Part 21

Marveling, the boy obeyed and soon pulled out a decayed pipe bag and a tobacco pouch. He packed the pipe bowl full of tobacco. Then picking up a hard round stick, the size of an arrow shaft he twisted it in his bow string, placed a pitted stone on one end and put the other end on the log. Pushing his bow backward and forward he twirled the stick with great rapidity. Soon a tiny spark ignited the wood dust and caught in a blaze on the shredded cedar bark. It was a laborious task but Ganondai´yeo at length had the pipe in smoking order. Leaning over he pried apart the jaws of Tcis´gä, as he had named the skeleton, and pushed the pipe stem between its teeth. Tcis´gä smoked with great diligence and exclaimed, “Agwas´wio‘, oh how good, how I enjoy it. I’ve not had a smoke in a great while. Oh I am glad you came to me! Now let me tell you a story, but first fill up this pipe again. There. Now, boy, this is an enchanted island. You are trapped, the same as I was and the same as many more have been. There is a man who lives here, there is a man who visits here and there is a man who hires men here. He who lives here is S‘agowenot´‘a, a great sorcerer, he who visits here is Oñgwe Iās, an evil ogre. Both eat men. They ate me, they ate many others; they will eat you unless you listen closely. Before sunrise tomorrow, run to the beach where you landed and bury yourself in the sand only leaving one eye and an ear uncovered. Look and listen. No one has ever escaped; but you may if you obey me, and moreover you overcome the island’s evil spell.”

The boy solemnly promised obedience and after a restless night ran to the beach and buried himself in the sand. Soon he heard the sound of singing on the water. The song grew louder and Ganondai´yeo knew that the singer was nearing the beach. He heard the sound of the canoe as it shot up against the sand and knew that the singer had landed. He listened closely to the song and then hummed it softly to himself. The sound of footsteps neared and turning his eye he saw a man whose grim visage pronounced him a man of terrible passion. Ganondai´yeo looked as well as he could from his hole in the sand and knew that was Oñgwe Iās. At the feet of the ogre was a pack of dogs who followed him up the incline.

As Oñgwe Iās stepped upon the island Sagowanota sang his magical song from his den in the grove.

When Oñgwe Iās reached the top of the incline he roared, “Well, where is my meal?”

“He cannot be found,” came the answer. “Put your eyes in the bushes,—send the dogs after him,” roared Oñgwe Iās.

The search was fruitless and grumbling in rage the man returned to his canoe, threw in his dogs and jumping in, swept his paddle through the water and sped back to mainland.

Ganondai´yeo jumped from his place of concealment and rushed to the log where Tcis´gä lay. Breathlessly he told what he had seen and heard and told how thankful he was that he had escaped being eaten.

“Smoke, tobacco, I wish to smoke,” whispered Tcĭs´gä, dustily. So taking an ember from the fire he had started Ganondai´yeo lit the pipe and shoved it between the teeth of the skull. When it had finished smoking it said, “I am glad that you have succeeded so well. It is an omen of good fortune. Now listen. Make seven dolls from dry rotten wood and make a small bow and arrow for each, then, place each doll in the top of a tree. Conceal yourself in the sand again and see what will happen.

Ganondai´yeo did as directed and the next day when Oñgwe Iās landed he grumbled loudly and vowed he would find the boy for he was very hungry. He strode up the beach and his dogs with noses close to the ground followed the track of Ganondai´yeo as it circled the isle. Suddenly one dog with a yelp fell pierced with an arrow. Oñgwe Iās yelled in rage and his rage increased as one after another fell dead. Snatching up the body of each he threw it upon his shoulder and going back flung it into his canoe, and then paddled back across the lake.

Leaping from the sand Ganondai´yeo ran back to Tcis´gä and related his observations.

