Chapter XV: Part 15

Natanatas thought: “I have only two sons left, but I will try once more.” Tears were running down his face. He said to Kai: “I have been running; I am sweating.”

Kai killed two more of the old man’s sons. Natanatas wouldn’t let Kai touch the deer. He said: “We will come to-morrow and cut them up.” (He was going to bring them to life.)

Little Góshgoise was getting lonesome; he thought: “If my brother is going to stay around here, I will go home. He is away every day, and I am alone all the time.”

The next morning old Natanatas said: “There are big fish in the lake; we will go and spear one.” (He had turned his sons to fish, and they were in the lake.)

This time Kai took Góshgoise with him. He knew that his brother was lonesome.

The old man said to his sons: “As soon as you see Kai’s spear, catch hold of it and pull him into the water. Then eat him.”

When Kai got to the lake, he was frightened, and thought: “I won’t spear fish.” Then he thought: “I must do everything the old man tells me to do.”

Soon he saw a big fish coming. It threw up water in great waves. It caught Kai’s spear and pulled, pulled hard, but Góshgoise took hold of the spear and helped Kai. They pulled the fish out on to the sand, and Kai sent his brother to tell the old man to come and see it. When Natanatas saw the fish, he said: “You have done enough for to-day; we will go home and play games.”

The old man said to one of his sons: “I am going to run a race with Kai. When we run along the bank of the river, you must make a river on the other side of us, and as we go between the rivers, you must push Kai into the water. Your brothers will catch him and eat him.”

When Kai and old Natanatas were between the rivers where the trail was narrow, Natanatas’ son sprang out of the water, ran up behind Kai, and gave him a push. Kai was falling into the water when white eagle feathers saw his trouble, and called out: “Think of us!”

Kai did, and right away he floated off in the air. Then Kai called to his father-in-law: “You can’t beat me!”

The next time they ran the old man said: “You must run on the left side of the trail.”

“No, I will go on the right side,” said Kai. He went on the right side, and when they came to a deep place and his brother-in-law ran up behind him, he turned and pushed him into the river. The brothers, who were waiting to eat Kai, ate their brother.

The old man said to Kai: “I will run with you again, but you must run on the left side.”

Kai ran on the left side; his father-in-law pushed him off many times, but he didn’t strike the water. He floated away, a feather, and when the old man looked back, there was Kai. At last he pushed Natanatas into the water.

Natanatas called out: “Don’t eat me! Don’t eat me!” His sons thought he was Kai and they ate him, but his spirit escaped and he was alive again. He scolded his sons, said: “Why don’t you kill this man? You must run with him and kill him. We have more power than he has.”

Kai ran another race, pushed his brother-in-law into the water, and his brothers ate him up.

Then the old man said: “We won’t run again. My sons feel badly, their brother is dead.”

Kai’s wife scolded her father, told him he had killed his sons, that she didn’t like him any longer, and wouldn’t stay where he stayed. Then she and Kai and Góshgoise crossed a high mountain, and came down to a meadow. They built a house and lived there always.

THE SPIRIT OF THE TULA GRASS

CHARACTERS

Blaiwas Eagle
Ndukis Hawk
Tusasás Joker (Skunk)

Not far from Knekuks lived a woman and her little grandson, the last one left of her kin. The boy often wanted to go to the village, but his grandmother said: “You are too small; you might get lost, or those people might kill you. They killed your father and mother.”

One day the boy started off without saying anything to his grandmother. When she found that he had gone, she cried and felt badly. Tusasás lived in the village; he saw the boy and said: “I will take that little fellow for a servant; he can bring water for me.”

“Keep still,” said Blaiwas; “you talk too much.”

The man who killed the boy’s father was there; he said: “That boy has come to see me. Maybe he wants to kill me.” He was making fun of him.

The boy went into each house to find out what people would say to him. Some were sorry for him; others drove him away. When he went home, his grandmother said: “Those people are waiting for you to grow up a little; then they will kill you.”

