Chapter X: Part 10

“Then your brother will die soon. Wámanik has pressed him to the mountain for two days. He feeds him. He wishes food and drink to be in his mouth, and right away it is there. He keeps him alive to torment him as long as he can.”

When the little sister heard this, she ran off to the mountain to find her brother; she was crying. When she came where he was, she said: “I want you to tell Wámanik that I will be his wife as soon as I am old enough.”

“No,” said her brother, “I don’t want you to pay for me; I shall die soon.”

Wámanik heard what they said and he didn’t like it. “I won’t have her,” said he; “she is too young. I want your other sisters.”

Wisnik listened to what Wámanik said; then he told old Djáudjau: “Your son is alive yet, but his heart is almost dead; it feels flat. Wámanik wants your daughters.”

“We won’t go,” said the girls. “He has our brother; let him keep him. We won’t change our minds.” They laughed at their mother because she cried all the time.

Wisnik went back to Wámanik, and said: “No matter what you do, those girls won’t have you; they hate you worse than ever.”

“Go home and stay there,” said Wámanik. “I know what I will do.”

“You will kill that man for nothing,” thought Wisnik, but he didn’t say anything, he went home.

Wámanik said to the young man, “I won’t take your little sister. I don’t want her; I want your two older sisters, but I will let you get up and go home.”

Wámanik drew himself in, loosened the young man, and let him go home; then he went home himself. The girls laughed and were glad. They thought that Wámanik hadn’t much power. They didn’t feel afraid of him; they talked about him and made fun of him.

Wámanik stayed at home and laughed and sang. He didn’t talk about the girls, but he had made up his mind that when seed time came he would get them.

When seeds were ripe, the sisters went, each day, off toward the lake, to gather them. Then Wámanik sent Wisnik to tell Wus he wanted to see him. When the old man came, Wámanik said: “I want you to go to Djáudjau’s house and get his two oldest girls for me. I don’t want the little one. Tell the old man I shan’t ask for those girls again.”

In the evening Wus got to Djáudjau’s house. The old man asked: “What do you want? Why do you come here?”

“The chief sent me to say that he must have your two daughters. If you don’t send them to him, he will get mad and kill all of your children.”

“I like Wámanik,” said the old man. “He let my son live. I am glad, for he is all the boy I have.” Then he shook the girls, and woke them up.

“Come and talk to this man,” said he. “Wámanik is mad. He let your brother live, but if you don’t go to him he will kill us all. You must say right away what you will do. This man won’t wait long; he wants to go back. You were not made to live single, you didn’t come up from the earth.”

The eldest sister pushed her father away, and said: “Go off and leave us alone; we want to sleep.”

The brother said: “Don’t talk to them. Don’t try to make them go to Wámanik, if they hate him. He is just as good as any man. He has a clean skin, and it is bright and beautiful; I like him.” Then he said to Wus: “Tell Wámanik that I have done what I could for him. If he wants to kill me, he can. I am not afraid to die, but I can’t make these girls go to him. If he wants them, he must come and talk to them himself.”

Wus said to the girls: “You must do as I tell you; I love everybody in this world. I love you, but no one can save you from that man if you make him mad.” Wus talked all night, talked nice, but the girls didn’t listen to him. At daylight he went back to Wámanik.

While Wus was gone, Wámanik made two flutes with many holes in them. When he saw Wus coming, he went to meet him. He asked: “What did they say? Are they coming?”

“I wouldn’t walk so slowly,” said Wus, “if they had said they would come. The father and brother are willing, but those girls hate you.”

“I wonder why they hate me. I can be a man. See.”

He pulled off two blankets and became a nice-looking man.

“I am a man. I shall never stay old; each year I shall be young again. They will grow old and die, but I shall always be young.” He stuck his flutes up in the ground and hung on them the blankets he had taken off.

Wus said in his heart: “He is awful mad. It is too bad to kill such nice-looking girls. I am sorry for them.”

The girls grew sleepy; they wanted to sleep all the time. Old Djáudjau said to them: “You haven’t done as your brother asked you to. Now trouble is coming to us. Go off and sleep in the bushes. Stay by yourselves.”

When the girls were asleep, Wus made lots of Wámanik’s kin and hung them on the bushes where the girls were sleeping. He had power and he did this by wishing hard. The eldest sister dreamed of snakes; when she woke up and saw them, she screamed.

Her brother called out: “Why don’t you keep still? What do you make such a noise for? You don’t let us sleep. If dreams frighten you, go off into the woods and jump around and scream. You have had your own way; now when trouble comes you must show us what you can do.”

Every time the sisters fell asleep, they dreamed of snakes, and when they woke up there were snakes all around them. They were terribly scared.

The next morning the young man said to his father: “I want to go and see my cousin, Wûlkûtska. I don’t want to stay where my sisters are. I don’t like them any longer.”

“I will go, too,” said the old man. And they started.

The younger of the two sisters asked: “Where have my father and brother gone?”

“They have gone far off,” said the mother. “They don’t like to be here. You scream and keep them awake nights, and you won’t do as they say. They know that trouble is coming.”

