Fox Texts

INTRODUCTION.

This collection of A Igonkin lore is a miscellaneous assortment of myth, tradition, and other matter, and lays no claim to being exhaustive ; as a matter of fact, it is far from that. It may, however, be taken as a fair sample of the kind of unrecorded literature to be found among three related AlgQnkin peoples, — the Sauks, Foxes, and Kickapoos. This particular body of material is the peculiar property of the Foxes of Iowa, and with some excep- tions it is told in their own dialect; the exceptions are in the dialect of the Sauks. It forms part of a mass of information obtained during the summers of 1901 and 1902 in connection with ethnological work done for the American Museum of Natural History, New York, and for the Bureau of American Ethnology, Washington; and it was the immediate basis of a piece of linguistic work done for the Bureau of American Ethnology at Washington.

The conditions for the collection of this material were not such as could be controlled by the inducement of a payment ; for with all their weaknesses, and in spite of their utter poverty, the Foxes were not yet at that point where their lore could be purchased, at least by me. So what was imparted was done in friendship and by way of a gift, not all at once, but at leisure and bit by bit. And in so far as much of the text was told too fast to permit of the recording of every single word that fell from the lips of a narrator, to that extent is the character of it further deficient. It was nowhere and at no time possible to get clear of the esoteric mystification which

1 — FUBI.. AMER. ETHN. SOC. VOL. I.

enveloped every phase of this traditional lore. Every single piece of text was told but once, and delivered without thought of the purpose I meant to make of the material. In no other way could this matter be obtained at the time; and unless these people have greatly changed since that time, only in such manner is the rest of their lore yet to be had. The Foxes are conservative to a degree perhaps not surpassed by another Algonkin people within the borders of the United States, unless it be their kindred, the so-called Mexican band of Kickapoos. They still cling to the life of the past with all that firm tenacity which has been their predominating trait ever since the day they were first known to the French, who found them a proud formidable people up and down the western shores of Lake Michigan. And among the things they hold with deep veneration is this very lore herein recorded. They regard it sacred and give it a fitting place in their scheme of things. To hold it up to ridicule would be as profane as for a Christian to mock his Bible. These texts should be supplemented by the material that was taken down in English when it was not possible to take it down in Fox. It is my purpose to bring the rest of this out in connection with a work dealing with the material culture of this small but interesting people.

The characteristic features of much of this material, not only in its subject-matter but in its form of philosophy, are to be met with over the greater part of North America. And most of the tales have corresponding variants among other people not of Algonkin stock. Many of the narratives, in particular the shorter kind, may seem to the reader as nothing more than mere fragments. As a matter of fact, that is about all that some of them are. And yet the long narrative is not the usual thing with the Foxes. They rather prefer the brief story and like

to tell a tale in as short a form as it can be told. In this respect they are unlike the Ojibwas, who have a fondness for the long narrative; the more evenings it takes to finish the story, the better it is. The Ojibwa likes detail, is inclined to be digressive, and in temperament is more given to the display of fancy and emotion. In consequence the Ojibwa tale moves more slowly by reason of its garrulity ; but it is of more value for the greater amount of information it reveals. It is perhaps possible to account for one reason of the Fox preference for the short narrative. When the weather begins to chill and the nights become raw, the fire of the lodge is then the centre of a circle of men and women, some sitting and others lounging, with the feet always towards the fire. By and by some one spins a tale ; the next person tells another, and so round the circle go the stories one after another, and the last different from all that went before. They soon get under way, and hurry swiftly on with little or seldom any by-play, and come up at the end with a suddenness that is often startling. The result is a tale generally so elliptical that it would not be altogether clear to an outsider who was not familiar with its setting. And this habit of rapid narration tends to develop a traditional stereotyped style, of which the best examples in the text are the stories of the culture-hero playing the role of the guest and the host. Some parts of this collection are just the sort of tales that have passed round the fire circle, while others were related with varying degrees of formality and under different situations. In some instances the object was only for pure trifling merriment, and in others it was seriously meant to convey information and moral instruction.

For convenience and out of a sense of general relationship the matter is presented under six broad divisions. Part I indicates the character of the oral historical narra-

V

tive. Under Part II is grouped a number of stories that have no intimate relation with one another, but belong to the general body of myth and tradition. Part III includes various forms of the didactic story, in which a certain line of conduct is meant to be taught not so much by direct implication as by the inference suggested from a personal narration cited for an example ; the didactic story is a form of parable. In Part IV are a number of stories, some of which are really didactic in character, but which are placed together under a general grouping of fasting, visions, and dreams. Part V embraces the stories connected with the culture-hero. And finally in Part VI are given a few examples of the short simple prayer.

The plan of the translation was to follow the order of ideas expressed in the original as far as the idiom would permit, consequently the text can to a great extent be followed word for word and sentence for sentence in the translation. The sentences and paragraphing correspond in both text and translation, likewise the punctuation with period, colon, and semicolon, but not always with comma and exclamation-point.

It is not an easy thing to convey the sense of Algonkin by means of an absolutely literal rendering. Yet the translation here offered is in a way fairly close ; in some instances it may be too free, while in as many others it may be so close as to obscure the full sense of the original. But nevertheless, whatever may be its imperfections, the translation is my own, and I alone am responsible.

The articulation of the consonants and the pronunciation of the vowels should offer little or no difficulty. A descriptive word or two with each letter will indicate the nature of its sound.

CONSONANTS.

« A laryngeal catch, denoting short arrest.

0 Denotes the release of the closure of the glottis.

‘ Denoting a whisper before the articulation of k , t , and p. It also occurs before h. h An aspirate like h in hall.

Li An aspirate of the same origin as h, but preceded by a whisper. hw A bilabial, aspirate glide. k Like the inner k-sound in caw.

g A k-sound articulated in the same place as k, but with an acoustic effect of almost a medial sonant.

‘k An outer k-sound like the one in key. The apostrophe is for a hiss of breath before complete closure. c Like the voiceless sh in she.

s Differs from s in sent in that it is articulated with the tip of the tongue against the lower teeth. tc Like ch in chill, t A pure dental surd.

d A dental articulated in the same place as t, but with the impression of being almost voiced.

‘t A dental differing from t only in the fact that an audible hiss is expelled just previous to the stop.

n Differs from English n in that it is articulated with the point of the tongue at the base of the upper teeth. in Same as m in me. p Like p in put.

b Differs from p only in its being nearly a sonant. p Like p, but with the difference of having a puff of breath expelled before closure. y Like y in you. w Like w in war.

The following is a tabular view of the consonants :

Surd.

Spirant.

JVasal.

Glottal. . . .

C

Post-palatal . .

• • k, g

—

Palatal . . .

. . ‘k

Alveolar . . .

. . —

C

—

Dental ....

. . t, ‘t, d

s

tc, ts

n

Labial ....

. . p, ‘p, b

h, w, y

m

VOWELS.

u Short like u in full, u Long like u in yule.

0 Short like o in hotel, d Long like o in rose.

a Like the short vowel sound in sun. a Short like a in what, a Long like a in alms, d Like the broad a in law. a Like a in alley, e Like e in let. e Like the a-sound in tale.

1 Like i in sit.

i Long as in the vowel sound in see.

• Denotes isolation of preceding vowel.

“ Indicates nasalization of preceding vowel.

DIPHTHONGS.

ai Like the diphthong in my.

At Like the diphthong in turn, with the r of the word slurred. ei Like the diphthong in day. ai Like the diphthong in hoy. au Like the diphthong in shout, ou Like the diphthong in foe.

The normal quantity of the final vowel is short and weak, and for that reason it often occurs in a small superior letter. It is generally omitted where the following word begins with a vowel.

The matter of stress can be indicated only in a general way. As a rule, in words of two syllables the accent falls on the first ; in words of three syllables, the accent falls on the antepenult; and in words of more than three syllables there is generally a principal stress on the first or second syllables and a falling secondary stress on the penult. In many instances stress is contrary to what is here stated, and in such cases it is generally indicated by the acute accent.

In conclusion it is fitting that I should express my gratitude to two men who have been my constant help in the work of which this forms but a part : to my father, who made it possible for me to get into touch with this difficult material, for it was largely through him and for his sake that much of it was imparted to me ; and to Professor Franz Boas, by whom sympathetic assistance was always given, and under whose direction the work was undertaken and brought to publication.

I. — HISTORICAL TALES,

mipena kiyaw'.”

1 This narrative is told to account for the defeat of the Foxes by the allied peoples who came against them on account of the reckless conduct of one of their leading men, White-Robe by name. He violates the hospitality given to strangers by killing them. To restrain him from his violence an attempt is made to induce him to be chief, but without success. His conduct brings on an attack by the sur-

I. — HISTORICAL TALES.

i. When the Red-Earths were besieged.1

Now this was the time when all the people were encompassed round about (by their enemies). The cause of their all being- beset was due to a man whose name must have been White-Robe and who was continually slaying people. To the end that he might cease from the killing of them, “We would have you become our chief, White-Robe,” the people said. It was after the people were all agreed that White-Robe was addressed: “We wish you for our chief.”

“All right,” he said. “Only let me kill just these people who now have come. And then truly will I begin being chief,” said White-Robe. And then as many as would come of the people that were passing through the land, “Let me kill just only these,” he said; “that the dogs may eat.” Thus always would he say. Sometimes one, sometimes two he saved from killing ; from them would he cut off both ears ; and he would cut off their noses ; and he would cut off both their hands. “A few more of you should come,” he would always say to them.

They say that about this time were they then visited by soldiers of the French.2 They slew them all. Yet there were two, perhaps three whom he did not slay ; he sliced off both their ears ; he sliced off their noses ; and he sliced off both their hands. “ A few more of you should come,” he said to them.

rounding peoples, who ave helped by the French. White-Robe is taken prisoner by the Peorias, who, when burning him at the stake, are told of the doom to come upon them.

2 amcHegucI1" or wameHegucI1. or ine‘teguclu, “French” or “Frenchman;” the word refers to something wooden.

' MeckwatkihAg‘, “Red-Earths;” the tribal name the Foxes call themselves from the belief that their ancestors were created from red earth by the manitou.

And accordingly there came against them a still greater number, and with them also were other Indians. Even all of them he (and his men) also slew. Once again only two, perhaps three he did not kill. What he simply did to them was to slice off both their ears, and to slice off their noses, and to slice off both their hands. And then he sent them back on their homeward way. “A few more of you should come,” he said to them.

Verily that was the reason why the Red-Earths1 were assailed and encompassed about by all (the nations). And then after awhile there began to appear ever so many French and the Indians of every language. Round about on ever}'’ hand were they beset by the camps of the foes.

At the time when they began to come, the mother of my grandfather was then a little girl. There was a log that was hollow and there she was hidden. Along by that very place did their enemies make a road ; and for the period of two days were they continuously passing over. There she remained both by day and by night. Continuously by day and continuously by night sounded the tramp of them passing over. After they had made an end of their passing over, then at night by her father was she visited there. It was from that place that they took their flight.

They say that in the camp of the Red-Earths was a man who put the foe to sleep by the singing of songs and by the beating upon a drum. They say that the Red-Earths were celebrating a feast (of the clans). And so the attendants, “Take the skin of a small animal 2 to the water, hour times shall you dip and skim it beneath the surface,” they were told. Then was the time it must have happened that as under the water they dipped and

2 Penasiwaiy*, an uncommon term referring to the skin of a small animal that is kept in one of the big sacred bundles of the clan. Peniisi is bird in Ojibwa.

1 Said iu mockery.

skimmed it along, then it began to snow. All the while the man kept beating upon his drum, conjuring for power to put them to sleep. After the enemy had all gone to sleep then the people began to go forth from their camps and to flee. They went fleeing in every direction. One group fled to a hill where they made a halt and set up a stockade fort. There they were overtaken.

Whereupon the old men, “Do not go forth, they said to the youths. Then the old men continually went out to fight, and fewer grew their number every time they came back home. In the end all the old men were slain. Thereupon the youths continually went out and advanced to the attack, fewer they kept getting every time that they returned. And at last all the youths were slain.

And there was one group that kept straight forward on its course of flight. They say that it was then that a certain man fell and hurt himself, in the foot he was snagged, and some distance ofif the road he crawled. In a little while hither were being fetched the captives that had been taken. One woman that was weeping mentioned the man by name: “O that only He-who-makes-

the-Earth-rise-at-his-Call my uncle were yet alive, not would I be travelling about in this wise !” she said.

The man then grew highly angered. Yet only a club he had for a weapon. As near by they were coming one of the men (of the enemy) gave his niece a push (to make her quicken her pace). “There is your uncle, He-whomakes-the-Earth-rise-at-his-Call ! There he is peeping at us from the place where he lies !” 1 said he (speaking of her uncle).

“ He-who-makes-the-Earth-rise-at-his-Call is the name I am called, and here I am !” he said. He who had pushed

his niece (to make her hurry) was the hist he clubbed and sent headlong. Many indeed he slew alone, and all the rest took to flight. Such was the way he recovered them that had been taken captive. Along a road they followed, they kept straight on in the path behind their own people.

And then White-Robe became no longer willing to continue fighting. “Let us be taken captive,” he said to his comrades. (With the help of his foot) he broke every

bow as fast as he got it. Then by his friends, “Do not

(do that)!” he was told.

“No, I am anxious for them to take us captive,” he

said to them. Then (with his foot) he kept on breaking

the bows of his friends.

They say that then was the time that he was taken captive. When he was captured, it was at the hands of one of the Fire-Nation. 1 “Who was it that slew our chief?” White-Robe was told.

“Why, it was this friend of mine. It was as if he were cracking the head of a puppy (to judge) by the sound of the blows,” said White-Robe.

Then White-Robe was seized and bound with cords. “Are you hungry, White-Robe?” he was told.

“Yes,” he said.

The flesh on his thigh was sliced away, and then roasted on a spit for him. When it was done cooking for him, “Eat, White-Robe,” he was told. After they had fed him it, “Are you hungry, White-Robe?” he was told.

“Yes,” he said.

And then the flesh on the calves of his legs was sliced away (and) roasted on the spit for him. After they had finished cooking it for him, “Eat, White-Robe,” he was

rie;” it is the Fox term for Peoria.

lklhali.

2. WApasaiya. 1

A^klcigitc', nayap ahatc osegk Krpdniwawaneskahitc',

1 In this version White-Robe is spoken of as wayward when yet a child. He is given supernatural origin, and in order that he might be of a better nature he was made to be born again. He is as wilful as ever, and when rebuked by his supernatural father becomes overweening. He shocks his people by slaying visiting strangers and giving their bodies to the dogs to eat. His conduct brings on an attack against the Foxes by various peoples who are helped by the French. A conjurer causes the snow to fall and the enemy to sleep, and this helps some of the Foxes to escape. White-Robe is captured by the Peorias, who feed him on his own flesh, and when burned at the stake he foretells the doom of the Peorias. Wapatold. So wherever there was flesh upon him in turn was it sliced away and roasted for him. His own flesh (thus) he ate. After all his flesh had been carved away from him, then his bones were set on fire. When they were nearly all burned up, then an old man of the Fire-Nation, “White-Robe, you shall burn together with your town,” he said.

“Oh, no, it is with your town that I shall burn,” came forth words from the bones of White-Robe.

Then was the old man of the Fire-Nation by his people nearly clubbed to death; for within the course of two years the people of the Fire-Nation were all slain by the Red-Earths.

2. White-Robe.1

Well, it was common for him to make the boys cry while he was yet a small boy. A supernatural child was TcaginAtowa. Off over in this direction was he reared, there where the Mississippi joins with another stream. A lodge was there, it was a manitou lodge, a sort of council house, and there the supernatural beings held council.

When he was grown, back he went to his father. He had done with his evil ways, and what joy his father felt at gazing upon him ! In this place was a Red-Earth town.

He then was taught by his father how he should do, by his father who lived on high ; he was told to go and fetch other people, four times he should go after them ; that he should sit on high so that he might render the town secure from plague or misfortune.2

saiy*, “White-Robe;” the name refers to the fur or robe of the white fox, and is a name peculiar to the Fox clan.

2 WlwicikeskAg1, “he renders it hard, solid, or firm by tramping or walking or stepping upon it;” an idiomatic use of the phrase as here refers to the security which a man endued with the power of mystery gives to a place by his presence there; hence the translation, “that he might render the town secure from plague and misfortune.” 2 — PUBL. AMER. ETHN. SOC. VOL. I.

Then it was that he came back home, to a dwelling he came, he came to a lodge made of flag-reed and with a bearskin curtain over the entry-way. He went inside, and at the rear of the lodge there he seated himself down. Then was the time that this one passed into the womb of a woman. Later on was he was born again. All the while was he conscious of things. He was looked upon with much concern. There was a great opening. He looked round about, here and there. Even at that time was he with teeth.

And then he was given a name. “Tcagacti*, shall he be called”, they said. Indeed while he was yet a boy never did he blacken his face and fast. He was a very wicked (child). Then he grew up without ever joining the company of a party off for war. But late in life he went along with a party off to a war. At a place off there were they come where they rushed to an attack against the foe. It was there that he slew an enemy. On their return they had a great time dancing. It was then found that he should have another name. “White-Robe shall his name be,” they said.

Oh, but that night was he bitterly rebuked by his father, by the great manitou, by the one yonder who dwells afar on high.

That was how he became demoralized in his heart. He went counter to what he had been taught earlier in life and began to act quite in another way. Then no longer did he heed what he had been told by his father. On every occasion he accompanied them that went away to war, and he made a killing every time that they went to an attack against the enemy. Many a time he slew an enemy.

By and by the word was given him to become chief. “Not yet,” he said. And in a little while he became the

' AmcHegoci'”, “Frenchman,” the singular used for the plural.

main object of all the talk, and that was because he was of supernatural nature.

Eight was the number of his friends. Continually they urged upon him that he should be chief. Now at this time came some travellers, and these he slew. “I shall be chief and do this also,” he said.

And then the Red-Earths became afraid • they were not able to make him a peaceful (man). And then there came a Frenchman.1 “Now how many osier stems are you going to set up?” he said to White-Robe.

“It is rather your place to state the number you would have set up,” he said to the Frenchman. “It is you who comes to me with the proposal,” he said to the Frenchman; “and it is up to you to make the offer.”

“Very well, then let it be four.”

“Oh, indeed! and so that is the number? I will go it better and set up eight. And then I would have you set the time as to when we shall begin shooting at each other.”

“Well, make it to-morrow at noon.”

And so on the morrow at noon did they begin shooting at each other. Only once did the French fire their guns, and then they were all slain. One was taken captive. “ More of you should come,” he was told ; “ for not yet have all the young men had the chance to prove themselves warriors.” Such was what the captured Frenchman was told. “I would have you convey the message that more of you should come.”

He delivered the message when he got there. “Behold, the word is sent that many of you must go over there.” Such was what he told his comrades. “As for myself, as soon as I have finished my message, then in that same instant, so it is said, I shall die.” Thus did he speak, and then verily did he die.

And when the French came, then they went to fighting. They were recognized when coming while yet a great way off. The Red-Earths withdrew to a place where (the French) would come, and there they went in ambush to await their coming. All they did was merely to look at (the French) from the place towards which they were bound. Oh, how the Red-Earths rushed to the attack against them, they slew them all without a single one of themselves being wounded. “This is the way you should do,” White-Robe was told. “Oh, of a truth, I must have greatly erred. Never again shall I err, if ever they come against us. Our fight against them is now at an end.”

Never again did the French come; but rather among other people did they go, inciting them and furnishing them with fire-arms. And then came these other people against them, the people that had been enlisted. As they came, “Oh, the people are coming!” the Red-Earths said among themselves.

Verily they all came, they of every language. “They come to attack you ! They intend to slay you all ! Be brave!” And then, oh, on the morrow there was only people to be seen as far as the Red-Earths could look. Then was when they began fighting with each other. It was along about the ripening season when this took place, when they began fighting. Nowhere at all was it possible for the Red-Earths to go. Their only place of going was into the fight against the foe. “Get ready to leave! You shall all surely be slain, if you do not go out!”

Now there was a certain Red-Earth (and) he was a good marksman. Every time that he shot, he killed some one. Whenever one of the enemy whooped by way of giving command, him he shot. In the centre of the forehead did the arrow go. He kept right on killing them all the time. Then the enemy was afraid to whoop and give commands.

ahinetc uskinawala.

As for White-Robe, he went to the attack again and again with his comrades, and over and over did they sally forth from the stronghold. And as for the people of the other side, their bodies lay scattered along the path where rushed White-Robe and his friends.

It so happened that a Peoria blackened his face and fasted. He was a young man, and he dreamed that he could capture White-Robe. “I dreamed about him, he said to his father.

“Very well, let us look into it,” said the old man. And so they set others to work fixing up a drum ; and when the work was done, “Now then,” the young man was told.

Thereupon he drew a picture of White-Robe. And after the picture was drawn he dealt it a blow to see if (the head of) the drum would burst. Once more was the drum tightened ; once more was the picture drawn ; and once more was the drum struck. But it did not burst.

“Why, you are telling the truth!” said the old man to his son. Then was he big with the feeling of pride. In the morning went they thither to capture White-Robe.

As for White-Robe himself, lo ! all at once he began to grow weary of the fight. Thus far did the fight go well with the Red-Earths, so well that the enemy was not able to make headway. Then affairs took another turn. Something was the matter with him why he was weary. It was hard for his friends to persuade him to keep up courage as they went to the attack. He broke bow after bow to show that he was no longer willing to fight and that he was tired. Then one other bow was given him. When he broke that, then was he given a rebuke: “Why do you

give up the fight now! You forget that you are the cause of all this. You forget that you brought on this war.”

He did not listen to them. Many were the bows he broke, all that were given to him.

“Kacina, Inikwlyena?” ahinetc'.

Then came the Peoria, the young man that had fasted. True enough did he capture White-Robe, and one of White-Robe’s friends did he also capture. They were bound with cords. And then they were carried away, he and his friend went bound together. When they were come into the town of the Peorias, then was White-Robe asked, “Well, White-Robe, are you hungry?”

“Yes.”

“All right then, you shall eat. Pray, what part of game-food do you prefer?”

“Why, off the rump.”

And so it was cut off from where he wanted, it was taken and roasted for him. When it was done cooking, then was it brought to him. Whereupon he ate it.

“Well, is that a plenty?” he was told.

“That is enough,” said White-Robe. “A very delightful fill have I inside.”

Thereupon was he fetched to a place farther on, and there questions were put to him: “Pray, who was it that

slew our chief some time ago?” said a Peoria. “It was in the last fight that we had with each other, there in the very last one, then was the time that somebody slew him. But for that, he would have become the chief.”

“Why, it was my friend here who slew him. Oh, but it was a fair sight to behold ! Truly did it seem as if he were making puppies yelp as he cracked away upon the /heads of the Peorias.” So said White-Robe.

“Is it true?” said the Peoria.

“Yes,” said White-Robe.

Then a rush was made upon (the man). A Peoria bound him all the tighter. Then with axe-bladed pipes was he struck on the head. But the things crumbled at the blow.

And then the old Peoria went to look at him who was being hit. As he looked at the man, alas ! and it was

his son! He went up to where he was. “Hold!” he said to the Peorias ; “you are hurting my son!” Then they untied him (and) took him home. As they went in, two women were seated there. “Here in between sit you down,” he was told. And so he had two wives. They cooked for him, and the food was delicious that they cooked for him. His very look was the same as that of the Peoria chief. And so he married two Peoria women ; he had two wives at the same time • and he became a chief.

And as for White-Robe, they took him to a tree, to a hickory-tree. And they tied him fast to it. “And you are only hungry?” he was told.

“That is all.”

Thereupon (his flesh) was cut from him, first from his hip, and he ate it all ; then off the calves of the legs, that too did he eat up ; then of the biceps ; then the flesh of the elbows to the wrist ; then of the belly ; then of the loins ; then of the cheeks ; then the ears ; then the nose ; then his entrails were taken out ; so was also the liver which was roasted for him ; he simply went on eating when his entrails were taken out ; it was his own flesh ; then he ate up his heart •, and he ate all his tongue, and he ate up the flesh about his mouth. Only the bones were left bound to the tree.

Thereupon they went after mats made of flag-reed that they might wrap the bones up in. The Peorias assembled together and looked upon White-Robe’s skeleton.

“Speak to it,” they said to the old man.

He went over there and said, “Well, White-Robe.”

“What (is it)?”

“Why, you shall be burned, and with you your town.”

“Oh, no,” said White-Robe. “I shall burn, and with me you and your towns one after another.”

Then the tree wheeled round.

1 This is only a fragment of a well-known story prevalent among Southern Algonkins.

2 Much of the bitter feeling existing between the Foxes and the Sauks goes back to the time when their reservation in Kansas was sold. The Sauks have always derived more benefit from the sale, and naturally it has made the Foxes ugly. This is the Fox statement of the case told simply, clearly, and to the point.

And then some one pushed the old man ; he rose to his feet, and once more he was pushed. Nearly was he killed. And then White-Robe was burned, he was burned all up.

3. They that sulked on account of the Bear-Foot.1

It is said that once on a time long ago some youths of the Red-Earths went off on a hunt for game, they went (to a place) where they were to spend the night out. A bear they slew (there). Then it is said that some boiled the bear’s foot 5 and after they had finished cooking it, then they ate it up. And when they that were absent came back, lo, by that time must the others have eaten up all of the bear’s foot.

Then they (that came last) sulked (and) separated (from the others). They truly are they who are called Thosethat-sulked-on-Account-of-the-Bear’s-Foot. Stories are told about them ; it is said that they are now on the other side of the divide which forms the source of the Big- River. They are the Bear-Foot-Sulkers.

4. The Sale of the Land in Kansas.2

At the time when the land in Kansas was sold, William ’’ was then the trader. This is what he said to the chiefs and councilmen at the time: “Have a talk with the Commissioner and say to him that you would like the Govern- ment 3 4 to replace at your credit as much money as he r’ has misspent in the building of houses for you ; that the

3 WlyAm', “William the reference is to William Whistler, who was the post trader among the Indians at the time.

4 Matasopit*, literally “ten sitter,” probably meant for the President with his Cabinet and other advisers; it is the collective term for the Government.

The Government is referred to in the animate form of the singular.

sopita.”

i NeswasepAn®, “three raccoon j” the skin of one raccoon fetched twenty-five cents at the trader’s store, and one raccoon-skin became the term for one fourth of a dollar. The name of raccoon took on an inanimate and an adverbial ending.

houses were to have been building during a period of ten years, and that they were to have been built for you according to the place where and to the time when you wanted them ; that the period was but two years between the time when the builder began work on the houses for you and the time when he had them completed ; that there are now a great many of these houses ; that the land is by no means fertile where the houses were put up ; that therefore you want the Government to pay you back that money.” Thus were they told by William.

They then told the Commissioner: “The houses which

the Government built for us were not made according as we wanted them. A great deal of our money has been wasted by the Government.”

“Very well, then!” said the Commissioner. “The Government shall pay you back ; not, however, shall he pay you back in cash. For if he should pay you cash, you might give it all to the trader. Now, to the end that you may derive real benefit from it and that you may always have it for a home, land shall he given to you by your father the Government. The full amount whatever the sum which was expended in the building of houses for you shall be used in the purchase of whatsoever Cherokee land you might select. Seventy-five cents 1 will be the price (of one acre) ; hence not a great deal (of land) can be purchased; it will be a small tract. But should you desire land in the Creek country ; 2 the price there will be only three bits 3 an acre ; 4 that will be an extensive tract.’ Thus were they told by the Commissioner.

Such were the facts in the case when the Sauks pur-

2 Creeks, a curious figure of speech by which the plural form referring to the Creeks as a whole is used to express the country they live in.

3 Neswibit', “three bits,” three shillings; -bit' is taken from English.

3 — PUm,. AMER. ETHN. SOC. VOL. I.

1 This brief narrative illustrates the characteristic temper of the Foxes, and shows how feeble was the political bond between them and the Sauks. The incident is in sharp contrast to what happened among the Sauks when Keokuk was made chief by a Government officer under much the same circumstances. In the case of the Sauks there was acquiescence, while in that of the Foxes it was just the contrary.

2 AsaglwAg*, “they that came forth, or out into the open;” the reference is to their origin when they came from under the water.

3 Pecicimon” was one of the leading Foxes to go to the help of Tecumthe with

a big following of warriors.

• TciguskAg", “sweep with the foot,” referring to the entrance of the den of a

fox; he was of the Fox Clan.

chased their land. The land was owned in common, it was owned by both the Red-Earths and the Sauks. The Sauks do not possess the land themselves alone.

5. Why the Red-Earti-is went away to Iowa.1

In Kansas at the time were living the Sauks 3 and Red- Earths. There was a town Bone-Place by name, and the chief was called Peclcimon1 ; :1 it so happened that he died.

Whereupon Sweep-with-the-Foot 4 was sent for (to come home) from the country of the Missouri Sauks,5 for he was wanted to take the place of Pecicimon1. Then he became chief.0

Soon afterwards and of a sudden the white people began fighting with one another. It was then about this time during the occasion of a payment of money that an enrolment was taken of (all those people) who desired to hold lands in severalty.7 It so happened that MAmlnwanigaa 8 was not willing that the people should take up their land in severalty. Therefore he did not touch the tip of the quill.9

“ MAmInwanigaa, you shall no longer be chief,” he was told, by the x^gent 10 was he told. “Sweep-with-the-Foot from this time on shall be the Red-Earth chief. The money that was yours shall now begin to be his, four hundred dollars is the amount of the money.”

5 NimahahAg1 is the name applied to the Missouri River Sauks, and Ntmahahinag' is the term for Nebraska.

6 Made chief by the agent because he would likely be an easier man to handle than the one who came in by right of tribal custom.

1 As a matter of fact, this was but a ruse on the part of certain white men to get control of the land which the Indians were then holding.

8 Mamin waniga", the Fox chief by right of clan (bear) and tribal custom.

9 A'pwawisAgAna^kenigatc1, “he did not touch the top,” referring to the tip of the quill pen, and thus letting his name go down on the paper as a sign of his approval.

i° Wayosa”, “he who is father,” term applied to the Indian Agent.

1 Nagutusigivvag1, “at the place of the one backbone,” the name given to Iowa

River, which in turn is a name for all Iowa.

“All right, so let it be,” said MAminwanigaa.

Such was the way that Sweep-with-the-Foot became the Red-Earth chief. In that same autumn MAmTnwanigaa went away to the Single-Backbone-Country.1 By nearly all the Red-Earths was he accompanied.

II. — MISCELLANEOUS MYTHS AND TRADITIONS.

1 A maiden lives alone in a secluded spot with a dog, and in time a puppy is bom to the pair. The mother betrays her shame of the offspring in the presence of a visitor, and for this reason is slain by the dog.

II. — MISCELLANEOUS MYTHS AND TRADITIONS.

i. The Woman and the Dog.1

They say that once on a time long ago there was a maiden who went far away from habitation, a long distance away she went. She took with her a dog. I he dog was black and he was big. Over there in a certain spot somewhere she set up a lodge. After she had finished the lodge, there in that place she abode. There she gave birth. After she had given birth, lo, she beheld a little puppy that she had borne ! And as for the old dog, the food-animals did he continue to kill, (and) always was he fetching them home. The woman was a long while abiding there.

Later on while a man was once on a hunt for game he saw the dwelling. “ I wonder who might be the dweller here?” thus was the thought in his heart. And so thither he went, and passed on into the dwelling. A woman he beheld living there! And also a little puppy he saw. When the puppy tried to run to its mother she flung it outside ; for the woman felt shame within her heart. After the man got no word from the woman, he then went out of the place and made for home.

After a while the old dog returned home from the hunt. Perhaps it was then that the puppy told its father: “Away from her did my mother cast me.”

Then by the dog was she attacked, she was bitten at the neck and choked. Then she was slain.

1 A youth endued with the mystery makes visit after visit to the people and each time carries away by force one or more of the maidens. The girls or their parents have no power within themselves to resist. The youth meets with resistance by running counter to another youth who is also endued with the mystery but in

2. The Youth that married Many Wives.1

Many were dwelling at the place, they were indeed a great many. Once on a time a youth came there •, he was a stranger and inquired after the young women, how many there were. After he was told the number of them, then he was asked why he desired to know. “Why, this is the reason. I’ve come for the purpose of getting brides for myself. That’s why I ask,” thus he said.

When night came on he went over to a place where a young woman lived. He entered (the lodge), and going to where (the maiden) was, “Well, I’ve come to take you away with me,” he said to her.

Without a word she speedily rose to her feet and went away with him. He fetched her to an abode in a place off there at a distance. And after he had fetched her there, he immediately went out of the lodge again.

He went to the place where another young woman lived. Coming to where she lay he woke her up. “Hey, I’ve come to take you away with me,” he said.

“All right,” she said to him; and willingly went she away with him. And so when they came, they were the second to arrive at that abode over there. He had now fetched two at the place.

Then he went away again. He went over to a place where another young woman lived. On his going in to where she was, the old man of the place rose to his feet. The youth paid no heed to the old man as he went up to where the maiden was and woke her from sleep.

She looked at him in a gentle kind of way.

a different way. They meet in a contest for the display of their power, and the youth who had carried away the maidens yields to the other. But the victor is not content with this; on reaching home he conjures up an affliction to fall upon his enemy and the beaten youth scratches himself to death.

kepyatcinanenc,” ahinatc'.

uj’yg come to take you away with me, he said to her.

The old man of the place, he who was father to the girl, said to the stranger, “Hold on, you shall not take her away !”

“Quite the contrary, I’ve come to take her away with me for the purpose of making her my wife.”

“You certainly shall not take her away,” said the old man. ■*.

“Now look here. I trust this will be the last time I shall need to speak about it.”

“It is quite certain that you shall not take her away.”

Thereupon the youth took hold of him by the elbow. The youth had on a bear-claw necklace, and for some such reason the old man became afraid. “Very well, you may wed her. Only it is my wish that you cherish her and be kind to her always.” So said the old man.

The youth made no reply. He took the maiden away. After fetching her to the place his wives were then three in all.

In the mean while the old man went from one place to another and told about (the youth). And when the people heard his tales, “Verily the youth is a danger to be feared,” they said among themselves.

During this time the youth had left his lodge again and started off to where another maiden lived. He entered the lodge, and going to where she lay, “Come, get yourself ready, for I’ve come to take you away with me,” he said to her.

She made no reply but did as she was bidden. When she got herself ready he then took her away. Arriving at the lodge where he lived he took her inside and led her where his other wives lay abed. “Abide in this place,” he told her. Then he went out again, going to where another young woman lived.

On his arrival there he entered the lodge. He went

nawawa.

to where she lay and gave her a nudge in the side. “Come, get yourself ready. I’ve come to take you away,

he said to her.

She speedily rose to her feet, and he took her away at once. When he had fetched her to the place over there he took her inside. “Abide you in this place,” he said to her also. And as soon as she had fixed for herself a place to lie down then out of the lodge he went again, to where another young woman lived he went.

So he entered another (lodge). The old woman was awake, she who was mother to the girl. The youth woke the maiden. “Up, I’ve come to take you away.” When he told her this, “Hold on, don’t you go with him!” the old woman said.

But in defiance of the old woman he started off with her daughter. And when the mother caught hold of the girl, “Come, let her go!” he said to her. But she was defiant and she clung to her daughter. “Listen, this is why I disregard you. I mean to wed your daughter no matter what you may say.” So said the youth.

The old woman had hold of him by the (long) claw necklace that hung about his neck, but she let go of him. “Very well, but depart in peace,” said the old woman, speaking to her daughter.

So (the girl) went away ; she was brought to that place over there, and led into the lodge.

Whereupon all of them then went out (of the lodge). (When they were gone) the youth then went out again, he came to where (a girl) was having love made to her by a great throng of young men. As he came up, “Why, halloo, how are you making it?” he said to them. “Its quite impossible,” he was told. “Well now, you just watch and catch on to the way I do it. I’ve come to go in unto this maiden.” So into the lodge he went.