After the first time, he went away every evening. One evening he saw, on the trail, an old dry spear of tula grass. He stepped on it and broke it; the spear screamed out, just as a person does when hurt. The boy stepped off from it quickly, and said: “Well, well, I never heard anything of this kind scream before.” He picked up the pieces of grass. That minute he fell down. The grass made him fall; it was the spirit of a skoks.

The boy lost his mind and was almost dead. He thought the spirit said: “You have broken my back; now I want you to fix me and use me for a cane. If you meet enemies, use me against them.”

When the boy got back his mind, his mouth was bloody. It is always that way when a child is going to be a doctor. (Medicines sometimes travel evenings to meet young boys.) He got up and went home.

When his grandmother saw him, she was scared; she said: “I don’t like to see you this way. Doctors are killed as well as men who fight; you won’t live long if you are this kind.”

That night the boy dreamed that the tula cane told him how to make a regular medicine cane. He made the cane, and the next time he went to the village he took it with him. It was stronger than the tula grass cane.

Tusasás said: “Little boy, I am glad you brought me a cane; I will sing for it.”

Blaiwas said: “You shouldn’t make fun of that boy; let him alone.”

“If we let him alone, he will kill us all,” said Tusasás.

The man who killed the boy’s father tied feathers in the boy’s hair to make fun of him, and said: “I want to eat you, but if I don’t eat you, you will have to carry water for me.”

Tusasás said: “He is mine; I will make him work when he is a little larger.”

Everywhere the boy went they made fun of him because he was so small. One night he said: “Grandmother, I want you to fix my head.” She shaved off all of his hair but one tuft on the top of his head; that she braided, and it stuck up straight. She painted his head and his face red.

“Haven’t I any name?” asked the boy.

“No,” said his grandmother. “You have never given yourself a name.”

“Call me Sápkokis” (the name of the twist of hair on top of his head). “And call me by my name every time I come in or go out; it will make me stronger each time I hear it.”

The next night he stuck his medicine cane over the place where he slept, took down his tula cane, and said to his grandmother: “I am going to the place where they make fun of me. If my medicine cane falls, it will be a sign that I am in trouble.”

When he got to the place, the man who killed his father asked: “Why do you come so often? I wish you would keep away from me. I don’t like you; you look just like your father. Give me your cane!”

Sápkokis wouldn’t give up his cane. He ran off to old woman Ndukis’ house. She said: “Why do you come to this village so often? That man over there will kill you.” When he didn’t start for home, she screamed to him to hurry, that the man was following him. She tore a hole in her house and told the boy to crawl out and run home as quickly as he could.

Sápkokis crawled out, but he went around on one side and struck the man with his tula cane. The man fell in two pieces.

The people said to the dead man: “That comes of your talking so big!” They shot at Sápkokis, but couldn’t hit him; he darted around and hit men with his tula cane. Each man he hit died right away. One man said: “I never killed any of your people; I have always been kind to you.” He let that man live.

Sápkokis went home whooping and singing; he was glad. The women of the village told all the people living what the boy had done.

Sápkokis said to his grandmother: “I am going to a place where there is high grass; I am not going to stay here and fight people.”

He went to the mountain and stood in the high grass on one side of the trail. A great many men started out to kill Sápkokis. When he saw them coming, he met them, and asked: “Where are you going?” No one answered. He said: “Here is the best place to fight.” They tried to kill him, but his cane never failed; it killed every man.

In the evening Sápkokis went home whooping and singing. When his grandmother saw him coming, she said: “He has killed everybody; that is why he whoops and runs so fast. It was bad enough to make him an orphan, not to make him think of his people. That is the way: if they know, they can never forget. Those people should have let him alone.”

Sápkokis traveled around and everybody knew that he was a great fighter. One day he told his grandmother he was going to see Kûlta. She said: “If you go, don’t harm him; he is your kin.”

Kûlta said: “My grandson, I am glad to see you. I hear women mourning. You must be on the watch; somebody may come here and kill you. You must cover your father and mother and relatives enough so you won’t think any more about them.” (He meant that he must kill all of his enemies.)

Sápkokis asked: “Do you feel lonesome for people?”

“No,” said Kûlta, “my sons never did any harm, but men killed them. I am glad to have you kill those men.”

