai came slowly, for he was tired. When he got to the place, he told Kéis to get off Wŏn and help to skin him. Kéis wouldn’t move. Tcûskai pushed him away, but he jumped back; then Tcûskai threw him off and told him he was in a hurry, for he had far to go. The third time Kéis got on to Wŏn, Tcûskai threw him over a mountain, but he was back in a minute. Tcûskai was so mad that he pounded Kéis’ head till he made it flat. That is why rattlesnakes have flat heads. He cut off Wŏn’s foot that Kéis had hit with an arrow and threw it after Kéis.

Gäk had shot Wŏn in the leg, and Tcûskai gave that leg to Gäk. And so he divided Wŏn’s body among the people; then he took a large piece on his back and started for home. When it was dark, he camped in a woodpecker’s hole, in a tall tree.

Kéis was a great doctor. He was mad and he made it snow all night; he thought he could kill Tcûskai in that way. But Tcûskai made a fire in the woodpecker’s hole, and kept himself warm. He put a round stone in the fire and heated it, and in the morning, when he started for home, he rolled the hot stone along on the ground in front of him. Where the stone went, the trail was dry. Everywhere else the snow was so deep that only the tops of trees could be seen.

When Tcûskai got to the house, he went in quietly, didn’t make any noise. Tskel and Skóŭks were mourning for him; they didn’t see him, or hear him. He asked: “Why are you mourning? Did you think that I was lost? Your heads don’t look nice; they don’t smell nice. Go and wash them.”

They were glad now. Skóŭks went out to get the meat Tcûskai had brought; she couldn’t move it. Then Tskel went; he couldn’t raise it from the ground.

“What is the matter?” asked Tcûskai. “I didn’t bring that meat with the head strap; I used the chest strap.” He carried it into the house with one hand; then he blew on it and made it small, but there was meat enough to last all winter.

Tskel cut the meat in strips to dry; he worked all night, and finished just as the sun came up. Then he took a piece of the fat, fastened it on the top of Tcûskai’s head, and said, “This will always stay as it is now; it is small, but all the people in the world could feed on it.” Then he said: “You have lived long enough without a wife; you must look for one.”

“Where can I find a wife?” asked Tcûskai.

“If you go to the place where they killed Wŏn, you will find a clearing where women are digging roots. When you get to the edge of the clearing, shoot an arrow. It will come down near a spring. You must be at the spring by midday.”

Tcûskai walked and walked. After a while he came to the clearing and saw women digging roots. Then he shot an arrow. When he got to the spring his arrow was sticking up in the ground there. He sat down, put his elbows on his knees, and his head on his hands. The women went towards the spring, digging as they went.

Kówe saw Tcûskai first; she took off her cap and wanted to give him water. He didn’t look up or move. She ran to the other women, and said: “There is a nice-looking young man sitting by the spring. I gave him some water, but he wouldn’t take it; maybe he will take it from you.” The women crowded around Tcûskai; each offered him water, but he wouldn’t take it. The chief’s daughter offered it but he didn’t take it. Kaiutois’ daughter tried, but he wouldn’t look at her. Blaiwas’ daughter said to a woman: “Go and tell those Máidikdak girls to come and try.” When the woman got to the girls, she said: “A nice-looking young man is there by the spring. We have all offered him water, but he won’t take it. Maybe he will take it from you.”

They went to the spring. The elder sister took off her cap, filled it with water, and gave it to Tcûskai; he drank half of the water. The younger sister offered him the cap; he drank the other half of the water. Blaiwas’ daughter saw the arrow; she tried to pull it up, but couldn’t. Then each woman tried in turn. Some watered the ground to soften it, but nobody could pull the arrow out. Then Blaiwas’ daughter said: “Let Máidikdak’s daughters try.”

The elder sister pulled the arrow half-way out; the younger pulled it all the way out and put it in her basket. Then she went to dig roots.

Kówe saw the fat on Tcûskai’s head and wanted to loosen it, but she couldn’t. She bit at the knots, but the women drove her away. Blaiwas’ daughter said: “You mustn’t use your teeth. Whoever loosens fat with their teeth will be Tusasás’ wife.” All the women tried to take the fat off from Tcûskai’s head, but no one could do it. They sent for Máidikdak’s daughters again. The elder one loosened it; the younger took it off.

The women went home and Tcûskai was left alone. Kówe ran with all her might, jumped, fell, puffed, at last got home. Then she said to her mother: “Tcûskai drank from my cap; make a good place for him!” Old Kówe was glad. She made ready a nice place for her son-in-law.

Each young woman told her mother the same thing, except Máidikdak’s daughters; they didn’t say anything. Tusasás made ready a place for his son-in-law.

He was so glad that he ran around and boasted, said: “Tcûskai drank from my daughter’s cap; he is my son-in-law.”