Tnahinatc!.

f)

He entered just as she was on the point of kindling the fire, for early of a morning was she in the habit of rising. He touched her on the shoulder. Come, get yourself into your clothes,” he said to the maiden ; foi I ve come to take you away with me.” She left off kindling the fire and made ready herself, doing it with nevei a word of protest. And all the while peeping in from the outside were the youths who had been making love to her. So she came out (of the lodge) being led by the youth who carried her away.

When he brought her there at the place he kindled a great fire. He looked upon the girl he had brought, and, lo, she was surpassingly comely ! She made ready a pallet to lie on, and he slept with her there for a while. He felt of her with his hand for he desired to know how big she was at the vulva. And as he lay with her he found it hard to render the maiden possible, she who in a way was now already his bride. “You and I shall always be man and wife,” he said to her. . “But not so with these others •, they will be as servants who shall come and go at our bidding. And as for yourself you shall have nothing to do •, you are simply my wife, my only wife.” Thus he spoke to her. He thereupon slept with her with the full feeling that she was now his wife. At the coming of the dawn of day, “Wake up!” he said to his other wives. “I want you to kindle the fire, I want you to go to cooking.” In such wise he spoke to them.

They rose, they cooked. When they had finished the cooking then they all ate, himself and his wives.

As soon as (the women) had reached a sufficient number, (the women whom he up to this time had brought), “Come, go to building a lodge,” he once said to them. “Go to work on a dwelling that is long. But first go and get the flag-reeds.” Thus he said to them.

Accordingly they fetched the flag-reeds, a great deal they fetched. Then they went to work and built the long flag-reed lodge. When they had finished building, Now then, I want you to go and gather together whatsoever food we have to eat, and every thing else of its kind, and bring it all into the lodge.” dhus he said to them. Thereupon they set to work to do his bidding.

As for himself, he went away to where lived a young woman. On his arrival (at the lodge) he went inside. “Well, I’ve come to take you away,” he said to her. And without further ado he took her at once out (of the lodge) and carried her away. He fetched her to the long (lodge), and showed her the place where she should sit.

He did not remain there, but immediately went away. He came to a lodge and went within, for a maiden was there. He came no farther than the entry-way. As he stood there, “Well, I’ve come to take you away,” he said to her. She rose, and they went outside. “Now, let us go travelling along by this way. I want you to make it a point to tell me wherever the young women are.” Thus he said to her as they started away.

“Now, for instance, here’s a place where one lives,” he was told by his wife.

“Now, you stand outside,” he said to his wife. And so into the lodge he went. Once more he went no farther than the entry-way and stood. “Well, I’ve come to take you away,” he said to her. She rose, and they went out together. As they journeyed along he walked in between. Presently, “In yonder place lives another young woman,” said one of the maidens.

“Now that’s good, for I surely want you to tell me wherever all (the young women) are.” Thus he told his wives. “Now do you remain here without,” he said to them, “while I go inside.” So inside he went. But he

4— PUBL. AMER. ETHN. SOC. VOL. I.

went no farther than the entrance; (and)' standing there, “Well, I’ve come to take you away,” he said to the maiden. She rose, and they went out.

Now by this time the people began to be alarmed for that the carrying away of the maidens continued. But it seemed that they were as yet without power to help .themselves.

They set forth again on their journey, the youth and the maidens. Stopping out there on the road a ways they stood and called off to him the places where the young women lived. Soon upon their way they started again.

Once more he entered into another lodge, and standing there in the doorway, “Well, I’ve come to take you away,” he said to the maiden who was there. She prepared herself for the journey, then arose, and they both went out. By this time they were marching in line with the front extending. In such manner did they move across country as they went heading for another place where dwelt a young woman.

He entered into (the lodge). “I’ve come to take you away,” he said to the maiden (there). She rose, and they both went out. So once more they started off on a walk, marching in line with the front extending. They arrived at a dwelling where lived a young woman, and there they came to a standing halt. Rather, there were two young women at the place.

He went inside. Looking at the people there he asked, “ Pray, which are the young women ?”

“Why, if you wish to know, here is one, and there is another.”

“Ive come to take both of them away.”

They rose at once to their feet and out of the lodge they went.

They went journeying along, and out on the road yonder

a ways they all stopped. Thereupon one of the maidens said, “Now I am sure that at the place over there are very many young women. Six is the number of them. It is there our chief lives. Now three of the girls are his daughters, and three of them are not of his kin.”

On hearing this he went to the lodge ; and it was a great lodge. He passed inside, and standing there in the entry- way asked, “I want to know, which are your maidens ?”

Whereupon (the girls) were pointed out to him. Thereupon he said, “Well, I’ve come to take you all away.” And when all had risen he led them out of the lodge.

By this time the maidens were becoming numerous. As they travelled along they went heading for another lodge. When they were come, “Verily, there are three maidens at this place,” the youth was told.

Accordingly he entered (the lodge). Addressing the parents this said he to them, “Verily, I’ve come to take your maidens away.”

“Very well, you had better go along with him,” the young women were told. For the old folks had no power within themselves to refuse the youth.

As soon as the girls made themselves ready for the journey then all went out of the lodge and went together. When they were come a little farther on their way this said one of the maidens: “Now, truly, at the place over

there are two maidens, sisters they are ; but under close watch are they kept on top of the booth.”

Whereupon over there he went and entered within. Addressing the parents this said he to them: “Verily,

I’ve come to take your maidens away.”

“Well, you had better go along with him,” the girls were told.

So they came down off the booth, and joining the youth

went out of the lodge with him. As the young women now went starting off they were a great throng. On their way did they continue till they came here where another girl lived. This time the girl was standing outside, and they carried her away without any word or ado. “At yonder place are three more,” he was told. “Come let us thitherward,” he said ; and thither they made their way. When they were come at the place, he addressed the parents and this said he, “Well, I’ve come to take these girls away for I want to make those three my wives.”

It seemed as if the parents had no power within themselves and so they told their daughters: “What’s the use!

we are of no avail, so you may as well go with him.”

Therefore they made themselves ready and went along.

Finally there were two girls more left for him yet to carry away. On being told about them, “Come, let us go over (where they are),” he said. And when they were come at the place, he said to the parents, “Well, I’ve come to take these maidens away for I wish to make them my wives.”

“No, you shall not take them away,” said the old man.

“On the contrary, but I will take them away,” said the youth.

“No, you shall not carry them off,” said the old man. “ There are now already a great many of these whom you have in your company,” said the old man.

“I will carry them off, nevertheless,” said the youth.

“Except you slay me, then only will you carry away my daughters,” said the old man.

“Oh, I don’t mean to kill you.”

“Then, you shall not carry them off,” said the poor old man.

“Well, but I will take them away,” said the youth. Whereupon he began to conjure for manitou power to do

kago Inihiga'.

a wonder. Then as he sat there, lo, long became the nails on his fingers ! Then up he rose, and made foi the women. As he took hold of each by the arm, they screamed out, “ O father, speak to him no more ! Let him take us away!” said the women.

Accordingly the poor old man spoke to him no more. Then were (his daughters) carried off. They joined the company and went away. By and by they came to the place over there where they were to dwell, there where lived the other women who had built the lodge that was five fires long. They presented a long line as they went filing in, they passed round in a circle and seated themselves; they were just barely able to find sitting room. The number of them was fifty and three women and one man, and they were all his wives. He said to them, “Come, gather together the food, and let us eat!” Accordingly they gathered together the food ; and it was of all kinds.

(And the women) there were all beautiful. According as his wish he went in first unto one and then unto another. He was feared by them because he was by nature a manitou. To these about whom he was not the first to know, “I want you to do the work,” he said. And to the maiden whom he was the first to know, “And as for you, I don’t mean for you to work,” he said.

He spent all his time at coition and with commanding his wives to fetch this thing and that. While some went hunting for game others kept watch to see that they fetched home something. Whenever some came home fetching deer, “Go get the deer,” he would say to the others. Such was the manner of their life. And they sorely ill-treated the people.

Now there was a certain youth and he had a wife. They went to live afar off out of the way of people.

“Agwitca wihawanagwin’,” ahitc’ neniwa.

Nagwawatc’. Kicipyawatc uwlgewag’, “ Kanagwameg”,”

hiyowc m.\na.”

ga ‘aiyahiyak” !”

Once on a hunt for game he killed a deer. He carried the deer whole on his back. On his arrival at home he put down the burden at the doorway. “Take it inside,” he said to his wife. Accordingly she took it inside. Cut up its meat,” he said to her; “cut it all up.”

It so happened that the women who kept watch beheld the youth fetching home the deer. “He brought home a deer,” they said to their husband.

“Then go and take it away (from him),” said the man.

So they went to fetch (the deer). When they entered the lodge, “We have come to take this (deer) away,” they said.

“But I don’t want you to take it away,” said the man.

“There is a host of us to eat (the venison); that is why we have been away looking for it.”

“Why in the world doesn’t he go off on a hunt for deer? (He should hunt), for he is your husband. Now, leave the place !” Such was the way he spoke to them.

And they went. On their arrival at the home, “It’s quite impossible,” they said.

“Come,” he said to others; “you go this time and fetch the deer !”

Accordingly five women started away. “You must be sure to bring it,” he said to them. They arrived at the place just as the woman was finishing up the venison which she had boiling in a great kettle. “You are well aware of the fact,” they said ; “ that we have already made one trip for this (venison).”

“It’s idle to talk about it, for I would not give it to you,” said the man. “We ourselves shall need a good deal of it to eat. Now, begone!” said he to the women.

“Nay rather, but we are bound to take (the venison) with us,” said a woman.

“No,” said the man as he quickly grabbed for his bow. “Get moving out of here now!”

negwa.”

Whereupon they went. In great anger was the man by this time, and he frightened the women. On their arrival at the place where they lived, “Its no use, they

said. “Besides he is now angry.”

“It quite seems as if he has no fear of me,” said the man. “Come, convey this message to him!” he said to his wives. “Say to him that to-morrow at mid-day he and I shall fight against each other ; that it shall be necessary for him to get ready in advance.”

Accordingly the women conveyed the message to the man. So far as he was concerned, on hearing the news, he was not in the least disturbed about it. But yet he got a scolding from his relatives. “Its no use. You and I are the ones to eat (the venison), but no one else,” so he said to his kindred. One other attempt was made by the chiefs to persuade him from going to the fight. “ It s no use. You and I are the only ones to eat (the venison).” Thus he said to them. Thereupon he was no longer bothered with advice.

As soon as the venison was done cooking then an invitation was extended to all, everybody asking every one else. And when many were gathered together, the youth said to them, “Oh, it was only on account of the fact that he used us so ill why I did not give him (the venison). And it is that you and I may eat it ourselves why we have this day invited one another. My only wish is that you and I alone shall eat it.”

Accordingly did they eat. But all the while were the chiefs afraid. When they had finished eating, “Verily, what are you going to do?” they said to the man.

“Nothing at all. He can do with me just as he pleases.”

Now was when the people really became alarmed. When it came night a great many did not sleep ; for they were

nagwayag\ve Inug‘.”

not sure what he might do to them. In the morning (the people) made many a visit to take a look at him. He was so little, and his bodily build was so small.

At noon came the manitou. “ Well, I should think that by this time you would be quite prepared,” said the manitou.

And the other, “I really haven’t prepared for anything.”

So with no further words with each other they went off to a place where there was a meadow. On coming there, “Yonder is your place,” the smaller one was told. The side chosen for him lay toward the going-down of the sun.

“Over there is where I am, there on the side where the sun rises.”

Soon were they seated facing each other. As soon as the manitou got to conjuring for a miracle then was the earth rent asunder and up it blew.

And when the other got to conjuring with his manitou power then soon he had hold of trees and was pulling them up by the roots.

Whereupon the manitou did something else 5 and again was the earth rent asunder and it blew into the air. At the end of his miracle he went up into the air and sat perched twice as high as the trees.

Then the other again got to conjuring for his supernatural power •, and at the end of his miracle, up into the air he went and sat halfway up in the sky.

Then the manitou became afraid. “Now, it is only to have the people know who we are that we have done this thing. It surely is quite impossible that another in human form should dare do us injury ; no other in human form could prevail over us even though one should make the attempt upon us. We shall even interfere with the affairs of our chiefs. Verily, it is well that we should now depart.”

“In'* ac‘.”

1 Meaning the manitou that has been doing the people so much harm.

Accordingly they departed and came back to their homes. As soon as the youth was come at his home, “I say,” he said to his wife; “I haven’t given him up yet. I surely have got to kill him. Come, seek for (the lice) on my head,” he said to his wife. Taking a leaf and spreading it out, he said, “I would have you let them fall upon this in case you happen to find them.”

So the woman looked for (the lice) here on his head. “Oh, here's one!” she said.

“Drop it there on the leaf,” he said.

“And here’s another!”

“Put it there.”

“Here’s another, and here’s another!”

“Now’s the time when this manitou of yours1 shall die,” he said. So taking the lice and giving them a fling, “His navel !” he said.

At that same instant the other began to itch. He scratched himself and kept a-scratching. At last he called to his wives and examined these that were long at the nails (of the fingers). By them was he scratched as he lay on his back. He lay with his head supported by two of his wives. At each foot were two more of his wives and they kept his feet warm. He was scratched by six of them all night long. When it was nearly morning he seated one upon the end of his penis. As soon as he was done with one then he seated another thereon. He began to realize by this time that his strength was failing him. But yet as fast as he was done with one he seated another there. And then he began to put them on two at a time, and all the while feeling them over with his hands. And when he had finished with them, “Now, go and begone !” he said to them.

As he started to rise from his bed he still kept on

5 — PUBL. AMER. ETHN. SOC. VOL. I.

1 The name of the story is attributed to the Ojibwas only in jest. It tells of

a maiden wooed by a man whom she loathed. She is finally won with the help of her parents and through a trick. But she discards the man the instant she learns that he had deceived her.

scratching himself, keeping it up till he got to teaiing off the skin. Slowly he began to let the skin fall from his hands, letting it fall now on this side and now on that. At last he began now to rip it off from about the belly, until in the end he got to pulling out his entrails. The last thing he did was to pull out his heart; whereupon he reeled and fell.

Now about the other man. He happened to go over that way. As he looked at the manitou lying there on the ground, “Pray, what has happened to this fellow? Somebody must have killed him !” he said.

“There wasn’t anything the matter with him. He just simply killed his own self.”

“VVell, anyhow, you had better carry your possessions out of the place.”

So they carried out the things they owned. As soon as they had finished carrying them out, then the man took in some twigs. . When he was done carrying them in, then he set the lodge on fire. Thus was the manitou burned up, he and the lodge together.

That is the end (of the story).

3. An Ojibwa Maiden offered a Prayer to the Bull-Frogs, ASKING THAT AN UgLY-LoOKING Man SHOULD DIE.1

It is said that once on a time long ago some Ojibwas went to a far-off region, where they spent the time camping, first in one place and then in another. A maiden who went along with them was their daughter. Living with them was a man who had a forbidding look, and their daughter loathed him on that account. The reason they had for camping about in a far-off place was the hope that (the girl) would in time come to love (the man) ; such at least was the feeling in their hearts about their daughter.

wesinitc'.

Tutuwe, nepetce ineniwa, wltcihiyameta. Neneskinawawa palkamyaneslhitc‘.”

For (the man) truly had wonderful knack at easily getting game.

So once, as the story goes, “You had better tell the girl something that will give her a scare,” said the old folks to the man. They were then dwelling where near by was a lake ; and in the lake was their daughter often in the habit of going to bathe, at evening time was she wont to go and swim.

The story goes on to say that the man went to the lake and hid himself under a leaf in the water. He lay in the water under a lily-leaf and rested there with only his mouth barely above the surface. There he remained until by and by along came the maiden. She straightway began to take off all her clothes. For a little while she stood at the edge of the water in only her naked figure. Slowly she waded out into the water, up to her waist she waded. And then she began to pat the water with the palms of her hands, saying in a girlish voice : “O bull-frog, O bull-frog! I pray the man may die, the man who is stopping with us. I loathe him for that he is so ugly to look upon.”

The man made answer with the deep voice of a bull-frog : “Nay, rather, but you shall die for that you loathe him.”

The maiden leaped with startled surprise, clasping both of her breasts in her hands.

“Nay rather, but you shall die for that you despise him,” (again) came the sound of the deep-voiced manitou from beneath the water.

The maiden flew out of the water, snatching up her clothes as she ran and took to flight.

After she was gone then the man went away. On his return home he shot and killed a deer. When he was come, lo, the maiden greeted him with a smile. For that matter, never did he look her way but what she would

sawa !” ahitc'.

1 This myth attempts to account for some of the stars in the sky, and to explain the cause of the change of color of the leaves in autumn. It tells of three Red- Earth hunters and a puppy in pursuit of a bear from the earth into the northern sky, where they may all be seen in the stars of the Great Dipper. The pursuit is

smile back at him ! And she grew vivacious, being filled with the sense of deep joy. And she gave him food to eat.

Whereupon the girl was told by her mother : - “ Oh, my dear daughter, do take to yourself a husband.

“I will, mother,” said the maiden.

So the man married the girl. Story has it that later on, after they had had two children, the man once said to his wife: “So you once prayed to the bull-frogs, asking

that I should die ! Ha ha ha !”

“What! was this the old rascal!” said his wife. Whereupon she promptly cast him off, and she no longer had him for her husband.

4. They that chase after the Bear.1

It is said that once on a time long ago in the winter, at the beginning of the season of snow after the first fall of snow, three men went on a hunt for game early on a morning. Upon a hillside into a place where the bush was thick a bear they trailed. One of the men went in following the trail of the bear. And then he started it up running. “Towards the place whence comes the cold is he speeding away !” he said to his companions.

He that headed off on the side which lay towards the source of the cold, “In the direction of the place of the noonday sky is he running !” he said.

And then again he that stood guard on the side of the way towards the noonday sky, “Towards the place of the going-down of the sun is he running !” he said.

Back and forth amongst themselves they kept (the bear) fleeing. They say that after a while he that was coming

never-ending. Every fall the hunters overtake the bear and slay it, and its blood reddens the leaves of the oak and sumach boughs upon which it is butchered. The oak and the sumach are symbolic of trees and plants on earth.

1 MeTegumic, “wood-plant.” The idea associated with the name is that the oak is typical of trees in general.

up behind chanced to look down at the ground. Behold, green was the surface of the earth lying face up ! Now of a truth up (into the sky) were they conveyed by the bear ! When round about the bush they were chasing it then truly was the time that up (into the sky) they went. And then he that came up behind cried out to him that was next ahead: “O River-that-joins- Another, let us go back! We are being carried up (into the sky) !” Thus said he to River-that-joins- Another. But by him was he not heeded.

Now River-that-joins- An other was he who ran in between (the two), and little (puppy) Hold-Tight he had for a pet.

In the autumn they overtook the bear ; then they slew it. After they had slain it, then boughs of the oak1 they cut, likewise boughs of the sumach ; 2 then laying the bear on top (of the leaves) they flayed and cut up the bear • after they had flayed and cut it up, then they began flinging and scattering the meat in every direction. Towards the place of the coming of the morning they flung the head • in the winter-time when the morning is about to appear some stars usually rise ; it is said that (they came from) the head of the bear. And also his backbone, towards the place of the morning they flung it too. They too are commonly seen in the winter-time ; they are stars that lie huddled close together ; it is said that (they came from) the backbone.

And they say that these four stars in the lead were the bear, and the three stars at the rear were they who were chasing after the bear. In between two of them is a tiny little star, it hangs near by another ; they say that it was the puppy, the pet Hold-Tight of River-that-joins-Another.

Every autumn the oaks and sumachs redden in the

2 Ma‘komic, “bear-plant.” The sumach gets its name from the berries which the bear is fond of eating.

nemahumetcapc Apenoha''.

nlnan acawiyage watclyan',” ahitc'. Inawapinicawinitc acike-

1 This account of the visit of the Red-Earth among the pygmies is only a fragent of an interesting tale. Only a bare mention is here given of the use he was

leaf because it is then that the hunters lay the bear on top of the leaves and flay and cut it up ; then red with blood become the leaves. Such is the reason why every autumn red become the leaves of the oaks and sumachs.

That is the end (of the story).

5. The People-of-a-Far-off-Country.1

Once on a time a Red-Earth went on a distant journey, and in time came to a place where the far-away-folk were dwelling in a town. Many days tarried he there among them, and he went about observing the various things they did ; they did things very strange, so it seemed to him in his heart. For instance, they cut open their wives at the belly when it was time for the women to be delivered of child. For it was their custom to cut women open at the belly whenever their time was come to be delivered ; that was their manner of removing the babes from out of the women.

Fie was once stopping at an abode where the woman was on the point of being delivered. In accord with the strict observance of their custom, the people began to make preparations for cutting open her belly. “Let me minister to her,” he said to them. As a matter of fact they were quite willing. So he had her sit in a kneeling position. In that way he had her give birth (to her child) •, she was delivered with ease-, it was a better way. “Such is the way we do among ourselves in the place from whence I come,” he said to them. And so they began to follow the custom taught them by the Red-Earth ; and they ceased from cutting open their women at the belly.

Now these people-of-a-distant-land are a wee tiny folk.

to them, such as how he taught them some natural functions, and how he saved them from their enemies, the geese, cranes, and brants.

(The people) have always told about them as having a home somewhere in a certain place on earth ; and that their dwellings wherever they may be are tiny little structures. It is said that they actually did not know how to eat before the travelling Red-Earth came among them. It is said that previously they were without ani. The Red- Earth was once seen by them easing himself. Whereupon, so it is said, they did the same as he ; they rose to their feet from a place where they had been squatting, and left something lying there on the ground. Whatever he was seen doing that very thing to a detail did they.

It is said that once while the Red-Earth was there among them a cry went forth: “Our enemies are coming!

Oh, they are drawing ever so nigh !” such was the cry. “Hide yourself!” he was told. Thereupon the peopleof-the-far-off-country started into battle. After awhile the man looked to see what manner of enemies they were, and behold ! they were birds that are ever flying about. He then cut a stick and dashed after them, using his club upon them as he passed in their midst. Presently he was recognized. “Halloo, there is that creature who is in the habit of eating us for food !” the (birds) said one to another. Thereupon up went flying geese, cranes, swans.

As many of them as he had killed he began to gather up. He started then to plucking out their feathers and to cutting open their bodies. “As for me and my people we are really in the habit of eating such as these for food,” so he told them.

I hat is all I remember of these far-away-folk and the story told of them.

Tnipi negutenw' amedaciwatc' waslmetltcig', Ini negu-

1 The Little-Crealures-of-Caprice figure prominenlly in a class of stories peculiarly their own, and unfortunately this brief episode of their catching the Sun in a snare is all that is taken down in the native text.

2 An interesting feature in the story of the red swan and the ten brothers is the presence of three well-known literary elements; viz., the trials of the youngestborn, the rolling skull, and the magic flight. The tale relates how the youngest- born, returning from the pursuit of a wounded red swan, brings home ten women, —

6. The Little-Creatures-of-Caprice ensnare the Sun.1

The Little-Creatures-of-Caprice were once travelling over the country when they came upon a hole that gleamed with a sheen of light inside. “Wonder whose hole this might be?” they said. “Come, let us set a trap for the creature !” they said. Thereupon one of the Little-Creatures-of- Caprice untied the cord from his bow, and making a noose he set it hanging over the place of the hole.

All of a sudden something alive was approaching on its way out. It was so big on its way out as to light up the path so bright that the Little-Creatures-of-Caprice were blinded in the eyes. Then one of them fetched the bowstring back with a jerk, and he had something alive tangled in the snare. At last upon the ground he flung it.

Whereupon they were addressed by the being: “If you

choke me to death forever will there be night!”

Why, lo and behold, it was the Sun! When they found out that he was the Sun, they then set him free from the snare. They let him continue forth on the way he had set out.

7. The Ten that were Brothers together.2

Now it is said that once on a time there were ten brothers, and that once the youngest went forth to hunt for game. To a lake he came, and it was full of swans that were afloat thereon ; and in the centre was one that

a wife for each of his brothers and himself; how later a reason is given by the eldest-born to put him to death; how the deed is accomplished; how, before the eldest-born has time to make the widow his wife, in rolls the skull of the murdered brother, which recites the preceding events up to the point where the eldest-born visits the couch of the widow, whereupon by the skull is he then eaten up ; how the same fate is dealt out to all the rest except the widow, who later, by the warning of a Chickadee, has to flee for her life.

wen‘, neguti wlgiyap apidigatc'. “Agwi meckwahaw" nawagwin'?” ahinatc Ini“.

Inina’’ pamisatc’.”

“Nlpik” netawatagwa,” ahinatc’.

was red. He shot at the red swan and hit it, but he only wounded it. And as it flew away, he kept his eye upon it, watching the course along which it went a-flying. Then he went home. When he was come at the place over there, “A red swan has carried away my arrow,” said he to his elder brothers. So in the morning he followed after the red swan to find it. When it was night he came to a town, and into a lodge he entered. “Did you not see a red swan ?” he said to them there.

“By this place it went flying past,” he was told. “Four times as high as the treetops was how high it went

flying past.”

“My arrow was it carrying away from me,” said he

to them.

“ Here in this place do you sleep,” he was told by the man who lived there. “Cook you for him,” thus called he (to the others).

After they had finished cooking the food for him then they gave it to him to eat. As soon as he was done eating, then (was he told) by the man who dwelt there, “There is my sister, lad, I would have you take her to wife.”

“When I am on my way back, then will I stop and take her away with me,” said he to him. In the morning

when he was done eating, then he set out. On the next

night came he to a town, and entered into a lodge. “Did you not see a red swan?” said he to them there.

“By this place it went flying past, a little more than three times as high as the treetops was how high it went flying past.”

“My arrow was it carrying away from me,” said he to them.

“In this place I want you to sleep,” he was told by the man who dwelt there. “Cook you for him,” was what he said (to the others).

6 — runr,. amer. etiin. soc. vol. i.

misatc'.”

“Nipik" netawatagw",” ahinatc'.

ahigutc'.

“Nipik" netawatagw",” ahinatc'.

After they had finished cooking the food for him, then they gave it to him to eat. When he was done eating, “There is my sister, lad, I would have ypu take her to wife,” was he told by the man who lived there.

“When I am on my way back, then will I stop and o-et her,” said he to him. In the morning after he was done eating, started he away. He followed after the swan to overtake it. When it was night, to another town he came; into a lodge he entered. “A red swan did you not see?” said he to them there.

“By this place it went flying past, three times as high as the treetops was how high it went flying by.”

“My arrow was it carrying away from me,” said he to them (there).

“In this place I would have you sleep,” was he told by the man who lived there. “Cook you for him,” thus called he (to the others).

They set to work cooking for him. When they had finished cooking for him, then they fed him. After he was done eating, then by the man was he told, “There is my sister, lad, I would have you take her to wife.”

“When I am on my return, then will I stop and take her away,” said he to him. In the morning when he had finished eating, then he set out on his journey, followingafter the swan to overtake it. When it was night, he came to another town ; and into a lodge he entered. “A red swan did you not see?” said he to them there.

“By this place it went flying past, a little more than twice as high as the treetops was how high it went flying by,” he was told.

“My arrow was it carrying away from me,” said he to them.

“In this place would I have you sleep,” was he told by the man who lived there. “Cook you for him,” was what he said (to the others).

When they had finished cooking for him, then they fed him. After he had eaten, then by the man was he told, “There is my sister whom I would have you take to wife, lad.”

“When I am on my way back, then will I stop and get her,” said he to him. In the morning after he had eaten, he started on his journey, following after the swan to overtake it. At night came he to another town, and into a lodge he entered. “A red swan have you not seen?” said he to them there.

“By this place it went flying past,” he was told. “Twice as high as the treetops was how high it went flying by,” he was told.

“My arrow was it carrying away from me,” he said to them.

“Here would I have you sleep,” he was told by the man who lived there. “Cook you for him,” was what he said (to the others).

After they had finished cooking for him, they fed him. When he had eaten, “My sister would I have you wed, lad,” was he told by the man.

“When I am on my way back, then will I stop and get her,” said he to him. In the morning after he had finished eating, then he set out, following after the swan to overtake it. At night came he again to another town, and into a lodge he entered. “A red swan did you not see?” said he to them there.

“By this place it went flying,” he was told. “As high as the treetops and half again was how high it went flying by.”

“My arrow was it carrying away from me,” said he to them.

“In this place would I have you sleep,” he was told by the man who lived there. “Cook you for him,” was what he said (to the others).

pamisatc'.”

When they had finished cooking for him, they fed him. After he had eaten, “My sister would I have you wed, lad,” was he told by the man who lived there.

“When I am on my way back, then will I stop and get her,” said he to him. In the morning after he had finished eating, then he set out, following after the swan to overtake it. At night he came to another town, and into a lodge he entered. “A red swan did you not see?” he said to them.

“By this place it went flying past, as high as the trees. “My arrow was it carrying away from me,” said he to them.

“In this place would I have you sleep, was he told by the man who dwelt there. “Cook you for him, was

what he said (to the others).

After they had cooked for him, then they fed him. When he was done eating, “My sister would I have you wed, lad,” he was told.

“When I am on my way back, then will I stop and a-et her,” said he to him. In the morning after he had eaten, then he set out, following after the swan to overtake it. At night he came to a town, and into a lodge he entered. “A red swan did you not see?” said he to them.

“ By this place it went flying,” he was told. “ Half as high as the trees was how high it went flying by.”

“ My arrow was it carrying away from me, said he to them.

“Here would I have you sleep,” was he told by the man who lived there. “Cook for him,” called he (to the others).

When they had cooked for him, then they fed him. After he had eaten, “My sister would I have you wed, lad,” was he told.

“When I am on my return, then will I stop and get her,” said he to him. In the morning after he had eaten,

“ Agwi nawagwin' meskwahaw" ?” ahinatc lni‘‘.

“Nlpik" netawatagw",” ahinatc'.

then he set out, following after the swan to overtake it. At night he came to a town, and into a lodge he entered. “A red swan did you not see?” saitf he (to them there).

“By this place it went flying past; as high as the top of the lodges was how high it went flying by,” he was told. “Here would I have you sleep,” was he told by the man who lived there. “Cook for him,” said he (the man to the others).

When they had cooked for him, then they fed him. After he was done eating, “There is my sister, lad, I would have you wed her.”

“When I am on my way back, then will I stop and get her,” said he to him. In the morning he set out, following after the swan to overtake it. At night he came to a town, and into a lodge he entered. “A red swan did you not see?” said he to them there.

“By this place it went flying past; half as high as the lodges was how high it went flying by.”

“ My arrow was it carrying away from me,” said he to them.

“In this place would I have you sleep,” was he told by the man who lived there. “Cook for him,” was what he said (to the others).

When they had cooked for him, then they fed him. After he had finished eating, “My sister, lad, would I have you wed,” was he told by the man who lived there.

“ When I am on my return, then will I stop and get her,” said he to him. In the morning after he was done eating, he then set out ; by mid-day he had overtaken the swan. Whereupon he turned back, and along the way he stopped, gathering up his wives. At a place halfway home he slept. And in the morning he continued stopping along the way to gather up his wives. From afar was he seen approaching, the sight of his return was caught by his elder brothers, he was coming at the head

1 Kepyatonepw" wlhu wiwiyagwig', literally “I have brought you the wherewith that you may wed.”

of his wives. As soon as he and his wives were come, “Oh my elder brothers!” said he to them; “I have brought you women whom you may wed.”1 So the one that had first been given to him, to the first-born did he fetch and give. Then one after the other in the order as they were given to him, gave he them to his elder brothers; and The last that had been given him did he keep for himself.

So then in the course of time the youngest-born went off on a hunt for game. After he was gone, then the eldest-born, “I say, I would that we slay our younger brother; for that after indulging himself to full satiety with the wives he has brought to us is the reason why we should kill him.”

All of them were agreed except one who was next of age (to the youngest-born) ; he did not speak. So in the morning the first-born, “Let us go on a hunt for game, said he to his younger brothers. “Let us go and spend the night,” said he to them.

So they went hunting. The first-born found a tree where raccoons had a home. “This is where we will kill our little brother,” was the feeling in his heart. Then to the place where they were camping went the first-born. After the arrival of all his younger brothers, “Raccoons have I found and the place where they dwell,” said he to his younger brothers. So in the morning went they over to the place where the raccoons were. When at the place they were come, then the first-born, “I am not good at climbing a tree, oh, my little brothers,” said he. And another, “Neither am I good at climbing a tree,” said he. And so one after another, “I am not good at climbing a tree,” said they (among themselves).

“So then I suppose I shall have to do the climbing,” said the youngest-born. After he had driven out the raccoons, then his elder brothers began shooting in a lively

ahigutc': —

1 Waguna11 pe'tenaw* ! “what matters (if you are) accidentally hit!” an adverbial phrase.

fashion at the raccoons. “Be careful lest by chance you

hit me,” said he to them. _ i

“What does it matter if we do hit you by chance.

he was told.

Then was he hit, and down (from the tree) he fell. Atter slaying their little brother, then they cut off his head, cut up his body, and roasted his flesh on the spit. As much of the flesh as was not roasted on the spit burned they up in the fire. Then they set out for home; on their arrival at the place over there where they lived, “Homeward comes our younger brother hunting for game on the way,” said they to their sister-in-law.

Time passed on into the night and he was not yet come, time went on till the morning and yet he had not come. Then the wife went forth to find him. At night she found where they had camped. The spits were yet standing in place •, one of them she pulled up ; and as she was thus about to eat, she was addressed by her husband, “Don’t eat of me,” she was told.

“Alas, and they must have slain him !” was the feeling in her heart. Weeping then went she home. By the time she was come at the place over there where they lived, it was night.

So then the first-born, “I myself will wed our sisterin-law,” said he to his younger brothers. Then along about the time when he meant to lie in the bed with his sister-in-law, a head came whirling into (the lodge). “Brother, let me recite you a tale,” was he told by the head : —

“Now there is a story that once on a time the youngest-born, when on a hunt for game, came to a lake where swans were afloat everywhere thereon, and in the middle a red swan he beheld. He shot (at the swan and) he hit it. But he only wounded it ; and so with his arrow

it then went flying away. Following after, he sought to overtake it. He came to a town and put up for the night there. A woman was given him there. And then he set out again ; to every town along the way he came, a woman was given him there; and it was kept up all the while till he overtook the red swan. Then he turned back, stopping along the way to get the women that had been given to him. When he returned to his home, then one by one gave he them to his elder brothers. Now it happened that the first-born became jealous. And during the absence of their little brother, the first-born then, ‘Let us slay our younger brother,’ said he to his younger brothers; ‘for that our younger brother did indulge himself to full satiety with these whom he has fetched to us is truly cause enough why we should kill him,’ so said the firstborn. So in the morning, ‘Let us go and sleep out over night,’ said he to his younger brothers. And then the first-born found a place where raccoons were. So then they stopped and made a camp. After all his younger brothers had come, ‘I have found a place where raccoons are,’ so said the first-born. And in the morning took he them to the place where the raccoons were. When they were come at the place, it was, ‘I am not good at climbing a tree, oh, my younger brothers!’ All of them were not good at climbing a tree. So then the youngest-born climbed up the tree and drove out the raccoons. As they began to shoot at the raccoons, ‘You might accidentally hit me,’ said the youngest-born. ‘What do we care if we do hit you!’ he was told. He was hit, and down (from the tree) he fell. After killing their younger brother, they then cut up his body, cut off his head, roasted his flesh on the spit, and what they did not roast on the spit they burned up in the fire. Then they went home. On their arrival at the place where they lived,

1 The subject changes from inanimate to animate.

‘On the way home does our little brother come a-hunting,’ said they to their sister-in-law. In the morning was the youngest-born sought for by his wife ; where they had camped she came, there at the roasting-spits that were yet standing in place. She was on the point of eating of the meat when she was addressed by her husband, ‘Do not eat of me,’ is what she was told. ‘Why, they must have killed him!’ was the feeling in her heart. She then. wept. Then she went away, and at the place where they lived was she come. When it was night, then the first-born, ‘I myself will wed the wife of our little brother,’ so said the first-born. Now that is the end of the story,” so was he told by the head. And then he was crunched and chewed up by it.