When Sápkokis went home, Kûlta carried the old grandmother fish. He was glad that his grandson was such a strong man.

Sápkokis said: “You mustn’t make any tracks around here. If you do people will think that you taught me all these things.”

After this, Sápkokis and his grandmother lived in peace. There were only women and children left around their place.

A MEDICINE STORY. NUMBER I

CHARACTERS

Blaiwas Eagle
Ktilisúnak Ktilis’ Son
Skoks Spirit
Skoksun Kalo The Land of Spirits

Ktilisúnak (Ktilis’ son) was so young that he couldn’t talk plainly. He lived with his grandmother. His sister was married and lived on a broad flat near the mountains. The grandmother was tired of taking care of the boy, and one evening she threw the little fellow out; then she threw him his bow and arrows, and said:

“Go off now! Maybe you will be a big chief and have many wives!”

The boy was naked and cold, but he got up and started off to see if he could find his sister’s house. He cried all the way. When he got to the flat, he saw a woman coming with a great pack of old ragged mats on her back. The boy was scared; he trembled all over. He could see the woman’s head and pack, but he couldn’t see below her waist. He thought: “That isn’t a living person,” and he grew as cold as ice.

When he thought: “That isn’t a living person,” the woman screamed out, and right away the boy changed. He could see the woman, and he said: “I am not afraid of you now. My grandmother has thrown me out; I will give myself to anybody I meet.”

The woman was a Skoks, and she came in a whirlwind. As the boy looked, she grew taller and taller. At last her head reached the sky. She screamed a second time. The boy’s eyes were big from looking at her. The third time she screamed, she was there by him. She tried to pass him on the right side, but he pushed hard to the other side. As she passed him, he fell on his back; blood came out of his mouth and he lost his mind. Skoks had pulled his heart out and carried it off. (If she had passed on the left side she would have taken his spirit and carried it to Skoksun Kalo.)

Skoks went off in the air till she came to where the sun goes down; she stopped there just above the earth. Her hand was shut tight, and she held the boy’s heart in it; she talked to the heart, and laughed.

She said: “Heart, I am trying you to see if you will be like me,” and she laughed again.

The boy lay on the ground as if dead, but his spirit heard the Skoks talk to his heart, as she sat on the air and held the heart in her hand. After a while she opened her hand and let go of the heart. Then the little boy thought he saw a bird coming from the west. It came to him and lighted on his breast. That moment he jumped up and went toward his sister’s house. He had changed; he wasn’t a little boy; he was a young man.

His sister didn’t know him. When he called her “sister,” she asked: “What has changed you so?” She was scared. He didn’t answer; he only laughed.

“Why don’t you speak?” she asked.

Then he said: “Out on the flat I saw a tall woman with a big pack of old ragged mats on her back.”

Right away the sister knew that he had seen a Skoks; she said: “My brother, why did you come so far alone?”

“My grandmother threw me out,” said the boy. “I thought I was going to die.”

The sister cried; she felt sorry for her brother.

He began to be sleepy. Skoks made him feel that way; she was coming to him again. She was going to be his medicine and make him a great doctor. He rubbed ashes on the right side of his face; on the left side he made stripes with a black coal, then he asked his sister to sing for him. She didn’t want to sing, for the first person who sings for a doctor must go with him always, and sing for him. When he asked the second time, she sang. They didn’t see the Skoks, but Ktilisúnak knew she was there.

Every evening the young man called out as Skoks called, when he met her on the flat; then he fell to the ground and was senseless till Skoks got through talking to him. Each time his sister asked: “What does your medicine want?”

“I see a crowd of medicines around me,” said he. “They want somebody to sing and talk for them. You must go and ask old men to come and talk five days for them.”

The sister went to Blaiwas’ village, where there were many old men. They came and sang and told the medicine spirits what they must do. They said: “If you want this young man to work for you, you must be good to him; you mustn’t make him crazy.” Then they asked each medicine what it wanted. Skoks wanted a cap made of tula grass, and two grass plates. Eagle medicine wanted eagle feathers, and fish-hawk medicine wanted fish-hawk feathers. Each bird medicine wanted its own kind of feathers.