When Tcûskai got to the village he stood in the middle of the road. Blaiwas wanted to lead him into his house; so did all the other chiefs; but he wouldn’t go. At last old Máidikdak asked him to come to her house, and he went.

The next morning Blaiwas asked Tcûskai to run a foot race. All the men were mad at Tcûskai and wanted to kill him. Every man in the village ran against him. When Tcûskai started, he went under the ground. He ran faster than anybody and got to the goal first. One after another the runners came till all were there; then they turned and looked back to see where Tcûskai was. Tusasás said: “I wonder when he will get here?” and he made fun of him. Then they saw that Tcûskai was ahead of them.

When they were ready for the race back, Tcûskai said: “Go on! You needn’t wait for me.” He ran under the ground. He came to the goal first and won the race. The second man to come was Blaiwas, the third was Wus. When Kûlta overtook Tusasás, he said: “Little brother, stop and pull this sliver out of my foot with your teeth.” Tusasás stopped, but he couldn’t get the sliver out; men had to come and carry Kûlta home.

Blaiwas said: “Now we will hunt deer.” They drove the deer to the mountain and left Tcûskai alone there. He sent one arrow and killed all the deer on the mountain.

The next morning Máidikdak’s daughter had a little boy; he grew fast and soon was running around.

After a time Tcûskai wanted to see his brother. When he got to Tskel’s house he found that Tskel had a boy larger than his own. The two little boys were like brothers. Tskel asked Tcûskai to go to the lake and get him reeds for arrows. “Get the kind of reeds that have tear-drops on them,” said he. “Those are the best to make arrows.”

Tcûskai went, and looked in every place; when he couldn’t find reeds with tear-drops on them, he put his fingers in his eyes and made tears come; then he dropped them on the reeds. He shed so many tears that his eyelids got swollen; he could hardly see.

When Tcûskai went to the lake, he went along the south side, for old Sukas, a man-eater, who drew people in with his breath and swallowed them, lived on the west side. Going home he made a mistake; he thought the west was the south side,—he couldn’t see well. Soon he met old Sukas.

Sukas said: “Come and wrestle with me, then you can go home.”

Tcûskai had to wrestle. About the middle of the afternoon he threw the old man, but as he went down Tcûskai slipped and fell on him. Sukas’ stomach was so big and flabby that it covered Tcûskai up; he couldn’t get out and he could scarcely breathe. He didn’t know what to do. Then he heard Skóla say: “Somebody must scratch and kick hard; that will kill the old man.”

Tcûskai began to kick and scratch, and in a little while he broke the skin; the old man’s stomach shrank up. Tcûskai got up and ran home.

Tskel asked: “Where are the reeds? Why were you gone so long?”

Tcûskai said: “I met old Sukas and wrestled with him.”

“I told you not to go that way,” said Tskel. He was cross and scolded. That made Tcûskai mad.

The next morning Tcûskai made arrows for his boy and told him to shoot Tskel’s boy while they were playing. He did, and Tskel’s boy was two days getting well. Then Tcûskai put poison in an arrow and told his son to shoot Tskel’s boy again. Tskel knew what his brother was doing; he put poison in his son’s arrow and told him even if he were dying, to kill Tcûskai’s boy.

The next day both boys were dead. Tcûskai and Tskel felt lonesome. Tskel said: “I will go to Lamsewe and swim.”—When people lose their friends and feel badly about it, they go and swim till they feel better.—He told Tcûskai to go to another mountain, but he didn’t go; he followed his brother.

When Tskel saw him, he was mad and he said: “You will be a person no longer. You will look funny to people and they will laugh at you when you run in and out of holes. They will think there are five or six of you, but there will be only one.”

Tcûskai said: “You will no longer be a person, you will have no power. In winter, when the water freezes, people will hunt for you in the tula grass and will kill you.”

All this took place. Those two great powers turned into common little minks and weasels, such as live now and are killed by hunters.

Tcûskai was always full of tricks. He taught his son to kill his cousin; and that is why people of kin sometimes kill one another now.

GÄK KILLS PAKOL

CHARACTERS

Gäk Crow Kiúks An Indian Doctor Kumal Pelican Moi Squirrel Ndukis Hawk Pakol Deer Wíle A Fawn Wus Fox

Gäk was an old man and he was a doctor; his wife was young.

Off in the mountains there was a platform of rocks. Gäk lay on the platform; he was sick. His medicines were the earth and the wind, and he sang to them all the time, trying to get well.

One morning Gäk told his wife (Wíle) that he was going to die, and asked her to call to her mother and father and aunts and uncles and cousins, and tell them to come and see him for the last time.

Wíle stood on the rocks and called: “My mother, my father, my aunts and uncles and cousins, come and see Gäk; he is going to die.”