And then one after another he1 told the story to his elder brothers. And the one he had finished telling the story to, then that one would he eat up. After he had finished eating up all his elder brothers, he then next ate up all his sisters-in-law. But his own wife he did not eat. In the morning, “I say, old woman,” said he to his wife; “let us move the place of our camp,” said he to her. “Into your linden-bark bag put you me.”

So the woman set out with the bag on her back, the head she carried there on her back. Far away somewhere in a certain spot a tree was standing, and when near by she was passing, she noticed that the tree had been scratched by travel made up and down upon it. “Oh, dear me! would that I had the raccoons here to eat!” So felt she in her heart.

“Old woman, put the bag down from your back,” said he to his wife. 1 hen the head climbed hurriedly up the tree. The raccoons then came out, one after another they kept a-falling through the air.

7 — TOBL. AMER. ETHN. SOC. VOL. I.

1 Mahiy", “this creature” now absent; a vocative referring to the woman.

There the woman stopped and made camp. She fried the raccoons. Into bladders till they were filled she put the raccoon-oil.

Now it is said that once on a time a chickadee came and alighted near by. “The time is drawing nigh when your husband shall eat you. While he is on the hunt for game, then you had better flee for your life. In your flight you should take along the bladders. Every now and then you should spill and scatter the oil. For every time he comes to it he will stop and lap it up. To that distant mountain should you flee. Your brother in that place abides. ‘Oh, my brother, open and let me in, for now am I about to die!’ should you say to him,” so was she told by the chickadee.

In the morning while her husband was away on the hunt for game, she fled for her life, the bladders she took along-. Ever so often from one bladder at a time she

spilled and scattered the oil. On arriving at the mountain, “Oh, my brother, open and let me in, for now am I about to die !” she said.

Sure enough, the place flew open (and) in she fled. And it flew to after she was safe inside.

As for himself, the Little-Skull-Being, when he came home, what had become of his wife? “Confound you,1 now I will eat you !” he said. Then he went in pursuit of her. He came to the oil which she had spilled and scattered. “Confound that creature, she has wasted my oil !” Then he stopped and lapped it up. Then he went in pursuit of her again. As often as he came to the oil which she had spilled and scattered, always would he stop and lap it up. Finally he came to the mountain. “Open and let me in !” said he to the manitou dwelling there in the mountain. Again and again the head bumped against

1 This tale is interesting as another version of a similar story obtained by Schoolcraft among the Ojibwas. In this tale an elderly woman, becoming enamored of her son-in-law, causes her daughter to fall from a swing into the sea. There the daughter is seized by the son of the Great Lynx, the water-monster, who gives warning to let the woman go. The mother is slain by her son for desiring the

it. “Open and let me in, for my wife has run away from me !”

Thereupon the manitou to his pets, “Out and after it,

I want you to eat that head !”

Then out they went on the run. One swallowed it whole, but out at the anus it passed on through. Then the other swallowed it down whole, and also out at its anus it passed on through. As often as they swallowed it out at the anus would it always pass. At last one crunched it up in the mouth and swallowed it. And then it no longer came out.

That is the end (of the story).

8. An Old Woman falls in love with her Son-in-law,

AND FOR THAT REASON DROWNS HER DAUGHTER.1

There was once an old woman ; she lived with her two children and her son-in-law, with her daughter’s son, who was her o-randchild. The old woman once beheld the

nakedness of her son-in-law; it was when he stood bent over with his back towards her and cleaning his gun with water ; she saw that he was very big at the penis.

Now she was wont to carry her grandchild about on her back, and it was her custom to walk along the shore of the sea. Over at a certain place she had found where a rocky cliff slid straight down (into the sea). A grapevine hung down from the top of the cliff. She cut the vine and made (herself) a swing. Thereupon the old woman swung herself; verily she swung out over the sea and back again. “Now this is just the place where I will kill my

bed of her son-in-law, and the wife is rescued by the husband, who cuts the tail of the son of the Great Lynx, — the tail that was coiled about her legs. The Great Lynx then drives the son out of the sea, and he comes out upon the beach in the form of the common lynx.

inahigutc'.

1 Initial p in pecipeciw* is a change from m in meci (“large, big”); hence rneci (“big” or “great”) and peciwa (“lynx”).

daughter,” she thought in her heart. Whereupon the old woman went back home. When she arrived at the place where the family lived, she said to her daughter, “Oh, my dear daughter ! I have found something in a certain place yonder, (and) it is of great delight.”

“How quite like a baby this silly old woman behaves!” “But, oh, my dear daughter, it is really so delightful!” She kept on pestering her daughter till at last on the morrow she succeeded in persuading her to go to the place. When they arrived there she said to her, “This is the place, oh, my dear daughter, where it is so pleasant.” “How like a baby this silly old woman behaves!” so she was told by her daughter.

“Now, my dear daughter, I assure you it is very delightful. Just you watch me, my dear daughter.” Whereupon the old woman was the first to swing herself ; verily she sailed far out over the sea, and back again she came. “Now then, you next, my dear daughter.” (Thus) she said to her daughter. Accordingly her daughter then swung herself, far out over the sea she went a-swinging. The old woman then caused the vine to snap apart. So, far out there into the sea fell her daughter.

All of a sudden a Great Lynx1 caught her (as she fell). “I will have her as my own bride, oh, my younger brothers!” he said to his younger brothers.

“Oh, my dear son, let her go !” he was told by his father.

By his younger brothers was he also told the same thin or.

“Oh, I see! They want her themselves for a wife, that's the reason they tell me to let her go !”

Oh, my dear son ! they are manitous by nature, they who dwell as human beings on top of the earth.”

Oh, it is simply because this old fellow wants her himself for a bride that he is so persistent in urging me to let her go!” Such was the way he spoke to his father.

1 Medemo, “old woman”; a term commonly used by a man when referring to his wife: but it here refers to the grandmother of the child.

The old woman had cut a hickory-stick ; she sharpened it at the point, and then pierced it through the skin at the back of her neck. Then she twisted it so as to tio-hten her skin and make her face look smooth ; she

wanted to look exactly like her daughter. 1 hereupon she started on her way home, and in a little while she arrived there where the family lived.

The babe was crying, and had been doing so for a long time. “What must have befallen the old woman 1 that she does not return ? The child is lonesome for her ; that is the reason why it keeps crying.” So spoke the son-in-law. She 2 had stopped back there a ways to peel off bark. This she fetched, and tried to suckle (the child) with it ; but the child refused to suck.

As soon as night was come, she straightway went and fixed her bed. After her husband had grot into bed with her, he desired to pass his arm around her neck •, but she caught hold of him by the wrist and pushed his arm away. But after a while she fell asleep. Then the man slipped his arm around her neck without her knowing it ; but, lo ! he discovered the feel of a stick at her nape. He looked at the woman, and was amazed to find that it was his mother-in-law ! He rose from the bed, and as he rose he took up his child. He went to his brother-in-law and woke him up. “Oh, my little brother-in-law! I have a suspicion that this mother of yours has done some foul deed to your elder sister.”

The boy rose from his bed ; he took a stick of wood and went to where his mother lay ; he roused her from sleep and then clubbed her to death. In the morning the boy took a look at his little nephew. Then he walked out along the shore of the sea, shooting at birds. He took the brains of the birds that he hacf killed and yave

2 The child’s grandmother.

Onawapimaiyotc' kwiyasa® :

“Nemisawe, Nemisawe, Nemisawe!

“Agwi, nlhuwlwiguhi !” ahitc' pecipeciwa.

1 The sea is thrown into agitation because of the supernatural power of the song.

2 The sea-monster speaks.

them to his little nephew to eat. In a certain place over there by the shore of the sea he found (the place) where a grapevine swing had been cut away. Then came this feeling in his heart : “ I wonder if this can be the place

where she made away with my elder sister.” So the boy began to wail :

‘‘Oh my elder sister, oh my elder sister, oh my elder sister !

Oh, how this little nephew of mine pleads with me !

Towards the south does he ever keep turning his head, oh my elder sister !”

The boy gulped as he sobbed, and the waves of the sea began to roll.1

“Come, oh my dear son, do let her go!”2

“No, I tell you, I will make her my bride!” so said the Great Lynx.

By his father was he then told, “You will at least let her suckle her babe?”

“All right! (I will consent only to) let the baby suck, but to nothing else.”

Presently (the boy) saw his elder sister, he saw her emerge from the water and come towards him. She came to meet him, nigh to him she drew. “Give me the child, oh my little brother ! Let your little nephew suck,” so he was told by his elder sister. “Now, my little brother, I want your brother-in-law to sharpen a moose-antler, one that is in our father’s sacred bundle. Here at the joints (of my legs) is where I am bound! Oh, here is your little nephew!” Thus was he told by his elder sister as she went back out of sight into the water.

Back to his home the boy then went. When he arrived there, his little nephew was sound asleep. “Your little nephew is in deep sleep,” he was told by his brother-inlaw. “Yes, I gave him the brains of the chickadee to eat, that is the reason why he sleeps,” he thus said to his

netegwa nemisaa.”

10 “Nemisawe, Nemisawe, Nemisawe!

brother-in-law. “Now it is said that something lies in our father’s sacred bundle; that when you have taken it out

you shall sharpen the same.”

So all night long was heard the rasp of the file as the man worked sharpening the antler of the moose.

Not till in the morning did he say to his brother-inlaw, “It is in the water where my elder sister is. ‘Here at the joints (of my legs) is where I am bound, said my elder sister to me.”

Accordingly started they off on a walk along the shoie of the sea, they went till they came to the place where the elder sister was. Whereupon the boy began to wail:

“Oh my elder sister, oh my elder sister, oh my elder sistei !

Oh, how this little nephew of mine pleads with me !

Towards the south does he ever keep turning his head, oh my elder sister !

He gulped as he sobbed, and the waves of the sea began to roll.

Then again (up spoke) the Great Lynx, “Oh, my dear son, do let the woman go ! I tell you they are endowed with manitou power, they who dwell as human beings on top of the earth.”

“No, it is my purpose to make her my own wife,” said the Great Lynx.

“You would at least let the babe suck?” so said he to his son.

“Yes, (I’ll consent to let) the babe suck (but not to anything else).”

So the boy saw his sister again emerge from the sea; near the edge of the water she came to meet him. “Give me your little nephew, my dear younger brother!” he was told by his elder sister. Then the babe began to be suckled. And while it was being suckled, “Now is the time!” cried the woman. At that, the man

I TO

“Iyamahiya cegagwl,

Cegagwa anotawatc acinaganitc', inamaiyotc'.

1 This explanation of how the opossum came by its peculiar kind of tail is

ran to his wife. “Here at the joints (of my legs)!” the woman said. Lo ! when the man cut off a tail, the woman

leaped forth from the water.

Whereupon the Great Lynx returned to the family home

on the run, groaning with pain he went._

“‘They are possessed of manitou power, they who dwell as human beings on top of the earth,’ is what I told you before. Begone and out from here, and do not smear the home of my children with blood!”

So out went the Great Lynx-, he went running along the edge of the shore with his tail cut off and with a little fish in his mouth. By his father was he told: “‘Lynx,

they will call you, they who dwell as human beings on top of the earth. And they will not care to eat you for food,” so he was told by his father.

That is as far as (the story) goes.

9. An Opossum becomes disliked because of his Pretty Tail.1

An Opossum was once passing along when, lo ! he beheld a Skunk coming from yonder direction. Now this is the song he sang on the occasion :

“Oh, you Skunk over there,

You smell so strong that it hurts!”

When the Skunk heard the song of the other, then he wept. “Do you now in turn respond by saying something to me,” said the Opossum.

Whereupon the Skunk also sang, and this was the way he sang :

“O Opossum! a snake is following after you.

You had better look behind at your tail.”

the only example of the trivial anecdote taken down in text.

tcimuhene.”

wen' kago;i krkanawipena.”

1 Kaganwikaca1*, “one with long claws.”

2 The grizzly bear, holding the skunk with contempt, thinks to frighten it by the

The Opossum looked at his tail, and lo ! sure enough, there was the tail of a snake. Thereupon he started to run, running away at the top of his speed. And as often as he looked back, there was always the snake keeping right after him. After a while he no longer saw (the snake). But that was after he had worn out his tail in the running, the tail that was once as pretty as silver.

That is as far as the little story goes.

io. The Grizzly1 and the Skunk.2

Once on a time a Grizzly and a Skunk met with each other. As the one was eyeing the other, the Skunk saw that the Grizzly’s claws were long. “Pray, what do you expect to do with these things ?” he asked of the Grizzly.

“Why, many and many a thing; very much endued with supernatural power they are.”

“Oh, indeed! You know I myself entertain a feelinglike that in my heart, too. You might as well let me tell you about it.”

“Very well, go on and tell about it.”

“Oh, I will inform you all right enough,” said the Skunk. “You know the same thing is the matter with me. Why, my buttocks are also endued with supernatural power.”

“Ah! then let us look at what the other can do,” said the Grizzly; “and thus judge which speaks with more of the truth.”

“The occasion is perhaps as fitting now as any other,” said the Skunk; “so let us now fix ourselves in position. At a distance of five paces let us stand off from each other, and let us have four trials with something to say.”

mere show of force, but in turn is given an impressive example of what the little animal can do, thus causing the grizzly to regard the skunk in very high esteem. 8 — PUBL. AMER. ETHN. SOC. VOL. I.

naw‘.”

nlnepe ! Meckwa, nlnepe !”

1 The sense of the original is best brought out in the form of a question. This is due to the enclitic kutc* in kewawlnwas” (“you boast”).

The Grizzly was willing, and so they arranged themselves in standing position. When they had secured firm footing, “All ready !” said the Skunk. “Go on! I 11 let you have first say.”

“Not I,” said the Grizzly.

“No?” said the Skunk. “Why, of course, it is up to you to have first say.”

“No,” said the Grizzly; “it is really up to you to speak first.”

“Very well, if such is your pleasure,” said the Skunk. “Very well, I will speak first. Get ready ! Let us make sure of our footing. A little while ago you said that your claws were endowed with supernatural power. And at the time I told you that my buttocks were also endowed with supernatural power. All right, then, I suppose it is now time for me to go on with my first say, now that we are quite ready.” Thereupon the Skunk sat down.

Once more the Grizzly arranged an easy place to sit in.

“Now then,” said the Skunk; “Oh, my claw, do let me die! Now then, oh, my claw, do let me die!” For a moment did the Skunk stop his say, and he asked the Grizzly: “Why, what is the matter with you? Did you not make a brag how that your claws were endued with supernatural power?”1 Then again, “Now then, oh, my claw, do let me die ! Now then, oh, my claw, now am I dying!” But there wasn’t anything happening. Whereupon, “Just let me have a turn,” said the Skunk. “I told you that my buttocks were endued with supernatural power, and I am going to show you something.” Then the Skunk made firm his footing and set his explosive in order.

“O buttocks, do let me die!” said the Grizzly. “O buttocks, do let me die! O buttocks, do let me die!”

“Now then!” said the Skunk. “Sit tight! Now then!” Afraid to speak was the Grizzly. “O buttocks,” . . .

said the Grizzly. He did not finish out the rest for fear he would die. In silence for a long time he sat there. And then of a sudden, “Let me die!” said the Grizzly.

At the very instant, off went the sound of the explosive, and the Grizzly toppled over backwards. He was shot dead. Then was he beaten in the contest.

The Skunk sat there for a long while, gazing at the one who lay stretched on the ground dead. Then he started off on a walk, to a river he went • water he went to fetch. When he returned (the Grizzly) was still lying there dead. (The Skunk) sat down where he lay. Then he began giving him treatment by dashing water upon him, the water which he had fetched. As soon as he had used up all the water he had brought, then (the Grizzly) began to breathe. He lifted (the Grizzly) so that he could sit up. Bolstering him up with the arms, he asked him, “Hey, got your wits yet?”

“Yes,” said the Grizzly.

“It was just as I told you, that my buttocks were charged with supernatural power was what I told you before we began the contest. Now I used up a whole lot of medicine while ministering to you. Had I not worked over you, you would not have come back to life again.”

“That is the truth,” said the Grizzly. “Verily, I came near bringing ruin upon myself. It is certain that you were speaking with more of the truth,” he said to the Skunk ; “when you told me that your buttocks were endowed with manitou power.”

“Now then, I want you to bear further witness of the fact, said the Skunk. “Quite correct did you speak when you said to me, lI came near killing myself.’ As a matter of fact I put in but a small charge of powder. But this time I want you to observe how much larger is the charge that I am putting in. When I am shooting at the foodanimals, then the charge is hard and tight. On this oc- casion I shall shoot only twice. Then you will observe how effective this explosive is. Now, do you see this thing here, this that’s here, this lake? I hat is what I am going to shoot at. A danger to be feared are my buttocks. What I shoot at will disappear. Now look out ! I am now going to shoot at it. Hide yourself! A very great noise will this explosive make. After the noise has passed away, then truly may you open your eyes and take a peep. ‘What a marvel!’ will surely be the feeling in your heart after you have looked at this lake at which I am going to shoot. Now then, look out! and do as I told you. Be sure and hide yourself, and do not try to peep. Do not listen to the powder, for truly are my buttocks laden with manitou power. Watch out, now is the time for this explosive to go off!”

And then it went off, and the lake was the target.

“Ho there, watch out!” so said the manitous. “The Skunk is out a-shooting- !” so said the manitous.

Well, there was a long while passing before the Grizzly opened his eyes and looked. Even yet was hanging the smoke of the powder over the place where the noise of the shooting occurred. So, then it was that he took a look at the lake. Sure enough, the lake was gone, its whole body of water was emptied dry when hit by the Skunk. There was not even a faint sign of the water left in the lake.

After the Grizzly was done looking at it, he said, “It is true that your buttocks are fraught with supernatural power.”

“Now, twice,” said the Skunk; “as I told you before, is the number of times you shall observe this explosive. Now, that thing off yonder is what I am now going to shoot at, that great tree over there. Now that is the thing that I really want you particularly to observe. I want

5 yatuge !”

penayan'.”

• 1 The Raccoon is the rogue among animals, playing tricks even upon men.

He is associated with craft and cunning, and by the silent smile upon his face disarms suspicion. Many stories that tell of his pranks form a separate group by

you to get ready now and sit tight!” And then he let it go off again with a blast.

“ How very marvellous, O Skunk ! Of a truth are your buttocks possessed of the manitou ! Why, there is nothing left of the tree (that was). (I) wonder where it went to!” “Come, let us go over there and look at it.”

When they were come at the place, then said the Grizzly, “How wonderful! That is enough, O Skunk. I am now in fear of your buttocks. Now, whatsoever you say to me, whatsoever the errand you command me, the same will I do. These claws of mine are powerful, and they are truly the kind fitted for work.”

That is as far as (the story) goes.

ii. The Raccoon and the Wolf.1

A Wolf was passing along when, lo ! here he met a Raccoon. “Ah, and so my younger brother is out for a walk over the country?” said he to him.

“Yes,” said the Raccoon.

“Whither are you going, my dear younger brother?” said the Wolf.

“Oh, to yonder place where the river goes flowing across country,” said the Raccoon.

“Oh, my dear little brother, wonder if you have with you anything in the way of food or drink?”

“Yes,” said the Raccoon. “But it is just possible that by this time the green-corn-dumplings may have turned sour.”

“I don’t care, my dear little brother,” said the Wolf 5 “for I am now starving.”

themselves, but this tale and the one following are the only examples in this collection; both are typical. In the story following, first is an account of how he made a victim of the Wolf and made possible his death.

asepana.

netecitahe.”

So the Raccoon patted his dung between his hands. When he fed the Wolf, he then started off on a walk. After the Raccoon had got some distance on the road, uO Wolf,” he said 5 “it is my dung that you have eaten!”

“What (did you say)?” said the Wolf. “What (is it)?

“‘It must have been along by this path that our younger brothers passed,’ is what I said to you,” said the Raccoon.

“You disappoint me. A bone hehas probably found, thought I in my heart.”

A little farther on the road was the Raccoon come when, “O Wolf, it is my dung that you have eaten!”

“What (did you say)?” said the Wolf.

“‘It must have been along by this path that our little brothers passed,’ is what I said to you,” said the Raccoon.

“You disappoint me, my dear little brother. Little old dry bones must he have found, thought I in my heart.

Farther along on the road was he going when, “O Wolf, it is my dung that you have eaten !”

“What (did you say)?” said the Wolf.

‘“It was perhaps along by this path that our younger brothers passed,’ is what I said to you,” said the Raccoon.

“You disappoint me, my dear younger brother. Little old dry bones he has probably found, thought I in my heart.”

A tree not far away was standing, and on it the Raccoon kept his eye as he headed for it. “O Wolf,” said he again; “it is my dung that you have eaten!”

“What (did you say)?” said the Wolf.

“It is my dung that you have eaten!”

“Confound it! rq! rq ! rq!” he spit. “Oh, but now will I eat you !”

But the Raccoon hastened up the tree.

“Oh, my dear younger brother,” said the Wolf; “when do you expect to come down from the tree ?”

1 Agwihlna pwawiklpisaiyAnin1! “And so now you have fallen!” an unusual

sentence, first, in the use of a double negative with the sense affirmative; and,

second, in the employment of the negative modal prefix pwawi- in a negative

“When I am so overcome with sleep as to fall,” said the Raccoon.

The Wolf then kindled a fire at the foot of the tree. After a little while the Raccoon threw down a piece of bark. “And so now you have fallen!”1 said the Wolf as he crunched the bark in his mouth. “You deceived me; my dear younger brother,” said the Wolf.

Shortly afterwards, “Wonder if he is asleep by this time ?” thought the Raccoon in his heart. And then another piece of bark he flung down.

“And so now you have fallen!” said the Wolf. And again he crunched the bark’ in his mouth. “You deceived me, my dear little brother,” said the Wolf.

“It was when straightening out my legs that I pushed off the bark with my feet,” said the Raccoon. And then a short while after, “Wonder if it is about time for him to be asleep?” thought the Raccoon in his heart. Then he threw down another piece of bark.

Then the Wolf, “And so now you have fallen!” And again he crunched up the bark in his mouth. “You deceived me, my dear little brother,” said the Wolf.

“It was when straightening out my legs that I pushed off the bark with my feet,” said the Raccoon. Shortly afterwards, “Wonder if it is about time for him to be asleep?” thought the Raccoon in his heart. And so he threw down another piece of bark. But the Wolf paid no heed. And then he threw down some more bark. As the Wolf gave no heed, then the Raccoon came down from the tree. Behold, the other was sound asleep ! So then he dunged upon the other’s eyes. After he was done with dunging upon him, then he left him there.

sentence ending with -n‘, an ending that, as here, properly goes with a sentence preceded by the negative adverb agw‘.

4 Kepe‘tcAma“ (“you deceived me”) is shortened from kepeHcAmam1.

1 M, uttered through the nose with the lips closed.

After a while the Wolf awoke from his sleep, and his eyes were shut tight with a dried coating. M, how my eyes must have run with matter, so dry are they caked with it!”3 He was not able to break the crust apart, (and) so he started off on a walk. He bumped against a tree and stopped. “TtH What kind of a tree are you, oh, my dear grandfather?

“I am an oak.”

“How far is it to the river?”

“Why, on the edge of the prairie is where I live.”

And then he started off again on the walk. Again he bumped against a tree and stopped. “Tu!^ What kind of a tree are you, Oh, my dear grandfathei ?

“I am a walnut.”

“How far is it to the river?”

“Oh, a long way off I dwell, my dear grandchild.

And he started off walking again. Once more he bumped against" a tree and stopped. “Tu! What kind of a tree are you, my dear grandfather?

“Why, I am a hickory, my dear grandchild.

“How far is it to the river, my dear grandfather r”

“Why, as a matter of fact some distance away do I live, my dear grandchild.”

Again he started off walking. Again he bumped against a tree and stopped. “Tu! What kind of a tree are you, my dear grandfather?”

“Why, I am an elm, my dear grandchild.”

“How far is it to the river, my dear grandfather?’ “Why, almost there have you come.”

Then he started walking away. He bumped against a tree and stopped. “Tu ! What kind of a tree are you, my dear grandfather?”

l This exclamatory sentence is broken up in the translation to give the sense.

“ Netasenamic',1 nucl'.”

“Nemldwlw', nucl'.”

wanaa^kuw', nemec"?”

1 Netasenamic', “I am a hard maple;” literally, “I am a stone wood.”

“I am a hard maple,1 my dear grandchild.

“How far is it to the river, my dear grandfather?”

“On top of the hill do I stay, and not far away is

the river.”

Again he started off on a walk. He bumped against a tree and stopped. *Tu! What kind of a tree are you, my dear grandfather?”

“I am a cottonwood, my dear grandchild.”

“How far is it to the river, my dear grandfather?” “Halfway down the hill do I live, my dear grandchild. Not far away is the river.”

Again he started off on a walk. He bumped against a tree and stopped. “Tu! What kind of a tree aie you, my dear grandfather?”

“I am a sycamore.”

“How far is it to the river, my dear grandfather?” “Only a few more steps and you are there, my dear grandchild.”

Then off he started on a walk. He bumped against a tree and stopped. “Tu! What kind of a tree are you, my dear grandfather?”

“I am a willow.”

“How far is it to the river, my dear grandfather?” “Start and take another step, and then you walk into the water, my dear grandchild.”

“How deep in the water am I, Wolf that I am?”2 3 “Up to your ankles.”

“How deep in the water am I, Wolf that I am?” “Almost up to your knees.”

“How deep in the water am I, Wolf that I am?”

“Up to your knees.”

“How deep in the water am I, Wolf that I am?”

2 Malhwawi (“Wolf that I am”) is shortened from the form ma^iwawiyanl.

9 — PUBL. AMER. ETHN. SOC. VOL. I.

“Kepwameg'.”

“Tanalkumlyanl, malhwawl?”

“ Tanalkumlyanl, malhwawl?”

t In this tale it is related how the raccoon played dead to deceive the crawfishes, and how it succeeded in enticing them from their holes and killed as

“Up to your hips.”

“How deep in the water am I, Wolf that I am?”

“Just up to where you fork at the opening.”

“How deep in the water am I, Wolf that I am?”

“Up to your navel.”

“How deep in the water am I, Wolf that I am?”

“Up to your nipples.”

“How deep in the water am I, Wolf that I am?”

“Up to your throat.”

“How deep in the water am I, Wolf that I am?”

“Up to your chin.”

“How deep in the water am I, Wolf that I am?”

“Up to as far as your mouth.”

“How . . . up !” A mink then went down into the water with him.

That is the end (of the story).

12. A Raccoon plays Dead in order that he may

THUS OBTAIN CRAWFISHES TO EAT.1

A Raccoon was once passing along the shore of a lake when he saw down in the water (places) where the Crawfishes had been making holes. “Wonder, how am I likely to get hold of these creatures?” was the feeling in the Raccoon’s heart. “Oh, it occurs to me now what I will do ! Why, I will simply play I am dead.”

And so he went and found some punk, which he began to crumble in his hands. Then he set to work putting it into his ears, eyes, nose, anus, filling them up to the brim. And then by the edge of the lake there he lay down.

It so happened that a Crawfish was passing by, when lo, here lay the Raccoon stretched out on the ground !

many as it wanted to eat. The story contains an incident Which Reflects the custom of giving recognition for an act done for the public good.

nepugwane.” . . .

“ lyemeg" panate.” . . .

“lyemeg" panate.” . . .

“lyemeg" panate.” . . .

Klmlcatesipwo" ! Klnlmlpeno" !”

1 Reside him who had fetched the good news, thus becoming his wife.

He looked at him, and behold, he was dead! So away he went. On coming into town he cried at the ^top ol his voice, “Away last summer must he have died.” . .

“ Hey, hold on ! You have been sent for by our chiei.

So over to the chiefs he went. On his arrival there, “In this place sit you down,” he was told by the clue “Now then, go on with what you have to say,” was he told.

“Away last summer.” . . .

“Hold on!”

Whereupon with a garment of red cloth was he clothed. “Now, go on,” was he told.

“Away last summer.” . . .

“Wait awhile!”

Then a necklace of the claws of a grizzly was put about his neck. “Now, go on,” was he told.

“Away last summer.” . . .

“Wait awhile!”

And then the chief said to his daughter : “ Thither go and sit you down.” And thither she went and sat down.

“Away last summer.” . . .

“Hold on a while!”

Then was he given the chief’s horse to the end that he might have it to ride. “Now then, continue with your

story from there,” was he told.

“Away last summer must he have died, he who used to crunch and eat us up. So dead is he that brimful of punk is he at the ears, eyes, nose, anus.”

“Come, you attendant, go forth and cry out the news.”

The attendant went out and cried forth the news : “Away last summer must he have died, he who used to crunch and eat us up ! Oh, ye widows, comb your hair with zeal! Get yourselves in glad dress! And let us dance!”

Everywhere were the widows busy braiding tight their hair and combing it. As soon as they were in gay dress,

“Tusklgwa.,1

10 Tusklgwa — tusklgwa ;

Tusklgwa,

Tusklgwa — tusklgwa.”

kawatck

1 Tusklgwa (“he peeps from an eye”) is for Tnsklgwaw

then they set out for the place where the Raccoon lay stretched out on the ground. The Crawfish went riding on a horse, he and the chiefs daughter went riding double. Then they all went to dancing, (and) they sang :

“Away last summer must he have died,

He who used to crunch and eat us up.”

Oh, the zeal and grace the Crawfishes displayed as they moved through the dance!

The Crawfish was afraid of the Raccoon. And lo, sure enough, was he peeping out from an eye ! The Crawfish then sang a song :

“He peeps from an eye, 1

Peeps from an eye — he peeps from an eye;

He peeps from an eye,

Peeps from an eye — he peeps from an eye.”

He held the hand of the chief’s daughter, and backward they went dancing.

Presently the Raccoon began rubbing his eyes. “ M . . . but these creatures are waking me out of my sleep,” said he waking up. Then he went to work crunching them up in his mouth, he ate up all those that had been dancing.

The Crawfish stood up on coming to his hole.

That is the end of (the story).

III. — PARABLES.

1 This story is told as an example of a youth who bantered another and met with death at the response of a banter returned. The inference conveyed is, that

III. — PARABLES.

i The Youth that was frozen to Death.1

They say that once on a time there were two youths who were friends together. And so once one of them “When it is summer better do I like it,” he said. And then the other, “As for me, when it is winter better do

I like it,” he said.

So once he that preferred the winter, “Let us take a walk over the country,” he said to his friend.

“All right,” he was told.

“You had better be warmly clothed, for you might get

cold,” he said to him. _ .

The youth then prepared himself with clothing. He put on an extra blanket, and he also put an extra insole into his moccasins. Then they started forth.

Yonder in a certain place, “You are feeling cold perhaps. Let us stop and kindle a fire to warm ourselves, he said to his friend.

So then they stopped and kindled a fire to warm themselves. He warmed himself, he that preferred the sum- mer. For a whole day they tramped about over the country. At last along towards the cool of the day it was getting, and up to this time no water had he yet drunk, he who preferred the summer. But the other kept drinking water all the while. When they were come back home, he then asked of his friend: “Now which do you

like the better?” he said to him.

one should not give banter unless prepared to submit gracefully and without murmur when the tables are turned.

1 The main point to this story is its explanation of the moral weakness of

some women.

“Why, when it is summer do I like it better, said he who preferred the summer.

When the year had passed half way round, he that preferred the summer, “Come, let us go for a walk somewhere,” he said to his friend. At the time it was very cold. “To the end that you may be cool, so accordingly must you be clothed,” he said to him.

He remembered how he had done to his friend, so not at all would he say nay to him.

So then they set forth on their way. One had on nothing but his moccasins, (and) went in bare legs. Over there in a certain place they kindled a fire to warm themselves. He warmed himself, he who preferred the sum- mer. And then again they started on. They came to a spring that was not closed up with ice, the water was not yet frozen. “Stop and cool yourself,” he said to his comrade.

After he had had a swim, they then started on. They had walked but a little way when he was frozen to death. And the other then went home after his friend was frozen.

2. The Reason why a Young Married Woman

CEASED FROM HER EVIL CONDUCT.1

It is said that once upon a time long ago there was a warrior who had a wife, and the youths were frequently in the habit of taking her from him and carrying her away. Every time that she was taken from him he would go in a peaceful manner and bring her back. “Pray, why do you thus keep deserting me? For I am truly fond of you.” Thus would he always say to his wife. It was never his way to scold her. But this quietness of nature was of no avail, never could he persuade her to have done with the desires of her passion.

So it happened, as the story goes, that he once took her away to a secluded retreat. There in that sequestered place he kindled a fire. As soon as he had finished kindling the fire, then there he went in unto his wife, repeating it over and again. “Oh, once more!” she would say to him every time that he was done. At last he was no longer able to swell with an erection. “Now that is just the reason why I dislike to have you lie with me. You are no longer virile.” Thus he was told by his wife.

“But I am yet really fond of you, my wife,” he said to her. She would not listen to any such talk of his. Finally he bound his wife with cords, he tied her hands and feet together, and held her with the buttocks next to the fire. He had drawn the garments away from the buttocks and made her naked there 5 then he held her in place with a firm grip of the hands.

Presently two flat-headed creatures came forth from her, owing to the heat of the fire. They were as long as the fingers. As soon as these creatures came out on account of the heat, then was she no longer eager to yield to bodily desire.

It was not long before he began to feel the want ot satisfying his own physical longing. He teased her with a good deal of fuss, and not until after much ado did she feel like consenting. It was common after that for her to go a whole month and have the yielding desire but once.

Such is the reason why harlots are always eager to lust; they become tickled by the little flat-headed worms that nibble upon them from the inside. And then they get restless for relief.

. This is told as an example of the unfaithful wife, and incidentally it offers de„ instance of the kind of crime that can be summarily disposed of without

3. The Woman that was slain by her Husband.1

In long past times there was once a woman who delighted in passionate pleasure (with other men). Now it is said that once on a time she was found out by her husband. That he went on a hunt for game he made believe* and then far from habitation he hid himself.

Behold, it was true that when she went to a lonely distant spot, then again did he who was wooing her come to where she was. And when she saw her husband, then into a big log she and her lover ran for safety ; they fled into the hole of the log. Then the hole was closed and they were shut in by her husband. The man then set to work kindling a fire in the hollow of the log.

Thereupon to the place where he was came some boys. “O boys, let us smoke them out! There came running into this place some bears!” And then by the boys was he given help in building the fire.

And then began he to be besought by both of them.

Without paying them any heed at all, he went right on building the fire. “O boys, now try your skill at archery ! Let me see what you can do with the bow and arrow !” thus said he to the boys.

Now by them that were being smoked was he besought, but he paid them no heed. After he had burned them up, “Now then, boys, go fetch your moccasins (and) let us flee away,” so said he to the boys. After they had fetched the moccasins that they might have extra ones to wear, they then set out to go to war. They found the enemy-, and after they had slain some of them, they then returned ; some scalps they fetched home.

incurring the hostility of the clan of the one punished.

• The main object of the story is to point a warning against being unfaithful to a hushand. Incidentally it shows the responsibility of the clan for the conduct of its members. It is inferred that the woman’s brother was her nearest clan

Nothing was said to him for burning up his wife and the man who had made love to his wife. 1 he boys that made up his party, as many as there were of them, were

created warriors.

4. The Wife that was slain with a Club by her Brother.1

In the long distant past there was once a woman who was in the habit of indulging in amorous pleasure with (other men). It was in the summer-time, and in the village houses were the people then living. It was then that this woman with a man from the outside had union, by way of a hole that he had cut in the bark was how she had union with him. A small piece of baik she had placed as a cover over the hole so that by hei husband

she might not be found out.

After a while the man learned that by way of a place in the side of the lodge was access had to his wife. When it was night, “I myself this time next to the wall will lie,” he said to his wife. The woman was not willing; and when finally she went to crying, her husband was not anxious then to sleep on the side next to the wall. At last the man left off speaking to his wife. But after she fell asleep he moved her away from the place. Then he took a turn at sleeping by the place next to the wall. After awhile he fell asleep.

Presently by some one was he nudged. As in that direction he reached out his hand, he took hold of a large penis. Then his knife he took out (and) cut off the penis. “I!” said the other man.

relative, and it was he who administered the punishment and gave up his other sister to take the place of the dead.