The old men got all of those feathers, and tied them on a long pole. There is a dream medicine, and the man who has it can cure himself, but he can’t cure others. That medicine came to Ktilisúnak.

When the old men finished singing and talking, they said to the sister: “You mustn’t cook or sweep or have any dust around when your brother is in the house. In the evening don’t stir the ashes or let them fly up when you put wood on the fire; if you do, he will die; he is afraid of his medicines. Don’t tease him to eat; let him eat when he wants to. If his medicines trouble him, we will come and talk to them.”

The young man lay in the house day after day.—Doctors don’t go out often; they go only when sick people send for them.

Near the sister’s house there was a sick man who was only skin and bones. He sent for Ktilisúnak. The young man told his sister to sing for Skoks. Skoks came, but nobody could see her. When the three got to the house, the man was dying. Ktilisúnak put a hand each side of him, front and back, and caught his life, didn’t let it get out of his body. In half a day the man was well.

When the sister got home, the medicines heard her say: “Oh, I am tired!” In the night they said to the young man: “We didn’t think she would get tired of us so soon.”

The next morning Ktilisúnak asked his sister if she was tired of his medicines. She said: “I am tired of singing so much.”

“I am tired, too,” said the young man, “but I wouldn’t live long if I didn’t work for my medicines.”

The next night Ktilisúnak sang for himself. Skoks was angry because the brother and sister were tired. The other medicines said to him: “We didn’t know you felt so. We thought you would be glad to have us for servants. Hereafter you will be a common man; you will have no power to cure people.”

The medicines left him. As soon as they were gone, he began to feel sick; he cried and sang for his medicines, but they didn’t hear him, they had gone far away. The old men came, and sang and called to them, but they didn’t come. When Ktilisúnak told the old men how he and his sister had got tired of singing, they said: “We will try once more.”

“It’s no use,” said Ktilisúnak. “Skoks has got my life.” He grew thin and died. People brought nice beads and mats and burned them with his body.

Blaiwas said to the sister: “It is as if you had killed your own brother. Haven’t old people told you that medicines listen to what we say and that they can hear, even when they are a long way off?”

The sister felt badly. She burned up her house and went to another place. As soon as Ktilisúnak died, his old grandmother knew it. She was sorry that she had thrown him out, and three times each night she walked around the sister’s house crying. Her voice sounded Like the voice of a spirit. The sister wrapped herself up tight when she heard her grandmother around. Once, when she saw her, there were red tears on one side of the old woman’s face and black tears on the other. At last she called out: “My granddaughter, I am going to the mountains. I don’t want to be a person any longer, and hereafter you will not be a person; you will be a bird, and appear to doctors.” They both became birds.

A MEDICINE STORY. NUMBER II

A man and his wife went off hunting and left their little boy at home. The mother said: “Stay here and watch things; don’t go away anywhere.”

The boy was afraid; he didn’t want to stay alone. The father and mother had not been gone long when the boy heard a noise like a whirlwind in tall grass. A Skoks had come for him, but he didn’t know that. He looked out, looked over his left shoulder, and saw a kind of grayish white fog. In that fog was a woman; one side of her face was painted in black streaks, the other side was the color of ashes. She called out to the boy: “Come here, little fellow!” The child didn’t go; he screamed and fell dead.

The mother heard him scream and she ran home. When she found the boy dead and cold as ice, she cried, and called for somebody to come.

Old Koé heard her and came; she took off the child’s clothes and rubbed his body with ashes, then she put black coal on one side of his face and white ashes on the other, and called for her Skoks. (Skoks was old Koé’s medicine.)

Koé said to the mother: “A Skoks came for your child, but the little fellow turned his left shoulder. If he had turned his right shoulder, the Skoks would have taken his spirit away; but she didn’t get hold of it; she called and it followed her. My Skoks will go for it.”

The boy’s spirit hadn’t gone far. Koé’s Skoks went right in front of it and brought it back, and the child came to life. When the mother asked how the Skoks looked, the boy said: “She had finger-nails longer than her hand. I couldn’t see her plainly, but I heard her call me.”