Now from the different villages, people were moving toward the lava bed country. There was to be a great council. Word had gone out that a new people was coming, that the present people were to be turned to other things. The council was called to give the present people a chance to decide what they would be, where they would live, and which would be the nicest-looking.

Old Djáudjau and his son went to the council. Wámanik was there, and Wisnik, and Wus, and Wálwilégas and Wekwek, and Weketas, and Wískäk and Gapni, and Gäk, and Kískina and Káwhas, and Tcoóks, and Kāhkaas and Kai, and Kékina, and Lóluk, and Leméis, and Juljulcus. All the people in the world were at that council.

The two Djáudjau girls were there. Their brother wouldn’t let the little sister be with them, so they wandered around alone.

The people talked about how every one would be, about who should be chosen to be the nicest-looking, and if there was any one among them powerful enough to turn to something that would never get old, that would live after they were all dead. As they looked around, they said: “Those Djáudjau sisters are nice-looking, but they are pale; they look sick.”

Wûlkûtska’s daughter said: “It is that man over there, the man with such a bright blanket, that makes them look that way. He is mad because they won’t marry him.” The different people told what they wanted to do. Lok said: “I will live in the mountains. I will raise children and have many kin.”

Wískäk said: “I and my kin will be birds; we will stay a little while in one place and then go to another. We will never harm anybody.”

Some said: “When we change, we will go east to where the sun comes up.” Others said: “This is our country; we will stay around here.” When the council was over all the people went home.

Djáudjau’s daughters were scared. They felt sick, felt that Wámanik was killing them. They told their father to send word to the chief that they would go to him. The old man sent Kékina to tell Wámanik.

Wámanik laughed, and said: “Didn’t I tell you that I wouldn’t let them go a second time? I don’t want those girls. I am going to kill them; they won’t be persons much longer.”

Midikdak’s daughter was sorry for the sisters. She cried and said to them: “I am afraid Wámanik will kill you. He has killed people in this way before. It’s his way.”

When Kékina came back, he said: “Wámanik doesn’t want your daughters. He says that he is going to change them; that they will be people no longer.”

The girls said: “We haven’t much longer to live, anyway. We don’t care to stay in this world. Even Wámanik won’t live always. He won’t care so much for his bright skin when he comes to die. He may change his skin and look young, but he will have to die.” Then they said to their father: “We are going away. We will live in the woods and have good things to eat. Wámanik will no longer be a person; he will not have good things to eat. People will abuse him, and he will live under rocks and in little stony hills.”

The girls changed to flying squirrels and went toward the east. As they flew, snakes dropped from their mouths and hearts,—the snakes that Wámanik had put there. As the snakes fell out, they ran off in every direction, and that is why there are so many snakes now.

When the little girl saw her sisters turn into common djáudjaus and heard their call, she felt sorry for them. She cried, and said: “Let us go with my sisters.”

The whole family turned to djáudjaus and flew away to the woods.

WŎN AND DÛNWA

CHARACTERS

Dûnwa Stone Woman
Tcoóks Crane
Wŏn Elk

An old woman and her granddaughter lived together. When the girl was grown, the grandmother urged her to get a husband, but she didn’t want one. The old woman teased till the girl got mad, struck her with a club, killed her, and said: “Now the crows can eat you!”

The girl took a basket on her back and started off. The body of the old woman called out: “You won’t get there!”

The girl saw a crow carrying off a piece of her grandmother. She felt sorry; she thought: “She used to be my grandmother; now black crows are eating her.”

When the girl got near the place she wanted to go to, the ground grew soft and she sank in it; the old woman made it so.

Wŏn, the husband of Dûnwa, was on the top of a high mountain. He saw the girl, and said: “She was coming fast; now she is standing still. I will go and see what the trouble is.” He found that the ground had dried up and fastened the girl’s legs down. He thought, “What shall I do to help her?” That minute there was a noise like a heavy clap of thunder. Wŏn said to the girl: “That is my wife. She is mad, but I am going to get you out of the ground.”

He ran to a pile of bones that he had on the mountain, took a leg bone out of the pile, went back and rubbed the girl’s legs with the bone; right away the dirt loosened, and she pulled her legs out.

Wŏn said: “Now you are my wife. I will have two wives. Dûnwa won’t care. You must be careful what you think. If you talk right out Dûnwa won’t know what you say, but what you think she will know. She is a great eater; she eats three deer at a time. I am afraid of her. In the daytime she is like a rock with big eyes, but at night she is a nice-looking woman.”

Dûnwa knew that her husband and the girl were coming; she kept striking rocks and making a terrible noise. When they went into the house, the man thought: “This girl is my wife.”

The rock woman knew what he thought. She was like a pounding stone, but she could move around and work. She cooked a whole deer for Wŏn and the girl.

Wŏn said aloud to the girl: “You must eat this meat or she will get mad.”

The girl thought: “I can’t eat so much.”

Dûnwa jumped up and down and raised a terrible dust.

The man said: “I told you not to think anything about this woman.” They were both frightened.

When night came, Dûnwa was a woman. The three slept in the house. Just at daylight Dûnwa was a rock again. She said to Wŏn: “To-night your new wife must sleep in the bushes; I will sleep in the house.”