IO — PURL. AMER. ETHN. SOC. VOL. I.

nutc' ; ahuwlgewatc' pyayatc', “ Mawitclgakuhanu kemisa-

1 Said sharply with high voice.

He cut a hole at the corpus cavernosum, and there a string he tied to it; then to her belt he tied it. Eail^ in the morning, “Wake up, you should be cooking, he said to his wife.

The woman then rose from her bed (and) started the fire. At the same time her father-in-law rose from his bed. By the fire was the old man seated, (and) he was smoking. As she was cooking, and while she was sweeping, by her father-in-law was she seen with something dangling from her belt. “O daughter-in-law, strange is the look of your knife-case !”

As just so she turned to look at it, “I!”1 she said. Then she flew out of the lodge (and) went to throw away the penis.

In the morning the man was found in the doorway of the place where he had died on account of having his penis cut off ; he had been trailed by the path of blood he spilled when coming home ; and it was found where his penis had been cut off with a knife.

And when the woman’s brother heard of the news, then to where she was he went. From outside was she called to come forth. When she came out, she was beaten to death with a club by her brother. After the man had slain her with a club, he then went home ; when at the place where he and others dwelt he was come, “Go sweep the place of the couch of our elder sister,” he said to his sister, a little girl. “After you have finished sweeping it, there I want you to sit. Do not return to this place again,” he said to his sister.

The girl then went and swept the sleeping-place of her elder sister. After she had finished sweeping it, there she seated herself down as she had been commanded by her elder brother. Then she took for husband him who had been husband to her elder sister. As long as they

Tni wanimatcin awapwagesinitc' :

“Wapinuha,2 wapinuha,a,)

] 5 Wapinuhtra-.”

1 This example gives warning of what may result from infidelity in love, especially unfaithfulness to one of supernatural nature. It tells of a youth who forsook one

sister for another, and was slain by the forsaken ; and that from the pieces of his body came the snow-birds.

lived she had him for husband, even until he died, which was after he had become an aged man. And as for her, when she became an old woman was she yet held in warm affection by him- and she on her part was also fond of him. In no way whatsoever did they ill-treat each other during the full length of their lives. And the man, not at all in other women had he any interest ; it was because he loved his wife.

5. The Youth that forsook a Manitou Woman.1

In the long distant past was once a youth that made love to maidens. After he had won the girl whom he loved, lo, he marvelled to find that she was an aged (woman)! And so he concluded not to have her for wife. Accordingly to another he then made love, one that was younger sister (to the other). And after he had won her, he made her his wife. But of a truth she was white-eyed !

Then she whom he had forsaken began to wail :

“She is white,2 she is white,

She is white, she is white;

She whom he loves is white in both eyes,

She is white.”

As he thus looked upon his wife, lo, in very truth was she white in the eyes ! • And so he concluded to follow after her whom he had forsaken. He overtook her at a place where on top of a rock she sat, and there she was weeping. “It is you whom I have made up my mind to make my wife,” he said to her.

2 Wapinuha, for the substantive wapinuu, which in turn is used for the verb wapinuhiw*, “she is white.”

anetcig'.

1 Ahigutc', logically it is the birds that were spoken to, but grammatically the

address was to the youth from whose body the birds sprang.

“Marry the white-eyed one whom you love,” he was told. Then was he grabbed by the hand, and down was flung his body. He broke into pieces when he fell; and straightway there flew up many birds. “ White-ones shall you be called by the people,” they1 were told by the woman.

They truly are the birds that in the winter-time stay about on the open ground, white-ones they are called.

She whom the youth had betrayed was a manitou woman. Of the manitou women dwelling at the place of the setting sun was she a manitou woman. Now, the reason why the sky is often red during the time of the going-down of the sun, is that those manitou women are reddening the sky there.

6. Two Maidens who played the Harlot with Each Other.2

It is said that once on a time long ago there were two young women who were friends together. It is told that there were also two youths who tried to woo the two maidens, but they were not able even so much as to talk with one another. After awhile the youths began to suspect something wrong with them. It is reported that this took place in the summer.

So it is said that once during the summer the two maidens started away to peel off bark. The youths followed after, staying just far enough behind to keep within sight of them. (The girls) went a long way off, and over there is where they stripped off bark. While (the girls) were peeling the bark, (the youths) all that time kept themselves hidden from them.

2 This is an account of how two young women had sexual intercourse with each other, and how, as a result of the unnatural union, one gave birth to an unnatural offspring.

genig'.

cawiyag'.”

1 This story is a warning to those who arc unkind to their step-children. It tells

of the unhappy experience of a selfish step-mother with the apparition of the mother of her step-children.

After awhile (the youths) no longer heard the sound of (the maidens) at work. Whereupon they began to creep up to where they were. When they drew nigh, behold, the maidens were then in the act of taking off their clothes ! The first to disrobe flung herself down on the ground and lay there. “Pray, what are these (girls) going to do?” wast he feeling in the hearts of (the youths). And to their amazement the girls begap to lie with each other !

Thereupon one of the youths whistled, and both together ran up to where (the girls) were. One that was lying on

top instantly fell over backwards. Her clitoris was standing out and had a queer shape, it was like a turtle’s penis.

Thereupon (the maidens) began to plead with (the youths) : “Oh, don’t tell on us!” they said to them. “Truly, it is not of our own free desire that we have done this thing. We have done it under the influence of some unknown being.”

It is said that afterwards one of the maidens became big with child. In the course of time, strange to relate !

she gave birth ; and the child was like a soft-shell turtle !

7. The Woman that ill-treated her Step-Children.1

In the long distant past was once a woman that died. She had had two children of her own. In the course of time her husband married another woman. Now, the man’s wife ill-used the children whenever he was away ; never would she feed them.

Once in the winter-time the woman went out to dig for wild potatoes.2 She wandered away and was lost. In a certain place she stopped to make camp, and there the potatoes she cooked. While she was busy with the

2 AmawPketahwatc', “she went out to dig for them,” meaning “she went to dig for wild potatoes.”

pyanutagutcin'.

1 The words in quotation are used in the third person but the senseis a vocative.

2 To the Fox mind this is an impressive story. It is meant as an example of the evil effect wrought from an improper preparation of holy food. To appreciate

the tale it needs to be taken with its setting. The old man is a witch, as paidaily indicated by the following incidents : the mysterious way in which he causes

cooking, by a woman was she visited. When she had finished with the cooking, “Let us eat,” she said to her. While they were eating, “My children no doubt are lonely,” she said to the visitor.

“And so you are mother of children?” she was told.

“No,” she said to the visitor. “They are only my stepchildren,” she thus said to the stranger.

“Over at yonder place where we are in camp together, this is the report that we have heard : that much abuse do you heap upon (your) children, such is the rumor that we have heard.” Thus she was told by the stranger.

As thus she looked upon her, behold, it was the children’s mother! Why, in truth, here she was visited by her phantom ! Then she started to flee, towards the place where she (and her family) dwelt was the way she fled. Although up to now she had been lost, yet she learned where her home was. By the phantom was she followed along the way. To the place where she (and her family) lived did she come fleeing. As she thus entered the lodge in full flight, over headlong was she pushed by the phantom ; into the centre of the fire she fell (and) was burned. “Who are you that you should abuse my children !” 1 said the phantom.

8. Why an Old Man slew his Grandson.2

The old folks were then dwelling at the place of the winter village, they were then abiding with their grandchildren. One day the youngest of the boys went off on

the death of the youth ; his taking on the form of a bear, the most dreadful kind of witch; his peculiar exclamation at the grave, and the particular way in which he raises the dead; the various invisible forms assumed by those who watch for the witch ; and the way the witch is disposed of.

nlwatc'.

pyanit®.

1 Wlmetawesa'kwanitc', “hold a feast of the midewiwin,” a feast to which are invited only those members who are in the secret society.

a hunt for game. On his return he fetched home a bear and a raccoon. The bear he gave to his giandfather for him to cook and hold a feast of the midewiwin.1 “As for this raccoon, I will keep it myself and hold a feast of the clans with it.” Thus spoke the youth.

“ He would eat the fresh meat as he would the common food of the usual meal !” said the old man, who was much displeased.

“Why, you and the rest shall have it to eat!” said the youth. So with no further words he celebrated a feast of the clans. And after the youth had done with the feast, then went he off with his elder brothers on a hunt for game. Coming to a place off there somewhere, they halted and made camp.

They were not long at the place before the youth fell sick. He was ill all night long, even until morning ; and then in the forenoon he died. His brothers buried him in a grave. They did not go home at once. At night they kept watch over their younger brother.

During that night nobody came. They remained there all (the next) day. And at night they kept another watch over their younger brother. As they watched, one had a vision of the Man-of-the-Night 2 and of himself becoming changed into the person of the Man-of-the-Night, that in so doing he might be seen by no one. Another had a vision of a dog and of himself becoming transformed into the form and nature of a dog. Still one other had a vision of a ghost and of himself made into the likeness of a ghost, that in so doing he might not be seen by one that should chance to come.

After awhile the sound of a bear was heard approaching, it was coming on a walk and with a slow, measured step. He that was changed into a dog whimpered out of

1 Tepe’kwineniw", “night man," a spirit of the night.

“Inwi'!” ahitciga’’.

fear of the bear; but he was not seen by (the bear). The bear walked four times in a circle round the grave. Coming to the side of the direction of the morning, to the side where rested the head, it stamped upon the ground and “Inwi'l” it said.

Straightway up to the top of the hole, up from the grave came the body of the dead and rested. (The bear) touched the youth, and he came back to life again. Lo, the bear hit the youth on the mouth !

“Why did you kill me, oh, my dear grandfather? Do tell me !”

• “I felt grieved that I should have put the raccoon with the pumpkin and cooked them together ; that was the main reason why I killed you, my little grandchild.” So said the old man. Then, taking hold of the youth, he began to cut him up alive. When he had finished cutting up the youth, then he that was changed into the Man-of-the- Night walked up to (the old man) ; the same did he that had taken the form of a ghost, so also (he that had become) a dog.

They laid hold of the old man, (and) this said they to him: “Now then, we would that you bring our younger

brother back to life.”

“Oh, my grandchildren, it is now more than two days since his death took place, it would be quite impossible for me to restore him to life again. Yet had he died only last night I could have brought him back to life.” So said the old man.

Thereupon was the old man taken and bound. The medicine that he had over the shoulder and under the arm was torn away and taken from him. They deprived him of it and later burned it up. Then up spoke the elder brother: “Come, kindle a fire, oh, my younger brothers.”

Accordingly built they up a great fire. After they had

) The purpose of the story in the form given here is to teach the important lesson that the sacred bundle shall not be desecrated. It tells of a secret use made of the bundle by a wife to help her fulfil an unnatural relation with a bear. She is put to death not only for the sacrilege, but also for her shameful conduct with the bear. The same incident appears in another connection, with a much longer narrative not contained in this collection of texts.

a big' fire going, they lifted the old man and dropped him into '’the middle of the fire. Thus was he burned alive. After he was all burned up, then they put their younger brother back into the grave. When they had finished burying him, then they went back home. On their return to the place whence they had come, they then spoke thus to their grandmother: “We have slain our grandfather because he had killed our younger brother. Truly is it now our purpose to club you to death also.” So said they to their grandmother.

“Oh, my grandchildren! I did not know that he had killed our grandchild. I suppose it was when he wanted to go over to the place yonder. ‘I am loose in the bowels,’ he said to me-, and many a time did he go out of the lodge until at last he went out for good.” Thus spoke the old woman, (and) her grandchildren believed what she said. That was the reason why they did not kill her.

9. The Wife that was wooed by a Bear.1

Once on a time far in the past there was a man and his wife and their two children — a boy and a girl — who lived far from other people. Once during that time the woman found the place where a bear lived. She was wooed by the bear whenever her husband went away. After he had left to go on a hunt for game, she then would take down from aloft her husband’s mystic bundle. With red (listed woollen) cloth 2 did her husband use to wrap the mystic bundle. She would always untie from the mystic bundle the red (woollen) cloth and then wrap it about herself for a skirt. Then she would go to the bear to tease it (and) have it lie in union with her.

2 Red woollen cloth with a white stripe at the edge. It was used for witchclouts and leggings, and was obtained at the trader’s store, where it was called “white list.”

II — PUBL. AMER. ETHN. SOC. VOL. I.

MAnapehe tepinahiciwapusawa.”

Finally the children once declared to their father : “Always as soon as you are gone does our mother untie your mystic bundle ; and the red (woollen) cloth does she always untie, and then wrap it about herself for a skirt. It is always her custom to go walking straight in this direction.”

So in the morning the man made a pretence that he was going on a hunt for game. He kept watch for his wife where a large tree stood which was where the bear lived. After awhile it was true that hither and in sight was coming his wife, clothed in a red cloth for a skirt she came. When she came to the tree, she tapped upon it (with a stick). “O bear, do come out!” said his wife.

The bear then came on out. It set about at once to push over his wife and lay her in place for union ; and when the bear was in the act of union with his wife, the man then shot it. After he had killed the bear, then his wife began to pray for her life. “I am not going to kill you,” he said to her. “Flay and cut it up,” he said to his wife.

The woman then flayed and cut up the bear. After she had finished flaying and cutting it up, “Now then, carry your husband upon your back,” he said to his wife.

The woman then carried the bear upon her back to their home. After she had fetched home her burden, “Cut it up in small pieces with a knife, for I want you to boil it. I am going to give a feast,” he said to his wife.

The woman then cut the bear up into small pieces with a knife and boiled it.

While the man was celebrating the feast, to his mystic bundle he made a prayer (with offering). When the bear was done, alone did the woman eat of it. When she was unable to eat any more, she then stealthily handed some over to her child. She was seen in the act by her husband. “Don’t! By yourself alone shall you eat up your husband!” was she told by her husband.

10. Anatupanitc Apaiyasa.1

' This story is meant to convey the important idea of how feeble man can be when relying upon the unaided power of his own individual self, and how necessary to him is supernatural help, especially in the moment of a great crisis. It relates the experience of a warrior who at first entertained an indifferent attitude

“I am now unable to eat any more,” she said to her husband.

After she could not eat any more, by her husband was she then clubbed (till she was dead).

10. When Apaiyasa went to War.1

Once Apaiyasa went to war in company with some others. The number of men was ten. At the time when they started away all had painted themselves and such was their guise; and underneath inside the sacred bundles was the medicine which they used.

All took along sacred bundles, except Apaiyasa, who took none. “I shall go as I am, relying only on the feeling of my own ambition to carry me through.” Such was the feeling in his heart at the time. That was the reason -why he did not take along a sacred bundle. Besides, his horse ran with great speed. “Surely nobody will ever overtake me,” was the way he felt in his heart. And that was (also) a reason why he made no use of medicine.

Decked out thus in gay costume they set forth on their journey. They travelled across country all day, and along about the time when the sun was falling they stopped and made camp. There they kindled a fire. Apaiyasa himself went to fetch water. As he was dipping the water up in this fashion, behold, a frog leaped into the little pail. On his return to the camp he told their chief about it: “This frog leaped into the pail while I was

dipping up water,” he said to the man.

toward the power of objects in the sacred bundle, but was shown an impressive instance of its wonderful efficacy by the manner in which he was delivered from capture in battle. He celebrates a feast in public recognition of the potency of the supernatural mystery.

« Hand it here to me,” (Apaiyas*) was told. Accordingly he handed it over to him. 1 he leader took a knife in his hand, and in a little while the frog was cut up alive. There was but a little, yet as many as were there did eat of it unprepared. And together with it they drank water. They did not cook any food.

In the night two were sent out, they went to reconnoitre the region towards which they were bound. All the night long they went riding across country 5 they halted just as the dawn of day was appearing. They dismounted ; twisting some grass they hung it up, they did it to mark the exact spot where they turned and went back. They did it also that the leader might know the place where they stopped and came back.

They came to a place farther on, all of them together, when it was nearly noon. After all had arrived, they then moved on again ; they were all day going. They halted to camp when it was night.

They kindled another fire, and again one of them went to get water. This time they cooked only plain dried corn. They ate very little corn. After this other scouts were sent to make a reconnaissance. Along the country they went riding ; and on coming to a distant place they suddenly heard the sound of wolves ; everywhere round about they cried in reply to one another. “It certainly seems as if they might really be wolves,” was the feeling in their hearts. But instead, it was the Sioux who were then mocking the cry of the wolf; so (the Red-Earths) were discovered.

They then turned and went back. On their arrival at the place whence they had come, “We discovered them by the sound they made,” they said. Then were they on guard during the whole night. Just at the coming of dawn they were assailed by the enemy. Thereupon they went for each other in lively fashion. Presently, all

1 The object of this story is to offer an instance of the wonderful efficacy of the mysterious power latent in the sacred bundle. It tells how, by the workingof a sudden, in the very thick of the fight, the Red-Earths withdrew and beat a hurried retreat. At first Apaiyasa’s horse was in the lead, then presently the horse began to give out. He was overtaken and passed by his comrades, one by one. By this time the Sioux were coming close up. Behind him was yet one more comrade who came at top speed. As he was being overtaken by (his friend), “Alas, take pity upon me!” he said to him.

Thereupon his comrade chewed some medicine and spat it out with a shower upon the quirt. Then the horse was lashed four times with the quirt ; on the fore-legs, first on the left, then on the right ; and on the hind-legs, first on the right, and then on the left. It seemed as if (the horse) had really been roused from sleep ; he left there with astonishing speed.

On account of (the Sioux) not being able to overtake him is the reason why (Apaiyasa) is living to-day. If he had not used the medicine, he (surely) would have been slain by the Sioux. He certainly got a good scare that time.

They went back home after they were no longer harassed by the enemy. When they arrived at the place whence they had come, then did Apaiyasa celebrate a feast of the clans, he held it with great solemnity.

And ever after he regarded the manitou power of holy bundles with deep reverence. It actually seemed at first as if he really felt contempt for them.

11. How the Prisoners of War came to return Home.1

They who were bound for war were setting forth upon their journey. It was on such an occasion that a man, an aged man, said to the youths who were the children

power of the bundle, two youths who were held captive by the distant Sioux were suddenly transported home, thus relieving the anxiety of their distressed mother.

“ Klneniwipwa. Klwlgwamesipwa penatc'. Nagwagona.”

of his wife, “Join and go along with them ! But the woman was by no means willing that they should go, for she was very fond of her sons. But the feeling in the man’s heart about it was very decided that they should go. “Nothing at all can possibly happen to them, because they will go in the company of a manitou.” Ihen he reached for the magic roll. After opening it, he took out two snake-tails ; he tied one tail to the belt of each (youth). “I want you to be brave. I want you to be eager at all times. Now go.” Thus he said to them.

Accordingly away they went. In course of time they overtook the men that were off for war. The next morning they came to a place farther on, where there were many lodges of the Sioux. They rushed the Sioux, fighting with them there all day, even until night came on. Then all of a sudden the Red-Earths withdrew. It was at this stage when the youths were taken captive by the Sioux •, they were taken to a lodge where lived the Sioux chief. It was quite impossible for them to get away, since they were kept under close watch by many Sioux. Besides, it was a great way off to the place whence they had come.

But these others returned to the place whence they had started ; they had fetched a great many scalps. It was then that they made known the news about the capture of the two young men.

Now, the woman who was mother to the sons, on hearing the news, began then to wail with sore distress. She took an axe and went to the place where she and the family lived. When she went into the lodge, there was her husband sitting down. The feeling was strong within her then to beat him to death there on the spot.

“Just you wait awhile,” she was told; “for you surely don t know what I’m intending to do. Only go and fetch a pumpkin.”

Accordingly the woman went to fetch one. While the man hung up the kettle with water, the woman was bringing the pumpkin. She cut the pumpkin up into small pieces. Then she was told, “Now put it into the kettle and let it boil.” So she put it into the kettle and set it to boiling.

Thereupon the man rose to his feet. He laid a spread of buckskins out on the ground. And then, reaching for his sacred bundle, he laid it down (on the buckskin). “Now this time go and get three rattles, and you shall soon see your sons,” he said to his wife.

The woman then went and got the rattles. When she had brought them, she put one here, and another there on the left.

Then the man untied his holy bundle and spread it open. After dropping some tobacco into the fire, he then talked at some length. After he had talked for a long while, he then took up a rattle. Then he sang. Suddenly, while he sang, into the lodge came one of their sons.

The youth untied the snake-tail and placed it upon the holy bundle. Then, seating himself near by where the old man sat, he took a rattle in his hand and sang. And verily then into the lodge came the other of their sons. He also untied the snake-tail from his belt and put it there on the holy bundle. He also seated himself by the place where (the old man) sat. He likewise took a rattle in his hand.

Thus had come all their sons that had been taken captive. Verily then was the woman ever so buoyant with pride for that her sons had come back to her again. They were really in a very tight place, for such was the feeling of her heart about it at first. That was why she

was on the point of clubbing her husband to death at the time.

1 This story narrates how a man and a woman once entertained a thunder manitou and did not fully realize who it was until after the guest had departed. It is believed that the rumble and roar of thunder is the noise made by manitou beings of the air; that the lightning is fire issuing from their mouths; and that these

It was through this event that she really leai ned the truth as to what extent holy bundles were laden with manitou power. It was through (the means of) this power that her sons were able to come back to hei . After this she became ever so fond of her husband, so very much so that in her mind she looked upon him like unto a manitou.

That is the end (of the story).

12. A Thunderer comes to the Home of a Man and Wife.1

It was in the fall, and a man and wife went off on an autumn hunt. Once while the husband 2 was out hunting for game, there suddenly appeared to the woman a man who came in naked and with a knob-headed war-club in his hand ; before seating himself he leaned the war-club against the wall at the rear of the lodge. And then he seated himself on the other side of the fire.

Not knowing what manner of man he was, she did not enter into conversation with him. When it was night, then the husband came home. When the husband was come, then the man he saw. Since he was not acquainted with him, he did not talk with him. In the morning went the husband again on a hunt.

The woman, after her husband was gone, took the backbone of a deer and roasted it on the spit, carefully did she roast it. By the man was she watched all the while. After she had finished cooking it, she then handed it over to him. “This do you eat,” said she to him.

Then the other ate.

beings assume various forms, often those of birds. In the story, the thunder being is represented in the form of a warrior, which is another characteristic notion.

2 Neniw“, “husband;” literally, “man.”

•

When it was night, then her husband came home. The husband had no word at all with the man. In the morning he went off on a hunt.

The woman, after her husband was gone, went to work roasting meat on the spit. By the man was she watched all the while. After a time was she then addressed by him: “You are of the nature of manitous,” was she told.

“Not at all are we of the nature of manitous,” said the woman.

“Nay, but you are really of the nature of manitous,” was she told; “for otherwise one would not be able to break open the earth. Now you yourselves, on the other hand, do break open the earth.”

And then she took the backbone of a deer, a portion that was nice and that yet had the fat on, and handed it over to the man. “This roast you on the spit, according as it may suit your pleasure would I have you cook it.”

Straightway up then he rose and went out, he went and cut a spit. After awhile then back he came and entered within, fetching a spit and likewise a stone. Beside the fire he placed the stone. Then he set to work piercing the backbone of the deer. When he had finished with the piercing, he then fixed the spit into the stone so that it stuck.

“You are of the nature of a manitou,” said the woman to the man.

“Nay, but rather yourselves, you are of the nature of manitous,” was she told.

As often as her husband came home, never would he converse with the man. But as for the woman herself, she and the man talked together a great deal. And then after awhile the woman became well acquainted with the man.

Nigh at hand was the season of spring when once the

12 — PUBL. AMER. ETHN. SOC. VOL. I.

bean,” the singular being used in a plural sense.

woman was addressed by the man: “Now, I would have

you tell your husband that this your pet dog he should slay; that he should take pains to dress it well,” so was she told by the man. “To whom does it belong?”

“Why, the pet is his.”

“After that he has carefully prepared it, then should he cut it open and disembowel it ; he should be careful to wash it clean ; and then at night, on the roof-top of this lodge should he place it ; likewise a bowl should you cleanse with care; whitereyed beans1 should you also put together with the dog; for when night comes on, then shall come they who travel across the sky ; it is then that I must take leave of you,” was she told by the man. “The occasion of my visit to you is that we lost a man in war. Now as for this your husband, twice would I have him speak ; and whatsoever he shall say, that truly shall come to pass.”

So in the evening when the husband came home, then the woman: “Now this your pet should you slay according to a command (that has been given me) ; you should take pains to dress it well according to the command ; it is said that you are only to cut it open and disembowel it ; you are to cleanse it well with water ; then on the roof-top, so it is said, are you to place it at night; and as soon as you have finished with that, then twice, so it is said, are you to speak ; and truly whatsoever you shall say, the same, so it is said, shall come to pass. Such is what this man has told me. In the night, so it is said, will he take leave of us.”

Whereupon, so they say, the man killed the dog ; he singed its hair ; he was careful to scrape its skin clean ; he cut it open and disembowelled it ; he was careful to wash it clean. And the woman cleaned the bowl by scraping it ; she also washed it. When it was night, then

i MahAg1, “these,” meaning the thunderers who are in the storm-clouds now approaching in sight.

on the roof-top did he put the dog; and beans that were white at the eye he also put into the bowl, and he placed them together with the dog.

The woman then, “Now, speak,” said she to her husband. “Whatsoever you shall say, so it is said, the same shall come to pass.”

The husband was not able to speak. At last then the woman, “You yourself speak,” was she told by the man.

The woman was not able to think of what to say.

“Whatsoever be the wish in your mind, ask for that,” was she told by the man.

After awhile then was she mindful in her heart of what to say: “I have an only brother (older than myself). . . ,”

said the woman ; and that was as far as she could speak.

“Well, the time is now come for me to leave you. Truly have you gladdened my heart by the kindness that you have done me, by the way that you have fed me well. Now whenever these 1 who travel across the sky go journeying past, to them would I have you burn tobacco as an offering. And in this union of yourselves as man and wife, long shall you live in return for the good that you have shown me ; such is the gift that I leave with you.”

At that very moment came the flashing of light from the mouths of the thunderers. And when straight overhead was heard the roar of the thunderers, then they lost sight of the man.

In the morning were gone the dog and beans. Only the bowl was left on top of the roof.

IV. — STORIES OF FASTING, VISIONS, AND DREAMS.

1 This represents a type of narrative which is meant to teach the lesson that a person should fast only up to the time of the receiving of blessing and power; that it is dangerous to fast longer, for fear that the power received is liable to be

IV. — STORIES OF FASTING, VISIONS,

AND DREAMS.

i. One that had fasted overlong became a Fish.1

Once upon a time there was a youth who blackened (his face) and fasted. He had been blessed by the manitous. And when he was visited by his father, “Come, O father, do let me eat!” he said to his father. Four days had passed since he had eaten.

“My dear son, I want you to fast two days more, but no longer.” Then the old man went back home. He

was implored by his son to let him eat, (but) he could not be prevailed upon by him.

So in the morning when the old man went to take another look at his son, lo, the youth had disappeared from the place where he was staying ! There was a spring at the brook near by. There the old man went. He went there to look over the bank, and behold ! lying there on the flat of his belly, and drinking water, was his son. As he looked at him, lo, (his son) changed partly into a fish ! He ran to his son to catch him, but he slipped hold of him and he lost his son.

Thereupon was the spring swollen with water, and the place where (the youth) escaped became a lake. For many a year it was common for the people, as they went canoeing about, to see catfishes down in the water. One catfish was white •, it wore yellow ear-rings ; that one was the youth who had fasted overmuch. One catfish

of no future service to the recipient, and that more power received may become so overwhelming as to cause metamorphosis of the individual. This story is cited as an instance of what happened to a youth who had fasted too long.

2. Asamegwamasuta.1

1 The request for food by one coming out of a fast is the formal method of confessing that one has passed through the bliss of a communion with the mystery. The experience of the transport is a matter of personal secrecy, and its nature can seldom be guessed by any one else, except perhaps in the event of a great crisis, when the person cries out or sings for his power. The story that follows means to bear testimony of a youth whose measure for receiving blessing was full to the point of overflowing, and of the revelation of the gift he received, which was the gift of prophecy. Furthermore, it means to show how, when he was made to fast for more blessing, he lost control of himself by reason of the increased flow of blessing upon him, and that his sudden burst into prophetic speech was the

was black, and that was his wife. And there were also four other tiny little catfishes • they were (all) white, (and) they wore yellow ear-rings. These went swimming past side by side, abreast and in line, these the offspring ot him that had fasted overlong.

2. One that had fasted overlong.1

Once upon a time a youth blackened his face and fasted. After he had been blessed by all the manitous, then came to him his father with desire to see how (his son) was faring. “Oh, do let me eat, O father!” he said to his father; “all the manitous have now given me their blessing.” “Wait yet awhile, my dear son. I want you to fast two days more, but no longer.” Later the old man went and took another look at his son.

Yet again: “O father, do let me eat!” Thus pleaded the youth with his father.

“No, my dear son, wait yet awhile.”

Thereupon the son then said these things to him: “The Red-Earths to come in after-time shall be visited by a strange race of men, who shall be white of skin, with hair upon the face, and something upon their heads shall they wear. What (these strangers) eat shall be pleasing to look upon. The Red-Earths shall have the food offered them that they may eat; after they have touched and tasted of the food which the White-Skins eat, then shall they enter upon a career of having to put up with their contemptible insolence. And there shall also be a red kind of liquid, and this shall be given them to drink ; and

sign that already was his metamorphosis taking place. The story is constantly referred to these days, and it is a regret that it appears here in a very much shortened form, which indicates only in a general way the peculiar qualities that are of such moment to the Foxes.

1 There is always a note of pathos in the stories of those who fasted overlong. The importance of this story is not so much in what it tells as in what it connotes

to the Fox mind. In the first place, it is a sacred story, which forms the basis

of the homage paid by a sister to her brother, who had given her the hope of

future assistance from divine source before he met with the fate which he foresaw

with clear vision. And her homage is such that it approaches and even reaches

whenever they have drunk, then shall they become insensible, as if dead they shall seem. Never shall they be left alone, in times to come and against their will shall they be moved about from place to place. Towards the mid-day sky is a river that shall flow across the land; it shall be deep ; its current shall he swift ; and its water shall he muddy. When they have crossed over that stream and have come to the farther shore, I cease to know what is to become of them.”

Then away went the youth from his father after he had told him of the things that would come to pass in the future. For full many a winter were the people accustomed to hear the sound of his voice as he sang. On top of a high rock he used to stand, high up where it had frozen. And towards the farther shore of the Wisconsin River lay the course of his flight in the air. And as he went along through the air they used to hear the sound of his voice a-singing; it was in the morning when they used to hear him sing. They used to hear his voice die away in the distance over beyond the farther shore of the River. Then came a time when they no longer heard the voice of the youth. So now they know not where the youth is, the one that had fasted overlong.

3. A Youth that was fasting was killed by the Sioux.1

A youth once blackened his face and fasted. One morning after he had been fasting for many days, “O father, do let me eat!” he said to his father; “for now have the manitous bestowed upon me their pity.”

the devotion or adoration she has for the most sacred objects of her religious belief, as partly shown by her request for delivery from capture. The story is pecul- iarly her own, and one which she would never relate until she had first gone alone in solitude and spent moments in anguish and prayer.

“Not yet, my dear son. Wait two days more.” Thus he was told by his father.

After failing to get his father’s permission, he then went to his buckskin coat and put it on. Taking up his gun, he called to a little girl, his sister. And with a caressing hand upon her head he spoke to her thus in these words : “My dear little sister, I am fond of you. Let me say something to you, something which I wish you ever to keep in mind. At present are you yet but a little girl. After awhile you shall grow up and long shall you live. Now, my little sister, if ever in the course of your life you meet with adversity, think of me then.” For a little while and in silence his hands played fondly over her head. Then rising to his feet he went out of the lodge and away on a hunt for game. Now near by was a big lake. He started on a short cut across the lake ; for the lake was frozen and he passed over on the ice.

As he drew nigh to the farther shore, there came a man who had been off on a hunt for game and was now returning home. Now, that man beheld the youth travelling along his way. Likewise saw he Sioux at the place whither the youth was approaching. Where the reeds grew thick, there he sprang and crouched, hiding himself. From that place he saw the Sioux take after the youth; he beheld the youth turn and flee. For a little while he ran with great speed. Presently he stopped running and did some shooting back. After firing, he then took to flight again. He came on the run to a place a little farther on, where he let up with his flight and stopped. He had halted to load his gun; but as ill luck would have it he broke the ramrod. And then he took to flight again. Thereupon (the Sioux) began to shoot at him in lively fashion. At last they got him. As soon as they had taken his scalp, the Sioux turned and went back.

nesegwa ! Uskinawa Acaha'1 nesegwa !”

After the Sioux had vanished out of sight, then fled the man who had been in hiding, into the village he came on the run, crying out : “ A youth has been killed by

the Sioux ! A youth has been killed by the Sioux !”

The people went over to the place, and lo ! sure enough, here lay the youth stretched out on the ground 5 and he was scalped. Why in the world should the old man weep, now that his son was dead! “It was I who brought this fate upon my son, in that he had failed to gain my consent to let him eat.” So said the old man.

Later, as time went on, so they say, the sister came to maturity, the sister of him who had been slain by the Sioux. She had taken a husband, (and) she had borne a child. Once went she with her husband on a distant hunt. After they were come afar off, they saw Sioux; it was at the coming-on of dusk.

They took to flight in the night while a drizzling rain was falling. Along the course of their flight, all around everywhere, sounded the calls of all the creatures that cry. After a time they dismounted, and at the base of a tree there sat they down. In a little while then said the man to his wife: “I put all my trust upon you. As

for me, I am without any power whatever.”

It was then that the woman heard the voice of her elder brother: “Yes, oh, my dear little sister! once did I say

to you in the past, lI love you, my little sister. And if ever in your life you meet with adversity, think of me then.’ Such was what I told you at the time. Now, my dear sister, mount upon (your horses) again. As (the horse) which bears you now stands facing with its neck, so in that same direction do you start a-going. Be not afraid, for (the horse) that bears you shall follow straight the way by which you shall escape.” Thus was she told by her elder brother, from on high she heard the sound of his voice.

“You and I are to mount upon (our horses), is the message given,” said she to her husband. That was all she said, and nothing more. Then off they went a-riding. Very nigh at hand, on all sides sounded the cries. They were the calls of the turkey, some were the howls of the wolf and the hoots of the owl. Through the midst of it all the pair rode, keeping straight on till at last they left the Sioux so far behind that their cries sounded as if from one place. Finally they could no longer health eir calls.

They kept riding on throughout the whole night, and even until morning they kept a-going; when nearly noon, then they halted (in their flight). By the edge of a great open plain they stopped to camp ; but it was only for a little while, long enough to cook something to eat. They kept watch over the country at their back ; it was their object to watch for the Sioux; and should they see them, then it was their purpose to flee.

Presently they saw people from an opposite way. And they were also seen by them. The moment they were seen, then did the people come rushing on to attack. In their hearts they took them for Sioux. But as they drew nigh they recognized who they were. Behold ! they were their own friends. “Now we are saved!” said they to each other. These others were young men who had been off on a hunt. To them they said: “Last night by the

Sioux were we nearly slain.”

13 — PUBL. AMER. ETHN. SOC. VOL. I.

• The essential feature of the narrative is the wonderful power obtained by two youths from transcendent sources while undergoing the ordeal of fasting, the extent to which they were endowed is made known by the peculiar task they accomplished. They were commanded to go seek for themselves each a wife, and the women they sought were none other than the dreaded daughters of the dreaded

4. The Two Youths that married the Daughters

of MesoswW

Two youths blackened (their faces) and fasted during the course of one whole winter, and not till it was spring did they cease from fasting in black. “Go seek for women to woo them,” they were told by their parents. Whereupon the youths set out to find (where there were) people. Over there in a certain place they came to where there were some people living, they found some youths who had stopped to camp near by.. “In this place is indeed a habitation of some maidens,”2 they were told by the youths.

And so they made their camp with them. In the morning all the youths held debate as to which of them would be the first (to go visit the maidens). “I say, let me be the first !” they said one to another, speaking back and forth. At last one youth who was broad at the shoulder, slim about the waist, big with muscle, went with a pole in his hand ; he started forth to go to the maidens who were then upon the booth outside. When at the place he was come, he touched (with the pole) the forked support of the booth ; then beating a hasty retreat, he sped back to the place where his fellow youths were.