Her father was away on the mountain, but he heard her and said: “That sounds like my child’s voice.”

Right off Wíle saw hundreds of her people gathering and she called to Gäk: “They are coming! They are coming!”

Gäk got up, turned around, and lay down so there was just room enough for one person to sit on the edge of the rock. Then he said to Wíle: “When they get here, have the fattest one, the one with the black spot on his forehead, sit here by me. I am going to leave him everything I have.”

When they were all standing around Gäk, he said to the one with the spot on his forehead: “I want you to be the last man to bid me good-by.” Then he covered up his head and made a sound like groaning. The Pakols waited a long time to see him die. At last they began to say good-by. There was such a crowd that it was sundown when they were through. Then Gäk told the fat Pakol, the one with the spot on his forehead, to say good-by.

Just as Pakol was getting up to go, Gäk kicked him off the rock; he fell over the precipice and was killed. Wíle and all the Pakols were so scared that they ran away. Gäk went down among the rocks and began to eat Pakol’s body.

The Pakols said: “The greatest one of us has been killed,” and they mourned for him. (The Gäk people can never get enough to eat; they feed themselves with both hands.)

Wus was no longer a person, but he could still talk. He came to the ledge of rocks, looking for something to eat. He saw Gäk eating and called out to him: “My brother, how did you get so much meat? How did you get down there among the rocks?”

“I shut my eyes and jumped. Come down and eat with me.”

“I am afraid.”

“Go back a little way, shut your eyes, run to the edge, and jump.”

Wus said, “Eg! Eg!” and ran, but just as he got to the edge of the rocks he opened his eyes and stopped. He did that three times.

Gäk scolded, and said: “You must do as I tell you. If you open your eyes when you jump, you will get killed.”

Wus tried again, then he said: “Oh, my brother, throw me a piece of meat.”

Gäk said: “If you want to eat, you must come down here.”

“Well, this time I will come!”

Wus jumped, but he caught on the bushes, and climbed back.

Gäk said: “It is getting dark. If you don’t come, you will have nothing to eat.”

“I will come this time.”

Wus went over the rock like a feather, but when he was half-way down, he opened his eyes; then he fell and was torn to pieces. His head, alive and with open eyes, was far away from the body.

Gäk felt badly; he and Wus had always been good friends. He said to the head: “Wus, I thought you were the strongest person in the world; now you are torn to pieces. You didn’t do as I told you to; you opened your eyes.”

Gäk talked to his medicines, the earth and the wind, then he got his red medicine basket, [16] picked up the pieces of Wus, joined them together and stepped over the body three times. He covered the body with the basket and told Wus to lie still, that the basket would cure him, but he mustn’t get up till he came and took it off. Gäk went back to eating.

At sundown Wus began to kick and to call: “I am well; come and take the basket off!” He called many times. Each time Gäk said: “Lie still a while longer; you needn’t be afraid. There is plenty of meat; we can’t eat it in all night.” At last Gäk took the basket off.

After that Wus and Gäk lived together. The Pakols wanted to kill Gäk, because he had killed their best man. All kinds of people hated him, and wanted to kill him, but when any one got near him he wasn’t Gäk; he turned into something and got away. One morning two small men started to hunt for him; when he knew they were coming, he turned himself into a bird and flew away.

Gäk had a blanket of bright rock (obsidian); he put the blanket around him, turned into a man just like Ndukis, and sat down on a high rock in sight of his enemies. He painted his face white, to make them believe he was Ndukis. His enemies came and looked at him,—a long line of people. All the people that walk, or crawl, or fly in the world were there, and all had good eyes. Each man gave his opinion, and each thought it was Ndukis.

Blaiwas said: “Nobody in the world can see plainer than I can; that is Ndukis.” Old man Moi knew the man was Gäk, but he didn’t want to say so. When they asked him what he thought, he said: “You have a wise old man here” (he meant Kumal); “if he doesn’t tell you who that man is, I will.”

Gäk sat perfectly still on the rock. He knew that Kumal was wise, and that he had a blanket made of five kinds of stone. Gäk’s blanket was made of four kinds of stone.

When Kumal came up, the people gave him a place where he could stand and look at the man on the rock. He looked a long time, then said: “How could you be fooled? That is Gäk, the man who killed Pakol. He has painted his face white and made himself look like Ndukis, but don’t you see his large mouth?”

Gäk came down from the rock, took his own form, and began to fight with the crowd. He killed every one who fought with him; some wouldn’t fight, they ran away.

Gäk struck at Kumal’s throat, cut through the old man’s stone blanket, and killed him; he tore his body to pieces, threw the pieces in the water, and said: “You will no longer be a person. You will be a fisher, and live in the water.” The other bodies Gäk turned to rocks, then he went off to the mountains. Wus had been eating the bodies of the men Gäk killed. When the bodies turned to stone, he followed Gäk to the mountains.