That night Wŏn said aloud to the girl: “Will you stay around here, or shall we go off to a new place?”

The girl said: “Get ready; we will go away from here. I am afraid of Dûnwa.”

The next day Dûnwa was busy eating; she didn’t miss Wŏn till almost night. Then she began to track him. Wŏn and the girl had got to a big river when they heard her coming a long way off. She was mad; she made a noise like heavy thunder.

Wŏn was scared. He asked: “What can we do? If she overtakes us she will kill us. If we could cross the river, maybe we could get away.”

There was a house on the other bank of the river, and near it old man Tcoóks was fishing.

Wŏn called out: “Uncle, help us across?”

Tcoóks said: “Don’t you see that I have no canoe?”

The man begged so hard that at last Tcoóks lay down and stretched one of his legs across the river. When Wŏn and the girl were over, he told them to go into the house; he went back to fish.

Dûnwa came like a great stone ball; she hit rocks and trees. Sometimes she rolled along on the ground, sometimes she flew through the air. When she got to the river, she called out: “Old man, take me across!”

“I have no canoe. How can I take you across?”

“Did you see my husband?”

“I haven’t seen any one.”

“His tracks are here; you put him across. How did you do it?”

Dûnwa scolded and threatened till Tcoóks stretched his leg across the river. When she came down hard on it, Tcoóks said: “Be careful, I am not a canoe.” He was mad; he turned his leg and shook her off. She sprang on again. He turned his leg a second time, and a second time she sprang on. The third time he shook her off she fell where the water was deep. Tcoóks drew away his leg and she was drowned.

Wŏn didn’t go back to his old home; he and the girl stayed with Tcoóks.

WUS AND TSMUK’S DAUGHTER

CHARACTERS

Blaiwas Eagle
Iúnika Dusk or Twilight
Kaiutois Wolf
Lok Bear
Pap Gray Fox (a short name for fox)
Tsmuk Darkness
Wus Fox

Lok and other people lived on a flat where there were wild cherry trees and plum trees. Wus was in love with Lok’s daughter. When she went with the other women to get cherries, he turned into a nice-looking young man and tried to get near her. Sometimes he braided his hair and put a big feather in it, but Lok’s daughter always knew him, for she could see hair between his toes, no matter how he was dressed. (Wus had toes like a man’s toes, but between the toes were long hairs. He could never hide his feet.)

One day, when Wus had on a blanket and leggings covered with beads and porcupine quills, and looked like a rich young man, he tried to talk with Blaiwas’ sister, but she saw his feet and knew he was Wus. When he caught hold of her, she pulled away, and said: “I know you. You are Wus.”

“How do you know that I am Wus?”

“I can see the hair between your toes.”

Wus was mad; he left her and went back to the mountain, to Piéamtcir, where he and his mother lived.

Wus never bothered Kaiutois’ daughter, for he called Kaiutois brother. One day she said to him: “You should go away from here. The girls don’t like you; they always see the hair between your toes.”

That night Wus’ mother said: “If you don’t stay at home, you will get into trouble with the chief. He doesn’t want you to bother those girls.”

“I want Blaiwas’ sister for a wife,” said Wus.

“Don’t think about her,” said his mother. “Blaiwas has given her to a man who lives in the lake.”

“I don’t care if he has; I will have her.”

His mother told him to let the girl alone, but he was so mad he wouldn’t listen to her. The next morning he said: “I am going to catch Blaiwas’ sister to-day. After I have caught her, I will go to Blaiwas’ house. If he don’t like me, he can throw me out.”

His mother said: “That young man has taken her away.”

“If he hasn’t more power than I have, I will get her,” said Wus.

When he came to the flat where the girls were picking cherries, he asked: “Where is Blaiwas’ sister?”

“She has a man now,” said Kaiutois’ daughter. “She has gone away with him.”

“Who is he?”

“He is the youngest of the five Kûlta brothers. He lives in the East, far from here.”

The next day Wus told his mother he was going to travel around to see people, and he started off.

As Wus traveled, he sang his love song. One day a Kûlta girl heard him and told her father that some man was coming. “You must stay in the house,” said the father. “That is Wus. He feels badly because my nephew has taken Blaiwas’ sister.”

Old Kûlta was fishing. He called to the fish, and said: “I want to feed that young man.” Then he put his basket at the edge of the water, and said: “Come now, come into my basket!” Right away his basket was full of fish. When Wus came to the river, Kûlta said: “This is the first time you have visited me. You feel badly because my nephew has taken Blaiwas’ sister away from you.”

Wus was mad, but he didn’t say a word.

Kûlta said: “Women have sharp eyes; they can tell if a man is smart. They don’t want to marry a common man.”

Wus didn’t speak. He ate a few fish, washed his hands, and started off.

“Why didn’t he say good-by?” asked Kûlta.

“You made him mad,” said his daughter. “He never eats much; he travels all the time.”

On the way home, Wus met Kaiutois’ daughter, and she told him that Blaiwas’ daughter had come back to see her father, and Kûlta was with her.

“Will they go home soon?” asked Wus.

“Yes, but you mustn’t harm them.”

“I never harm people,” said Wus. “You shouldn’t think that way of me.”