After Tcis´gä had been satisfied with tobacco he said to Ganondai´yeo:

“Now I will tell you more. Oñgwe Iās, always fearing death, leaves his heart in his lodge. It hangs suspended over a pot of water; likewise the hearts of the dogs. When he returns he will place the dogs’ hearts back within their chests and as they beat the dogs will revive. He will then remove them and return to the island on the morrow to renew his search for you. Now listen closely. Bury yourself in the sand as before and as Oñgwe Iās approaches the shore sing the Sagowenota song. Oñgwe Iās will then rush up the shore, the dolls will shoot again and while Oñgwe Iās is obscured in the bushes jump into his canoe, go directly across the water and when you touch the shore you will find a path that leads to a lodge. Enter the lodge and destroy the hearts you find there. Then you may return to me.”

The next morning Ganondai´yeo covered himself with sand and when he heard the song of Oñgwe Iās floating over the water he shouted back:

“I have caught a rabbit, rabbit, rabbit, Soon I’ll skin it, skin it, skin it!”

Oñgwe Iās stopped short in his song and listened. Then he shouted back:

“Ho-yo-ho! So you have him. So, I’ll be there!”

From a mound in the center of the island came a voice. In pleading tones it cried:

“No, no! I did not call you. Do not come. Oh do not!”

“Oh no,” came the mocking reply. “You cannot cheat me. You have found him and wish to eat him alone.”

Landing, Oñgwe Iās ran toward the mound. Ganondai´yeo jumped into the boat and with his swiftest, strongest stroke sent it gliding out over the lake. At length he reached the land. Leaping to the shore he ran up a path and burst through the curtain into a lodge. A young girl was refining bear oil by boiling it in a kettle. Without stopping to greet her Ganondai´yeo cried:

“Give me his heart!”

“No, no, do not touch it. It is his, it is his!” remonstrated the girl in terror.

There was the sound of foot steps outside. Oñgwe Iās had followed in some mysterious manner and was now at the door. Springing toward the back of the lodge, Ganondai´yeo grasped a large beating heart. Oñgwe Iās was pushing aside the curtain and now snarled in terrible rage as he saw the boy who should have been his victim holding his heart. With marvelous swiftness Ganondai´yeo flung the heart into the pot of boiling fat. The ogre tottered. His dogs began to yelp up the trail and as Ganondai´yeo glanced through the door between the curtain and the swaying body of Oñgwe Iās, and saw their dripping bodies, red eyes and froth laden fangs as they leaped toward their master, Oñgwe Iās trembled, and fell. Ganondai´yeo swept the seven dogs’ hearts into the scalding liquid only a moment before the ogre crashed his head into the fire, breaking the pot of oil and spilling out the hearts. Oñgwe Iās was dead and seven dogs lay before the door.

The girl who during this terrible scene had cringed in one corner now rushed toward Ganondai´yeo with a glad cry.

“Oh my brother!” she cried. “You have rescued me. I am your sister who was captured. Oñgwe Iās kept me as his slave. Oh my brother, you have saved our family!”

Ganondai´yeo hardly knew what to make of these words but looking down at the girl saw in her his lost sister, lost years ago. He rejoiced with her and then running back to the shore paddled swiftly to the Isle of Fears. Going up to the log he appeased his friend Tcĭs´gä with tobacco and told his story.

“Now,” said Tcĭs´gä, “you have done well. You can be of great service to me if you will obey a few more instructions; for instance, shoot that fat bear over there and place her pelt over this little mound where I am. Scold that stump and make it move away so that you may cover the mound entirely. Then smoke!”

Ganondai´yeo was startled as he looked up and beheld an enormously fat bear asleep not ten steps from him. Fixing an arrow he shot and killed the beast and removed its hide. Walking up to the stump he shouted:

“What is the matter with you? Get out of my way or I will smash you. Go on now and with the help of a kick the stump jumped backward into a clump of bushes. Placing the skin over the mound Ganondai´yeo built a little fire and began to throw on tobacco to make the smoke fragrant.

The sun was hot and the oil fairly dripped from the skin into the ground.

Ganondai´yeo became impatient. “What is the trouble with you, Tcĭs´gä?” he called. “Move lively. You are lazy. Hurry or I will leave. I cannot wait all day. Hurry or I will kick over this stump upon you.”

There was a slight movement beneath the bear’s skin.

