Part 27

One day, when the eldest Wus brother was hunting, he took his drill out of his quiver to start a fire. He put the drill on the ground and the next minute it was gone; he couldn’t find it anywhere. That night he said to his brothers: “I was alone all day, but when I put down my fire drill it went away. I hunted everywhere, but I couldn’t find it. That means trouble is coming to us; I don’t think we will live long.”

The next morning when some of the brothers wanted to track deer, the eldest Wus brother said: “We must stay at home to-day. I feel scared about my drill; something bad is going to happen.”

Old woman Kaiutois was sick in a little straw house near the big house where her sons lived. She called to them, and said: “I hear people around in the mountains; I think that they are coming to kill us. They are people from the north. I don’t know what they say, but they are coming nearer and nearer all the time.”

Just then a crowd of men with bows and arrows came down from the mountain. They came to fight the Wus brothers. There were so many that they filled the house, and the brothers couldn’t do anything; they were all killed except the youngest Wus brother. He got on the top of the house, made a long leap, then ran as fast as he could.

The strangers killed old woman Kaiutois, but they left Wus’ mother alive. They said: “She is old, she won’t have any more children; let her stay here.”

They cut each man open and took out his heart. They put the hearts on the end of a long pole, burned the house, and started off, taking all the women with them except Wus’ mother. When they were out of sight, Wus came home. He found his mother, and asked: “Did they leave the bodies?”

“Yes, but they cut them open and carried the hearts away.”

“Don’t feel lonesome,” said Wus. “I have two minds; I can do anything. I will pay those people for killing my brothers.”

The old woman had covered her head with pitch and ashes. Wus told her to go to the river and wash it off. While she was gone, he thought hard and right away there was a new house where the old one had been. It was large and nice, and was full of baskets and mats. He told his mother to make him ten pairs of moccasins.

“Why do you want moccasins?” asked the old woman. “I don’t know where to get skin to make them with.” She had a rabbit-skin dress on and he told her to cut ten pieces out of it. Right away the ten pieces were ten pairs of beautiful, beaded moccasins.

The old woman said: “You must be careful. Those men are strong. Maybe they will kill you.”

“I am not afraid,” said Wus. “I have more power than they have. I am going to find my sister. Maybe I will be gone a long time. Every day you must put down new mats and throw away the old ones.” Then he said to the mats: “There must be new mats here each day.”

Wus started. He traveled fast. Each pair of new moccasins lasted ten days. When there was a hole in the heel of one moccasin, he threw the pair away. He wore out five pairs; then he was near the house where the strangers lived. He climbed a high mountain and stayed there all day, watching the people in the valley. He saw his sister; she was almost dead. Men were throwing captives back and forth across a fire; their bodies were burned and black with smoke. At dark the men began to whoop and scream, and to dance around the fire.

Wus thought hard, and made something long and bright. When he raised it up, it blazed like fire. He called it golóbis. When he held it and looked far off, he could see everything. He saw the people throwing his sister back and forth like a ball, across the fire. The pole his brothers’ hearts were on was stuck in the ground near the fire. He cried when he looked at his sister and his kin. He said: “I want to have long hair, and I want it covered with nice beads and bones, and I want a blanket, and leggings covered with porcupine quills.” Right away his hair touched the ground, and he had a blanket and leggings covered with beautiful quills. At midnight he went where the people were and stood looking at the fire.

“Who is that?” asked one of the men.

“Maybe that is Wus,” said another.

Wus took his bow and arrow and began to whip the bow string with the arrow. It made nice music. Right away the long-necked girl knew that the man was her brother. When he went nearer to the fire, people called out: “Wus! Wus! That man is Wus!” and they were frightened.

“Why do you call me Wus?” asked he.

“I feel as if Wus were looking at me,” said the chief’s son. “Where did you come from? We have never seen a man dressed as you are. Who are you?”

“You mustn’t ask such questions,” said Wus. “Everybody has heard of me. I live near you. My house is among the rocks. I have come to visit you. Where did you get those hearts and those young women?”