When he got home, his mother asked: “Where have you been?”

Wus said: “I don’t want you to ask me things all the time. If you bother me, I will go off and not come back.”

The next day Blaiwas’ sister and Kûlta started for home. The woman walked, but the man traveled in the lake. Wus watched him. Once, when Kûlta put his head up out of the water, Wus was right there.

“Oh, you scared me!” said Kûlta.

“Why should I scare you?” asked Wus. “I am a living person like yourself.”

“You are in my way,” said Kûlta.

“How can I be in your way? I came here to get a drink.”

Kûlta went off under the water; he felt badly, felt lonesome. When the woman came to the bank, he got out of the water and walked along on dry land.

Kûlta said: “Somebody is coming.” He stubbed his toe and fell; Wus made him. That minute Wus was there. His clothes were covered with beads, and he looked nice.

Kûlta was afraid; he asked: “Why do you bother me? I didn’t know that you wanted this woman. I know you; you are Wus.”

Wus said: “I don’t want her. I never saw her before. I am not Wus. Does Wus look like me? Does he dress in beads? I never saw Wus. My house is over there where you have been.”

Kûlta didn’t want to talk. He started on, but Wus got ahead and walked in front of him.

Kûlta said: “You can have this woman.”

When she wasn’t willing to go with Wus, he said to her, “I don’t want to give my life for you. You must go with him.”

“He will never pay for me; why should I go with him?” asked the woman.

Kûlta had a piece of soft, white stone that he could paint with. Wus asked for half of it.

Kûlta said: “No, I can’t give it to you; my father told me never to part with it. I had rather give you the woman.”

“Can the paint do anything? Has your father any power? I have power, I can do anything. See, off there is where Blaiwas lives.”

The woman looked, and right away she turned to a common eagle. As she flew off, Wus said: “You will no longer be a person. You will be a bird. The people to come will use your tail feathers to doctor with and to wear for an ornament.” Then he said to Kûlta: “You will no longer be a person. You will be an animal that even a woman can kill. I am Wus; I can do anything.”

When Wus got home, he said to his mother: “When I travel around, I hear Tsmuk’s daughter singing. I am going to find out why she always sings about me. She lives off by the great water. Those people always live by the great water. I shall be gone a long time.”

It took Wus a good many days to make the journey. At last he came to the top of a high mountain, and looking down, he saw Tsmuk’s house. Tsmuk’s daughter saw him, though she was in the house. She said: “Momáltciks (Big Eyes) is coming,—the man who is always after some girl.”

Daytime was night for those people. There were people living near Tsmuk’s house, and when it was growing dark, Wus saw that they were getting ready to dance. He fixed himself up, put blue shells in his hair, and put on a blanket covered with nice beads, then he went down to the flat.

When the people saw him coming, they stopped dancing and asked one another: “What strange man is that?”

Pap was there. He knew Wus; he was his cousin. Pap asked: “Why did you come here?”

“I wanted to look around; I got tired of staying at home,” said Wus.

Pap said: “These people will give you one of their young women.”

“I don’t want one. Where is Tsmuk’s house? I came to get his daughter.”

“What could you do with Iúnika?” asked Pap. “You can see her only a little while just before dark. No one can see her in the night or in the daytime. That is why she doesn’t get a man. I don’t think you can go into Tsmuk’s house. You must dance with us.”

“What kind of a dance is this?” asked Wus. “Where is the hair you are dancing over?”

“This isn’t that kind of a dance. We dance to stay at home and be glad.” (When they had a war dance they danced over a hair out of an enemy’s scalp.)

Wus danced better than Pap or any of the other men. The people liked him and wanted to give him one of their young women.

Pap said: “Iúnika won’t have anything to say to you. I have listened to her, and she always sings against you. When she gets angry, she can do almost anything. She knows a great many things that we don’t know.”

“I know as much as she does,” said Wus. “Maybe I can’t take her home, but I will try. You must go with me. If we can’t get into the house, we will come back.”

That night Wus danced better than he had before. Pap’s wife asked: “What does that young man live on? He hasn’t eaten since he came here.”

“I don’t know,” said Pap; “he travels around all the time. No matter how far away a place is, he goes there.”

Toward night Wus went off to a green spot, and, looking toward the sun, he saw lots of black spiders in the air. He caught the spiders in his mouth and ate them. After he had eaten a great many, he went back to Pap’s house and said to his cousin: “You promised to go with me to Tsmuk’s house.”

“I am afraid to go,” said Pap. “They may make our eyes dark, so we can’t see in the daytime. Iúnika will know you.”

“If you are afraid, I will go alone,” said Wus.

“No, if you go I will go, too.”

It was just dark when they got to Tsmuk’s house. Wus made his eyes bright and told Pap not to look at him.

“What can you do?” asked Pap.

Wus turned his body dark blue, and Pap couldn’t see him. “Where are you?” he asked.

“I am right here,” said Wus. “Now do you think I can do things? You can go home. I will go into the house. If I get into trouble, I will come back to you.”

Wus went into Tsmuk’s house and sat down by Iúnika. He was as dark as she was. When he touched her she screamed; she knew Wus was there.