From the top of the booth then quickly leaped the maidens ; close indeed to the place where the youths were in camp they came, and there (the youth) was overtaken and pounded to death with a club knobbed at the end. After being pounded till he was dead, then he was dragged by the maidens back to the place where they abode.

And then another youth set out to go touch (with the

Mesosw”. It is partly stated in the story how baneful were the daughters, but it is not told how cruel was the father; that is a matter of familiar knowledge. Hence the fact that the youths could prevail over such supernatural beings as the daughters is an impressive example of the power that may come from fast and vigil.

2 The translation of the quotation is not literal, but it gives the sense.

kisatc’.

pole) the forked support of the booth upon which were the (girls). And he too started to retreat back in haste.

And once more the maidens quickly leaped down from the booth; close indeed again they came, (and the youth) was overtaken ; and he too was pounded to death. After he was pounded to death, he was also dragged back to where (the maidens) dwelt.

And so one by one in turn the youths went forth, and as fast as they went each met his death with a club ; till at last there were left only the two that were friends together. “I say, let me!” they said each to the other back and forth. In the end one prevailed over his friend to let him go touch (with the pole) the forked support of the booth.

And so truly again the maidens leaped down from where they were; and just as soon as he was about to be overtaken, “‘Au! ‘Au !” he said, squatting quickly in his flight. And then they who were in pursuit, strange to say, were seated there on the spot suckling (their babes) !

Whereupon the mother of these maidens fetched for food for the youths to eat the youths whom the maidens had slain, their entrails, their eyes, and their penises together with their testicles. “Eat, O youths!” they were told by the old woman.

One youth received the vessel in his hand ; and when he spilled out (the contents), thereupon with all earnestness was there fetched for them some sweet corn that had been cooked with a mixing of beans. After they had finished eating, they then started away with their wives ; one a piece each took to wife the maidens.

So they started away with their wives, they started forth on their homeward way. Over there in a certain place they changed the form of themselves in a different way ; and their wives passed themselves off as their daughters, while they on their part made themselves out as aged

“Newlcapenc,” ahinatc' pacitoha".

“Ina ahuwlkiyag ihanu,” ahigutc' pacitoha". “Netane-

1 The peculiarity of this sentence is that it is given in the dialect of the Kickapoo.

men. Now there was a field and the land was theirs. So it verily came to pass that they beheld their brotherin-law, for by him had they been followed. That they did not see him was what they made believe-, it seemed as if they were truly blind by reason of being aged men. “Old men, did you not see passing this way two youths? They were carrying aWay my sisters. I am following after

them,” he said to the old men.

“We have not seen them, (I and) this old comrade of mine.” They then were at work plucking tobacco-leaves to dry. “Not at all well can we see.”

“I am faint with hunger,” (the brother-in-law) said to

the old men.

“To the place where we live do you go,” he was told by the old men. “By our daughters will you be given food,” he was told by the old men.

When at the dwelling he was come, “By your fathers (was I told), ‘By our daughters will you be fed,’ I was told by your fathers.” Oh, and what a fancy he took to the maidens! After he had finished eating, back he went to where the old men were. “Old men, I am so taken with your daughters that I should like to marry (them), he said to the old men.

“Surely, you may marry them,” he was told by both of the old men.

When night came on, one of the old men secretly burned (the stick of) a linden; after it had burned all over, he covered it beneath the ashes. After the fire had died down, secretly out of the lodge he went. The outside shell of his bodily frame he left behind ; it seemed as if there (in his couch) he were yet lying.1 When some distance away he had come, he underwent (another) change and painted himself black. Bells upon his garters he tied. Presently there came the sound of jingling bells, (and) a

kinawaa.

1 Mesosw* is the Ojibwa Macos (Mashos), the giant lord of the Great Lakes, particularly of Lake Superior.

youth came speeding up. “O ye old men, I have come to summon your son-in-law! It is urgent business! They are in council at the home of Mesosw3.1 Immediately must the councillors declare their judgment.” Then back again (with bells) a-jingling ran the youth.

“Over something very important must they be debating in council,” each to the other said the old men.

Disturbed in his heart felt the man who had been visited and given summons. Not yet indeed had he even lain beside his wives. But nevertheless it was imperative that he should go; and long was the way to the place where dwelt that (person) Mesosw3. When over there he was come at the place where Mesoswa lived, inside he went.

“Well, so you are out on a roving tour!” he was told by Mesoswa.

“Why, you summoned me to a council that was in session !” he said to Mesoswa.

“And do you not understand! Why, they are your brothers-in-law who made themselves look like aged men ! And they are your sisters whom you have married. Furthermore, the youth who summoned you is one of your brothers- in-law. ‘I am endowed with mystic power,’ was the feeling in your heart. Many were the people whom you (and your sisters) have slain.2 Did you not know that your brothersin-law fashioned themselves in a different form on the road as they went, that by so doing they might keep out of your way and escape you? They truly are your sisters whom you have married,” he was told by Mesoswa.

So he turned and went back. It was befitting that back to the place he should go. When over there he was come at the place whence he started, nothing did he see, not even a sign of the dwelling or of the place where there had been a garden. Whithersoever they had gone he did not know.

2 Alke temagihiig w', “whom you . . . have slain;” literally, “whom you have ill-used.”

1 WamlgohAg’, “they of feathers;” the reference is to the Thunder Clan.

2 The essential element upon which the story rests is not expressed, but it is clear to the mind of every Fox who hears the tale. The element is the belief that it is not propitious to dream of or to be visited by a water-serpent during a fast, and that to seek for supernatural guidance without the counteracting effect of a more propitious visitation will lead only to an unhappy issue. In this ac-

5. The Reason why Men of the Feathered Name1

ALWAYS COME OFF UNSUCCESSFUL IN WAR."

Once on a time a Red-Karth blackened his face and fasted.3 At the place where he was fasting was a lake. From the edge of the lake rose a steep cliff, and there on the cliff was where he fasted ; he fasted in the hope of being blessed by the manitou that had an abode there. Such was the feeling in his heart.

Once when the light of day shone bright and the sky was fair, he beheld the manitou crawl forth fiom the watei and sun itself on a rock. Along about this time came a thunderer, one that was then on a reconnaissance. He too saw the manitou lying there on the rock and basking in the sun. It so happened that he had come from afar. “I wonder how I had best do to get him under my power?” he thus thought in his heart. “ I think I shall rush him with an attack.”

Now this man who was then fasting had seen a cloud gathering dense and coming with the wind while it was yet small and a great way off. Then all at once came the Thunderer with a roar and heavy rumble. In such fashion went the thunderer to the attack. He took hold of the manitou ; he started to lift him into the air, but he had barely enough strength to lift him only a little way ; and then (the manitou) pulled him back down again. In such wise they struggled for ever so long.

Then by the manitou was (the man) besought: “Shoot

count a man commits several serious infractions: he lends ear to the object of an ill omen; he takes sides with that object against the highest idealized object of his clan; and he even refuses the blessing offered him by the ideal of his clan. The story points out the lasting harm that comes from a disregard of things sacred.

3 Ama‘kadawltc‘, literally, “he became black;” but the sense is, “he blackened his face (with charcoal) and fasted.”

I In the original the first three sentences of the paragraph are passive, the man being the subject, and the Ihundcrer the agent.

him for me, oh, my dear grandson ! Shoot him lest he prevail over me!” Thus was he besought by the manitou.

But the Thunderer did not speak to (the man) by word of mouth, he communed with him with thoughts by way of the heart. In this wise he spoke with him from the heart: 1 “As I now look when I go to the attack, so shall you look in days to come when from time to time in the course of your life you go to an attack against your enemies.”

(The man) knew that (the Thunderer) was thinking of him from the heart and offering blessing to him. But all the while by the manitou was he being implored, “Shoot him for me, oh, my dear grandchild!” Thus was he told (by the manitou).

The Thunderer by this time had succeeded so far as to cause a gentle sprinkle of rain. Finally (the man) shot the Thunderer with an arrow. Then down into the water dived (the manitou) and took (the Thunderer) along with him. And after (the Thunderer) was taken down under the water, then came the other (Thunderers). When they saw what had befallen the scout, then came the Thunderers a-striking, they came with a mighty roar and a heavy rumble. But over and again did they fail to crack the rock where one of their comrades was held a prisoner of war.

After (the Thunderer) was taken down under the water, he spoke in this wise to (the man): “You have brought

an ill fate upon both yourself and us who bear the same name. As long as the world lasts and people live thereon never shall this name of yours and mine pass from mouth to mouth and be spoken of with fame.”

Such was the way this man, who in his fast was deceived by the manitou that dwelt in the water, [and so] obtained no good for himself by the fast. And ever after when men of the feathered name assumed command in war they always met with loss of warriors. It was on

1 A man falls from a tree and is knocked unconscious. In his delirium he dreams of a visit to the spirit world. The dream takes into brief account _ only .a part of the many elements that make up the mass of belref about the life after death. But enough is given to indicate what at least the conception of the spirit

world is like.

account of the man who, when fasting, shot one of his fellow-thunderers.

At the place whence the dawn of day comes is (the Thunderer) now held a prisoner of war. He often gets to flashing light in the land of the morning. “It-is-hewho-is-busy-with-the-morning,” the people are wont to say when they behold the play of shooting light.

6. Painter’s Dream.1

My grandfather Painter was yet in his youth. One autumn he went off on a hunt for game. He came to a tree where raccoons made an abode, so up the tree he climbed to get them. When far up he was climbing, he chanced with an accident and down from the tree he fell. He hit the ground and was knocked out of his wits.

Then he went home,2 as it seemed in his heart. He came by a path into a road, and he followed the way it led ; the road was big, it was dusty by reason of much travel. As he followed that road he kept meeting with people all along the way. And by some was he overtaken and passed. Farther on he came out upon a river in full view, very beautiful in truth was the river. He beheld a bridge there. He caught the faint sound of a drum on the farther shore. And across the river was an open country that was pleasing. He had a feeble view of a town in the distance.

Then he crossed over by way of the bridge. On coming to the farther bank he saw the town. As he looked at the dwellings he perceived that some were flat on top, some sharp at the top, some even made of earth, and

• A’penutc1, “then he went home;” literally, “then he departed, then he set out, then he went away;” idiomatically it also means “then he went home.” “Home” here means the home in the spirit world.

1 The dance of the warriors wearing belts with crow-feathers hanging down at

2 A‘paginemetc‘ tclpaiya11, literally, “when they set free the dead;” that is, when all the funeral rites have been duly performed, and the souls are then free to go to the spirit world.

some were nothing but stones lying piled in a heap. As was the appearance of the graves in which (the people) were buried, so now was the look of the dwellings in which they lived.

The people were many, they passed the time engaged in every kind of amusement. Some were at play with the limber throwing-stick ; they raced horses one with another ; and some raced one with another afoot ; some practised at archery ; some played at la-crosse ; some gambled at cards, and some gambled at the moccasin game ; and some danced the crow-dance.1

And the women also amused themselves in all kinds of games : some played at the double-ball game ; some were at play with the game of bowl and dice.

On every hand the drums kept up a boom for them that danced. As he had seen (people) do when they set free the souls,2 so he saw them do at this place.

When he was come at the edge of the town, there was he met by his father, and his mother, and by those who were his brothers and sisters. “Oh, go you back!” he was told by them. “You inflicted sorrow upon your children when you left them. Speedily by the path that you came put you about and go home!” Thus was he told by them.

Yet he heeded them not. He continued his way (regardless of what they said). He met up with a woman there at a certain place ; she was one whom he used to woo while he was yet a youth. The woman had long since been dead. “Oh, dear me, if here isn’t Painter whom I used to know in times gone by ! He was then in the habit of going in gladsome apparel, that was when he was yet a youth. But alas, how hapless is the plight of his dress now !” Such was the way the woman spoke of him.

As he thus looked at himself, lo ! it was true that he was in shabby dress. “I will go and get my garments,”

14 — PUBL. AMER. ETHN. SOC. VOL. I.

• The story tells of a man who was warned in a dream of an impending fate by drowning; how that he was mocked by his friends, and how the dream was unheeded and so came true.

thus he thought in his heart. So he turned and started back to go to his home. Many were the people he met along the way, but nowhere did he see the One-whocracks-open-the-Skulls or where she lived.

On a sudden then he awoke ; and as he thus awoke, at the throat and tongue was he dry and parched. He was not able to move, he was so stiff. And though he wished for a drink of water, yet was he without the strength to crawl. He tried to raise a cry, but he had not the power. Such was the exact state of his condition when he was found. The time when he fell from the tree was when (the sun) had flown a short way past the point of noon. Alone did he lie during the rest of the evening, and during all the night, and during the whole of the next day. And at the time of the falling of the sun then was he found. There was a small tree standing beside the one from which he fell, and it must have been on that tree that he fell and tore his testicles. When first he was found he had not the power to use his voice. His tongue was parched dry, so was also his mouth. When they had given him water to drink then was he able to speak. “I must have been asleep,” was the feeling in his heart.

But instead he really had been dead at the time. As soon as he was sufficiently restored to health again, then he told of the dream he had, of how he had gone to visit the place where the dead go.

7. He that dreamed of an III Omen.1

It was once in the winter-time after the Sauks and the Red-Earths had come into Kansas. By the shore of the Missouri River 2 were they then dwelling. Once in that period three men set out for the farther shore to hunt

2 PlghtAnw1, “Muddy River,” the name for the Missouri.

for game where the deer were plentiful. Several days they spent there hunting for game. After they had killed many deer, one then had a dream. So in the morning, “ I had an unlucky dream last night. I hat beneath the ice were we held covered over, is what I dreamed.

“ Fie, it must have been your wind ! While you lay wrapped in your blanket you smelled the odor, and that was the cause of your dream.”

“No, it was not! I really had a bad dream.”

“Your wind was the cause of your bad dream!”

But he would not cease talking. “I really had a bad dream,” he kept saying.

They then went on with the cooking of the food ; when they had it cooked ready to eat, they then ate. When they were done eating, one went to the shore of the river. “Oh, say, come here! You should look at the ice!”

The other two then went over there. Behold, it was true, there was the ice creaking with a loud roar as it moved scraping together.

Thereupon one of them, “Come, let us go home!” he said.

“I had an unlucky dream you should keep in mind,” said he who had had the bad dream. “Till after the ice has ceased floating past do let us wait,” he said.

But the other two, “No, we had better now be going home,” they said.

The one who had had the bad dream was ill at ease, (for he did not wish to venture across) until the ice had ceased floating by. But the other two, in spite of him, set to work carrying the meat to the shore of the river, and there they loaded it into the bark canoe. After they had loaded on all the meat, and for a long while after, was he who had had the dream unwilling (to embark). He was

tcitcimeg" Inig' nlcw‘ awapacimawatc'. Ivageya apositc'.

gutc'. KApotwana aponinawawatc'.

restless, for he feared to cross over in the canoe. All the while were the other two making sport of him. Then at last he got into (the canoe).

Then they set to work paddling. From on the other shore where they were living they were watched by their friends. In throngs gathered the women and children on the shore as they watched them come paddling home ; midway across they came pushing aside the ice ; there halfway across a great block of ice came standing out of the water. “Paddle fast!” they cried to them from the other shore. But they were not able to pass that big block of ice ; then over tipped the bark canoe.

The one who had had the bad dream showed his arm only once after he went down. Another scrambled out on the bottom of the canoe holding his gun in his hand. “Fling away your gun!” the people cried to him from the shore. And in a little while they saw him no more.

And as for that other one, he leaped and upon a cake of ice he lit. Some men who were then on the shore speedily embarked in a big canoe, and with much labor they got to him ; it was hard by reason of so much ice that continued floating by; and they had a hard time getting back again.

So then he who did not drown related what had happened to them. “The one who was the first to drown had an unlucky dream last night. He was afraid for a long while to embark. But we made fun of him. ‘Let us wait till after the ice has ceased floating by,’ was what he said to us. ‘That the ice held us covered underneath is what I dreamed,’ we were told by him. But nevertheless we kept on making fun of him,” said he who was able to come back home.

hlwa negya.

1 The essential point of the story is that a woman dreamed of a man who was looking for his faithless wife, and the rest of the incidents are told to confirm the

truth of the dream. Incidentally there is a glimpse of one form of the behavior of friends toward each other. The term “friends” as used in this connection is an

intimate, unselfish, devoted relation existing between two men or two women. It

8. The Cause of her Dream.1

In Kansas were we living at the time. My mother had a dream one night; and so in the morning, “My brother Runner passed by this way looking for his wife, (and) he said to me : ‘My sister, my wife has deserted me.

You have not seen her?’ He was then in a feeble state of intoxication. ‘No,’ I said to him. So then he grew very angry,” said my mother.

When it was getting nearly noon, then to Salt Creek I went. There I arrived at Salt Creek 2 at a place where there was a white man’s house. A road passed by the white man’s house. In the doorway (as I passed) stood Comanche, there he stood with a smile upon his face. “O man! home I fetched that person last night. You remember what our agreement was.”

“Oh pshaw, you might become jealous of me!”

“You remember: he who happens first to marry, his friend for the first night shall be the one to lie in the couch (with her).”

“Oh, let us not speak of it! You might become jealous of me.”

“Why, were it you who had been the first to marry, for a night would I first have lain in the couch (with her).”

“Oh, away with you! You might become jealous of me,” I said to Comanche.

Later on after many days had passed, my mother heard of the news that Comanche had married Runner’s wife. “He was the one who was the cause of my dream when

often begins in early childhood, and it remains through joy and sorrow for life. It was counted as nothing for such a friend to risk his or her life for the other.

2 WlckupAnoheg1, “at Salt Creek;” literally, “at the place of definite or emphatic taste;” it might refer to sweet or salty taste, but here it happens to be of salt.

1 This is an account of a woman whose husband was slain by the Sioux, and of her experiences as a captive among that people and as a fugitive when on her way home again. Therein lies the chief interest of the story. But its most important features are the premonition of the husband that something baneful would befall him, and the gift he made which proved of so much service to her afterwards.

2 UpAcitohemahAn", “her poor old man;” literally, “her little old man,” the

I dreamed that the other passed this way looking for his wife. It must have been on the very same night that the other’s wife took to herself a husband,” so said my mother.

9. The Killing of Blue-Chief.1

Once on a time long ago Blue-Chief was trapping about over the country along the Missouri River. One morning when (he and his wife) awoke, “I have had a foreboding that something we shall see,” he said to his wife W omanof-the-Sea. Thereupon a paper he gave to her. “This shall you preserve, take good care of it. It might some time in the future be a source of help to you.” After they had eaten, they then went riding away on horse-back along the low bottom-land of the Muddy River. Over there in a certain place where there was a kind of swamp and the growth of willows was dense, all of a sudden they beheld some Sioux. “There they are for you ! Make ready to mount this swift horse of ours!” he said to his wife.

Then to where they were came the Sioux who came to meet them ; (Blue-Chief) was given a greeting with the shake of the hand ; then while he was engaged in talk with them, suddenly by one of the Sioux was he shot.

It was the purpose of Woman-of-the-Sea to flee for her life, but she let drop the rawhide rope which she had tied to the horse. Instantly a Sioux grabbed hold of the rawhide rope, and then Woman-of-the-Sea was taken captive. She then looked on at the scalping of her poor old man.3

Then they started away with her, in the direction of the source of the cold is the way they took her. To yonder place they brought her, there where the Sioux were in camp for the winter. Then they began to dance ; they

diminutive conveying the sense of pathos for the fate of the old man; pAcitou, “old man,” is a polite term for “husband,” which can be used here.

/

1 PwawinahimatAgotcinitcin', “that never moves from the place where it hangs aloft;” the reference is to the north star.

celebrated a dance over the scalp of her poor old man. To a Sioux was she then taken to the end that she might be a sister to him ; for that the Sioux probably had had a sister slain by the Red-Earths was why she was given him, that she might be a sister to him.

And then it is related that one night the one with whom she was abiding desired to lie with her and so made her cry. Thereupon he who had taken her captive came and got her, and to another was she given. Very kindly by that other was she cared for. He used to go forth and beg for food that she might eat. Sore distressed they say were the Sioux for lack of something to eat. Once in the spring, “You may now go home,” she was told by (this) Sioux. “Where your kindred are you may go,” she was told.

“It seems that now these people are purposing to kill me,” was the feeling in her heart. She did not believe what he had said. But it did seem singular how he went about asking for meat, the kind that had been dried. After he had secured the meat and also some moccasins, “This night shall you depart,” was she told by him.

The Sioux themselves were then dancing. After the night had passed half away, “Now then, you may depart,” she was told. To the end of the line of lodges was she led and there set free ; it was by the Sioux to whom she had last been given. “Straight in this direction shall you keep, she was told. “By the star that never moves from the place where it hangs aloft 1 shall you guide yourself on the way, she was told. “When it comes morning, then go into hiding,” she was told. “Travel not during the light of day. After several nights thus spent in travel, then you will come to where a great river flows with swift current. A white man trader lives by the bank of that great river,” she was told by him ; a little of the

i NakAtokacahiganeg', “at the barn;” literally, “at the place of the enclosure of the single-hoofed;” nakAtokaca1*, “single-hoofed,” being the name for a horse.

Red-Earth language he spoke. She understood him well, for already a little had she learned to understand the Sioux-, and that was the reason why she understood that Sioux so well. Before she left she was taken by the hand.

Then she set out over a country of plains and that had been burned over with fire. As often as it began to grow light, then would she go to look for a place to hide herself. When she came to a creek where she found some grass hanging over (and) covering the bank, in there she crawled and in a little water she lay. When the sun was risen about so high, she then heard the sound of the Sioux who were searching for her. All day long she kept in hiding. Very often it happened that near by passed they who were seeking her. In the night again she set forth on her way. All night long she journeyed. When it was coming light again she hid herself. All day long she then hid herself. When it grew dark again all night long she travelled. In about three nights or four nights she arrived there at the place where the white man lived. The dawn was just breaking when she arrived at the barn.1 There she concealed herself.

When the white man came to feed the horses, then by him was she observed. Then she remembered what had been told her by her poor old man. A paper then she drew forth and gave it to the white man. At the belt where her skirt was rolled and sewed was the place from which she drew the paper that she gave to the white man.

The white man then looked at the paper. After he had looked it over, “Go to the house,” she was told. By the white man was she then taken, to the place where the white woman was she then was taken. By the white woman was she given a dress, for by this time was she nearly naked. All her own clothes she took off, and then

sitc‘ ; Asenimeneseg ayamigalk‘. Masislpog Asenimeneseg

i MAtcahinima^kug1, “Inside of a dry-goods box;” literally, “inside of the good-for-nothing or useless or contemptible box,” the name for the cast-away boxes

used in bringing goods to the store.

the white woman’s dress she put on. And she was also fed by the white woman.

After she had eaten, by the trader was she then concealed. “In so many days will the steamboat start on its way down stream,” she was told by signs. By the signs that he made with the hand was how she understood him.

All the while before the starting of the boat, she was kept concealed by the trader, so that it might not be known to the Sioux that she had succeeded in reaching the place where the Sioux trader continued. At the time when the steamboat was ready to start on its way down the Muddy River, then inside of a dry-goods box 1 was she placed ; and by white men was the dry-goods box nailed up. After (the box) was nailed up, then to the boat the white men carried it. After the box was put aboard, then through a crack in the box she peeped and saw the Sioux standing in line along the shore of the stream. They were dressed in gay costume and were watching the departure of the steamboat.

When at Shallow- W ater 2 she finally was brought, then on to another boat she went aboard ; to Rock Island it went. At Rock Island on the Big River was where she went ashore. From thence she was taken, to where her native Red-Earths continued was she taken. In a little while the Red-Earths themselves (learned) that Womanof-the-Sea had arrived. That both had perhaps been slain was the feeling in their hearts all the while. They had already learned that Blue-Chief had been slain by the Sioux while he was wandering about over the country trapping.

2 Piigoneg1, “at Shallow-Water,” or, more literally still, “at the place where the sand or earth” (is visible in the water), the name given to the trading-post where St. Louis now stands.

IS — PUBL. AMER. ETHN. SOC. VOL. I.

panuhekutcin acimenwitotagutc'.

Verily such is the story that Woman-of-the-Sea used to tell of the time when she was a captive among the Sioux. She was wont when about to tell the story first to stop and have a long cry. After she had had her cry, then she would tell of what was done to her husband Blue- Chief ; also how she herself was treated while she was a captive ; and how he by whom she was started homeward had bestowed kindness upon her.

v. — STORIES OF THE CULTURE-HERO.

1 The stories to follow are typical of that mass of narrative in which the culture-hero moves, now as a buffoon doing tricks to others and having them done to him, and now as a benefactor and as an altruistic character. Sometimes he is peevish and whimpering, like a spoiled child, and stoops to acts most degrading for the accomplishment of an end; and again he rises to the dignity of a wise, all-powerful deity. He is almost always represented as dwelling with his grandmother, whom the Foxes symbolize as the Earth. The first tale and the seven following should consist of two parts, - the first, in which the culture-hero figures

v. _ STORIES OF THE CULTURE-HERO.

I. WlSA'KA VISITS THE BEAVER.1

Wisa‘ka was then living at home. “I say, I am going to visit my little brother the Beaver,” he said. Then off he started. Along the shore of a river he went. Yonder in a certain place floating in the water were some trees that had been gnawed and felled. “Why, here is the place where dwells my little brother the Beaver!” thus he thought in his heart. And so in he went.

“Well, here is my elder brother out for a walk!” said the Beaver.

“Oh, for no particular reason have I come to visit you, my dear little brother,” said Wlsa'ka.

“I wonder what there is that we can cook for him?” said the Beaver. “Hang up the water,” (Beaver) said to his wife. “ Who now is willing to be eaten by his father ?” said the Beaver to his children.

“ I (am) !” said one of them in an instant.

Whereupon he clubbed his child to death, and then flayed and cut it up. The Beaver woman boiled (the meat). After it was done, into a vessel she dipped some out (with a spoon). Then she gave it to Wlsalka to eat.

Wlsa‘ka then ate it up.

There was a vessel which the Beaver put before Wlas the guest ; and the second, in which he tries to play the host, but fails. The introductory dialogue is typical of the story of the host and guest. In the first part of the first story the Beaver entertains the culture-hero with what he considers the choicest food in his power to give 5 viz., the meat of one of his children. In the second part the culture-hero is the host, but fails in trying to repeat the Beaver’s performance.

10 kwanetcl ! Netaskwanetcl!”

' Otaskwanetc1, “end claw,” is also the little finger.

sa‘ka. “In this place would I have you put the bones,” said the Beaver to him. “Do not let the bones drop astray from your mouth,” he said to Wisa‘ka.

Now it chanced that Wlsa'ka concealed the end claw.1 So after he had finished eating, “ My dear little brother, I have now eaten up all the (little beaver) and I am filled full inside.”

So then the Beaver, “Now then, go throw the bones into the water,” he said to his wife.

The woman then went and threw the bones into the water. And then the little beaver that had just been eaten up came running back and crying aloud: “Oh, my end

claw! Oh, my end claw! Oh, my end claw!”

“You must have let it fall astray from your mouth,” said the Beaver to Wlsa‘ka.

“Here it is ! I would have taken it with me,” said Wlsa‘ka. So Wlsalka returned it, (and) the woman went away to throw it into the water. Now as a matter of fact such is the number (of claws) on the paw ; such is the reason why beavers have one of their claws of peculiar form; that Wlsa‘ka had concealed it was the cause.

“Well, my dear little brother, I am now going home,” he said to the Beaver. Thereupon Wlsa'ka departed. When over there he was come at the place of his home, “And so you have been to visit your younger brother, the Beaver !” he was told by his grandmother.

“Yes,” said Wlsa‘ka.

That is the way your uncles shall do, they shall visit one with another,” he was told by his grandmother.

Then after a while the Beaver, “I am going to visit my elder bi other Wlsa‘ka,” he said. Then off walking went the Beaver. When over there he was come where Wlsa‘ka dwelt, he then went on in.

“Well, here is my little brother out on a roving tour!” said Wlsa'ka.

nawesiyanin Iyowe.”

1 Probably the only instance in Fox mythology in which Wisa'ka is said to

have had a wife.

“For nothing at all special have I come to visit you, my elder brother,” said the Beaver.

“Anyhow, it is good to have you come where I am, my dear little brother.”

“I wonder what there is that we can cook for him r said Wlsa‘ka. “Hang up the water,” he said to his wife.1 Then he said to his children : 2 “ Who is willing to be eaten

by his father?”

But they paid no heed to him. “Why, never before have you been accustomed to not minding what I said !” he said to his children.

Then after awhile one of them, “I (am)!” it said.

And then Wlsa'ka clubbed it to death. The woman flayed and cut it up (and) then boiled it. When it was done cooking, she then fed it to the Beaver.

After the Beaver had finished eating it up, then Wlsa'ka, “Take the bones and throw them into the water,” he said to his wife. The woman then went and threw the bones into the water. And when no child came back running and crying out, Wisa‘ka then said to the Beaver : “My dear little brother, never before in the past has it been my habit to fail in an undertaking.”

So then the Beaver, “Go draw the bones out of the water,” he said to the woman.

The woman went and took the bones out of the water.

“Now then, go throw the bones into the water,” said the Beaver to the woman.

When the woman went and flung the bones into the water, the child then came running back screaming aloud.

“Now then, my elder brother, I am now going home,” said the Beaver.

2 Probably and the only case mentioned in which Wisalka is referred to as being the father of children.

“Ha°,” ahitc' Wlsalkaa.

“ Tatepiyatug ahuwlgitc' ?”

i This is another version of the Beaver story; but it tells only the first part

“Very well,” said Wisa‘kaa.

That is the end (of the story).

2. WlSA'KA GOES TO VISIT HIS YOUNGER BROTHER

the Beaver.1

“O grandmother! perhaps I ought to go a- visiting. “Who will it be this time?” said his grandmother.

“I wonder where he lives?”

“Of whom are you speaking?”

“Why, the Beaver.”

“Why, you should follow this very river up stream. After you have followed it up to a certain point, then will you see some logs lying soaked in the water. In passing by the water-soaked logs they will seem as if they had been lately felled. Now near to that place is where the

Beaver will have his home.”

Accordingly Wlsa‘ka departed and followed the rivei up stream till he came to the place where the logs lay in the water. Lo ! there sure enough was the dwelling. He stopped and stood a long time gazing at it. “This is probably the home of the Beaver,” he thought in his heart. So he started on, and when he came to the lodge he passed inside.

“Welcome!” he was told by the Beaver. “Of a sudden have you turned up, brother.”

“Yes,” said Wisa‘ka; “‘I am going to see my little brother,’ was the feeling in my heart.”

“I say,” said the Beaver to his wife; “put on the water. What may we have that we can cook for him?” Now he had four children. And so he asked, “Come, what one would be eaten by his father?”

“I!” said one of the Beaver’s children.

with the culture-hero as guest, and leaves untold the account of his doings as host.

wicawite.”

So he took hold of his son and hit him a blow on the back. When the creature was dead, then he cut up its flesh. When the Beaver was done with the cutting-up of its flesh, then he put it into a kettle to boil ; there it boiled till it was done cooking.

For a long time did Wlsa‘ka gaze upon the child undergoing cooking. “How they ill-use it!” felt Wlsa'ka in his heart.

“I say, it seems about time for the thing to be done cooking,” so said the Beaver to his wife. “Come, where is the bowl? Now, lift off the kettle. Pour it out for him there at the rear of the lodge. Put a little spoon there for him.” Then to Wlsa'ka he said, “Now, brother, don’t entertain anything unpleasant in your heart. This means nothing more than following the way I was created. You shall surely see this son of ours again. That is all, go on and eat. Only I would have you be careful with these bones while you eat ; here is this bowl where I want you to keep them together. That is the only thing in which you are to be careful, and that is why I tell you.”

Thereupon Wlsa‘ka ate. He ate till the food was all gone.

“I say,” said the Beaver to his son; “take these bones and throw them into the water. And then I want you to come back again. Now, brother,” he said to Wlsalka; “if at the expected moment he comes a-crying, then something wrong is the matter with him.”

Accordingly the boy went and threw the bones into the water.

“I wonder what’s up?” felt Wlsa‘ka in his heart. “I ate that little child a while ago.”

Suddenly from the river came the little beaver on the run and crying out, “Ouch! Ouch! Ouch! Ouch!” As he

tanitca !”

gi n!‘ke !”

1 In this tale the Skunk as host entertains his guest with venison, which he

obtains by a method of his own. And later, when the culture-hero tries to obtain

venison for the Skunk in the same way, he meets with failure.

came, he entered (the lodge) on the run crying, “Oh, my claw, where is it! Oh, my claw, where is it!”

And then were they four again. As they stood up four in a row, Wlsa'ka did not know which was the one he had eaten, so much alike did they all really look.

“Now then,” said the Beaver speaking to his sons; “just open out your hands. Now, brother, do you recognize which one of our sons you ate?”

“Yes,” said Wlsa'ka. He saw that a claw was gone from one of the little boys. “Well, I declare!” said Wlsa'ka with a claw hid in his teeth. “I think I must have dropped one somewhere hereabout while I was eating.” And when the little boy could not find his claw, “Here it is !” said Wlsa'ka. He found it, so he said.

“All right now,” the boy was told. So the boy went and threw the claw into the water, the claw that Wlsa'ka had concealed.

“How very strange!” felt Wlsa'ka in his heart. “They surely must have the nature of little manitous !”

That is as far as (the story) goes.

3. WlSA'KA GOES TO VISIT THE SKUNK.1

Wlsa'ka and his grandmother were then living at home. So once Wlsa'ka, “O grandmother! I am going to visit my little brother the Skunk,” he said.

“That is good, my dear grandchild. That is the way your uncles are in the habit of doing, they are always visiting one with another.”

I hereupon Wlsa'ka started off walking. When over there he was come where the Skunk had his home, he saw the children ; the Skunk’s children they were, and they were there at play. The caul of a bear they used for a 1 oof (over their play lodge); the backbone of a deer they

Atcagetcatanigitcl !

1 Ncpi neniAton”, “hang up the water," the idiom for “put in the water and

hang up the kettle over the fire.”

used for & bridge (over the brook). When Wlsa'ka saw these things, “Oh, what a great plenty has my little brother!” He then went inside where the Skunk was.

“Well, my elder brother is out roaming about!” said the Skunk.

“Oh, I have come only to visit you, my little brother,” said Wlsa'ka.

“Hang up the water,”1 the Skunk said to his wife. “Fetch me some large berries,” he said to his wife. When by his wife he was given the large berries, the Skunk then went outside of the lodge and called out to the food-animals: “Come eat some large berries!”

Then clattering came the food-animals. Whereupon the Skunk shot at them — bou ! After awhile the Skunk came into the lodge dragging one that was fat.

And then the old woman cooked a meal for Wlsa'ka. After she had finished with the cookingf, Wlsa'ka then ate. “My little brother, I am ever so full inside. By the way, my little brother, I wish you would give me two charges of powder.”

Two charges of powder was he then given by the Skunk. “Take also some meat to our children,” the Skunk said to Wlsa'ka.

“Oh, there is yet enough of the food which they are always eating,” said Wlsa'ka. And then Wlsa'ka started away. Over there in a certain place was a lake. “Now then, I am going to do some practice-shooting,” he thought in his heart. So then he shot at the lake — bou! Behold, the lake was made completely dry by the shot. Then off walking started Wlsa'ka. Over there in a certain place was a mountain. “Now then, I am going to do some practice-shooting,” he thought in his heart. He shot at the mountain — bou ! Behold, it was blown completely away !

16 — PUBL. AMER. ETHN. SOC. VOL. I.

“That rogue keeps on shooting all along his way. He is wasting the powder,” thus said the Skunk.

Over there then came Wlsa‘ka, there where he and his grandmother lived. “And so you have been to visit your little brother the Skunk? My dear grandson, that is the way your uncles will do, they will go visiting one with another,” he was told by his grandmother.