“Off in the south, where there are two lakes together. They are the hearts of the chiefs of that place. We killed nine of the Wus brothers, and all of the Kaiutois brothers, and took their wives and sisters.”

“I am glad those men are dead,” said Wus. “They made me an orphan, and they almost killed my old grandmother, who lives north of here.” Wus began to cry.

The people didn’t quite believe him; they said: “You are Wus.”

“Why do you say that?” asked Wus. “You make me feel badly.”

“We missed the youngest Wus brother; maybe you are he.”

“I will tell you about that young man,” said Wus. “He can do anything he wants to. He can change into different things. He can turn people into rocks, or old stumps, or ashes. He wouldn’t come here and talk to you; he would turn you into birds, or trees, or anything else he wanted to. He doesn’t talk to people. I wish I could kill him, but I haven’t power enough. I am afraid to go near him. I am glad you have killed his brothers.”

People said: “Don’t listen to that man; he is Wus.”

Wus said: “Wait and see what will become of you when Wus comes. He will be here soon. He will come to kill you and take his sister home. Didn’t you take all the nice clothes those brothers had? When their youngest brother ran away, was he dressed as I am? Can’t I stay and play with those hearts and with the daughters of the men who killed my father and mother? I will dance five nights over those hearts; I am glad to see them hanging up there.”

Some of the people said: “Let him stay. We will watch him. He can stay one day, then if he doesn’t do any harm, we will let him stay longer. He isn’t Wus.”

Wus knew their thoughts. He began to dance and to throw the women across the fire. He meant to make them stronger. As he threw them, he talked to them in his heart, and they answered him in their hearts. He said aloud: “I am glad to throw you over the fire. Your kin killed my father and mother! I want the fire to burn you.”

He danced all night and threw the women faster than any other man; but each time he threw them they were stronger.

In the morning he said: “You must let me sleep till the sun goes down; then I will show you how glad I am that those brothers are dead. My grandmother thinks that I am off hunting for deer. You must give me one of those hearts to carry home to her; then she will be glad, too.”

After Wus had slept a while, one of the men woke him up and said: “You are hungry; here are seeds to eat.” To one another they said: “If he is Wus, he won’t eat our water seeds.” He knew what they said. He ate the seeds and went to sleep again; slept till it was almost dark. Then he helped the men build a big fire. He loosened his hair and it floated around him, it was so long and thick. He had a woman braid it and tie it up with strings of beads. Then he called out: “I want everybody to come and see me dance!” The men sat around and looked at him. He danced well and he sang his own songs. He danced for three nights; by the middle of the third night everybody was tired. Wus said: “You should sleep so you will be strong enough to dance to-morrow.” He was taking their minds away from them; they thought of nothing; they liked Wus and did as he told them.

The fourth night everybody was sleepy. Wus said: “Why don’t you sleep now and dance in the daytime? People used to dance when the sun was bright so everybody could see what they were doing.”

The next morning they danced till midday, then rested. Wus said: “This is the last night I’ll dance. I am going home.”

They began early. Wus pounded the hearts on the poles. He pulled the women around, rubbed them against the hearts, and said: “Those are the hearts of your fathers and of your kin.” He whooped and screamed and danced till midnight. Then all the men were falling asleep, they were so tired.

“What makes you so sleepy?” asked Wus. “When Wus comes, you’ll not do as you are doing now. Wus has power; when he comes, he won’t leave one of you alive.” He kicked the men to make them get up and dance; then he said: “You didn’t let me know you were going off to kill those men; now you must give me this long-necked woman. Those men didn’t do you any harm, but they killed all my people.” He began to sing, and as he sang, every man fell sound asleep.

Wus said to the women: “When I hold up my golóbis, you must start and run toward the east. Run as fast as you can.” He took the string of hearts and wound it around his waist. Then he held the golóbis—a great red ball—in his hand and went around among the sleeping men. The ball killed them all, burned their lives up; when he turned the ball over, it went out. The men lay there dead; Wus cut them open and took out their hearts.

When Wus caught up with the women, he gave each woman one moccasin. Right away each moccasin became a pair. As he traveled, he picked up the old moccasins he had thrown away when coming. There were no holes in them now. They were beautiful and new.