Wus was scared; he ran out of the house and back to Pap’s.

Pap was afraid that old man Tsmuk would blame him, so he left his wife and went home with Wus (that is why there are Paps in Oregon; there were none there till that man went home with Wus).

They didn’t camp on the road; they traveled day and night.

Old woman Wus was glad to see her son. She said: “Blaiwas is angry about his sister.”

“Why does he blame me?” asked Wus. “I have traveled over a great many mountains. I have not been around here. I started long ago. What does he say?”

“He says that you killed Kûlta and his wife.”

“I am not going to stay here,” said Wus. “I am going to travel around.”

After that he and Pap wandered from place to place. The old woman stayed at home.

FROG STEALS DEER’S BABY

CHARACTERS

Blaiwas Eagle
Kāhkaas Stork
Kówe Frog
Lok Bear
Swaiä Deer
Tcíkas Wren
Tcûskai Weasel
Tokwa Mole
Tsiwididik Road Runner
Tskel Mink
Tusasás Joker (Skunk)
Wámanik Bull Snake
Wekwek Magpie

Swaiä and her husband lived at the head of Sprague River, near a flat where there were many roots. Swaiä had a baby, which she carried around strapped on a board. One day when she was digging roots, Kówe came along, and said: “Let me take care of your baby; then you can dig faster.”

Swaiä’s husband had told her not to let Kówe touch the baby, but Swaiä thought: “I will not go far; I can watch Kówe all the time.”

Kówe took the baby on her back and sat in a spring that was right there where the mother was digging. After a while Swaiä said: “You needn’t sit so long in one place; you can walk around a little.”

“I never dig roots. I will stay right here. I am afraid if I move around, the baby will cry.” She held the baby all day, and Swaiä dug a great many roots.

That night Swaiä’s husband told her to always keep her eyes on Kówe; if she didn’t they might lose their baby. Kówe might steal it.

The next day Kówe said: “You can go as far as you like. You needn’t watch. If the baby cries, I will take him to you.”

Kówe took such good care of the child that Swaiä began to feel easy, so she went farther and farther. Once in a while she called: “Is the baby crying?”

“No,” said Kówe, “the baby is good,” and she began to carry it around.

Swaiä said: “Don’t go near the spring again. If the baby drank water, it might make him sick.”

“I won’t go there,” said Kówe. “I will just carry him around till he goes to sleep.”

Swaiä was off near the hill. Kówe kept going nearer the spring; she was waiting for a chance to steal the baby. At last Swaiä got so busy digging that she forgot to watch Kówe. Then Kówe ran to the spring, jumped in, went down under the water, and out of sight.

Just then Swaiä called, “Bring the baby here!” Kówe didn’t answer, and Swaiä ran around calling: “Kówe! Kówe!” She nearly lost her mind; she didn’t know which way she was going.

When her husband came, he said: “You must go one way, and I will go another. We will look everywhere. We will turn to common deer, so that we can look in the brush and among the rocks.”

Kówe traveled a long way, going underground from one spring to another. At last she came to her own place. There were lots of people there. Kówe had three babies, but she didn’t care for them; she spent all of her time taking care of the baby she had stolen. She hid the child and nobody knew that she had it till it began to walk. Then people asked one another: “Whose child is that?” When they asked Kówe, she said: “It is mine.” They didn’t believe her; some said: “No, that isn’t your child. Look at your children. They are different; they are not like this boy. Whose child is it?”

“It is mine,” said Kówe.

“No, it isn’t,” said one old woman. “Your children look just like you; this one is nice-looking.”

“He is nice-looking because I carry him around all the time,” said Kówe.

“Take up one of your own babies and carry it. Let us see if it will look like this one.”

They talked till Kówe took up one of her children and carried it around on her back. When she put it down, they said: “It hasn’t changed a bit. We knew that it wouldn’t. This nice-looking boy is not yours; you stole him.”

“I didn’t carry my baby far enough; that is why it didn’t change.”

They made her carry it again, but it didn’t change. Then they said: “We know that this boy isn’t yours. If we can find his mother, we will give him back to her.”

Kówe was scared, and she kept the boy out of sight as much as she could. When he began to run about and play, she said to him: “You must never play with any of the children around here. You must play with your sisters.”

He thought Kówe’s girls were his sisters. The girls didn’t like him, for their mother was kind to him and she scolded them. When he cried she whipped them; she said that they abused him. Once, when one of the girls was angry at him, she said: “You are not our brother. Our mother isn’t your mother. What makes you call her mother?”

When the boy told Kówe what his sister said, she whipped the girl and wouldn’t let her play with him again.

One day, when the boy was playing near the river, he found a mud-hole and sat down by it and made balls to throw at birds. That night he said to Kówe: “If I had a bow and arrow, I could shoot birds.” She gave them to him, and the next morning he went to the mud-hole and watched for birds. After a while he saw one with long legs,—a Tsiwididik; he shot at it and hit it in the leg.

“Don’t shoot again!” called out Tsiwididik. “If you will take the arrow out of my leg. I will tell you a story.”