“Hurry now,” continued the boy, “or I will pull off the skin,” and stooping down he gave it a fling. As he did so from the ground arose a company of men. All were quarreling. “You have my legs—my fingers—you have my hands—you have my feet—my ribs—my neck—where is my backbone—three ribs missing—oh someone has my whole body—didn’t have time—made us hurry—too quick—short notice!” came the mingled cries from the strange swarm.

Before Ganondai´yeo was as queer a company of men as the sun has ever seen. Some had one long leg and one short one, some were hump-backed, some small-bodied and large-limbed, some had head on backward, some had no necks, some double the wonted length, and soon each man was a sight to behold. All were angry, and fighting, disappeared into the forest, all but one. It was Tcĭs´gä. He stepped forward and took Ganondai´yeo by the hand and said,

“I am your brother, let us go home.”

Hastening to the shore the two seated themselves in the canoe and paddled back to the lodge on the opposite shore. A meal awaited them and after eating it the boys built a great fire and burned the evil lodge.

That night the three slept in the open. The next morning the brothers and their sister tramped through the forest and found the old people mourning over the loss of Ganondai´yeo.

The old folk were exuberant with joy when they found that not only was Ganondai´yeo well and alive but also their other grandchildren.

The boys built a large lodge and made the days of the old people easy with soft beds, much meat and pleasant company.

Then the grandparents said, “We are old and wise but we know now that which we did not before: It is evil to forbid a boy of resource to do or go without a reason.”

So here it ends, this ga-gah, this ancient story.

34. THE TWELVE BROTHERS AND THE WRAITH OF THE EVIL WARRIOR.

A STORY OF SHODJE´ASKO^n‘, A MISCHIEF MAKER.

Twelve brothers had planned a war expedition and singing their songs had started a war dance. Scarcely had they begun when a messenger came running towards them and related that Hadi´ĭŭsgōwa´, the greatest warrior of the nation, was dying and wished the twelve brothers to officiate at his funeral. In respect to the man who far and wide had the name of being the most terrible and successful warrior in all the world the twelve brothers postponed their dance and hurried to minister to the dying warrior. He desired them to dress him, not in the customary funeral robes but in the full regalia of battle with his knife at his side and his tomahawk in his hand. His face he wished painted black on one side and red on the other, in token that he was the fiercest warrior in all the earth.

So when he died the twelve brothers prepared his body just as was directed and doubled him up in his shallow grave. When the funeral rites were over the brothers renewed their dance and on the next morning started off on their war expedition to the south.