When Wus and the women were half-way home, they came to a place where their brothers and kin used to hunt deer. The women felt lonesome and began to cry. Wus said: “You needn’t feel lonesome; I am going to bring all of our people to life.”

Now old woman Wus dreamed that she saw a whole string of hearts come in at the top of the house, like snakes. When she woke up, she felt scared; she rubbed herself in ashes and thought: “As I have dreamed, it will be. Nobody can change a dream.”

When near home, the long-necked girl began to sing; her song was like the song of a fly. The old woman heard it and was glad; she knew that her daughter was coming, for nobody that lived in the world could sing her song.

When they got to the house, the women hurried to get wood and build a fire, so that their grandmother could boil the hearts Wus had brought. When everything was ready, the old woman said: “You must all stay outside while I do my work.”

Wus said: “Why do you have them stay outside? The spirits of the men will be out there talking. If the women answer, your work will be spoiled, and my brothers will never come to life.”

The old woman put the hearts in a basket of water and put hot stones around the basket. Then she tied blankets around the women and made them lie down in one corner of the house. She said: “When your brothers begin to come back, they will talk to you; they will ask: ‘Are you glad to see us?’ ‘Have we been gone long?’ ‘What are you lying there for?’ ‘Get up and give us something to eat; we are hungry;’ but don’t answer, don’t say a word. If you do, there won’t be anything but hearts in the basket.”

When the water began to boil, the spirits of the men whose hearts were in the basket began to talk in the brush outside the house; then they went into the house and talked to the women. When the women didn’t answer, they pushed them and scolded. But the women didn’t look up, didn’t speak. After a while, there was a great noise, laughing and talking, then each man took his place by the fire.

The old woman said to them: “You should keep still; you have made me feel lonesome. You have been dead; I put ashes on my head and mourned for you.”

The eldest Wus said: “Why did you feel lonesome? You knew our brother had power, that nobody could kill him and that he could save us.”

They were glad when they saw their sister. She said: “Those men treated me badly; they wouldn’t give me anything to eat, and they threw me back and forth across the fire.”

“I am glad they didn’t make you eat our hearts,” said the eldest brother. “Those people sometimes make their captives eat the hearts of their own brothers and kin.”

LOK AND KÉKINA

CHARACTERS

Lok Bear Kékina Lizard Wus Fox

Five Lok brothers and their sister lived in a house on a mountain near Klamath Lake; not far away lived old woman Wus with her two nephews, the Kékina brothers. They were orphans; the Lok brothers had killed their father and their mother. In summer Wus had had the children gather roots and store them in a tree for winter. When winter came the younger boy went three times each day to the top of the tree to eat a few of the roots. As he went, he called out: “Spring is coming! Spring is coming!”

Lok’s sister had a big pile of roots hidden under the ground. She never gave any to Wus; she was always watching around to see what Wus taught the boys. Wus didn’t teach them anything. She didn’t dare to; but the elder boy knew how to make poison arrows.

One morning when little Kékina ran out to the tree, he cried: “Spring is coming! Spring is coming!” and brought down a few roots for his brother.

The Lok woman heard him, and asked: “Why do you tell such a lie? Spring isn’t coming. It is winter. When you see smoke on the mountains, then spring will come.” To the elder brother Lok said: “You are good for nothing; you sit all day making arrows, but you can’t kill anything.”

Old woman Wus cried, but the boy told her and his little brother not to answer Lok; if they did, Lok would tell her brothers, and they might come and kill them.

Once when the little boy was outside, Lok said to him: “Little boy, I feel mean toward you; you tell lies about spring coming.” That evening Lok watched him and was mad when he called out: “Spring is coming! Spring is coming!” for every time he called, it hurried spring along, and she liked winter. She went to the tree where the roots were hidden, spat on her hands, took hold of the top of the tree, pulled it down, rolled the roots in a ball, and swallowed them.