Swaiä took the arrow out, then Tsiwididik said: “You think that Kówe is your mother, but she isn’t; she stole you when you were a little baby. Your father and mother mourned for you and hunted everywhere for you.”

The boy began to cry.

“Don’t cry,” said Tsiwididik. “Grow fast and get strong. You must stay with Kówe till you are a big boy. If you ever see two deer together, you mustn’t kill them or shoot at them. Maybe they are your father and mother. This is all I have to tell you.”

Tsiwididik flew away and the boy went home. He could hardly see, his eyes were so swollen from crying.

“What have you been crying about?” asked Kówe.

“I have lost my arrow.”

“You shouldn’t cry about that. I can make you all the arrows you want.”

The next morning, when the boy was going off to play, Kówe said: “You must not go far, or stay long; I am lonesome when you are gone.”

The boy didn’t like Kówe now. He felt sorry for his father and mother; he didn’t want to play. He went where the Kówe people were gambling with sticks and watched them. He grew fast. After a while men taught him to gamble; then he wanted to gamble all the time.

Kówe said: “You should stay at home. It isn’t right to gamble every day.”

But the boy wouldn’t listen to her; he was thinking: “When I win enough, I will go away from here.”

Kówe sat by and boasted: “You can’t beat my son; you can’t beat my son! He is the best gambler in the world!”

Soon Swaiä won all the beads and shells the people had; then he stole away in the night, left the Kówe people. While he was going along the river, he saw Tcoóks. The old man sat by the water trying to catch fish with a flint-pointed spear. Swaiä shouted to him; called him “Uncle.” Just as he shouted, a big fish got away from the spear.

“You are not my nephew,” said Tcoóks. He was cross, for he had lost the fish. He wouldn’t talk with Swaiä; he got up and went off toward the hill.

Swaiä traveled on till he came to the edge of a village, then he turned himself into an old man, and his shells and beads into dirty old trinkets, and sat down by the trail.

Ndukis’ daughter saw the old man and right away she knew he was young. She took him home and pounded seeds for him. Her sisters were angry at her for bringing such a dirty old man into the house.

He made a pillow of his pack and lay down. He looked old and wretched. The Ndukis people were nice-looking, and each one of them had a duckskin blanket.

As soon as it was dark in Ndukis’ house, the old man became young and bright and beautiful, and his bundle began to shine. The house was full of light from Swaiä and his bundle.

When the people heard that the old man had changed, that he was young and fine-looking, they came to see him. They asked him to run a race with them. Blaiwas, Tcûskai, Tskel, Lok, Wekwek, Tokwa, Wámanik, Tcíkas, Kāhkaas, Tusasás, were at the race; everybody was there.

When Swaiä began to run, he made himself old. As the runners passed him, they laughed, and called out: “We can beat you easily! We can beat you easily!” They ran around a hill. The first time around the old man was behind. Then he became a young, fine-looking man and won the race each time. He beat Tskel, a great runner, and Lok (whose name was Kĭc—to look far off), for Swaiä could run faster than eyes could look.

Swaiä liked the Ndukis people. He stayed with them always.

HOW KALASLÁKKAS WON HIS WIFE

CHARACTERS

Blaiwas Eagle
Kalaslákkas
Kletcowas “He Goes Fast”
Komúchass Old Age
Kówe Frog
Ktsítco or Nän’ihlas Bat
Kumal Pelican
Leméis Thunder
Lok Bear
Ndukis Duck-hawk
Peltoquas
Súbbas Sun
Tusasás Joker (Skunk)

Kletcowas and his wife had a daughter and two sons. The mother loved her sons but didn’t love her daughter; she abused the girl till at last she made up her mind to go and ask Blaiwas to take care of her. Blaiwas was chief of the village where Kletcowas lived. The girl was so beautiful that Blaiwas put her in a basket and put the basket under the ground.

An old woman and her grandson lived in a hut at the edge of the village. The boy’s name was Kalaslákkas. He was a little fellow whose father and mother had been killed.

Blaiwas had a big house and many people lived in it; among them was Tusasás. Tusasás went often to see Kalaslákkas’ grandmother, for he liked to tease the boy. One day he said to him: “If you will do as I tell you, maybe you can get that nice-looking girl that Blaiwas keeps in a basket under the ground.”

“I don’t like that,” said the old woman. “You shouldn’t say such things to my grandson.” Other people scolded him for talking that way to a little boy.

Tusasás said: “The old woman needn’t be so proud of her grandson; he isn’t of much account.”

When the grandmother told Ktsítco what Tusasás had done, he said: “Don’t feel badly. If my nephew will do as I tell him, he will get power. On a mountain in the East there is an underground swimming place. If Kalaslákkas goes there and piles up stones and swims, he will get wisdom. He will grow quickly and will get that girl for a wife.”

The grandmother cried; she didn’t want the boy to go, but old Ktsítco said to him: “If you do as I tell you, you will be a young man right away. Rub your body with ashes and go.”

The grandmother felt badly; she thought the boy was too small to go off alone, but she rubbed his body with ashes and gave him a rabbit-skin blanket. And he started.