The mother wanted to give Koé nice things, beads and porcupine quills, but Koé said: “I don’t want any of those things; I only want to bring back as many spirits as I can.”

The little boy grew fast; he was a great kiúks. When men asked how his Skoks looked when she awakened him out of dreams, he said: “She has red eyes, like fire in the night, and her nails are longer than her fingers. She has hot ashes for her paint. One side of her face is white; on that side are black tears, on the other side are red tears, like blood.”

A SKOKS STORY

On the shore of Tula Lake many chiefs were living,—the first people. (They are now turned to fowls and animals.) With them lived an old woman and her grandson. The boy was called “Big Belly;” Tusasás rubbed dirt on him and laughed at him because he was small and fat.

A Skoks traveled every evening along the eastern side of the lake. The Skoks wore a straw blanket, and made a great noise, crying as he went along. The minute anybody saw him, he vanished. If he passed a man whose right shoulder was toward him, that man died at once, for the spirit stole his life, but if the spirit passed on the other side, the person was senseless a while and then came to life.

One evening people heard the Skoks coming. It made such a noise that they heard it when it was a long way off. They were scared; they crowded together and each person wanted to be inside. Tusasás wanted to be under all the rest; they pulled him up and threw him out, but he crawled under again. The people shivered; it was so cold they were nearly frozen. It was always cold when that Skoks screamed; he made it so. Fires went out and grass wouldn’t burn.

The old woman took the hull of seeds and made a fire for the little boy. She cried while she was making it, and said: “My grandson, all the people here are going to die.” The little boy didn’t seem to know what she meant; he got up and stood by the fire. She said: “Sit down, my grandson, you mustn’t stand up or go out; if you meet this Skoks, you are sure to die.” The old woman threw ashes toward the voice of the Skoks.

The little boy told his grandmother to tie a skin around him and roll him up so he could go and meet the Skoks.

“My grandson,” said the old woman, “what can you do? You have no power.” But she got a buckskin blanket, tied it around him, and said: “Don’t let the Skoks pass on the right side; be sure that your left shoulder is toward him. He will try to make you go on the other side, but don’t you go.”

Every time the Skoks shouted, it was like throwing ice into the house, and Tusasás cried out: “Oh, let me go under; I am cold.”

When the boy started, his grandmother said: “You must take some ordure in your hand, and if the Skoks tries to make you go on the wrong side, throw it at him.”

Soon the boy saw the Skoks. His head reached the sky and he looked as if he were carrying a load of clouds. One side was painted white, the other black. He came very fast. The boy had hard work to get by. When he pushed into Skoks, Skoks darted forward. At last both fell, and their bodies turned to rock, but their spirits came out of the rocks. The boy was holding up the ordure, and that turned to rock, too.

When the sun rose the next morning, the boy’s spirit went home. He was a young man now and wore a panther-skin blanket that came to his feet. (After a person meets a Skoks, he looks strange; he loses his old body.) As soon as the young man got home, it was warm; fires burned, and right away it was summer. The people made him chief and he had control of the place.

After that two men went north to visit their kin; one of the men was killed. When the people heard about it, they asked the chief if they should demand pay for the man’s life. He said: “Yes, and if they don’t pay, I will punish them.” The men refused to pay, and messengers were sent to the chief.

He took a long obsidian knife and started. When nearly there, he said to his men: “Don’t be frightened; the Skoks is getting mad and ready to move.” (The Skoks was the chief’s medicine.)

When the chief came to the enemy, they said: “We are men, not women; we are not afraid of you. We won’t pay for the man we killed.”

Both sides were ready to fight. The chief said to his men: “When I shout, fall on the ground and don’t move.” He shouted like Skoks and all of his people fell. His enemies were terribly frightened. Right away they were freezing.—The chief could see the Skoks, but nobody else could see him.—The chief killed a great many men; they were so cold they couldn’t run away; he cut them to pieces with his obsidian knife.

After that, there was no trouble with the northern people; they had found that there was a powerful chief in the south, a man who could kill them easily.