Some time afterwards the Skunk, “I am going to visit my elder brother Wlsa‘ka,” he said to his wife. Whereupon he set out. In a little while over there was he come,

“Well, my dear little brother, you are out for a walk!” said Wlsa‘ka.

“For no special reason at all, my elder brother, have I come to visit you,” said the Skunk.

“O grandmother, hang up the water!” he said to his grandmother. “ Hand me over the large berries,” he said to his grandmother. And then out went Wlsa‘ka. “Come eat some big berries!” said Wlsa'ka.

And then the deer, “What is Wlsa‘ka saying?” they said to one another. “‘Come eat some big berries!’ is surely what he says.” So when clattering came the deer, there was Wlsa‘ka down on his hands and knees ; all he could do was to wink his anus till it was reddened. “ Halloo ! What is the matter with Wlsa‘ka ? Look at him! He keeps winking his anus till he has made it red!” Thus said the deer one to another. After they had eaten up all the big berries, then back home went the sound of their clattering.

After they had eaten up all (the big berries), Wlsa‘ka then said to the Skunk : “ My little brother, my powder

must have been wet.”

The Skunk then asked : “ Have you any more of the

big berries?”

5 nawatcimegu.

1 This is another version of the same story, but it includes the incident of a second failure which would have been complete had not the culture-hero s grandmother come to his help.

“Yes,” said the old woman.

The Skunk then went out of the lodge. “Come eat some big berries!” he said.

Then clattering came the sound of the deer.

The Skunk then shot at the deer — bou ! And all of them he killed.

Wlsa'ka then ran and gathered in the game. After the old woman was done with the flaying and with the cutting up, she cooked for the Skunk. After she had finished with the cooking, she fed the Skunk.

“Eat with me, my elder brother,” said the Skunk. When the Skunk was done eating, he then went home.

That is the end (of the story).

4. WlSA'KA VISITS HIS YOUNGER BROTHER THE SKUNK.1

“Well, I am going to visit my younger brother the Skunk,” said Wlsa‘ka; and off he started. Over there he came at the place where lived (the Skunk) by a brook. Very solid had the children tramped the ground along by the brook over which they had made a bridge with the backbones of animals. “What a sight! He surely must be very well off.” Such was the feeling in his heart when he was seen by the little boys. “Wisa‘ka is coming!” they said of him.

“Why, he is your father and my elder brother! Now be quiet and sit down,” said the Skunk. As Wlsa‘ka came inside, “Ho there, how delightful to have my elder brother come !” said the Skunk.

“It is due simply to the fact that I got so very lonesome, (that) is why I have come. Later on will I tell you for what particular reason I have come.” Thus said Wlsalka.

“Kacina, askapow'.”

20 tiyacig'. 0 nawawatcitiyacenowatc'. “Nahi', Ini,” ahitc'

“Initca winagwayan'.”

“Oho',” ahitc' Cegagwa.

“Well, of a truth it is good to see each other again.” Then he said to his wife: “I say, what can we possibly

have that would likely be a delicious surprise for him?” “Why, some fresh soup.”

“I say, hand me over some of those big berries,” said the Skunk to his wife. When he was given them, then out he went from the lodge. “ Hey-yo ! Come and eat some big berries!” he cried at the top of his voice.

Thereupon came the deer pit-a-pat over the ground. Afterwards sounded the blast of the explosive. And then he came home dragging a deer inside the lodge.

“How very strange!” said W4sa‘ka. “Now that is the very reason why I have come,” he said to the Skunk. *1 have used up all the powder I had, and I would like you to give me enough for four charges.”

“After you have eaten, then I will give it to you.” “How many did you actually hit?”

“Why, only go out and you will see them.”

So Wisa‘ka went outside, and there they lay scattered about over the ground.

When the woman was done cooking the food, then she gave it to Wlsa‘ka to eat. So he ate: and when he had finished eating, then was he impatient to be off a-shooting.

“Now then, get you down on your hands and knees,” the Skunk said to him as he himself went down on his own hands and knees. Thereupon they touched buttocks together and rubbed. “All right, that’s enough,” said the Skunk. “An equal measure shall you and I have. Anyway, that is about the amount I have saved for myself.” “It is now time that I was going.”

“By the way, take some food for your children to eat.” “Oh, it is not necessary, they have plenty of venison which they are always eating.”

“Oh, indeed!” said the Skunk.

1 “Ml” a sudden prolonged nasal sound uttered with the lips closed.

Thereupon Wlsa‘ka took his departure. “I say, I am going to do some practice-shooting,” thought he in his heart. So at a tree he shot. “Bou!” went the sound of the explosive. Looking at what he shot, he beheld it blown to pieces. “How very marvellous!” he thought in his heart. “I say, I am going to shoot at another mark. I am going to shoot at a rock.” And so at a rock he shot. “M!”1 was the sound of its blast. He looked at the rock, and behold ! it was gone. Thither he went, and there was the rock blown to pieces. “How marvellous! It is very great fun ! Now, the next time I am going to shoot at a lake.” So he shot at the lake, and there was nothing left of that. “Oh, what fun! Now, I am going to have one more shot, this time I am going to shoot at yonder mountain.” So he shot at the mountain, and it also vanished. “Well, that is enough for now. Some other time later on I shall want to shoot again. I might waste the powder. In case I should like to go hunting for game, then this would truly come in very handily.

I should have need of it to shoot at something alive.” Thus was the feeling in his heart.

Now about the Skunk. This was the feeling in his heart: “Halloo, there! It is very likely that my elder

brother Wlsa‘ka is playing the part of a rascal and using up all the powder that I gave him. More than four times has he shot. Now then, thither am I going to see what he is up to.” So accordingly he set out for the place where Wlsa‘ka lived. When he arrived, he went inside (of the lodge).

“Halloo! What a pleasure to have my younger brother come! And then he inquired of his grandmother, “I wonder what we have that we can cook for him ?”

“Why, some fresh soup, of course.”

“Hand them to me, O grandmother! hand me the big

berries.” When she handed them to him, then out he went. “Hey-yo!” he cried at the top of his voice. “Come and eat some big berries!”

“Hark! Pray, what says Wlsa‘ka? Why, we are called by him to come !” said the deer among themselves. Then came the clatter of feet over the ground ; there were many for him to shoot at, but not would his explosive go off.

“Why, look ! What is the matter with our elder brother? He is working to widen the opening of his anus. Just look at him!” When he was looked at, “Why, that is so!” they said among themselves. “Pray, what is the matter with him?” And as soon as they had eaten up all the big berries, they then went away.

“Hard luck, my little brother! Damp must have been the powder 5 it would not go off. All the deer have gone away.”

“ And have you no more of the big berries ?” said the Skunk.

“There are some left yet,” said the little old woman.

“Hand me some,” said the Skunk; and then he went out. “Hey-yo! Come and eat some big berries!”

“Hark! Again are we called to come!” so said the deer as they came.

In a little while back came the Skunk, it was after he had killed all that happened to come his way. “Well, fetch in the game,” he said to the little old woman.

The old woman went out, and lo ! many were the deer that lay scattered about over the ground. “Why, my dear grandson, do carry the game in yourself. You and I have been gladdened by your little brother.” So said the old woman. She was joyful as she cooked for the Skunk. “You must yourself lay the mat and set the food for your little brother. For truly very busy shall I be in the work of skinning these deer and cutting up the meat. Indeed, it is now time for the food to he done

Nltepat Inug'. Ini', neslle.”

cooking. Now give the food to your little brother.” So said the old woman. Accordingly then did Wlsa‘ka give food to the Skunk.

“Why, my elder brother, but I want you to eat with me.”

“Why, of course, I will eat with you.” So he ate with him. As soon as they were done eating, “I say, I ought to be leaving,” said the Skunk.

“By the way, my little brother, I should like you to give me some more powder, enough that I may have one more shot.”

“Certainly, I’ll give it to you. Only a very little is left, enough for about two more shots is all that remains.”

“Why, my little brother, when we have nothing more to eat, then will be the time when I shall want to use it. I shall be careful with it this time. That is enough, my little brother.”

Then the Skunk went away. When he was come over there at his home, he said : “ I tell you what, but that

elder brother of mine is a rogfue. He must have used up all the powder that I gave him. And now he has asked for some more. I gave him only enough for a single trial. Indeed, all that I kept back for myself was but for a single shot.” Thus said the Skunk.

In course of time Wisa'ka went for another walk. At yonder place he saw a great rock. “I say, I am going to take another shot, I am going to shoot at the thing and see what will happen to it.” So he shot at the rock, (and) it was blown to pieces. “I think I had better go and ask him for some more powder. There surely can be no doubt about his still having it.” Thus he felt in his heart. Then he went home. When he was come where he and others dwelt, he said to his grandmother: “There now, dear grandmother, I gave my uncles the game that I killed. And my aunts were delighted.”

necakuwihawa.”

i A^Itagwatotc, literally, * laying them on the ground, lie brought (the berries) inside.”

“That is the way, my little grandchild, that is the way of your uncles,” said the old woman. “It is their custom always to give one to another of the game that they kill, and bountifully do they always give one to another.”

“I say, give me some more of the big berries.” She gave them to him, and out he went. “Hey-yo!” he cried. “Come and eat some big berries!”

“Hark! we are called to come!”

He made a trail (with the berries), sprinkling them up to the lodge and then on inside.1 The deer came and entered the lodge. And as for Wlsa'ka himself, yonder he was on his hands and knees at the rear of the lodge. He would shoot at them, but he was unable to make it work.

“ Ho, there ! What is Wlsa‘ka up to ?” said the deer among themselves.

But after awhile the old woman caught hold of a deer. “Why, my dear grandchild, what are you doing? Kicking and hurting me is this one ! Do club it to death.”

“Wait! Hold it tight! I want to go and make myself a bow!” So out he went on the run.

As for the old woman, she really got pretty badly used up. But after feeling for her awl, she finally found it, and she hit the deer with it. At last, after she had slain the

“Pshaw, you have gone and killed it! I would have killed it myself.”

“But, my dear grandchild, it almost overcame me. It was all I could do to overpower it.”

That is as (far as the story) goes.

1 In this account the Duck entertains the culture-hero with rice which is produced miraculously from mute. Later the culture-hero as host meets with d.sap-

5. WlSAlKA GOES TO VISIT THE DUCK.1

Once Wlsalka, “I am going to visit my little brother the Duck,” he said to his grandmother.

“Certainly, my dear grandchild, go visit your little brother the Duck.”

So off walking started Wisa‘ka. When over there he was come where the Duck lived, he went inside.

“Oh, how delightful to see my elder brother strolling about for a walk!” said the Duck.

“Yes, but it is for no special object that I have come to visit you, my dear little brother,” said Wlsa‘ka.

“I wonder what we can cook for him?” the Duck said to his wife. “Hang up the water,” said the Duck to her as he began walking round in a circle. “Kwan, Kwan !” and then he began streaming mute. All the while the Duck woman kept stirring with the ladle till at last she was hardly able to keep on with the stirring of the rice. When she had finished with the cooking, she then dipped some out (with a spoon) into a vessel. Then she fed it to Wlsalka.

So Wisa‘ka ate. After he had finished eating it up, “Quite full, my dear little brother, am I inside. Well, my dear little brother, I am now going home.”

“All right!” said the Duck.

Arid so Wlsa‘ka departed. When over there he was come where he and his grandmother lived, “So you have been to visit your little brother the Duck?” he was told.

“Yes,” said Wlsa'ka.

“That verily shall always be the way of your uncles, they shall always visit one with another,” he was told by his grandmother.

pointment in an attempt to do for the Duck the same thing that the Duck has done for him.

17 — PUBL. AMER. ETHN. SOC. VOL. I.

5 “ 1 A"a,” icegumeg" kepyatcina\vihene, nesese, ahitc'

Clclpa.

Then after awhile the Duck, “Well, I will go visit my elder brother Wlsa‘ka, said the Duck. When over there he was come at the place where Wlsa‘ka dwelt, he went on in.

“Oh, how pleasant, my elder brother, (to see you) roaming about for a walk !” said Wlsa‘ka.

Yes, but for no special purpose have I come to visit you, my elder brother,” said the Duck.

“I wonder what we should cook for him?” said Wlsa- ‘ka. “Hang up the water,” he said to his grandmother. As he began walking round in a circle, he began a stream of dung. It simply was nothing but his own dung that kept dropping into the water. “My dear little brother, never before has it been my custom to fail in an undertaking,” said Wisa‘ka.

“Go pour out that water,” (the Duck) said to the old woman. You should wash your kettle clean. Another water you should fetch for it,” said the Duck to the old woman.

The old woman then fetched the water.

“Hang up (the kettle) and fix it in place,” said the Duck to the old woman. Then the Duck began walking round in a circle. “Kwan, Kwan!” he said as he began streaming mute.

The old woman had hard work to turn the rice with (the ladle). When she had finished with the cooking, “Into a vessel pour it (and) feed my little brother,” said Wlsa‘ka to his grandmother.

“Eat with me, my elder brother, Wisa‘ka,” said the Duck.

“All right!” said Wlsa‘ka.

And when the Duck had finished eating, “Well, my elder brother, I am now going home,” said the Duck.

“Very well!” said Wlsa‘ka.

That is the end (of the story).

“On, Clclpatca nlnawihawa.”

10 wlgiyap', a/pltigatch

“NahiV ah in ate uwIwAn*; “nepi nematonu. Wagunawa

i This tells the story of the Duck as host, but leaves untold his part as guest.

6. WlSA'KA GOES TO VISIT HIS LlTTLE BROTHER THE DUCK.1

“O grandmother!” said Wlsalka.

“What is it?”

“I should like to know where I can visit and get something to eat.”

“That is just what your uncles are always doing. Whom do you wish to visit this time?”

“Why, the Duck is the one I want to visit.”

“Well, go on. I shall he glad if you go, for a walk will relieve your mind of care.”

So Wlsa‘ka set out for the place where (the Duck) lived. Behold ! there was the lodge, (and) in he went.

“Halloo!” he was told by the Duck. “How pleasant (to see) you out walking!”

“Yes, of a sudden did you come into my mind. 1 Better had I go and visit my little brother,’ was the feeling in my heart.”

“I say,” he said to his wife; “put on the water. I wonder what we shall cook for him?”

“Unless it be that which we always have to eat.” “Then rice it probably will have to be.” Up a little way then he flew as he spoke. He muted into the kettle, keeping it up till the kettle was full to the brim. “I doubt if he could ever get into the way of eating this. I am curious to know how he will make out with it. I would not go walking around the country if I were not able to eat things. I wonder if it is about time for the thing to he done cooking? I say, you had better pour it into a bowl.” In such wise he spoke to his wife. Then he said to Wlsa‘ka, “Now then, just see if you can eat.”

To tell the truth, there was a large bowl, and he actually ate all it contained. “Very full truly am I inside! — Well,” said WlsaTii; “it is a long way from whence I

1 In this story the Kingfisher provides his guest with a fish which he gets after

his usual manner, by diving from a perch over the water. Later, when the culturehave come. And what is more, I suspect that our grand- mother is probably getting tired waiting for me. It is always her way whenever I go anywhere, d hat is how our grandmother behaves. Now must I be going.” So he departed, and came to where he and his grandmother lived.

“Well,” he was told by his grandmother; “did you really see the Duck your little brother?”

“Yes, I actually found him at home.”

“And what did he cook for you?”

“Some rice. O grandmother! he surely knows how to prepare the rice when he wants to cook it in a kettle. First the water comes to a boil ; then straight up over where the kettle hangs, straight up overhead a little way he flies; then, lKwan, Kwan, Kwan,’ he says while preparing the rice. He surely knows how to fix the rice. I have already learned the method by observing the way he did when he prepared it for cooking.”

“That is the way with your uncles, they learn things by observation.”

“O grandmother, how very pretty our little children look !”

That is as far as (the story) goes.

7. WlSA'KA GOES TO VISIT THE KINGFISHER.1

“O grandmother! the Kingfisher my little brother do I wish to go and visit,” said Wlsa'ka to his grandmother.

“Certainly, my dear grandson,” he was told by his grandmother.

And then Wlsalka went walking away. When over there he was come at the place where Kingfisher lived, he went inside.

hero tries to dive for a fish in the same way, he strikes a log which he thought was a fish, and is thereby rendered unconscious.

“Icegumegu, nesl'1', kepyatcinawihenu.”

1 Qr-r uttered with a long trill after the velar stop q.

“Oh, how pleasant it is (to see) my elder brother out

for a walk!” said the Kingfisher.

“For nothing at all special, my dear little brother, have

I come to visit you.”

“I wonder what we can cook for him!” said the Kingfisher. “Hang up the water,” he said to his wife..

Now there was a log that lay with point projecting out from the bank (and) on over the water. Thither the Kingfisher went and lit upon the end hanging out (over the &water). “Qr-r!”1 he cried when a big fish he saw;

he killed it by spearing it in the body with his beak. Then he fetched it home.

Then did the woman cut it up and put it into the kettle to boil, (and) by boiling she cooked it. When it was done cooking, then the woman poured it into a bowl , then she gave it to Wlsa‘ka to eat.

After Wlsalka had eaten up all the fish, My dear little brother, I am now going home,” said Wlsa‘ka.

“All right!” said the Kingfisher.

Then Wlsa‘ka went away. When over there he was come at the place where he and his grandmother lived, “So you have been to visit your little brother the Kingfisher?” he was told.

“Yes,” said Wlsa‘ka.

“That is the way it will always be with your uncles, they will visit one with another,” he was told by his grandmother.

After a while the Kingfisher, “I am going to visit my elder brother Wlsa‘ka,” he said. And so away started the Kingfisher. When over there he was come where Wlsa‘ka lived, he went inside.

“Well, here is my little brother the Kingfisher out for a walk !”

“For no special purpose have I come to visit you, my elder brother,” said the Kingfisher.

nawesiyanin'.”

“I wonder what we can cook for him?” said he to his grandmother. “ Hang up the water,” he said to his grandmother. And then into his nose Wlsa‘ka put some sticks that were sharp at the end ; he stuck them into his nose. Down where a log lay with the end projecting out over the water he went and sat. “Qr-r!” he cried as he saw something- under the water. And from that place he leaped ; as did the Kingfisher, the same did he. He rammed the sticks into his nose ; for a log under the water was lying. That it was a fish he had thought in his heart.

And then the water was red with blood, and Wlsa‘ka was knocked out of his wits. By the Kingfisher who came to him was he then dragged out of the water. After a time, when Wisa‘ka had revived, he said to the Kingfisher: “Never before, my dear little brother, have

I failed in an undertakings”

Then the Kingfisher himself went and lit upon a log that projected out from the bank. “Or-r!” he cried when he saw a big fish. He speared the big fish in the body (and) killed it. He then fetched it to Wlsa‘ka.

Ihen Wlsalka cut up the fish, and his grandmother cooked it by boiling. When she had finished with the cooking, into a bowl did his grandmother empty it ; then she gave it to the Kingfisher to eat.

“Eat with me, my elder brother,” said the Kingfisher. After they had eaten up all the fish, “Now, my elder brother, I am going home!” said the Kingfisher.

“All right!” said Wlsa‘ka.

That is the end (of the story).

netecidae.”

1 This tale tells of the visit made by the culture-hero to the Red-headed Wood-

8. The Woodpecker feeds WiSAhtA.1

“O grandmother, I wonder where that younger brother of mine dwells?” said Wlsa‘ka.

“Who?” his grandmother said to him.

“Oh, you know!” said Wlsa‘ka ; “why, the Woodpecker.”

“Why, yes, of course!” his grandmother said to him. “There is a certain point over at yonder place where the river starts on its course across country ; in that place the trees of the bottom-land run close up to the river ; 'there in that very spot is where he lives.”

“Ah,” said Wisa‘ka; “and so that’s where it is! I shall wander out over that way. I don’t see that dwelling at all from here. I suppose, however, that’s where his home surely must be. At any rate, I might as well go and pay him a visit.”

“That is the way,” said his grandmother to him- “that is the way of your uncles and your aunts, they are always a-visiting one with another.”

“Verily, then,” said Wlsa‘ka; I shall be a-going.” Whereupon out of the lodge he went, he went to pay a visit to the Woodpecker. Sure enough, there was the dwelling, it was in a grove which looked dense when viewed from afar. He went inside (the dwelling), and there sat the Woodpecker.

“Halloo!” said the Woodpecker. “What a pleasant surprise, brother !”

“For nothing particular at all have I come,” said Wisa‘ka. “I merely happened to think of you of a sudden. ‘Why, I’ll go and see my younger brother the Woodpecker!’ thought I in my heart.”

pecker, who feeds him with honey, but it lacks the episode of his part as the host.

2 JO

Awapotag awapusatc'.

' Pon1, literally, “(then) a ceasing , a pause.”

“Oh, say!” said the Woodpecker to his wife; “I wonder what we truly can give him to eat?”

“We haven’t any more food.”

“Then I suppose I had better go and hunt something for him to eat. Tell me, where is that skin (spread) ? When he was given the skin, away he went to where a great tree stood. Up the tree he went a-climbing with a “Kwa-kwaU ICwa-kwa' !” Right on up he moved. Up there at a great way in the air he tested the tree by the sound of its thump. There in the tree where the honey was he began to peck a hole.

It was beautiful honey. He had the skin spread down there on the ground, upon which to let the honey drop. Then he beg'an to let the honey fall. After there was an ample supply, he then stopped.1 “That will be enough,” said the Woodpecker. So back down to the ground he went. When he got there, he tied up his bundle and put it over the shoulder. Whereupon he started off on a walk carrying his burden upon the back.

When he arrived over there at the place where he and his wife lived, he went inside. He put the honey into a wooden bowl. “Now, brother,” said the Woodpecker; “pitch right in and eat.”

He was ever so delighted with the taste (of the honey) ! To tell the honest truth, Wlsalka ate up every bit that was in one great big bowl. “Oh, mercy me!” he said; “but I am ever so full inside. I say, brother, I ought to be starting on my way by this time. It is quite likely that our grandmother is expecting me. ‘I shall be back early,’ I told her when I came away.” So off he started. When he was come over there at the place where they lived, he passed inside.

“And so you have come back?” he was told by his grandmother. “Did you really see your younger brother the Woodpecker?”

“Uwiyaha Amwita, Mlsimlslsa.”

1 The Artichoke sings a song with words to entrap the culture-hero, who with

disdain accepts the challenge, and thereby becomes a victim of his foolishness,

“Oh, yes!” said Wlsa‘ka. “But, O grandmother, I tell you what, if my younger brother the Woodpecker didn’t give me something to eat that was delicious!”

“Pray, what was it?”

“Honey, that’s what it was! It was in a wooden bowl that was ever so big; and it was actually brimful. You may not believe it, but really I ate up all that was there.”

“Verily, such is the custom of your uncles and your aunts when they go to visit one with another. They give to eat to one another bountifully of what they have, and the good of what they have. Did you observe how very cunning was the look of our little children?” Thus spoke his grandmother.

That’s as far as (the story goes).

9. When Wisa‘ka ate the Artichoke.1

“I say, dear grandmother, I am going away on a journey,” said Wlsa‘ka. And so he got himself into good clothes.

“Now, that is the way your uncles do,” he was told by his grandmother; “they are always off on a journey.”

And so off he started. Along by yonder way was he going when of a sudden he heard the sound of someone.

Hark ! Who may it be ?” Then he listened to catch the sound of whoever might be making it. In the very path along by which he was going was the sound of the creature’s voice, and this is the song it sano--

“If any one should eat me,

One would ease and keep on easing.”

and learns the truth of the words of the song.

“Uwlyaha Amwita,

Mlsimlslsa.”

“Uwlyaha Amwita,

Mlsimlslsa.”

“Uwlyaha Amwita,

Mlsimlslsa.”

“Bou ! Bou !”

“How very strange! Who can it be? The other way round then he went. All at once again over there on ahead did the creature break forth with the sound of its voice:

“If any one should eat me,

One would ease and keep on easing.”

“The idea! I surely should not care to eat you.” Once more he went the other way round. And once more came the sound of the creature’s voice :

“If any one should eat me,

One would ease and keep on easing.”

“See here, no more of that!” he said. “For this time will I certainly eat you if you say it again.”

Nevertheless once more :

“If any one should eat me,

One would ease and keep on easing.”

So sang the creature. And, behold! there it stood. He plucked it, and then ate it. “Now see if I really shall ease myself!” he said as he continued on his way. “Look out, I am about to ease myself!” he said, but he spoke only in jest. But farther along on the road was he going when he broke wind, “Bou!” Once more he did it. “Really! maybe the thing, after all, was speaking the truth.” He kept breaking out with wind as he walked along, “Bou! Bou!”

Now very handsome indeed were his garments. Before long he was caught with a pain in the bowels and felt relief necessary. So he eased himself, and profuse was the flow of the dung. “See here, that thing is liable to do me ruin !” Once more he eased himself, and much greater was its extent. Again was he relieved. With much effort was he really able to get up on his feet. And then he climbed up a pine-tree, and all the while out flowed his dung.

At last he took a look at his dung. Very close it came. Then higher up he climbed. Later on he took another look at it. Very near at hand was it coming again. Then higher up he climbed ; from the tree-top he looked down. It was a strange sight that he beheld down there on the ground. Again it came even up to his feet, then finally up so far, up to his chest was he standing in it ; then up to here, up to his neck came the dung. Then he started to swim out to the shore. With much effort he came to the edge of his dung. Then he flung away all his garments. He looked at it, like a mountain seemed his dung. To a river then he went when he was done with easing himself (and) took a bath. All over his head was there dung. Then he went home naked. All he had with him was his breech-clout.

When he entered into his home, “Why, my dear grandchild, what is the matter with you?”

“Why, dear grandmother, my uncles and my aunts came a-running when they saw me ; and they had a great time taking one from another the garments that they took from me ; they took every thing I had.”

“That is the way with your uncles, they are always taking things from one another whenever they meet together,” said the old woman.

“Oh, I fared well enough perhaps!” said Wlsa‘ka.

“Well, my dear grandchild, that is what comes from your being so fond of your uncles. Never do you tell me about it.”

“To-day am I going there, and again am I going in fine style. I find pleasure at seeing them take things from me,” said Wlsa'ka.

\ ou will make them happy,” said the old woman.

I hat is the end (of the story).

“ He*, apitcl ! kegenl !”

1 This tale starts out with the capture of some ducks by the culture-hero, who entices them on, partly by deceit, and partly by the charm of a song which he and a reed sang together, making them dance; and it ends with the punishment of that

IO. WlSAlkA CATCHES DUCKS BY THE NECK (AND) STRANGLES THEM.1

Wlsa'ka was passing across the country when he presently came to a pond where the ducks were ever so many. He stood (and) watched them for a long time. It was not his idea at all to make a rush upon them ; for if he should rush them, they would all fly away. “I am very uncertain about knowing how I shall really get hold of them,” was the feeling in his heart. And he was exceedingly hungry. So he set to work at once to find a way to catch them. In a little while he discovered how he would do with them.

He went to work cutting blades of grass, tying them up, and binding them into a bundle. Putting (the bundle) on his shoulder, he started off on a walk. As he walked along by way of the pond, he was suddenly seen by the ducks. “Oh, there’s Wisa‘ka !” they said of him. “What has he really got on his back?”

“Come, go ask him!”

“Oh, pshaw! hurry, be quick!”

“And he’s moving right along, and he might get a long ways off.”

“Ho, there, Wlsa‘ka!”

“Oh, our elder brother! pray, what is that you are carrying on your back?”

He did not give them an answer, nor did he pay them any attention. He even had them call to him as often as four different times ; and when he was spoken to the last time, he then stopped and stood a while. But he

part of himself which he blames as the cause of letting the ducks be stolen from him by the foxes. The account forms but the beginning of a longer narrative containing a great deal of buffoonery, along with much of what is serious.

pwa ; Inina Acitc Aneme‘ka‘ka penotc ay ay an*.”

looked off in another direction (than that) from which the sound of voices came. “What (is it)?” he said to them, without looking towards where they were. 1 hen he started walking away again.

“Ho, there!” he was told once more.

“What (is it)?” he called back. This time he saw them and did not pretend that he did not.

“Pray, what is that you have on your back?”

“Why, it’s naughty little songs!” said Wlsa‘ka.

“Oh, our elder brother, do let us listen to your songs!” “Oh, it’s such a difficult thing to do! Why, you would not do it, anyhow.” Thus said Wlsa‘ka. “Anyway, it would be impossible. Furthermore, you are delaying me too long ; the time is up when I should by now be far on my way towards where I am bound.”

“Really, we will do anything you tell us.”

“It is a difficult thing, so very much so. And you would not be able to do what I should tell you.”

“No, now ! we will do exactly the very thing you tell us.” “All right, then!” said Wlsa‘ka. “We will make a try at it, even though the thing be ever so difficult. Well, bunch up in this spot ! Stand close, stand with your necks together. Now with all your might, my little brothers, (I want you to) get right down and dance ! I am going to use but a single song. None of you shall try to look and see what s doing. Whosoever peeps, the same shall surely be bloodshot at the eyes. Now, then, it’s time to get ready. But before you begin dancing, I want you to look at this stem of grass. Be sure and look at this. Verily, it is the only one I shall use. It is yet a long distance to where I must go. do be honest with you, all these things, these that loom up big in a pile, are nothing but songs. Time is up now for me to have you dancing. Don t any of you peep, else you will bring

Sapigwagwane wimackwa-mackwawitowinigwawa.”

Sapigwagwane wimackwa-mackwawitowinigwawa.”

Sapigwagwane wimackwa-mackwawitowinigwawa.”

Sapigwagwane wimackwa-mackwawitowinigwawa.”

ruin upon yourselves. Ready now, it s time you were dancing! I want you to dance as well as you know how.”

Whereupon they began to dance as Wisa'ka sang this song :

“Don’t, oh, my little brothers, don’t you peep;

Whosoever peeps, he shall be bloodshot in both eyes.

“Don’t, oh, my little brothers, don’t you peep;

Whosoever peeps, he shall be bloodshot in both eyes.”

“Don’t, oh, my little brothers, don’t you peep;

Whosoever peeps, he shall be bloodshot in both eyes.”

“Don’t, oh, my little brothers, don’t you peep;

Whosoever peeps, he shall be bloodshot in both eyes.”

Thus sang Wisa'ka as he set his younger brothers to dancing. “Well, well, well!” said Wisa'ka; “how well my little brothers can dance !”

Now it so happened that the diver suspected Wisa'ka. Verily, when it stole a look at Wisa'ka without his knowing it, lo ! it actually caught him getting ready to untie the cord from his bow. So, when Wisa'ka said, “Now bunch up with your necks together!” the diver ducked and flew away. Wisa'ka failed to catch the diver by not dropping the noose over its neck.

The diver flew away and alighted over there on the lake. “Hwua!” said Wisa'ka to it; and straightway it became ruffed on top of the head at the spot where Wisa'ka slipped hold of it. Sure enough, the diver really became bloodshot in both its eyes.

Going with the wings of his ducks spread apart, he went to the bottom land of a river (and) stopped to camp. There he kindled a fire, (and) the fire blazed up big. He covered the ducks over with coals, (and) they lay with only their feet sticking out. Fixing himself comfortably, he lay

down with his back humped (and) towards the fire. “Well, by the time I wake from sleep perhaps my ducks will then be done cooking.” Thus he said to himself. Then addressing his rump, this he said to it : “I say, keep you watch over (these ducks), for I now go to sleep.” Thus he addressed his rump, commanding it to keep watch. “I want you to scold at whosoever may come, I want you to run him off.” Whereupon Wisa'ka went to sleep.

In a little while the smell of something savory came into the way of the foxes. “How now! I wonder what that is?” said the foxes one to another.

“Come, let us go where it is, let us go look at it!” said one.

So away they all went creeping up to the place from whence came the burning smell. When they were come in sight of the place, behold ! there was somebody lying down where the smoke was lifting ; he lay by the fire with his back toward it. “Wonder who it can be!” said the foxes one to another.

“I declare, it’s Wlsa‘ka!” said one.

“Pray, what are those things sticking out of the fire?” “Ah, they are ducks! (and) he has them roasting in the ashes !”

“ I wonder how we can manage to get them ?”

“Why, that’s easy. We’ll just steal them from him.” “Be quiet, he might wake up!”

“Oh, no! Why, he is sound asleep.”

One fox was afraid of Wlsa‘ka : “I say, you will go

there, won’t you?” he said to his friend.

“Why, yes, of course I will!” and with that off went the fox in the direction of the fire. As he was on the point of taking hold of a duck, “Sitce!” he was told. Away he fled back to where his friend was. “Why, he is not asleep !” he said.

“ He' ! apitcl ! Mawadapenimeg", katamegu wlketawiya-

5 citce, citce, citce, citce, citce!”

mutemegutc'.

Pemamutete wanotcalkwawa hwana.

“Oh, nonsense! come, be quick! Just go and take them, and pay no heed to him at all. Anyway, it’s only his rump keeping watch over the ducks.”

And so he went back over there. He took hold of the ducks without stopping for anything, and all the while Wlsa'ka’s rump kept going, “Citce, citce, citce, citce, citce, citce!”

The foxes ate up all the ducks which Wlsalka had roasting in the coals a short while before. So Wlsa‘ka did not have them for himself to eat simply for the reason that they were stolen by the foxes.

Along about that time he awoke from his sleep. “Hoho-ho!” he said (with a yawn). “I wonder if it isn’t about time for my ducks to be done cooking.” Whereupon he plain became wide awake.

(The foxes) had (by this time) fled, for it was quite that he would be in very great anger.

Accordingly Wlsa'ka reached for the ducks he had roasting in the coals. On taking hold of the duck by the foot, nothing was there but the feet only. “Too bad!” he said. “They must have cooked too long!” Then he took hold of another duck, and it was the same. “Why, what’s up! Somebody must have been here!” he said, as he looked at the feet one after another. After looking for all his ducks, he found nothing of them but the feet, which lay sticking out of the ashes as if nothing at all had happened to them. Wherefore was he not able to eat the ducks which he might have eaten.

“I have it, it surely must have been the foxes! Who else could it be but they? They are the only ones so roguish. There can be no doubt whatever but that it was they who robbed me.” Thus he said to himself. And to his rump, “Look here, ‘I want you to keep watch’ is the very thing I told you at the time. I feel almost

“ Atwl ! Atwl! 0, Atwl! Atwl!”

i This narrates how, by rolling himself down hill in a linden-baric bag ; the culturetnrkevs with the desire to do the same thing. When they are

inside the bag ^ tjien C*f tte US’ oMhe^Fox ; it is t odgin^f menstruation. T.ivbd as Use aap.a.a.ion map be, Che emphases gc.en

certain that you said nothing to them at all. I suppose they had things all their own free way.”

Then taking hold of a chunk of wood with fire on it, he poked it against his rump, rubbing it back and forth.

“Ouch! ouch! Oh, ouch! ouch!”

“Oh, (I was sure that) you knew all about it! What a pity that you must say ‘ouch !’ ‘Keep watch’ is what I told you at the time. The confounded thing is the sole cause of my losing something to eat ; that is the way I feel about it in my heart.”

That is as far as (the story) is told, that is as far as it goes.

II. WlSA'KA ROLLS HlMSELF DOWNHILL IN ORDER THAT HE MAY CATCH THE TURKEYS.1

Wlsa‘ka was once walking across country when some turkeys he saw. He halted and stood. “I wonder how I can get hold of these creatures?” thus he thought in his heart. Then by chance he came to think of his wallet (of linden-bark). Whereupon he went climbing up a hill ; when at the top he was come, he then crawled into his bag. After he had closed the bag by stitching it with cord, he then started himself a-rolling.

The turkeys beheld Wlsa‘ka whirling over and over along his course. “What is Wlsa‘ka doing?” they said.

When yonder at the foot of the hill he was come at the end of his whirling, he opened the bag, and then back up the hill he climbed. And when on top of the hill again he was come, he then once more crawled into the bag. After closing the bag by stitching it with cord, he sent himself a-whirling. When at the foot of the hill he

to the tale is largely due, no doubt, to the mysterious awe with which the function is regarded, and in a measure to the stringent rules with which the custom attending it is observed.