THE STONE PEOPLE

CHARACTERS

Heûwûs The stone that pounders are made of Wûspahlákls Hairless Fox (Lakl is hair) Nkok Bird (English name unknown) Lŭ′luphlainik Name of a hill (Lulup is eye)

A great many of the Heûwûs people lived near Tula Lake. They were smooth, round people. They had no faces, but they could talk to one another. Every morning and evening a young woman passed their place on her way to the lake to catch fish. They knew when she was coming, for she sang as she traveled. They could hear her far off. Her song said: “I am a great hunter of fish and of seeds.”

The young men of the Heûwûs people listened for the girl’s song and were glad when they heard it; they thought she was nice-looking, and they wanted to marry her. Some said: “We can’t talk to her;” others said: “Maybe she isn’t good; she might break us up.” “Why should we be afraid?” asked others. “If she broke us to pieces, we wouldn’t die; we shall never die.” The chief said: “Let that girl alone. I like her; every morning her song wakes me up.” One man said: “I don’t want her to pass so often; the next time she goes by here I will say something to her.”

That evening when the girl passed, nobody spoke to her; some of the men wanted to, but others wouldn’t let them.

Early the next morning the Heûwûs people heard the girl’s song and said to one another: “She is coming!” “She doesn’t hurt us,” said one young man. “Don’t bother her.” “Why does she come here so often?” asked another. “Maybe she belongs to this place.” One big Heûwûs said: “I am stronger than any of you. I will have this good-looking girl for a wife.” “Maybe she will break you to pieces,” said one of the young men. “I am not afraid; she can’t kill me. If she hurts my body, I will hurt her in some way.”

The girl listened to the Heûwûs people: when she was a long way off, she could hear them talking.

Some of the young men sent their spirits to the lake to turn to fish and jump up in the water and paddle around where the girl was.

“Why do you come here?” asked the girl. “You can’t fool me. You may turn to anything you like, but I will know you. I have heard you talking about me; I don’t like you. You needn’t be jealous because I go around here. This is my place. Maybe I shall live here as long as you do.”

The young men were ashamed; their spirits went back to their bodies, became Heûwûs again.

That evening, when the girl went home, there was a nice-looking bow lying on the path she always traveled. She said: “I wonder what man is trying to fool me now?”

When she got near the creek, she met a number of the Nkok people. They asked: “Did you see a bow?”

“It is back there on the trail,” said the girl. “What are you doing around here? Why do you bother me? What kind do you think I am? I belong to this earth. I was made when this earth was made. The place around here is mine. I know when anybody is trying to fool me. What could I use you for? Don’t you see that I travel as wind and air travel? I have no use for you. You will no longer be living persons; you will be hunters of fish in lakes and creeks.” Right away the men turned to birds and flew off over the water.

The next morning, when the Heûwûs people heard the girl’s song, the chief said to the young men who had sent their spirits to be fish and bother her: “You have made trouble for us all. You shouldn’t have meddled with that girl. She is powerful; she will be mad now and will do us harm.”

When the girl came along the trail, she saw Wûspahlákls sitting in front of her. He looked sleepy.

She said: “Who are you? No living person looks as ugly as you do. Go away!”

Wûspahlákls lay down on the trail; he didn’t listen to her. She went around him on the north side.

When she came to the Heûwûs’ place, she sat down and looked at them. She said: “Why, you nice little Heûwûs, you are as smooth as you can be.”

She picked up one and struck the ground with him; he didn’t break. She said: “Oh it is not easy to break you, is it?”

The Heûwûs screamed: “Oh! Oh! you hurt me! You think that I am not a living being, but I am.”

“You are talking to me; I am glad,” said the girl. “That is what I want. You haven’t spoken to me before, but I have heard you talk about me. I don’t hate you. You belong here, and so do I. I thought we should be here always and be friends, but you don’t want it that way.” She put the Heûwûs down and went on. Soon she saw Wûspahlákls again; he sat on the trail in front of her. She called to him: “Get out of my way!” When he didn’t move, she took off a bone scratcher she wore around her neck, went up to him, scratched off all of his flesh, and pounded him to death. Then she went on.

The next morning Wûspahlákls crossed the trail in front of her and went into the bushes. The girl stopped; she was scared. She went home, painted her body and her hair red, and started of in another direction; she traveled around everywhere and asked every one she met: “Who owns you?” She asked the rocks, the trees, the leaves. At last she asked a little hill: “Who are you?”

“I am Lŭl′uphlainik,” said the hill.

“Whose eye are you?” asked the girl.

“I am this earth’s eye.”

The girl camped by the hill, and said to it: “I want you to tell me about yourself.”