A DOCTOR STORY

CHARACTER

Kiúks Doctor

A kiúks and his old mother were living at Dokwa, near Klamath Lake. The kiúks had a tall pole standing outside the house and on the top of the pole was a dead eagle. Inside of the house he had a dead fish-hawk and all kinds of dead birds.

The kiúks shouted and sang. The minute he stopped singing, the dead eagle came to life and screamed; when the eagle stopped screaming, the fish-hawk and all the dead birds inside the house came to life and screamed together. As soon as they were through screaming, the kiúks fed them. After they were fed, they died and remained dead till he called them to life again.

This man was a terrible kiúks; he could kill anybody. Nobody ever went to his house; everyone was afraid of him. When he called, and the eagle and all the birds answered, the earth began to tremble, and it trembled as long as the birds screamed. Everywhere people felt the earth shake, and it scared them. At such times they said: “The kiúks is singing, and the birds are screaming.”

Men began to talk and to try to think of some way to kill the kiúks. One morning he hung up a wooden comb, and said to his mother: “I am going to Gombät; if this comb falls, you may know that somebody has killed me.” He had a ska (a sharp stone about three feet long); he gave it to her and said: “As soon as the comb falls, take this ska and strike the ground near the fire five times, and strike the fire five times.”

People had been wishing that this kiúks would go somewhere, but he had always stayed at home. There were men watching, and when he came out of his house, they followed him. Before he got to Gombät, they killed him, shot arrows into his body, and cut him to pieces with flint knives.

When the comb fell, the mother knew that her son was dead. She took the ska and struck the ground five times, and the fire five times, as he had told her to do. That minute the men who had killed him fell dead, and the eagle and all the birds inside the house came to life and screamed.

The old woman went to Gombät; she found the pieces of her son, carried them home, and burned them; then his spirit went into her. She became just such a kiúks as he had been. She had been only a common old woman; now she used the eagle, fish-hawk, and birds just as her son had used them. People were scared, but they said to her: “You mustn’t do as your son did, you mustn’t kill people; if you do, we shall kill you as we killed him.”

Her son gained strength when the birds screamed and the earth trembled, but the people frightened the old woman so she was afraid to sing for the birds; she grew weak and died. As soon as she was dead, the birds came to life and flew off to the woods.

The people left her body in the house and burned the house and body together.

THE END.

NOTES

LÁTKAKÁWAS

Látkakáwas is evidently a sun myth. The young man who wooed Látkakáwas could run in the air and under the ground (Indians thought that the sun traveled from west to east underground). He was beautiful and bright, brighter than anything else in the world. He was immortal while he had the disk. When Kumush stole the disk Látkakáwas’ husband died. The disk became a part of Kumush and he was immortal. His body was reduced to ashes, but he rose up anew, for the disk remained.

There is a condition, however, incident to the resurrection of the sun; he must be called. Some one must rouse him. The morning star has that duty, and will never be freed from it. While the sun exists, the morning star must call him. At the summons of the star the disk springs from the pile of ashes; the sun (represented as Kumush) is renewed completely and goes forth to run his course till consumed again.

Kumush is killed and his body is eaten by crows; only the disk remains. The morning star sees the disk, and calls out: “What are you doing, old man? Get up!” Kumush springs up, through virtue of the immortal disk and the compelling word of the star.

Many Indian tribes have myths in which the morning star figures as the Light-bearer.

The morning star of the Modocs is the same character as the Lucifer of the Latins.

THE FIVE BROTHERS OF LÁTKAKÁWAS

The five brothers marry and nothing more is known about them. Gáukos, the orphan boy, becomes the principal character.

At sunset Gáukos—the moon—is thrown out of his sister’s house. He is a little boy, but as soon as he is outside he increases in size. He enters a ravine, and when he comes out at the opposite end he is a full-grown man. Later every one sees him; his body is bright and beautiful. When pursued by his sister, he crosses a valley at a step, springs from one mountain to another, and early in the morning reaches the first house, the home of two women, who have the power of making themselves young.