When Kalaslákkas got to the top of the mountain, he piled up stones; then he went down in a hole where there was water and came out in a pond that the hole led to. He swam around for a long time; then he lay on the stones. He went to sleep and dreamed that somebody said: “Look at that beautiful woman in the South; would you like her for a wife?” When he woke up, he was tall and had beautiful long hair.

As soon as he got home, his grandmother said: “If you had a dream, you mustn’t tell it; keep it in your head. If it was a good dream, you must stay out of doors and not talk to any one.”

The next morning his grandmother said: “Now you must go to Yomaka, a swimming pond that is always covered with thick ice. If the pond likes the person who comes to it, it will open a place for him to swim.”

Kalaslákkas took his rabbit-skin blanket and started. When he was climbing the mountain, he heard men singing and gambling. He followed the sound till he came to the swimming place; then he listened and heard the singing down under the water and under the ground. That was because the pond was glad to see him. The ice melted, and there was water for swimming. When the boy went into the water, he heard a great noise, like many men shouting. That was because the pond was glad he had come. He looked down in the water, but he saw only stones.

When Kalaslákkas was through swimming, he got out of the water and lay down on the rocks. After a while he fell asleep and he dreamed that he saw a man with a long white feather standing up in his hair and heard him say: “I am the chief of gamblers!”

When Kalaslákkas told his grandmother what he had dreamed, she said: “The earth and mountains have taught you many things. You will be a strong man and a great gambler.” Then she told him of another swimming place and said: “When you start from here, don’t look back or look around; look straight at the mountain. If you don’t feel lazy, you will get to the swimming place about dark. When you get there, sit down by the pond and listen; listen till words come to you out of the water. Somebody lives there.”

When the boy got to the pond, he piled up stones and then sat down to listen. Soon he heard some one in the water say: “Why do you feel lonesome? What do you want me to give you? Don’t wait for somebody to put you in; come and swim.”

Kalaslákkas went into the water and began to swim around. Right away he felt something drawing him under. He went down till he came to a beautiful bright house; then he saw that a man was with him. The house was full of all kinds of bright shells. The man opened a skin door, and asked: “Do you want to see a beautiful woman?”

As Kalaslákkas looked at the woman, he felt himself going up to the top of the water again.

The man said: “When you get to the top, dive five times and then go home.”

When Kalaslákkas was near his grandmother’s house, he sat down to rest. She washed herself and went to meet him. She asked: “Was the earth glad to see you, and to have you walk on her? Do you think the earth is satisfied with you?”

“I think the earth is good to me,” said Kalaslákkas.

“Do you want to go to another swimming place?”

“If it is right to go around more, I will go,” said the boy.

“There are more places and you will get strength from them,” said the old woman.

“How shall I do at the next swimming place? One day I wanted to drink some water.”

“You must dive in the pond, and when you are down deep, take five big swallows of water. If you see water in any other place, you mustn’t touch it.”

“What if I should choke?”

“You won’t choke. You must do what I tell you. This earth is my mother; she has given everything for us to eat and drink. She is your grandmother and the sun is your grandfather. You won’t die if you do right. If you listen to the earth, the mountains, and the swimming places, they will teach you what to do when you are a man. They will make you strong, and you will live to be old.”

When Kalaslákkas went into the pond, he felt something under him. It was a bear that lived in the water. As soon as he felt it, it was gone. He swam around for a long time, then got out of the water and lay on the rocks. Soon he heard a bird call; the bird belonged to that swimming place. It was the strongest bird in the world. Kalaslákkas fell asleep and dreamed that he heard a bear roar. The roar was like heavy thunder, and Kalaslákkas was scared. He jumped up and ran home.

His grandmother pounded seeds and white roots for him to eat; then she said: “Now you will climb that mountain in the south, and as you go down on the other side, you must pile stones till you come to a lake. If the lake doesn’t like a person to swim in it, great bumps of water will come up on top, as if somebody under the water was angry. If the wind blows from the south, it is a sign that you must go in and swim.” The old woman made holes in her grandson’s ears and put little black sticks through them and through his nose. When he started off, she put her hand over her eyes, looked after him, and talked to the earth.

As Kalaslákkas went toward the mountain, he heard a girl singing and dancing, and he said to himself: “I didn’t know that there were people on this mountain. Some one must be camping here, and that girl is dancing her maturity dance.” He was afraid to go along the trail, for if she saw him it would spoil all he had done. He turned and followed another trail.

When he got to the pond, he went into the water. While he was swimming, he heard a noise like the dragging along of a dry elk-skin. It was made by the water against a rock that looked like a man wearing an elk-skin coat. While Kalaslákkas listened, the water began to roar and roll, and there was a great noise. He was afraid, but he said: “I must do as my grandmother told me. I mustn’t give up.”

Then he saw a mass of long black hair floating toward him. He followed the hair till he came to a second rock standing up in the lake like a big man wearing an elk-skin coat. Then he came to a third and a fourth. The fifth was lying down in the water near the bank, and his coat was just behind him. Those were the five Peltoquas brothers who had been turned to stone by Komúchass. The fifth and youngest brother had just thrown off his coat when Komúchass overtook him.