Now in those days the Iroquois had trails that led from their villages to all parts of the world. At the distance of a day’s journey on every trail was built a trail lodge, where travelers might find shelter, and so on for many days’ journeys were built trail lodges. At the end of the first day’s journey the twelve brothers came to the trail house and halted to prepare their evening meal. One of the men shot a deer and was dressing it when the oldest brother, the chief of the party, ordered the youngest to run to the spring after water. Grasping a bark bowl he obeyed and ran down the path to the spring and was bending over the water to dip, when he saw reflected in the ruddy sun-painted water the form of a warrior whose face was painted on one side red and on the other black. He gazed at the vision terrified by its import and then dropping his bowl rushed up the path and stammered out his frightful discovery. He had seen Hadiiusgowa, the warrior whom they had buried but the morning of that day. The chief looked at his young brother in amazement and then, dropping the deer ham that he was preparing, burst out into a loud derisive laugh. “If you are afraid of visions of dead men,” he laughed, “how can I depend on you when live ones appear?” But the boy would not be laughed out of believing the evidence of his own eyes and so the second brother was sent to the spring. When he reached the pool he looked across the river and to his indescribable horror saw the dead warrior standing on the opposite bank, his face wrinkled into a fiendish grin. Back to the lodge he sped trembling from cheek to feet. A chorus of laughter greeted his story and the chief angrily declared that his younger brothers were endeavoring to frighten the party by their impossible tales. Then the third brother was sent and soon returned and with stiffened lips said that he had seen the figure of Hadiiusgowa standing in the middle of the stream. The fourth brother saw him standing on the rocks close to the shore, and the fifth saw him on the pebbly edge, and the sixth on the river’s bank, the seventh half way to the spring, the eighth at the spring, the ninth advancing toward the trail, the tenth on the trail, the eleventh half way to the trail lodge, and then the chief, who had now ceased to scoff, when he looked up saw Hadiiusgowa in the clearing before the lodge. Hastily he commanded that all should enter the lodge, the youngest first and the rest according to their ages. When all had done so he fastened the door and lay down across the doorway. All except the two youngest suddenly became overcome with a stupor and fell into a deep sleep. The two youngest lay awake and listened to the efforts of the ghostly warrior to effect an entrance. Suddenly the door burst inward and with a yell the tchisga (ghost) swooped down upon the chief and scalping him brandished the scalp aloft and screeching, “Gowe! Gowe! Hadiiusgowa!” Jumping into the air he yelled a death cry and sped from sight, his cry growing fainter and fainter as he went. Returning shortly afterwards he scalped the next brother, returning at an interval to scalp one after another of the party. When the third oldest brother had been scalped and the tchisga had disappeared, his death cry echoing fainter and fainter as he sped further and further, the second youngest brother was overcome with a lethargy and fell into a deep sleep from which he never awoke, for the tchisga returned and killed him, as he had the ten others. The youngest then began to despair saying to himself, “I cannot escape even by running nor can I hide for Hadiiusgowa has power to discover me wherever I go, but even a tchisga may be deceived.” So saying he placed some bloody deer meat on his head and pulled his bear skin cap tightly over his brow. Wrapping his blanket around his ears so as to leave no part of his body exposed he waited the coming of Hadiiusgowa. His skin at least was protected from the death touch of the tchisga and perhaps he would escape. Soon the wraith came screaming into the lodge crying, “I have slain eleven and now the twelfth shall go!” Grabbing a bunch of black hair that protruded from a robe of deer skin he haggled off a circular piece and with a demonic shriek flew into the air crying “Gowe! Gowe! Hadiiusgowa!”

The boy finding himself unhurt jumped to his feet with the exclamation, “I will follow the tchisga and outwit him yet!” So he ran out into the darkness.

The ghost soon discovered his error and the boy could hear his cries of rage in the distance. He approached rapidly screaming, “You cannot escape me, you cannot hide from me!” Each yell stole the strength from the muscles of the frightened boy who soon sank in dispair to the ground. The tchisga was coming and there seemed no escape. Feebly lifting his head the boy saw a hollow elm log and in a dazed way remembered that he had heard of hollow logs. Mustering all his strength he crawled in the log and none too soon for just as he had stowed himself within the protecting log the ghost struck it with the cry, “Now I have you!”

It is strange, but a ghost never can enter the space within a hollow log. Thus the tchisga cut a sharp stick which he thrust in the hole at one end hoping to spear the boy. But his victim was not an easy one for he caught the thrusts deftly and turned them aside. Finally realizing that he could not harm the boy in this manner he yelled, “I know where you sit and will kill you yet!” Then he commenced to chop a hole into the log where he judged his victim to be but when it had been made the boy had moved further in and escaped the thrusts of the spear. Another hole was made but all the prodding that the tchisga made had no effect upon the elusive boy. A third trial had no better result and finally the tchisga screamed, “The next hole will bring me success,—I cannot fail!” Then he fell to whacking the log until the raining blows sounded like the beating of a death drum. The hole was completed and the dispairing boy found that there were so many openings that he could not hope to escape. The tchisga prepared to grasp his victim and was on the point of uttering a yell of triumph when a little bird on a branch above began to twitter and the yell of victory turned to a groan of dispair. “Fortunate for you,” he cried, “but woe to me!” Then he faded into the glow of the morning when ghosts cease their black works.