19 — PUBL. AMER. ETHN. SOC. VOL. I.

nrixauwipena !”

sahenate, nlnan ax-g Ini nrixauwipena !”

i KlhucAmegwa hwana! may also be translated “He will give you (us) to eat, yes, he will!” — a term of sarcasm.

was come at the end of his whirl, by a turkey was he then addressed: “Oh, my elder brother! O Wlsa‘ka! what

are you doing?”

He did not reply to it, but back to the top of the hill he went, and again he crawled into his bag. After enclosing himself by stitching the bag with cord, he then went whirling to the foot of the hill. By the turkeys was he then visited. By one of the turkeys was he then addressed: “Oh, my elder brother, let us do that too!”

“It is hard (to do), Oh, my little brothers. Then back to the top of the hill he went. Again he crawled into his bag; after enclosing himself by stitching it with cord, he whirled to the foot of the hill. By the turkeys was he then addressed: “Oh, our elder brother, let us do that too !”

“It is hard (to do), oh, my little brothers.” But in the end he was willing. Then he set to work picking out the ones that were fat. After he had filled his bag full, he then closed it up by stitching it with cord. He then lifted it upon his back and set out in the direction of his home.

And then the turkeys, “Halloo, to his home is he carrying us !” they said (to one another).

When there at his home he was come, he put down his burden. “O grandmother!” he said to his grandmother; “keep watch of them. I am going to make my- self a bow and some arrows.”

After he had gone away to the place where he went to make his bow, the turkeys then said to her: “Come,

old woman, open (the bag) and set us free. You surely cannot count on his giving you anything of us to eat ! 1 We would have you examine us, and then hide one of us away, so that when your grandson is absent you can have that one of us to eat.”

The old woman then began to loosen (the bag) to let

t Kemyanot', “you are crawling weak,” the way of saying “you are menstruating.”

them out. Whereupon the turkeys then stood bunched together. “Now then!” they said together, and away they flew. But the old woman grabbed hold of one by the leg. Over there past the place where Wlsa'ka was at work on his bow flew the turkeys. “Pshaw, it is just as likely that my grandmother has now let them loose!” Ihus was the feeling in his heart. Then he set out for home; and when he was come at the place where he lived, it was true enough that his grandmother had really untied (the bag) and set them free !

“Oh, my dear grandchild, it is almost escaping me!” “Hold it tight,” he said to his grandmother; “while I go and make my arrows!” After he had finished his arrows, he then shot the turkey.

The old woman then cut up the turkey. She then set to work to put it into the kettle to boil.

“ Confound this good-for-nothing old woman ! She is now the cause of my having lost the opportunity of good eating upon those creatures.” There was a clot of blood that WlsaTa saw ; whereupon he reached and took it up without her knowing it. While his grandmother with hips up stood bent over at work preparing her kettle, at her buttocks he threw the clot of blood and struck her. “ Why, you are crawling weak,1 my grandmother !” he said to her. “The useless old woman is filthy! Out of doors with you!” “My dear grandchild, I did not know about it,” said the old woman as she went out. There out of doors the old woman kindled a fire. She then set to work making a wallet (of linden-bark).

As for Wlsalka, when the turkey was done cooking, he took a ladle and dipped it out into a bowl. Then he turned to eating. After he had eaten it up, “O grandmother! how many strands by this time have you woven of your wallet (of linden-bark)?”

wihauwiwatc' myanotawatcin'.”

l This story makes brief mention of the culture-hero’s wanderings with a pack of wolves, and is but a mere fragment of an extended narrative the variant of

“Six, my dear grandchild.”

“That is enough, grandmother. That verily shall always be the number of days my aunts will stay out of doors whenever their time of crawling weak comes round.”

Thereupon the old woman went inside (the lodge).

“ O grandmother ! here is a little soup that I have saved for you.”

That is the end (of the story).

12. Wisa‘ka and the Wolves.1

Wlsa‘ka was passing across the country in company with some wolves. Along towards evening, “Go on ahead and seek for game,” said (one of the party) to the youths. They then killed a deer. “Some bone-oil should you make,” said (one of them) to the youths. They then ate up everything, even the bones and all they crunched up in their mouths.

“Confound these creatures, a little bit should I like to have roasted on the spit !” thought Wlsa‘ka in his heart.

Whereupon up vomited the wolves, and, lo, there appeared some thin slices of meat already cooked and with some grease.

And then (Wlsalka) ate with them when they ate.

“Say, in this place let us sleep, for there is shelter from the wind,” said (one of them).

It was (on high ground) exposed to the blasts of the wind.

“With a robe cover up your elder brother.”

Then on the side where came the wind did the wolves ease themselves; and when the smell came, “Phew!” said Wlsa'ka. And, behold, there appeared an undressed skin for him to cover himself.

which among the Ojibwa leads up to the accounts of the origin of the more prominent religious beliefs and practices.

t This tale has not the same place in the oral literature of the people as the other trickster tales have. In spite of so much of its foolishness, which frequently may seem silly and trivial, the usual trickster tale is treasured with more or less feeling of awe and reverence. But this story is classed as an outside thing, and much fun is Eiade of it largely on account of the presence of certain elements

On the following morning they started on their way. About evening time, “Go seek for game,” said (one of them) to the youths. They then killed a deer, and they again ate it all up.

“Make some bone-oil,” (one of them) said.

They then crunched up all the bones in their mouths ; after they had crunched up the bones in their mouths, they vomited •, after they had finished vomiting, then thin slices of meat and some grease appeared.

Wlsa‘ka then ate with them.

“Come, let us camp,” said the wolves.

Wlsa‘ka then eased himself on the side where the wind was blowing.

“Phew!” said a wolf.

“Here is a buffalo-robe, my little brother,” he said to the wolf ; and a buffalo-robe appeared.

That is the end (of the story).

13. WlSAlKA IS VANQUISHED IN A CONTEST with a Trader.1

In a place where an old-time trader lived some ships were lying moored. He was rich, he had numerous pets of all the various kinds of food-folk. Once while the light of day was shining, from Wlsa‘ka he received a visit. “Let us make a bet with each other,” he was told by Wlsa‘ka. “All these pets of yours I would know by what name they are called; if I succeed in calling off the names of them all, then you shall die. To-morrow at noon I will then come back,” said Wlsa‘ka. And so away

not in keeping with that world of myth in which the culture-hero moves. It tells of how the culture-hero tested the ingenuity of a trader, and how, feigning ignorance, he let the trader beat him in a contest.

“ * Ane ”

“Pasegwlnu, netaiyc,” ahinatc Adawaneniw". Onapase-

The trader then set to work searching his mind to find what he would do. All the day long until night, and then all the night long until nearly morning, (was how long he spent in thought before) he found what he would do. “Come,” he said to his wife; “for a while do I wish to make a pet of you. Whatsoever I shall tell you, that I want you to do.” Then he set to work undressing his wife, and in a while he made her nude. Then he began putting tar upon her. And after he had plucked the feathers off (some) brants, he then began putting feathers upon the body of his wife. After he had feathered her, “Now, go walking about,” he said to her. And it seemed as if the woman were really a creature of the food-folk. The trader also made a box, into which he put his wife.

Then truly was it coming noon, the time when Wisa- ‘ka would arrive. It was true that Wlsa'ka came. “Now then, let me see your pets,” he said to the trader.

The trader then began showing Wlsa'ka his pets.

Wlsa'ka passed along calling off their names, and did not stay until he had called them all off. “Does that include all your pets?” said Wlsa'ka.

“There is still one more.”

“Where is it, pray?” said Wlsa'ka.

The trader then opened the door of the place where his wife was.

Wlsa'ka looked at the woman, but he did not know what manner of being she was. “What is this pet of yours in the habit of eating?” he said to the trader.

“On wind I feed it.”

“Does it understand you?” said Wlsa'ka.

“Yes.”

“Tell it to rise,” said Wlsa'ka.

“Rise to your feet, my pet,” said the trader to the thing. And then up to its feet it rose.

waneniwa.

gwane wlhuwlhiwa.”

1 The story tells how the Turtle, by the use of a magic robe which he had borrowed from the culture-hero, won the chief’s daughter for a prize in a footrace ; and how every night for four nights he went away from the culture-hero s

“Tell it also to walk about.”

The trader then said to his wife: “Walk about,” he

said to it; and so about it walked.

Wlsa'ka then looked to see what kind of skin it had, but he did not learn what manner of being it was. Wlsa‘ka was only playing off. It seemed as if it were really true. He knew that the trader had tarred and feathered his wife. That he did not know her was but a pretence of his to test how crafty the trader could be. “You have beaten me,” said Wisa‘ka. “This pet of yours I do not know what kind of creature it is, nor from what place you got it. There are two of these mountains that you have won from me,” he said to the trader. “ And, besides, you shall live a long time, even till you are white on the head. Such is the measure of what you have won from me.”

After Wisa'ka had gone away, the trader then set to work bathing her ; soap he used when he bathed his wife.

And on the next day Wlsa‘ka came back again. “Where is that pet of yours?” he said to the trader.

“Why, yonder one that is seated. Look at her,” said the trader to Wlsa'ka.

“Truly, you are very wise,” he said to the trader. As if he did not know who she was, he made believe.

That is the end (of the story).

14. The Turtle is loaned Medicine by Wisa‘ka to win a Foot-Race.1

“Behold, they say that a woman shall be offered up as a prize, she is the daughter of our chief. To-morrow at noon, whosoever shall win the foot-race, the same shall have her to wife.”

lodge with the robe, thinking to steal it, but every morning found himself back at the place whence he had started.

5 ketutcipye?”

amananitc'.

“Inatca wlna wawosa klnawasokuwawa !”

“I am the one who shall take her to wife,” said the Turtle. “That you should succeed in outrunning me is quite out of the question.” So when night was come, to the home of his friend he went, to the home of Wlsa'ka. He went inside.

“Halloo!” he was told. “It is pleasant to have my friend come. Do you come for something?”

“Yes,” said the Turtle; “I have come to beg of you that you let me have the use of (your) medicine to the end that I may win a foot-race.

“To be sure, I will lend it to you. In fact, here it is,” said Wlsa'ka. “Take it. You can practise with the thing as you go along, (and) catch on to the way it works.” Then was the Turtle covered with a buffalo-robe, and girdled round the waist with a rattle dangling at the back. “ That is the way you shall let it hang ; but you must bring it back to me when you have done with it,” said

“I will fetch it as soon as I am done with it,” said the Turtle.

“Nobody shall be able to outrun you, of all on earth who are swift of foot,” said Wlsa‘ka.

“That is the very reason why I have come, my friend,” said the Turtle. So he started away. Over at yonder place was he come, and there he slept. “In the morning fit yourselves out in the right kind of dress, O young men! In vain will be your efforts to outrace me! I am the one who shall have her to wife !” So cried the Turtle. At noon he got into the proper costume with a belt round his waist. Then he set out, and came over there where the crowds were.

“Yonder comes the Turtle!”

“Disgraceful will it surely be if he outruns you!”

“No, he will not win the race!”

“Kacina, napiwana, wlhatcimap acawigwane.”

“ N et Aniwlsatca.”

i Metem", “old woman” (vocative), gentle term of address to a wife, whether she is old or young.

“Something is this rascal surely up to!” Thus said the people (among themselves).

“Come, pray, when is the race coming off? Once more and for the last time, I am the one who shall have her to wife. It is quite out of the question to think that you will be able to beat me. Come, it is far away over yonder hill whence we shall start.”

So over there were they come.

“Come, go watch for that rogue of a Turtle. Somewhere is he likely to lie down.”

“Why, that is a good idea, and let him be reported if he does unfair.”

By and by here he came with haste over the hills, he was coming on the run.

“Well, how did you make out?”

“I won the race, that is all.”

Then came they who ran in the race.

“Pray, how did this old Turtle behave?”

“Why, he simply ran clear away from us. A mighty swift runner he surely is.”

“As I told you before, I am the one to have her to wife, is what I told you.” Thus spoke the Turtle. “Well, come along, old woman,1 let us go home.” And so they went home, and in a little while were they come to the lodge. Then he said to his younger brother, “Take your sister-in-law within, brother.”

“Come in,” he said to his sister-in-law.

“I say, for a little while am I going to my friend’s,” said the Turtle. And so he set out for his friend’s. “How now ! if I should steal this thing, it would be all right. Now, I am going to steal it when my friend falls asleep. He will not find me out,” was the feeling in his heart. When over there he was come, “Well, here is our common possession ; it is a mighty good thing.”

20 — PUBL. AMER. ETHN. SOC. VOI,. I.

1 Netclpanawes’ ! the translation as given conveys the sense, but not its literal meaning. Literally it is “I am in the animate state of a ghost,” which is nonsense.

It is used of one oppressed by a nightmare, or one who walks in one’s sleep, or one in a hypnotic state.

“Did you win the foot-race?”

“Yes; and they had a great time with a lot of big talk about how fast I ran. At this place should I really like to sleep.”

“All right, there is a great deal of spare room,” said

And so they went to sleep. After a while the Turtle woke up. After making the theft, then he went out. He set out in haste, he went bounding away on the run, and kept it up till the break of day, coming to a place a great way off, where on the ground across his path lay some logs. “Now, here is a place where I will sleep.” So he went to sleep.

After a while the old woman awoke and went outside to get firewood. Behold! and here lay the Turtle by the firewood. “Why, my dear grandchild, here is your friend ! Out of doors must he have slept.”

Then out of the lodge went Wlsa‘ka. “Why, my friend, what is the matter with you?” And then he woke him up.

“Oh, alas! I came here unwittingly by reason of the baneful influence of some ghost.1 Some day that medicine of ours is liable to do me harm.” Then he threw it outside. “How marvellous! it is so strange. It certainly seemed as if I really had come a long away awhile ago,” felt the Turtle in his heart. “Yet I am surely going to steal it. Whenever I decide in my heart to do something, that very thing is going to happen. This very night that thing will I carry away.” Thus he felt in his heart. “Not at all can I keep the thought of our common possession out of my mind. Wonder how I kept from jamming my foot into the fire ? All the while was I conscious of what I was doing. Just once more do let me sleep here, for that it has really been such a long time since we have seen each other is why I have come to greet you.”

“Agwini pwawawatoyanin'. Kacina, nlkemute nesikutci-

“Tcihiye', kacitca netecaw' ! Magwa nekatawiwapes' !”

“Agwitca Inicigekin'.”

“Why, should you do that, you would be doing the proper thing,” said Wlsa‘ka.

They talked on till late in the night. Finally it was the Turtle who alone talked. “Why, is it possible that my friend has fallen asleep?” The other did not wake.

Then after that he took the thing and made ready to go out. Then he went out, and proceeded on his journey. When he came to an open country farther on, he began to hasten on the run. “I am taking the thing away. Well, I will make the theft, is what I said at the time. I never fail to carry out anything,” was the feeling in his heart. A great way off now had he come. “With confidence can I rest, now that the thing is all my own, and to nobody shall I ever lend it. But it is possible that somebody might steal it from me,” thus he felt in his heart. “A very grand time shall I have making the women my wives.” Then he set out on the run through the woods. “Now, then, I had better take a nap.” Where two great trees stood together, there he laid himself down and slept.

When the old woman awoke, “Why, my dear grandchild, here is your friend again ! He lies in the doorway, blocking the passage.”

“Why, my friend, you block the passage by which she goes out.”

“For goodness’ sake, what can be the matter with me! Perhaps I have almost gone crazy,” said the Turtle.

“You simply spend too much time with the women. In a short while they will set you crazy,” said Wlsa'ka.

“Oh, no! it is really this medicine of ours. Too much of it have I probably used. That, no doubt, is what ails me.”

“ That is not the way it works.”

“Then perhaps the cause of my acting thus is that I am simply too swift a runner. Really once more should I like to sleep here.”

panitcimegu.

“Why, it is good to have you sleep here all the time.” They kept on talking till late in the night. A little while after they were done talking, then Wlsa'ka fell asleep. In course of time he again caught hold of the thing to steal it. Then he made ready and went out. He went speeding away. “A long way off this time will I sleep. Very much endued with mystery is the little creature. But it is certain that never again will I return. I will make sure where I lie down.” And farther on he crossed a river. “Well, it is certain that a long way have I now come. It is time that I thought of sleeping for a little while. It has now come to pass that this thing is now all my own, I can even count on it to give me power to go a long way off ; it is a thing to be relied upon. It now really behooves me to go to sleep.” Across his path was a log. He stopped and went walking round it in a circle ; and then he laid himself down and went to sleep.

Now the old woman awoke. When she rose from her bed, behold, here was the Turtle! “Why, my dear grandchild, here again is that friend of yours lying down. He is nearly setting fire to your possession.”

“Say, my friend, you are on the point of setting fire to yourself!”

“Halloo, that is so!”

“Perhaps this creature is getting crazy.” Whereupon Wlsa'ka put the thing away.

Then they got to talking, and kept it up all day even until night. Then they went to sleep again. “Come, let us hurry and go to sleep !” said Wlsa‘ka. Then he got to snoring, he was sleeping so hard.

Once more the Turtle got ready for the act. He went out and hastened with speed. “Now, then, this time I will not sleep.” Far out in yonder direction at first, and then away off in this other, was he carried by that thing ;

and then again towards the falling-down of the sun, and then away in the direction whence comes the cold. By that time it perhaps was coming morning. “It may be time that I am done with the act of always coming back to the place whence I have started. This time am I surely not going to sleep.” Over there again was he come, there at a small grove ; in great haste then he passed into the little grove. In this place, lo, a grapevine was hanging! The bark of a linden-tree then he peeled, and then he tied himself by the neck and round in a circle he ran.

As for Wlsa'ka, he awoke because of the sound of a rattle that filled the air. He looked to see who it was, and, lo, here was his friend running round in a circle about the fire of their lodge. “Why, my friend, don’t burn yourself! Pray, what is the matter with you?”

“It is certain that I have almost gone crazy. It was only when you spoke to me that I came to myself. Do untie the thing from me.”

He untied the thing and took it off from him.

“I say, I am getting pretty badly scared. It is quite possible that maybe I am going crazy, that is the reason I am scared. It is time for me to go home.”

“Why, that is so! You might scare our grandmother, if you go crazy.”

And so he went home. And as for the brother himself, he had had just so many nights of amorous pleasure. When over there the Turtle was come, into his home he went.

“There he is!” spoke his younger brother of him when speaking to the girl. “Where in the world have you been? As often as every night came around there appeared a man-, and in the morning he would go away.”

“ Really ! but guilty sounds the voice of the brother. What a time you must have had at carnal pleasure.”

1 This story is of the Turtle at the time when he was prominent among the manitous, and its motive is the fall of the Turtle from the state of being a great manitou. The cause that started him on his downward career was his incurring the anger of the culture-hero who took on the form of a maiden and by her wiles lured him on to his destruction; and the cause which completed his fate was the sacrilege he committed when he desecrated the sacred bundle. The story as recorded here has not a complete ending. It should tell of the gift made by the

“I meant only to give you some information, and in return you go and blame me. I ought not to have told you.”

“If you had done it, even though I had seen you often at it, I should not have said a thing to you. I am fond of you, brother.”

That is as far as (the story) goes.

15. The Turtle brings Ruin upon Himself.1

The Turtle was gambling with the manitous. It happened that he had to go out to pass water. Whereupon Wlsa‘ka took his place at the gambling. It so happened that they beat this (person) Wlsa‘ka out of a good deal, they beat him out of all that the Turtle had previously won. It was about this time when back came the Turtle. And when he saw what they had done to him, then he gave his partner Wlsa‘ka a thorough scolding. In this wise he lectured him: “There it is again! Verily, that

is the way it has ever been since the time that Iyapa‘ta2 was slain. Verily, that was the time when you began to eat the lice that dropped into your food without your helping it.” Now that was the very thing he told his friend Wlsalka.

Whereupon it surely seemed that Wisa‘ka was angered. And so he began from that time to seek for a way to get back at the Turtle, his former friend. He felt indignant to be taunted with disrespect about his younger brother Iyapa‘ta. And so he went away and came to where he and the others lived.

culture-hero to the Turtle, — the gift of a certain kind of control over the soul in its attempt to get to the spirit-world in time of sickness.

2 Kiyapa‘ta“ is another form of the name. Tcipiyaposu", lord of the spirit-world, is meant.

“Nahi', Inacimatanaskapinu.”

i TcAgiwIgiyapaheg1, “into the tiny little lodge;” the reference is to the small lodge women occupy during the period of menstruation.

And there he lay for a long while; for as much as four days was he in an ugly mood at what had been said to him. In this wise felt he in his heart: “Very much

indeed was he a friend of mine in times past; but now it is not so. A time of reckoning is yet to come; according as I desire, so shall it happen to him, even if he has been such an intimate friend in the past. Ah, a thought occurs to me! Very deeply does he concern himself about women, so much so that he yearns after them. That is where I shall get back at him.”

Accordingly went Wlsa‘ka away on a journey. An elk he saw, and he killed it. He took from out of it the spleen and a vulva he made. So then he became a woman. In such guise he came to a lodge ; but he did not enter there, instead passed he into the tiny little 1 lodge. Lo, to his surprise! it was a woman, MAnona by name, whose lodge he had entered.

This woman said: “Wait an instant, my little grandchild, there is nothing for you to sit on.” So she made a pallet for the girl by laying down one skin of a small raccoon and another skin of a bear with the fat still on ; one other small raccoon-skin with the fat still on the girl was to use as a rest for the head. And when she had finished, she said to the girl: “All right, the vacant space

is now ready for you to sit down on.”

So she sat down, and it was soft where she sat.

Then MAnona cooked food for her in a small copper kettle; she cooked two grains of corn and a bean, and put with them the tail of a beaver. While the girl looked on, “Oh, dear me, I shall be quite hungry!” she felt in her heart. “Never, my dear grandchild, has there been one among the manitous able to eat it all.” Thus she spoke as she finished cooking the food (for the girl). Then she poured it out into a small bowl for (the girl), into a

3 1 S

1 Wlgiyapyan1 mAnaciginig1, “lodges of this sort.” It is not lawful for a man to linger about the little lodge where a woman is menstruating, much less to enter it when she is there.

tiny little bowl. She fetched the food to the girl, and the girl ate. One by one she nibbled the little grains of corn ; and for every one that she took out, there was always another to come in its place. But finally she was able to get away with them all, eating them up bit by bit. “Here is your bowl,” she said to M-vnona.

“Oh, no, my dear grandchild! You have eaten them all up!”

“Well, but you gave them to me to eat.”

“ My little grandchild, never has any one of the manitous, as many as they are, been able to eat them up. Verily, you must be a manitou, my dear grandchild.”

“Oh, not at all,” said the girl to her.

Thereupon MAnona cooked food for her in the regular way. While she cooked, she stole looks at the girl, and what a beautiful little woman she was! So she gave her food to eat once more, and heartily the girl ate ; and when she was done eating, she had the feeling of having had enough [a satisfied fill inside].

Meanwhile it was nearly time for the Turtle to show up. Had some one told him that there was a pretty little girl, and had he listened, it is certain that he would have been on his way there. After a while came the sound of his footstep. As he came inside, “Halloo, halloo !” he said to them there. Seating himself comfortably, he began to crumple the tobacco in his hands, that he might smoke. The pouch for his pipe was the skin of a little baby.

“Gracious me!” said the woman; “but he surely is a mad kind of lover to come rushing into lodges of this sort,1 passing in among them and hugging (the girls) so tight as to make them scream aloud.” Thus spoke the old woman.

i The form and color of the cowrie-shell associate it with spittle, and this fact explains one reason why the shell is a convenient instrument for conjuring for effect to take place within the body.

The Turtle had an easy place to sit, and he talked away at length. After a while he coughed and spat out a cowrieshell. The old woman made a grab for it. “Mercy, but you are filthy! Nasty are these things. At yonder place where I dwell is a lot of my spittle.1 You would have much of it should you come there,” thus said the Turtle.

He kept on talking until the young woman laughed. Into the night he talked on, and all the while the woman kept a-laughing. Finally he began to nudge her softly with the finger. Then no longer did the Turtle know what to talk about.

As for the old woman MAnona, she made ready her pallet to lie down and went to sleep.

Presently the Turtle said to the woman: “You speak

in too loud a tone. Speak softly.” Thereupon he moved, sitting closer to the girl. “I really am not able to speak in a low tone,” said the girl.

There were present young men peeping in from the outside. “Ah, maybe the Turtle wants to get himself a bride!” they said (among themselves). And then they began to leave, going till they were all gone.

“I say, let us go out of doors,” said the Turtle. “Then we shall talk as long as we want. It is nice what I have to tell about.”

“Unless you go and fetch your sacred bundle, [otherwise] I will not believe what you say.”

“Of course, I am telling only the truth. I will go and fetch the sacred bundle.”

“When you have brought it here, then I will go outside.”

So the Turtle took his departure and came to where he lived. He entered into the family dwelling and went to the place where his sacred bundle was. He reached up and took it down.

21 — PUBL. AMER. ETHN. SOC. VOL. I.

The brother saw what he was doing, and said to him . “Pray, what are you doing? Are you going away to war?” “Oh, be still, brother. Be content only with watching me. You are of no consequence, anyhow.” Thus he spoke to his younger brother.

“It would not be strange if you were crazy!” he said to the Turtle.

Out of the lodge he went, carrying with him his sacred bundle. When he was come there at the place, “I now have the thing,” he said to the girl.

Then she went out. Very beautiful indeed was she. To make sure of the thing, the woman took time to feel of the sacred bundle with her hand. “After all, you were telling the truth!” said she to him. “Now it is [quite] for you to decide as to where we shall go.”

“Pray, what is your name, woman?”

“Why, Doe-Fawn is what I am called by my uncles and my aunts when they poke fun at me.”

“And so that is your name! Truly, how very pretty your name is, woman. Oh, here is a place where we can keep on with our talk!”

“It is not necessary for you to feel that you must talk. You have already shown that you were telling the truth.” “Why, of course, that is so!”

So they made for themselves a place to lie down. Then after a little while the Turtle began to swell with an erection of the penis. “Let us put something under our heads for a pillow,” said the woman. So they lay with a pillow under their heads •, the sacred bundle was the pillow. Now was the time when the Turtle let his hand steal softly over her to find how big she was at the vulva. And then he went in unto her. It was hard work before he could make her possible ; yet it was pleasant after he was done with her. She tickled him in the loins and

tcali nalka.”

would not let up until he went in unto her again. And when they were done he said to her: “I say, let us rest!

Do, for a short while, little Doe-Fawn ! Let us spin away at some yarns.”

“I really am never in the habit of doing any such thing as that, so I have nothing to tell about. Now this thing which we are doing is surely more delightful. What good is to come from the spinning of tales, anyhow!”

“Ah, it is true that there is more pleasure in this kind of thing.” And so he went in unto her again. By this time he was thoroughly fagged out. After a while he was done with lying with her. And as they lay there together, he was bent on telling stories ; but whenever he began a tale, she would close his mouth with her hand. At last she said to him : “ What do you want with the stories ?

(If you could not keep up this thing,) then you had no business to get me started in the first place.”

“I say, let me alone for a little while. Do wait, then by and by it will be again.”

“Pray, what is the matter with you? ‘I wish to speak the truth,’ was what you certainly said a while ago. Now there is no sense whatever to be merely lying here all the time.”

“Why, don’t you take any delight at all in it? As for me, I am quite pleased with it.” So he went in unto her again, this time he was a long while at it. She teased him more than ever, and he really had a hard time getting done. “Now, then, let us go to sleep, Doe-Fawn.” She tickled him in the loins and would not let him rest. But at last the Turtle fell asleep. She shook him hard, but he did not wake. Then the woman made ready and rose to her feet. She went in search of a log fallen to decay, and found one alive with ants. She brought it and placed it where he lay. The Turtle slept with it,

‘kagamegu.”

and it crumbled when he took hold of it with the hand. Then, taking up the sacred bundle, she went away.

As for the Turtle, he was fast asleep. Something kept waking him, and he would always say: “Oh, be quiet, little Doe-Fawn !” After a while he grew wide awake. Wishing to pass his hand gently over the girl, he began to feel, and the touch of the body was strange. Thinking in his heart that he would look upon her, lo! it was a chunk of wood he was looking at. Behold ! the woman was gfone, and so was his sacred bundle.

He rose to his feet and whistled. “O Doe-Fawn!” he called. At last he shouted, sending his voice afar. Then finally he set out for home. As he entered [within] he was asked by his brother, “Well, Mischievous, where is that thing you carried off a while ago? Have you gone and thrown it away?”

“Not at all, my little brother. I will surely bring it back, I am going on a hunt for it now, and I shall surely find it.”

“Pray, what may have possessed you to have thrown it away?”

“Do stop talking to me, my little brother. I have not thrown it away, I assure you. A woman has hidden it from me. And I shall bring her also.” So, putting tobacco into the pouch which held his pipe, he went out of the lodge. He went away to where a manitou dwelt. He went inside and said, “I say, I have come to ask if you know of anybody who perchance goes by the name of Little Doe-Fawn?”

“I do not know her at all.”

He went away again, and came to another dwelling, to a manitou dwelling. He went inside and said, “I say, I wish to ask you if there is any one with such a name as Doe-Fawn? She took my sacred bundle and carried it away with her.”

netawatagwa.”

“Not at all do I know of any one with such a name as that.”

He went away again, and came to another dwelling, to a manitou dwelling. He went inside and said, “I say, I have come to ask you if there is anybody who would likely go by such a name as Doe-Fawn? She took my sacred bundle and carried it away with her.”

“Not at all do I know of anybody with such a name as that. Yet that one over there might know about her, he is a great manitou. I would have you go there, and he will tell you. He probably knows about her. Why, he is the one who knows everything, he created us all.” In the mean while the Turtle was becoming nothing but skin and bones, for it was a long time since he had eaten food. So he went away and came to where the great manitou lived. He entered [within] and said, “I say, I have come to ask you if there is anybody who would likely go by such a name as Doe-Fawn. If you know her, I should like to have you tell me. She took my sacred bundle and carried it away with her.”

“No, not at all. I don’t know of anybody who goes by that name. No, there is not any one at all. I know all the manitous, but there is nobody of that name.”

So he went away. Over there as he went travelling along he happened to think of his friend Wlsa‘ka. “Now I have it, it is my friend! To him will I go. Surely will my friend not fail to know her. Yes, thither will I go, where he lives. Being a friend of mine, of course he will tell me.” In such wise did he feel in his heart. So he went away to the place where (Wlsa‘ka) lived. When he was come, he passed inside.

“Welcome!” Wlsa‘ka said to him. “You must have been sick,” the Turtle was told.

“Not at all, my friend. They have brought ruin upon me.”

“ Wana(a?”

cisutc'.”

“Who?”

“A woman. She took my sacred bundle and went away with it. For that reason have I come, that I might ask you if you know of anybody who would go by such a name as Doe-Fawn?”

‘Not at all do I know of any one of that name. But I have some pet animals here, and I call them Little- Fawns. Yet I do not know how they could cause you harm. Go look at them. They are naughty little creatures.”

“Alas, it must have been my friend! Fie is the one who must have caused my ruin!” Thus he began to feel in his heart. So he went to look at the fawns, and his friend came along as company.

“Well, here they are. Take a look at them.”

So he looked at them. Lo ! and there was his sacred bundle. It had been trampled and kicked quite into shreds. Only a little bit was left for him to see. Then he began to weep.

(Wisa'ka) went up to him and took him by the tail. “You stung me with insult at the time when you taunted me about my younger brother.”

“Woe is me! Don’t, my friend, be too cruel with me!”

“Of course I will not be too cruel with you.” Then he gave (him) a fling, throwing as if to hit a pond. And there was where (the Turtle) landed. In a little while he came to the surface of the water, there above the mossy scum which lay over the water.

“Now, that is the way it shall be with you. My uncles and my aunts will often use you for food. But some of them will not eat of you. They will loathe you because of your ugly look. So then, I have nothing more to say to you.”

That is the (end of the story).

pyapwa !”

“(Ae,” ahrcrwatc'. Oni negutlna, “ Wlgakikawinenlwi-

1 This narrative is but another version of a familiar story known to other Algonkin tribes. It is the account of the visit of four men to the culture-hero at his distant home, and of how each obtained what he asked for. The visit is supposed to have taken place long after the culture-hero had departed from this world. It is not stated in the text, but the place of the home is at the frozen north.

1 6. The Red-Earths went to where Wisa'kA was.1

Six Red-Earth men once went on a visit to see Wisa'ka, the way was towards the source of the cold. Many times by the way they stopped for camp. Over there in a certain place where they arrived, the stars fell from above. It was here, after the stars ceased falling (from the sky), that they passed over to the other side of a space. After five had gotten across, then again (the stars) began to fall. And then he who was the last to come was struck by (a star), and there he died. And then in another place somewhere they came to where the earth was cracked apart and in motion to and fro 5 here it would open apart (and) close up again. In this place, when it moved up and closed again, four passed over. And when it opened out and moved away, then he who came last fell through into the space ; and when it moved up and closed again, then one more was dead. And so there remained but four of them.

When there they were come, on the top of a rock was seated Wlsa‘ka; his hair was white.2 "•Oh, my uncles, for some purpose have you come!”

“Yes,” they said. Then one of them, “That I may live forever is the reason why I have come.”

“It is hard, my uncle, what you have asked of me. There is the pine, for example, a long time it lives ; 3 and then it also dies. Likewise the cedar, for a long while it lives; and then in the course of time it also dies.”

And then again the man spoke: “For that very reason have I come, that forever I may live.”

2 Awapitepanitc', “he was white-headed,” one way of saying he had white hair.

8 Me‘tusanenlhiw", “without covering (for the feet) he walks (upon the earth) as a man,” — a phrase with various meanings, according to the context ; such as “he is alive, is mortal, he lives, he is a person.”

“Then I will make you that you live forever,” said Wlsa‘ka. Whereupon by Wlsa'ka was he touched with the hand, and, lo, a granite rock was there.

And so then another man spoke: “As for me, oh, my nephew, I come because I wish to become a brave, because I wish to make the nations of my time weep with lamentation (after I have gone against them).”

“Very well, that is the way it shall be,” he was told

And then another spoke: “As for me, oh, my nephew,

I come because I wish to know an easy way of killing game, that I may not tramp aimlessly about over the country with toil and effort when I am on the hunt for game, that as soon as I have gone out of doors I may find the creatures.”

“Very well,” he was told by Wlsa‘ka. “That is the way it shall be.”

And so there was yet another: “As for me, oh, my nephew, I come because I want to know the power of getting a wife.”

“That is the way it shall be,” he was told by Wlsa‘ka.

“Now, oh, my uncles, how many days did you spend on the way while you were coming to me?” Wlsa‘ka then took the cord from off his moccasin ; and at the middle he tied a knot. Then into the fire he threw (the cord) ; in the burning was the moccasin-cord shrunk. “Truly, so is the distance shortened from (the place) whence you came.”

Then off they started on their journey home. Only at a place halfway home they slept. Then in the morning truly were they come to the place whence they had started.

Now, for the man who wished that he might slay the enemy, verily, it truly turned out that way.

And also for the man who desired that he might know

1 The theme of the following story is the struggle of the culture-hero to subdue the manitous and make the world ready for the people who are to come after. It is the most sacred myth of the Foxes ; and with the Sauks it is the myth on which rests the midewiwin , a religious society which preserves the most sacred forms of religious worship. It is in two parts : first, the struggle of the culture-hero with the manitous, in which the death of his brother, the flood, and the defeat of the manitous, are the leading events; second, the pacification of the culture-hero by the manitous, and the restoration of peace, preliminary to setting the world in order for a home of the people.

The myth is really a form of rhapsody in which is dramatically recited the successive incidents leading up to the setting of the world in order, to live in. The myth as here recorded is rather faulty in several particulars : in the first place, it was told too hurriedly, and consequently is too brief; even though it contains all

the leading elements and main episodes, it nevertheless lacks in matters of detail and in some interesting subordinate incidents; again, the symbolism of which the myth is so full is often controlled with so much restraint that it requires more

an easy way of killing game, just as soon as he would go forth from his lodge, behold, there were deer, and bears, and all the various kinds of food-animals.

And for the man who longed to know the power of getting women for wives, why, whenever he fell in love with them, only once had he to speak to them ; straightway were they captured by him.