Kalaslákkas came out of the water and lay down on a rock. He fell asleep and dreamed that a man with long black hair came to him, and said: “I was a man once; I was a strong man, nobody ever beat me at gambling.” When Kalaslákkas woke up, the waves were washing over him.

The old woman steamed and bathed herself, and watched for her grandson to come. When he came, he was a young man; she hardly knew him. She gave him pounded seeds to eat and went with him to a place where she had a fire and hot stones. After he had steamed and sweated, she put red sticks in his ears and nose, and said: “This is the last time you will go to the mountains. You are working for yourself and for the earth; you must be glad to do the work,” and she told him where to go.

When he started she spoke to the earth, screamed out, as if calling to somebody, said: “You know my grandchild. He walks on you every day. He wants to be strong. I am not selfish, I give my grandson to you; you must teach him.” She talked to the mountains, to the trees, to the rocks, and to everything, said: “You know my grandson. He wants to learn from you.”

When Kalaslákkas got to the mountain, he piled up stones till they stood around the swimming place like people. He went back and forth at work till after dark; then he sat down by the pond. He saw stars way down in the water and he thought: “People are under there with torches.”

In that pond were five Kai brothers turned to rock; each rock was like a tall man. When those brothers lived they were great gamblers.

Kalaslákkas went into the water and rubbed against each one of the five rocks; then he came out and lay down to sleep. In his dream he saw the brothers; they were dressed in buckskin. Each one had a long feather in his hair and a gambling plate in his hands. The eldest said to him: “If you want to be our brother, and be like us, we will give you what we have.” He thought they threw him a long feather and a gambling plate.

Kalaslákkas woke up and went home. His grandmother made a sweat-house and heated rocks, and he bathed and sweated, then she dressed him. He was tall and beautiful; she told him he must not touch food for five days. “You must give yourself to the earth,” said she. “If you do, you will live long in this world; but if you eat meat or fish now, you will die soon. You must remember Tusasás and try to be strong.”

Kalaslákkas had forgotten Tusasás.

Tusasás came again to the grandmother’s house, which was dirty and old in the daytime, but beautiful at night. When he saw Kalaslákkas, he said: “I wouldn’t travel over the mountains and try to grow up just to get a woman!” and he laughed.

The grandmother said: “You think you can do what my grandson has done. You never can. You think you can do everything. You can do nothing but talk and boast, you will always be called Tusasás.”

Old man Kletcowas and his sons used to gamble with the chief and his people. Sometimes, when gambling, Blaiwas would have the basket taken out of the ground and Kletcowas’ daughter put on a gambling plate where he could see her.

Blaiwas and his people gambled with Kletcowas and his sons and old Kumal till they had nothing left, were naked. All their blankets and skins were gone, and they had only grass to wrap around themselves at night. Then Blaiwas told Ndukis to go and ask the old woman’s grandson to come and gamble for him.

When Kalaslákkas’ grandmother told him that his kinfolks wanted him to play for them, she said: “Your uncle is naked. He has lost everything.”

Kalaslákkas thought in his heart: “Why does Blaiwas send for me now? He has never taken any notice of me. I didn’t know he was my uncle.”

His grandmother asked: “Why don’t you speak out, not think all the time? You must tell me if you will go.”

“Where is Tusasás?” asked the young man. “Why doesn’t he play for Blaiwas’ people? I won’t go there.”

The next day Blaiwas’ people and old Kumal and his friends began to quarrel. The old woman fixed up her house tight, with her grandson inside; she didn’t want him to see the fight. After a while they made up, stopped fighting, and began to gamble. Ndukis came to the old woman’s, and said to the young man: “Your uncle has a bead shirt, made when he was a young man; he will give it to you if you will come and gamble for him.”

Kalaslákkas didn’t speak. His grandmother said: “You must say whether you will go or not. How do you feel?”

He didn’t speak. Ndukis went back and told Blaiwas that the young man wouldn’t come.

“What ails him?” asked Tusasás. “Is he proud? Does he think that he is chief? I will go and bring him here by the hair.”

Blaiwas scolded Tusasás, told him to stop talking.

Ndukis said: “What is the use in sending me all the time? Kalaslákkas won’t come and he won’t speak to me. You chiefs speak right out and talk, but he won’t. He isn’t willing to talk to everybody. You must go to him.”

The next day Blaiwas went to the young man and said: “My nephew, I have lost everything; will you come and play for me?”

“When I was small,” said Kalaslákkas, “you never looked after me or were sorry for me. You didn’t call me nephew. It is no use for you to try and hire me now; but I will go and play.”

Blaiwas said to the grandmother: “Kalaslákkas is going to play for me to-morrow. Give him a nice feather and a shirt.”

“No,” said the young man, “my body will do as well naked as dressed. I will go as I am. But you must make an opening in the ground where the men are sitting; I won’t go in by the smoke hole.”

When the people saw Kalaslákkas, they began to talk and whisper and to ask one another where such a beautiful young man came from.

Tusasás said to the old woman: “Your grandson wouldn’t come in at the smoke hole; he thinks that he is the biggest chief in the world, that he is made out of something nice. He has a body just like mine; he needn’t be so proud.”

“Keep still!” said the old woman, and she told Blaiwas that Tusasás was abusing her grandson.