The boy was highly elated at his good fortune but lost no time in dancing over the matter. Instead he jumped to his feet and ran with all his speed to the village crying as he went, “Gowe, gowe!” His shrill cry awoke the villagers who hastened to the long house to listen to the distress news that someone was bringing. Dashing into the council the boy related his story and when he had finished the village sachem arose and said, “If this boy’s tale is true we are all threatened with the ghostly warrior. Now we know why arrows never killed him,—he was a wizard. We must kill him before he kills us. We must burn his body. First then let four swift runners go to the first day trail house and see if conditions are as reported and in the meantime we will prepare to kill the ghost.” The warriors hurried to obey instructions and after the runners had departed a company built a little cabin from large logs over the grave of the wizard and others gathered piles of logs for fuel. It was toward sunset when the runners returned and reported that things were just as the youngest brother had told. The grave was then dug into and a foot below the surface a sharpened pole was discovered and to it were fastened eleven scalps still bleeding and a small circle of bear skin. Below this was found the body of the witch-warrior steaming with sweat, his face and hands slimy with blood and his weapon still dripping red. The boy’s words were confirmed. A warrior lifted the terrible form from the bark upon which it rested and brought it into the cabin. The head sachem then addressed it. “You were a great warrior in life,” he said, “and we know that we never appreciated you. We now wish to make a great ceremony and have made a lodge for you where all may see you. So stay here and let us honor you.” So saying the chief backed out of the cabin and fastened the door. Heavy logs were piled over the structure and then a fire ignited that soon enveloped the whole mass. The flames soon ate their way into the burial lodge and filled it with a mass of burning coals. Logs were piled on higher and higher in order that they might press down the witch and give him no chance to escape. Suddenly a voice from the blazing coals sounded forth. With one long drawn wild scream it said, “I will kill you all, I am escaping despite you.” But a log falling pinned down the wizard who fell into his grave pit now white with heat. His head burst and when the steam was cleared away a screech owl was seen flying up from it. The warriors made a frantic effort to kill it but the intense heat prevented them and so it soared away into the night screaming defiance at its pursuers.

In this manner was the wizard-warrior killed but his spirit still hovers over the land and wherever the screech owl lingers there is the evil spirit brooding mischief.

GENERAL NOTES.—In this legend we have several interesting ethnological allusions. We are told of “trail houses,” which were erected at intervals along the trails throughout the Iroquois country, and in which food and other necessities were left by travelers who had used the shelter. Inquiry brought out the fact that these public hospices were common in the old days and were frequently built in response to dreams. We are also given a glimpse of the burial rites of warriors, and told that the corpse was properly painted and then doubled up in its grave. We are again given an account of the magical qualities of a hollow log, which a ghost cannot enter. Here, also, we are told that a wizard’s head when burned bursts and sends forth screech-owls,—birds of ill omen to the red man as to us of today.

35. THE CANNIBAL AND HIS NEPHEW.

De‘o´niot was Oñgwe Iās, a man-eater. He had developed his man-flesh appetite early in his childhood because his mother had associated with witches. He lived in a hidden place far away from other human habitations. The only human creature who came near him and was not eaten was his nephew who lived on the other side of the partition that divided his long bark house. The cannibal was fond of his nephew and did not wish to come into close contact with him, lest his appetite for flesh become too strong a temptation and leave him without a companion. Thus it was he divided his house and satisfied himself with the sound of the youth’s voice, for each hunted their game separately and rarely saw each other.

One day as the nephew was sitting on his doorstep, he saw a beautiful woman approaching. She advanced and sat down by his side.

“I would like to marry you,” she said after a moment’s pause.

“I would like to marry you also,” was the answer, and then he added, “but you would not be my wife long because my uncle would eat you.”

“Oh then you had better watch that he does not eat you. If he does not I am satisfied he will not take me,” replied the woman.

“Well, if you are determined after what I have told you, I cannot say further but take you.” Leading her into the lodge he continued, “My uncle will call from his room for someone to bring him my bow or axe with which to slay some animal. Do not answer him but keep very silent and do not venture from the lodge to satisfy his wants. Obey my instructions for I am going on a hunting journey.”

Empty handed and hungry De‘o´niot returned from his hunting excursion. Going into his apartment he flung himself upon the floor to rest, then starting up, he called, “Hurry, bring me my hatchet, Oh quick, I need it immediately to kill this beast!”

Forgetting all that her husband had told her the bride picked up a hatchet and a bow and ran around the lodge to the opposite door.

When the nephew returned he found his wife missing. The only trace of her was her skirt that lay on the floor.