17. The Story of Wisa^A.1

Wlsalka and his younger brother Kiyapa‘ta, and their o-randmother Mother-of-All-the-Earth,2 were then abiding

at home. (The boys) went wandering about slaying the manitous. Then afraid became the manitous. And then they say that a council did the manitous hold ; midway in the sky was the place where they held the council. And to the council was asked Mother-of-All-the-Earth. “The reason why we have asked you to come,” was what was said to Mother-of-All-the-Earth, “is that the people3 have now become alarmed. These grandsons of yours will kill us all off. Now, truly, one do we beg of you to give up to us.”

than the mere translation to bring out the interpretation ; and, finally, intentional omission is made of certain words, meaningless in themselves when standing alone, but when used in this myth, in prayers, and in all sacred discourse, render a word or phrase or sentence serious and holy. The words are really variations and repetitions of a single word, and they are : note, notci, note!, notce, notcinotc, notcinotc!, notcinotce, notcinotcinotcl, notcinotcinotce. They come in as refrains constantly re-occurring, and produce a rhythmic effect in the recitation of the whole myth, — an effect, however, that becomes very monotonous. They are all purposely omitted here, mainly on account of the difficulty of rendering them with a corresponding English equivalent.

2 Mesa‘kAmigo‘kwaw", literally “the woman of all the earth,” but it has the meaning of “the mother of the earth,” or “mother-earth,” and is the name of this earth upon which the people live.

3 Me'tusaneniwAg1, “people, mortals;” but the reference is to the manitous who are referred to as of human form and nature.

22 — PUBL. AMER. ETHN. SOC. VOL. I.

“As for the one who is big, it is idle (of you to ask him of me) ; for already [now] has he attained to the fulness of his power. It would not be within your might to accomplish anything whatsoever with him. But it is perhaps possible that with the one who is small you may attain a fulfilment.”

Now, Wlsa‘ka knew full well that a debate in council was going on about (himself and his younger brother).

After the manitous had ended their council, they then assembled [together] in response to another mutual summons. And Wlsa‘ka and his younger brother Klyapa'ta were both asked to be present. “Now, oh, ye manitous, we are going to journey about and view the land of our father the Great-Manitou. Those of us who are now grown to full maturity shall go towards the place whence comes the morning, while these our younger brothers shall themselves go towards the place of the goingdown of the sun. Now, as many of you as are brothers together, the bigger shall join with them that are going toward the source of the morning 5 and he who is a younger brother shall join the company of them that are going towards the going-down of the sun.”

And so off they started walking, towards the source of the morning they went. Wlsa‘ka was with them that went towards the place of the dawn, while Klyapa'ta was with them that went towards the going-down of the sun.

They that Wlsa'ka accompanied kept dropping out one by one along the course of their way. As rearward he looked, lo, how few on the way were they in whose company he went! And one of them said: “Walk you on

ahead. I wish to stop to tie my moccasin-string.”

And when again he looked behind, he did not see him that stopped to tie his moccasin-string. And at another time when rearward looked Wlsa‘ka, lo, there were now

' Another name of the culture-hero.

but two of them in whose company he went! And by one of them, “Walk you on ahead,” he and the other were told; “I wish to stop to tie my moccasin-string.” Thus he and the other were told.

And then again when rearward he looked, lo, there remained but one other in whose company he went. “Walk you on ahead,” he was told by him; “I want to stop to fix my moccasin-string,” he was told by this other.

And then once more when rearward he looked, he did not see the other. “And now, I will go only as far as yonder mountain and get a look (at the place) over beyond,” was the thought he had in his heart. But before he came to the mountain, he heard the voice of his

senapina,1 now am I dying!” Ihus was he told by his younger brother.

But as he knew not whence came the sound of his voice, he went running from the top of one hill to the top of another to look over beyond them all. And so he ran up the mountains and looked over beyond. And then once more he was called upon by his younger brother : “O Masenapina, my elder brother, now am I dying!” And when he went running up another mountain and looked over beyond, he then heard the sound of his younger brother’s voice calling to him: “O Masenapina, my elder

brother, now am I dying !” Thus was he told. But he did not know whence came the sound of his voice. And so up another mountain he went running, and looked over beyond. Once more he was called upon by his younger brother, barely could he hear Klyapa‘ta, for the sound of his voice was moving away in the distance ; and by and by it became silent.

And then he no longer heard the voice of his younger brother. “Alas, something baneful has befallen my younger

1 The literal sense of the passage is given, but the translation does not follow the exact order of the original on account of the modal adverb umoltc'.”

2 Kago itotug", literally “he must have done or caused something;” idiomatically it has a passive sense of something harmful being done to one, as in the passage in which the phrase occurs.

brother!” was the feeling in his heart. And when he no

longer heard the voice of his younger brother, he then

went his homeward way. When there he was come at

his home, lo, his younger brother had not yet arrived!

And then to them in whose company (Klyapa‘ta) had gone he went, and asked of them in their homes: “Do you

not know what has become of my younger brother?”

“Truly I did not hear what became of him,” he was told.

And then to another he went, and asked of him: “Do

you not know what has become of my younger brother?” he said to him.

“Truly, I have not heard what became of him,” he was told.

And then again to another he went, and asked of him who had been in the same company at the time: “Do

you not know what has become of my younger brother?” he said to him.

“Not at all,” he was told. “Verily, how should I know, for we began separating only a little while after we proceeded on the way.1 With another company he went at the time.”

And then he went to another, and asked of him in whose company (his younger brother) had gone at the time: “Do

you not know what has become of my younger brother?”

“I do not know about him,” he was told. “We parted company early in the journey. With another company then did he go. And I myself, along with others I went.”

“Alas, some baneful thing must have befallen 2 my younger brother !” was the feeling in his heart. And then he went away to the place where he and others lived. When he was come there where he and others lived, lo, his younger brother had not yet returned ! “ Alas, it now

is quite certain that my younger brother must have died !” Thus was the feeling in his heart. After he had sought

awapiklwimawimatc' :

“Nesima, neslma, neslma !

Papakatamawatahina !”

“Neslma, neslma, neslma!

Papakatamawatahina !”

“Is!” ahAtcikoskatc', alkiga anenegeskag'.

“Neslma, neslma, nesima!

Papakatamawatahina !”

1 Omaca, a word not used in the language of conversation, and conveying no definite sense in itself, but necessary in sacred recitation to lend dignity and the feeling of awe.

in vain for his younger brother, he then began to wander about bewailing him :

“Oh my younger brother, oh my younger brother, oh my younger brother ! If by chance 1 along the open trail in the forest some one should [there] be wandering about,

Pound that one to death with a club for the sake of him !”

“I8 !” 2 he gulped sobbing, and the earth moved and quaked.

And then the manitous grew afraid. “‘Pound that one to death with a club for the sake of him,’ is what he surely says!” they said one to another. “‘Wlsa‘ka is endowed with mystery,’ I declared to you at the time,” said some of the manitous. “It is certain to come to pass that we shall all be slain by him with a club,” they said one to another, “for the reason that we have killed his younger brother.”

In the night (Wlsa‘ka) came to where he abode. He ate no food. In the morning he again began wailing :

“Oh my younger brother, oh my younger brother, oh my younger brother ! If by chance along the open trail in the forest some one should [there] be wandering about,

Pound that one to death with a club for the sake of him !”

“Is!” he gulped sobbing, and the earth moved and quaked.

And then the manitous became afraid. “‘Of mysterious power is Wisa'ka,’ I declared to you at the time,” the manitous said one to another. “And he surely will slay us all with the club,” said some of them.

When it was night, he came back to where he lived. He ate no food. In the morning he began again to wail:

“Oh my younger brother, oh my younger brother, oh my younger brother ! If by chance along the open trail in the forest some one should [there] be wandering about,

Pound that one to death with a club for the sake of him !”

“I8!” he gulped sobbing, and the earth moved and quaked.

2 Is! uttered as if with a hiccough.

“Neslma, neslma. neslma!

Papakatamawalahina !”

And then the manitous became afraid. “‘Endowed with the power of mystery is Wlsa‘ka,’ I declared to you at the time,” so said some of the manitous. “Surely we shall all be slain by him with a club,” said some of them.

When it was night, then to the place where he lived he came. He did not eat anything. In the morning again he began to wail :

“Oh my younger brother, oh my younger brother, oh my younger brother ! If by chance along the open trail in the forest some one should [there] be wandering about,

Pound that one to death with a club for the sake of him !”

“Is!” he gulped sobbing, and the earth moved and quaked. The manitous became afraid. “‘He is endowed with mysterious power,’ I declared to you at the time,” said some of the manitous.

And when it was night, to the place where he lived he came. He ate no food. Alone there he sat for a long while. And then by and by he heard the sound of the footsteps of somebody approaching, outside by the doorway the being halted • then came a tapping on the door- way from the outside, asking him to open : “O Masenapina, my elder brother, open the entry-way and let me in !” Thus was he told by his younger brother Klyapa‘taa. So it was true that it was by his younger brother Kiyapa‘taa he was addressed.

And then, “I must not open the entry-way and let you in, oh, my dear little brother !” he said to his younger brother Kiyapa‘taa. “The manitous have already heard me mourn for you. Now, oh, my dear little brother ! to the place of the going-down of the sun I would have you go and there continue living the life of man. ‘Forever shall I be lonely there,’ may now perhaps be the feeling in your heart. But think not of that. For truly our

34-8

1 KecisahenanAg1, “our uncles” (yours and mine); i. e., brothers of our mother.

2 KeglhenanAg1, “our aunts” (yours and mine); i. e., sisters to our mother. Wlsa‘ka is said to have created the people, but his relation toward them is -that of a nephew ; he created them in the image of his mother.

uncles 1 to you in that place shall come. I hey shall continue living the life of men together with you in that place. And likewise our aunts 2 shall come to you there. And the garments that you shall wear, to that place shall they fetch them to you. And the food that you shall have to eat; of the kind (that souls of the dead) are fed with shall they fetch to you in that place. And now these things will I give to you which shall be for the use of yourself and our uncles and our aunts who shall come to you in after time. So now here is this fire of ours I would have you take.”

And so a billet burning with fire at one end he handed out to his younger brother.

“Likewise this drum of ours I would also have you take along.” And so he handed out to him the drum.

“Likewise this rattle of ours I would have you take.” And so he handed out to him the rattle.

“And likewise this (bone) fife of ours I would have you take.” And so he handed out to him the (bone) fife.

From out of doors Klyapa‘taa received the things that were given him by his elder brother Wlsa‘ka. And then Klyapa‘taa started walking away ; he then blew upon the (bone) fife ; and when he tapped upon the drum, straightway up rose a company of followers, they began whooping as they rose. And Wlsa‘ka listened to the sound of them as they went singing, towards the falling-down of the sun they went. Of a sudden was the appearance there of the small number of their uncles and their aunts to journey with Klyapa‘taa to the place of the setting sun. Gradually faint grew the sound of their voices as in the distance they went singing ; likewise away died the boom of the drum upon which they were beating as they went along ; and little by little he ceased hearing the sound of them, and at last he ceased hearing them altogether.

) KeHcikanana'”, “chickadee;” literally the “great kanana'*,” or “the great singer of the song kanana,” an onomatopoetic term.

Now then was the time that Wlsa'ka began seeking for the manitous who took part in bringing about the death of his younger brother Klyapa‘taa. And wherever he found them, there he fought them with the club and slew them. Then the manitous became afraid. “He will surely slay us all for that we have brought death upon his younger brother,” so they said one to another.

When over there in a certain place he once was passing along, there by the shore of the sea he was met by the Chickadee 1 that came singing :

Close by it kept flitting and alighting, so close indeed that all the while he was almost caught hold of by the hair.

it kept singing all the while.

“Confound this creature, it annoys me! (You) good-fornothing !” 2

“Oh, very well, then! I meant to have told you3 about them who devised the plan that brought about the death of your younger brother. But” . . .

“Oh, please do, my dear little brother! Do tell me. And in return I will color you so that more beautiful shall you be than (all) the birds of your kind.”

“All right, then, color me and I will acquaint you with it all,” he was told by the Chickadee.

3 MAtcawahlna, laterally “evil creature,” an imprecation of the second person applied with the form of the third person.

3 WlwItAmawAge1', “I meant to have told him,” with the third person of the objective pronoun referring to the second person as the object of the verb.

wawanesiwa kiciwaclhutc',” ahinatc'.

towa‘‘ a/pemagwayutanitc' !” “Taniyatuge mahag' wlhinagut acecegunanitc'.

And then he blackened the bird across the eyes with charcoal. “Now, then, my little brother is really very pretty by having himself colored with paint,” he said to (the bird).

And then the Chickadee was so proud! “Now, it is over there on the sand-bar in the sea. Whenever up a little way the sun has risen, then is the time that those creatures usually come creeping forth from out of the water ; it is then that they usually come forth to bask [themselves] in the sun. Two is the number of them, in fact, that took the lead in devising the plan that brought about the death of your younger brother Klyapa‘taa.”

And then, indeed, they say that on the morning of the following day, upon a mountain by the shore of the sea did he go, and there lie in wait for those creatures. And when a little way up (in the sky) the sun had risen and was seated there, lo, sure enough, two manitous started forth creeping out of the water ! “ I wonder how I am to

get these into my power?” was the feeling in his heart. By and by he discovered in his mind what he would do to get them into his power. The season was then along towards the autumn, the time when the wind is ever blowing. Now, there was a spider-web hanging from a tree near by where Wlsa‘ka was seated. He took down the spider-web from where it was and sent it wafting on the wind, in between where the creatures lay he let it fall. Forthwith one seized hold of it and completely tore it all apart.

So then he sent another spider-web wafting on the wind to have it fall in the space between where the creatures were lying. This time they only gazed upon it.

He then sent them another wafting on the wind, in the space between where they were lying he let it fall.

But now they no longer heeded it.

“Now then is your time,” said the Chickadee.

So at the fourth time, into the spider-web he went and

23 — PUBL. AMER. ETHN. SOC. VOL. I.

ltag',” ahinetc'.

i The narrative here passes over the episode of the visit of the manitous to

the lodge of the Old-Toad- Woman, the great healer of the manitous, and Wisa'ka’s

meeting with her.

there sat down. On the wind he went sailing unseen by any one, and in the space between where the creatures lay he landed. Straightway he began shooting at the manitous, first at one of the manitous and then at the other he shot.

And then the manitous, “Iya‘a, iya‘a, iya/‘a!” they cried aloud as they went fleeing for their lives into the water of the sea.

And then the waves began to roll big and break on high, and the water of the sea was everywhere set in motion. And the earth moved and quaked.

And then they say that very sick became the manitous upon whom Wlsa'ka had inflicted wounds.1

Whereupon Wlsa‘ka forthwith took on the form of an old woman. A wallet (made of linden-bark) he carried upon his back. Near by went he past the dwelling where lay the wounded manitous. That he had lost the way (and) was not able to see, was what he made believe.

And then the manitous that were watching over them who had been wounded by Wlsa‘ka, “Hist, go fetch the old woman!” they said.

But some of them, “Be careful, it might turn out to be Wlsa'ka himself!” they said.

Yet nevertheless was the old woman led (hither to the place). “Here is where the dwelling is,” she was told.

“Ah, me! I really am not able to see, oh, my grandchildren!”2 said the old woman. Then was the old woman led hither to the door of the lodge. And when (Wlsa‘ka) came to the door, there was the skin of Klyapa‘ta hanging for a flap over the entry-way. As he was thus passing in, just so did he touch the skin of his younger brother. Whereupon he gulped with a deep sigh from his heart, “I8!.”3

2 The language of the old woman is slow, with the voice sustained on the vowels and the lips drawn tight.

senate !”

• Wlsa^kaHcagw*, one of the few references of the name of Wlsa‘ka corresponding to WlsAgetca‘k, the name of the culture-hero of the Crees.

And then the earth moved and quaked.

“Beware, verily, this is Wlsa‘ka!” So felt some of the manitous in their hearts.

“Listen, now am I going to conjure for power, to the end that my medicine shall be potent, for it is my desire to heal these your chiefs. Now this will I declare to you: (If the wish) ‘May she heal them’ be a wish that you truly entertain of me in your thoughts, then whatsoever I shall tell you, that must you surely do.”

“Oh, yes! Whatsoever you will tell us, that will we truly do, oh, our grandmother!”

“Then, oh, my grandchildren, four kettles of the kind large of size would I have you arrange and hang up. An equal measure of water into each would I have you pour. And a fire beneath each of them, one after the other, would I also have you kindle, so that the water may he made to be hot and be brought to boiling. And then a rod of iron made sharp at the point would I also have you put into the fire to heat.”

And then the manitous did what they were told.

“Now, oh, my grandchildren, over the hill would I have you all go. As soon as I have finished, then instantly will I call for you. Then I want you all to come.”

So then all the manitous went over the hill. And when over the hill they had all gone, then the old woman, “Now, I will conjure for power to accomplish a wonder,” she said to the wounded manitous. “And I truly wish that you lie still.” So then :

“Wlsa‘ka‘tcagw* 1 pierced the chiefs through and through” was the song she sang.

I hey say that by this time the iron rod was heated red. So into the place where he had shot them he then shoved it. “ Ya-aa!” cried the first manitou that had (the rod)

' A^emeg1, “up ward, above;” it often, as here, means “skyward, in the sky, to the sky.”

shoved into it. And then into the other in (the place) where he had shot him he shoved the red-hot rod. And there was smoke which went shooting skyward.1 So then he went to work flaying and cutting up the manitous. He then placed meat to boil in each of the four kettles. And he roasted *on the spit what remained of the residue that did not go into the kettles to boil. After (the meat) was done cooking, he then began eating.

Now the manitous that were at yonder place, “Well, what makes the old woman so long at her work ? — Come, you, Garter-Snake, go take a look at her. From out of doors by the lodge-pole shall you stick out your neck to peep at her.”

So the Garter-Snake departed, it went to look at the old woman. From on the outside was it sticking out its neck peeping at her, when all at once to its surprise, there was the forefinger of Wlsa‘ka pointing (straight) at it! “Come on in, my little brother, there is great abundance of food,” said Wlsa‘ka.

Accordingly the Garter-Snake came in (and) ate. So after it had had its fill, “Now, my little brother, back to them who sent you I want you to go.” But before it went, Wlsa‘ka coiled (a string of) fat about its neck. And he also put some into the mouth for the little snake to hold. “Now this I want you to say to them when in their midst you come forth out of the ground and appear before them: ‘Behold me, this is what he did to me, my elder brother Masenapl‘a, whom I have been to visit !’”

So it was true that round about its neck the Garter- Snake wore a necklace of fat! And it did what it was told.

“‘Beware, it might turn out to be Wlsa‘ka,’ I declared to you at the time!” said some of the manitous. “Go pursue him ! Go pursue him ! Go pursue him !” said the manitous one to another.

cinitc', a'papAgahimutacinitc* ! “TAtige in Ana ! Ayacipe-

1 Uttered with I long and tremulously sustained.

2 Uttered as if sucking in.

“Tl-I,”1 went the sound of the earth when by the water Wlsa‘ka was pursued. As he was starting to flee, he first stopped to pull off the skin of his younger brother Kiyapa‘taa. Then by the water was he started going, and was followed after. Like a cliff with steep sides was the form of the water by which he was pursued.

“Fling him headlong!

Fling him headlong!

Fling him headlong !

Fling him headlong!”

roared the water in its career.

“Oh, my grandfather, now am I dying!” he said to the Bittern.

“Truly, indeed am I now so dry at heart for lack of drink, my dear grandchild,” said the Bittern. “Iss,” 2 was the way it sucked in all that water which had been chasing after am I by the chill of that water, my dear grandson.” And after (Wlsalka) had kindled a fire for it, there it then lay with its belly next to the fire warming.

While Wlsa'ka was gazing upon it (he beheld it) swell big at the belly ; and as it lay there, (the skin of) its belly was so thin ! “ Away with this creature, anyhow !

I was really having a joyful time when I was being chased.” So with a knife he set to work sharpening the point of a hickory stick ; and then he dipped the point into the fire to harden it.3 And when it was finished, he then pricked an opening in the belly of the Bittern at the place where it was thin.

And so again from that place by the water was he started going and was pursued.

J InahalkAnikumasAg', literally “and then he made the point hard like bone,” a phrase for saying “and then he dipped or worked the point in the fire to harden it.”

1 At this point in the Sauk story, Wisa‘ka slides off the pine into a canoe.

“Fling him headlong!

Fling him headlong !

Fling him headlong !

Fling him headlong!”

went the sound of the water. Up a mountain was he followed after, up he ran. On the top of the mountain stood a pine. Up the pine he climbed ; and he was chased when up he climbed, even till he was come at the very top of the pine. And there Wlsa'ka sat down ; 1 and while he sat there, very close indeed the water came and stopped.

And then by and by the little Muskrat came hither floating on the water. On its way (to Wlsa‘ka) it had given out and died. “I pity my poor little brother,” he said as he fondly caressed it. And in a little while it came back to life.

And by and by the Pigeon also came flying close, down it came falling with wings apart. He drew it in with a branch. “I pity my poor little brother,” said Wlsa‘ka. And in a little while after giving it a fond caress, it too came back to life.

And then after a while, “Now, my dear little brother, some earth fetch for me,” he said to the Muskrat.

So then the little Muskrat dived into the water.

“Now, you too, my dear little brother; blades of grass and twigs of various kinds fetch for me, bring them from whatsoever place you may chance to find them.”

And so away flew the Pigeon. And hither and thither, wherever the tops of the mountains could be seen, the Pigeon sought for the things.

After a while the little Muskrat came floating on the surface of the water; on its return it had died. “I pity my poor little brother,” said Wlsa‘ka as he reached for and took up the little Muskrat. He fondly caressed it,

and he saw that the little Muskrat had fetched up mud in its mouth and in its claws. And then Wlsa'ka scraped out into his hand all the earth that was in its mouth and teeth and paws and claws. And in a short while the little Muskrat came back to life.

And then the Pigeon also came flying, down it came falling with wings apart. It died from the weariness of having flown round about over space. “I pity my poor little brother,” said Wlsa‘ka as he drew in the Pigeon with a stick. The Pigeon had its claws full of the various kinds of twigs and grasses that grew. He fondly caressed it, and in a little while the Pigeon came back to life.

After Wlsa'ka had finished with digging out the earth, he then set to work sticking into it the twigs and the blades of grass. And then he threw the earth and all into the water. Whereupon the water fell entirely away. And the earth at the time was cracked open in numerous places.

The manitous then began to search for a way in their minds how there should be an end of the killing of them by Wlsa'ka. Accordingly they came and assembled [together], they came to the place where the Great Manitou lived. “Oh, our father, Great Manitou, the cause of our coming to you is to know what to do, now that we have

grown ill at ease in our hearts. This same Wlsalka shall

in the end kill off all the living people. What we should do is indeed what we would have you declare to us !” Thus spoke the manitous.

“Yes, oh, my children, it is good that you are now

beginning to think and to know of a way how you shall

pacifiy your brother Wisa'ka. Verily, it is the truth that in the end there shall no longer be left alive any more manitous, unless perchance you bring it about in some way

1 MAmlclhAg1, the givers, they that minister; the word is here translated “servants,” not in a menial sense, but with a dignified meaning.

to pacify your brother Wlsa‘ka. Even I myself am in fear of him •, should he even come to me here where I am alone, here where I spend all my time in repose — should he come to me here, he would begin fighting with me (and not cease) till he had slain me with the club. Such is the feeling always in my heart. Verily you have given me joy in that you are feeling pity for the people, in that you are now devising how you shall pacify your brother.”

And then the manitous began bringing together food and medicine. And then the servants 1 began cooking. “At the first fire towards the coming of dawn, one portion of meat shall you put into the kettle to boil,” the servants were told. “And at the second fire over which the second kettle hangs two portions of meat shall you put there to boil,” the servants were told. “And at the third fire over which the third kettle hangs three portions of meat shall you put there to boil,” the servants were told. “And at the fourth fire over which hangs the fourth kettle four portions of meat shall you put there to boil,” the servants were told.

(Now such is the way our ancestors of old have recited the story of the manitous, such is how they have handed it down to the generations coming after.)

“Now, you, O servant! go ask Wlsa‘ka to come,” they said to one of the servants.

Whereupon he set out on his way walking, he who went with fear and through no will of his own set forth on his way walking-, for he was in fear of Wlsa‘ka. When over there he was come at the place where Wlsa‘ka was abiding, “O Wlsa‘ka! you are asked to come over to the place where our father the Great Manitou dwells,” he said. And when he got no reply from him, he turned and retraced his way. When over there he was come from whence he was sent, “Did you bring him?” he was told.

“Why, he not so much as gave me even a reply,” thus spoke the servant.

“Once more go and ask him to come, O servant!” the servant was told.

And then he set forth on his way walking. He was himself in fear of Wlsa‘ka. When yonder where (Wlsa'ka) was he arrived, “O Wlsa'ka! you are asked to come to the place where our father the Great Manitou dwells,” he said. And when he got no reply from him, he turned and retraced his way. When over there he was come from whence he was sent, “Did you bring him?” he was told.

“He gave me no answer. But it seems that he must have turned over on his side, for he lay facing me,” so said the servant.

“Once more, O servant! go ask Wlsa‘ka to come,” so they said to the servant.

When over there he was come at the place where (Wlsa‘ka) was abiding, lo, by that time must (Wlsa‘ka) have risen up from his couch! “O Wisalka! you are asked to come to the dwelling of our father the Great Manitou.” And when he got no reply from him, he turned and retraced his way ; on the way he sped with hurried stride. “He might overtake me on the way,” was the feeling in his heart. When over there he was come from whence he was sent, “Did you fetch Wlsa'ka?” the servant was told.

“Even though he was risen from his couch, yet he did not give me answer. All he did was merely to look at me.”

“O servant! go once more and ask him to come,” was the servant told.

When over there he was come at the place where Wlsalka was abiding, “O Wlsa‘ka ! you are asked to come to the place where our father the Great Manitou dwells,” he said to him.

24 — PUBL. AMER. ETHN. SOC. VOL. I.

uwlyas'.”

1 Wlcigyaw1, “it is hard, tough;” applied to food not done.

“Very well,” he was told; “thither will I go,” he was told.

When over there he was come from whence he was sent, “Did you bring him?” he was told.

“Yes. ‘Very well, thither will I go,’ he said to me,” said the servant.

And so Wlsa‘ka came.

“Open the door for him!” the servants were told.

Then Wlsa'ka passed inside the dwelling. “At yonder place at the far end of the lodge you may be seated,” they said to Wlsa‘ka. But by the doorway he seated himself.

“At yonder place at the far end of the lodge you may be seated,” he was told once more.

“Oh, no! Here am I content to sit,” he said.

“Then cease disturbing him,” one to another said the manitous. “There let him be seated, for ‘I have an easy place to sit,’ he has told you,” they said one to another. To some, “He might turn away from us and run back from this place,” was the feeling in their hearts. “It took all our power to persuade him to come. Who, then, is there who could entice him to come back again if he should flee away from us?” Thus felt some of the manitous in their hearts.

“Now, ye servants, go [see] and examine the food and find how far done it is. Look first at the place of the four portions of meat.”

“It is yet undone,”1 said the servant.

“Then next the place of the three portions of meat go [see] and examine,” they said to the servant.

“Somewhat tender is it now beginning to cook,” said the servant.

“Then next the place of the two portions of meat go [see] and examine,” they said to the servant.

1 M.\ni, “this,” singular inanimate object used in a plural sense.

2 MAciskiw*, “herb,” a singular inanimate noun used in a plural sense.

“This here is now almost done,” said the servant.

“Then next the kettle that stands farthest away towards the coming- of the dawn, at the place of the first portion of meat, go [see] and examine and see how far done it is,” they said to the servant.

“Now this first portion of meat is done [tender],” said the servant.

“Now, ye servants, pour for him into a vessel the meat of the first portion. And into the space between the fires place the vessel,” they said to the servants.

After the servants had placed the vessel in the space between the fires, then one of the manitous spoke: “Now, O Wlsa'ka ! the reason why you were put to bother when you were asked to come here to eat was that it was the purpose of the manitous to find out in what way peace might come over the land of our father the Great Manitou. That explains why they have now assembled [together] • it explains why the manitous brought together the food ; it explains why they have put you to the bother of coming here. Now these things 1 which are in the space between the fires, the herbs 2 and the roots,3 shall both he transferred over to you at the same time. If at any time you should suffer with wounds, then you are to apply the herb as a poultice. And the root is for the time when you fall sick with disease, you are to boil it (and) drink it, to the end that by its means you may recover (and) keep well. Such is the reason of the bother which the manitous of your time put you to when they asked you to come.”

“Now, O manitous! this is the blessing which you have now bestowed upon me, that you have taken thought of me. Long is the time since I have eaten any food, not

3 Utcapkk', “root,” a singular inanimate noun used in a plural sense.

1 A‘keterninAma\viyag\vc, “in that you have blessed it or done the blessing for me,” but with the sense of what is given in the translation; in another connection it could mean “in that you have blessed them for my sake.”

since the time they slew my younger brother Klyapa‘taa; all the while since that time have I wandered in hunger. And now [the while] when I was [being] asked to come must doubtless have been the time when they had decided about me in council as to what they would do with me ; for such was the feeling in my heart. That was the reason why I did not come in, all the number of times when came they who asked me to come. But yet you felt compassion upon me, O manitous! Now, as to this food which you have brought to me, my uncles and my aunts shall have it to use to sustain life in times yet to come, they that shall live in the coming generations ; as long as the earth shall be a habitation for men shall they have it to use to sustain life. And the same with these things in the space between the fires, they are but another sign of the way you are blessing my uncles and my aunts through me. So, if at any time my uncles and my aunts suffer from wounds,- then of these herbs shall they make a poultice to apply. And the same shall it be with these roots when they fall sick, they shall put them into vessels to boil ; they shall use them for a drink to the end that they may live in good health. In all this have you gladdened me, O manitous ! in that the blessing you have given me shall pass on to 1 my uncles and my aunts. And now the reason why here beside the entry-way I took my seat when a place at the far end of the lodge was pointed out for me where I should sit ; it was the fear that I might not escape with my life, such was the feeling in my heart. But instead, you were taking pity upon me, O manitous! Truly, now is the time for me to eat what you have set for me in this vessel.”

Accordingly Wlsa‘ka ate. After he had eaten, “Now, O manitous ! now shall I take away this food which you

have brought and set before me, likewise these herbs and these roots which you have placed for me in the space between the fires.”

And then the manitous called upon the creatures that fly about the air ; hither they came fetching down (from the sky) Wlsa‘ka’s food and his medicine. From all directions and with a roar came every creature of the air, down (from the sky) they came bringing for Wlsa‘ka his food and his medicine.

And then he came to his grandmother, the Mother-of- All-the-Earth. “ O grandmother ! they have blessed me, the manitous of your time. This food have they brought and given to me, and the same likewise with this medicine, that my uncles and my aunts who are to come in after time may derive benefit from them as long as the earth shall last and people dwell thereon.”

“Now, dear grandmother, walk you round in a circle inside this our dwelling.”

And once walked the old woman round in a circle, and she was then in her youth.

Once more Wisa‘ka, “Walk you round in a circle inside this our dwelling, dear grandmother,” he said to his grandmother.

And when the old woman walked round a second time, she was then grown to full maturity.

“Once more, dear grandmother, walk you round in a circle,” he said to his grandmother.

And when a third time the old woman walked round in a circle, she then became somewhat gray at the hair and a little wrinkled in the face.

“Now once more, dear grandmother, walk you round in a circle.”

And when q. fourth time the old woman walked round in a circle, then did she go supported with a cane, hardly

37§

could she walk, white was the hair on her head, barely was she able to see, and without teeth was she.

“Now, dear grandmother, in such form shall my uncles and my aunts appear if only they continue faithful in carrying out for my sake the things which the manitous of your time have given to me. And by such means shall they continually reap blessing, even till the end of the world and people no longer live on earth.”

/

VI. — PRAYERS.

mimeltusanenlwiwanan‘.

1 The serpent is called a manitou, and is regarded with a feeling of awe, which in the case of this prayer shows that it amounts to sacred reverence.

2 The prayer to the thunder was one of the most fervent appeals that could

be made by boys down to the time of the men now of middle age. Although the

prayer still retains a great deal of its old-time sacred association, it nevertheless

has come to be more or less a conventional thing. This prayer, like that to the

VI. — PRAYERS.

i. When a Boy burns an Offering of Tobacco to

a Snake.1

Oh, my grandfather ! I burn this tobacco as an offering to you with the prayer that you will take pity upon me; with the prayer that I may live long. I ask of you one other thing : that when the time comes for me to go against my foe, may rumor noise the fame of my name abroad. And I ask of you good health and whatsoever I may need in the future to sustain life. Such is the blessing I beg you to grant me, such is what I ask of you.

2. When Boys burn Tobacco as an Offering to the

Thunderers.3

Oh, my grandfathers! I burn this tobacco to you as an offering in the hope that you will grant me your blessing. Long may I live, I humbly beseech of you. For one other thing do I beg. As [the way] you always look when you go to an attack against the enemy, so may I always look when I go in pursuit of my foe. Thus may it be with me, I humbly beseech of you. Thus may it be with me after I have come into manhood, and may it continue as long into the future as I shall live.

serpent, was not a spontaneous utterance of the boy’s own mental creation, but it was taught him by his father or some elder. For this reason both of the prayers may be very ancient; at any rate, they are both typical of their kind. They were uttered in a slow undertone, often in a whisper.

5 pematesiyage.

Nahi', wlsenigu.

1 The Foxes will not partake of the first-fruits of the season until they have first made offering of it to supernatural powers. Unfortunately this collection of texts is wanting in an example of the sort of address made in a formal public ceremony. The short simple prayer that follows is made on the occasion of the offering of the first-fruits to the souls of the dead, and is the utterance of a woman in her own lodge and in the presence of the few guests whom she has invited to eat of the food, which she has prepared in the best way she knows how. Though such prayers are generally brief, the example is rather too much so; yet it is typical, and it betrays the character of women's prayers in general. These prayers are usually free from the material selfishness which is so frequent in the prayers of men; they breathe rather with a spirit of maternal kindliness, in that an appeal is made not only for one’s own behalf, but for others as well, and for as many as possible.

2 For at least a generation the method of disposing of the dead has been mainly by burial in the ground. At one stage near the close of the burial ceremony the body is made to rest upon a support over the mouth of the grave; and before it is lowered, it receives a parting address, usually from an old man who has been selected by the relatives of the dead to give it. The farewell is of two

3. She Cooks Food for the Ghosts.1

Oh, my mother ! I am giving you this food to eat. I would have you eat with these your children, with your brothers, with your elder sisters, with your father also, and with your mother, with all your kindred.

And I ask (of you ghosts) that you bless me and my children to the end that we may thus have good health.

Now then, (my guests), eat.

4. The Words spoken to the Dead.2

Behold, oh, my sister! you have been deprived of the sight of your bodily self3 in the light of this day. Verily, as you go from this place and walk along the course of your way, it shall be with a feeling of peace in your heart; so shall it be as you go to TcIpaiyaposwV1 Look not back behind you. Strive not to behold your parents and those that are your brothers and sisters. Verily, shall you say to TcIpaiyaposwa: “This is the message I convey from those whom I have left disconsolate ; ‘Long life is what they ask of you.” You shall say to Tclpaiyaposw1 :

“That they may live the full span of life given to man, is what they beg of you.”

forms: one is simple and brief, and the other long. The collection does not contain an example of the longer kind, but the one that follows is typical of the brief farewell.

3 A'pAnapAtamatisuyAn', “you have been deprived of the sight of your bodily self,” is a way of expressing the close of the life here on earth and the entrance into the life hereafter. The verb is really reciprocal, and its more literal and grammatical rendering would be “you have lost the sight of yourself;” but the sense is rather that given by the passive construction.

4 Tcipaiyaposw“, the deity presiding over the spirit-world at the setting of the sun. His name while on earth was Iyapa‘tiL* or KTyapaHa*, but in the spirit-world it is as here given. The meaning of the word refers to the caring for and the ruling over the dead.