The next morning, when little Kékina called: “Spring is coming! Spring is coming!” and ran to the tree, he found that all his roots were gone. He saw Lok’s tracks and knew that she had stolen them. He rolled around on the ground and cried, he felt so badly. Then he went in and lay down by his brother, who was making poison arrows. The brother said: “Keep still, I am going to talk to my arrows and tell them what to do.” He held the arrows over the fire, and said: “Arrows, you must go right through the bodies of the big-handed people; the people that never get enough to eat.”

Old woman Lok was listening around; she said: “You are talking about the people who killed your father and mother, and will kill you.”

When her brothers came home, she said: “I hate to hear that Kékina boy talk about killing you.”

The eldest brother said: “Somebody makes him mad; maybe you have been boasting that we killed his father and mother.” He scolded the woman till she said: “I am going off; I sha’n’t come back till night.”

While she was gone, old woman Wus stole half of her roots, dug a hole and hid them, and then made mole tracks around, little hills of dirt.

In Lok’s house the chief slept in the middle, near the fire; two brothers slept on one side of him and two on the other; the sister slept by the ladder. That night, when the brothers were asleep, little Kékina crept into their house. He passed his hands over them and they all slept soundly, they couldn’t wake up. He cut off the chief’s foot, put the end of his leg on the log in the fire, and said to it: “Don’t you waken the chief till you are half burned up.” He took the foot home. Wus roasted it, and she and her nephews ate it. Then she put out the fire, rubbed ashes on her mouth to hide the grease, and began to cry as if she were hungry.

When the leg was half consumed, the chief woke up and screamed: “My leg is burning! My leg is burning!” His sister said: “This is Kékina’s work,” but the chief said: “No, I went to sleep with my feet on the log.” He died the next day.

When his brothers were going to burn the body, old woman Wus said: “People will make fun of you if you burn your brother. You must put him in the ground with his burnt leg sticking out. If you feel badly, you can go away. I will watch, I won’t let anything come to eat him.”

When the Lok brothers had put the chief in the ground and gone off, Wus dug up the body and cooked it for her nephews to eat; then she stuck a chunk of burnt wood where the leg had been.

The next day old woman Lok said: “I am afraid Wus and those boys will dig up our brother’s body and eat it.” And she went to see. She didn’t go far, for she saw the chunk sticking up out of the ground and thought it was the leg.

The elder Kékina brother said to Wus: “You must go and find out what the Loks are doing. You can tell them that I have driven you away.”

When Wus got where the Loks were camped, she began to cry.

They asked: “What are you crying for?”

“My nephews have driven me out,” said Wus; “they won’t let me stay with them.”

The Loks believed her and let her stay around. When they asked: “Where are you going to live?” she said: “I have other kin, I am going to them. Their house is straight east.”

That night Lok had a dream. The dream said: “Your brother’s body has been stolen.” In the morning she started off to find out if it had. When she got back, she said: “Just as my dream told me, somebody has carried off our brother.”

Wus said: “I know nothing about it.”

Lok said: “Yes, you do; those boys did it.”

Wus said: “No, they moved away when you did. You can go and kill them if you want to. I am going east.”

She started, but when she was a little way off, she turned and went west. When she got home, she said to her nephews: “The Loks are coming to fight you.”

“I’m not afraid of the Loks,” said the elder brother. “You must go off to the mountain. I will put my brother in a crack of the house, then I will fight the Loks with knives.” He had five knives under one arm; his bow and arrows were hanging up.

When the four Lok brothers and their sister came, one of the brothers caught Kékina in his mouth and swallowed him. Kékina stuck a knife in Lok’s heart, killed him, and came out. The second brother swallowed him; he killed him and came out; the third swallowed him and was killed. The fourth brother bit Kékina, then swallowed him. Kékina was hurt; he stayed in Lok’s body a good while before he could get strength enough to stick his knife in Lok’s heart and run out. He didn’t cut Lok’s heart open, and Lok jumped up and swallowed him again. That time Lok choked, and Kékina nearly smothered; but he made himself small and rolled out of Lok’s throat.

Old woman Lok said: “I told you those boys would kill you. Now all our brothers are dead.” Just then Lok saw Kékina. He caught him and swallowed him again. That time Kékina cut Lok’s heart open and he died.

Old woman Lok jumped at Kékina to bite him, but he ran down her throat before she could bite; he ran out, and she caught him; again she was going to bite him, but he ran down her throat and came out. The next time he slipped down quickly; he cut her heart open, and she died.

Wus came home; they had lots of meat now, and she was glad. When spring came, little Kékina wanted to dig roots. Wus said: “Don’t go far. The Lok brothers had a great many kin. You must keep away from them.”

Kékina said: “When I find sweet roots, I want to lie down by them, and eat them; sometimes I feel like staying all night.”

“You must be careful,” said Wus. “The Loks like the same things that you do. One might come along and eat the roots and you with them, without knowing that you were there.”

One night little Kékina didn’t come home. The next morning his brother began to hunt for him. Off on a flat he saw men digging roots; they were Loks. He went up to one of them, and asked: “Have you seen my brother?”

“No,” said Lok, “he hasn’t been here.”

He asked ever so many men, and each one said: “He hasn’t been here.” One man said: “We could eat him and not know it; for sometimes we dig up great roots with our hands, and he might be with them. There is a Lok over there; he came ahead of us. Maybe he saw your brother.”

When Kékina asked him, he said: “What makes you ask questions? I don’t want to talk,” and he started off.

Kékina followed him, and said: “Open your mouth.”

“Why should I open my mouth? I am sick. Let me alone.”

Kékina kept following him. At last Lok opened one side of his mouth; then Kékina made him open the other side. In Lok’s teeth he had found one of little Kékina’s hairs; he got it out and wound it around the head of his arrow. Then he began to fight with the Loks. One after another they swallowed him; he cut each one’s heart open and killed him. He left only one Lok alive,—the poorest and oldest. He said to that one: “I will not kill you, but you will no longer be a person; you will be a common bear and scare people.”

Kékina took the hair home. Wus told him to sprinkle her medicine basket and put it over the hair, then step over the basket five times. He did, and his brother came to life. Then the two brothers and Wus lived together as before.

GRASSHOPPER IN LOVE WITH DEER

CHARACTERS

Djáhdjai Grasshopper Djihens Ant Wiĕs Deer

A man had two wives, Djáhdjai and Djihens. When it came root-digging time, the two women went out every morning to dig roots, but they went in different directions; they didn’t dig on the same flat.

At midday Djihens always went home with a basketful of nice, white roots. Djáhdjai never went home till it was getting dark, and then she had only a few roots in the bottom of her basket. Each night she took Djihens’ basket and picked out all the longest and best roots, and when her husband came from hunting deer, she said: “I dug these!”

The man loved Djáhdjai better than he did Djihens, but Djáhdjai didn’t love him; she loved Wiĕs.

Each morning, as soon as she got to the flat, she began to dance and to chirp her love song. Her song said: “Come this way, Big Head! Come this way; I want to see you!”

Wiĕs listened, and as soon as he heard the song, he came up on the rocks and looked down on the flat. He looked all around, as if counting the trees and bushes to see that everything was right, that there was nobody around, then he went to Djáhdjai.

Each evening the husband asked his wives if their moccasins were worn out. Djihens always answered: “No, I don’t kick the ground all the time and wear my moccasins out.”

Djáhdjai always had holes in her moccasins.

Her husband scolded, and asked: “How do you wear out your moccasins so? I haven’t made moccasins for Djihens since we came here.”

“I can’t stand still when I dig; I have to jump around and stand hard on the ground. I dig roots among the rocks, where they are long and sweet. Djihens digs on the flat, and her roots are not as long as mine, or as nice.”

“Well,” said the man, “I don’t know how you can wear out a pair of moccasins every day. Your feet eat up moccasins as stones do.”

One morning, when Djáhdjai started off with her basket and digging stick, Djihens thought she would watch and see where she went. So she followed her. Every little while Djáhdjai turned around to find out if anybody was looking at her. Djihens was hiding in the grass; she couldn’t see her. When Djáhdjai got near the mountain, she stopped and began to sing her love song. The song drew Wiĕs to the rocks. Djihens hid under the grass, so he couldn’t see her. He looked all around, then he started toward Djáhdjai.