The Modocs have lost the name of Gáukos’ elder sister, and they do not know the meaning of the name of the younger sister, Lĭsgaga. The elder sister is, probably, Daylight; she travels as Gáukos does, a valley at a step. In a Wintu creation myth, Sanihas (Daylight) is one of the principal characters. In a Gaelic myth, the son of the King of Light is Day or Daylight, the Lady of Green Insh is Night, and her yellow-haired son is Dawn.

In this Modoc myth the power of the word was with Gäk. He said to Lóluk: “Hereafter, you will be kin to no man, you will burn all alike,” and as he spoke Lóluk became common fire.

ISIS AND YAULILIK’S DAUGHTERS

Isis, the son of Látkakáwas, is the son of Kumush because Kumush has the disk, and the disk is Isis’ father. The Indians do not know the meaning of the word Isis—or Áisis, as pronounced by some of the Modocs—or of Látkakáwas.—These names occur only in the myths connected with the disk.—Isis is the greatest hunter and the greatest runner in the world. He has long, bright red hair. When he builds a fire the smoke from it goes straight up; it does not scatter, or waver. Isis has some of the attributes of his father, the sun.

Kumush personates Isis and deceives Yaulilik’s elder daughter. In mythology one character frequently personates another.—There is an example of this in Wintu: Klakherrit (Lightning) personates Pitis (Quail), deceives Pitis’ family, and kills every member of it.

In Indian myths, whenever two sisters are sent to some place and warned by father or mother against a deceiver, who is likely to meet them on the way, the elder sister is generally ready to become a victim, the younger is the wise one.

Cogátkis is an interesting character; like Samson, his strength was in his hair. Through the power of his hair, he could see at a great distance, and he could talk to his mother though she was far away.

I have never found a myth in which the method of taking life is similar to that described in this myth. Isis had two children; the elder died; he took the younger in his arms, put the top of its head to his mouth and drew a long breath, drew the child’s breath, its life, into himself. He said to his wives, “The children are half mine, and half yours. I have taken their breath into myself; you may have their bodies.”

In an Algonkin myth a character similar to Látkakáwas is the “Earth maiden.” The Sun looks at her and she brings forth a daughter, who becomes the mother of a great hero.

KUMUSH AND HIS DAUGHTER

Many of the Modocs firmly believe that their tribe originated as described in this myth. They call Kumush father, and live by the rules he laid down for them. They believe that he gave the race all gifts that support existence, that it is through him that the Indians live and prosper. He has many of the attributes of Zeus.

This myth and many of the myths in this volume are as sacred for Indians as Bible stories are for Christians. When old men are asked what their ideas are regarding life hereafter they tell of Kumush’s visit to the great house in the underground world; of what he saw there, and of the terrible effort he made to bring spirits to the upper world, and create Indians.

The underground house of the Modoc dead is in the West.

When Kumush had done all that he could for mankind he went to the place where the sun rises. He traveled on Sun’s road till he came to the middle of the sky, and there he built his house.

STEALING FIRE

This tale belongs to the first cycle of Indian myth-tales, tales which relate the adventures of living creatures, plants, elements, objects and phenomena in this world before they became what they are as we see them. Among living creatures man is not reckoned, for man does not appear in any of these myths.

In most cases the tales are simple and transparent; it is easy to recognize the heroes either by their names or their actions or both. The value of Indian myths lies in the fact that they represent the mental labor of men who lived ages before those who recorded their thoughts on papyrus, baked brick or burnt cylinders.

Sickness was a person and owned fire. Sun, whose home was in the West, also owned fire. A council was called and the first people sent Wus to secure fire for “the people who are to come.” The first people knew that another race was coming and that they themselves were to be changed.

Many mythologies give an account of the stealing of fire.—In Nosa, Au Mujaupa, the master of fire, lived in the South. Ahalamila went there and stole a few coals. The struggle to escape with the coals was as strenuous as that described in the Modoc tale, but the Nosas do not know who Au Mujaupa was.

HOW SICKNESS CAME INTO THE WORLD

This version of how sickness scattered over the world is noteworthy. It is not known who the Gletcówas brothers were. When asked, the Modocs said: “Gletcówas is just a name.” The little men possessed great power; they could turn into any conceivable thing. Kéis got angry and made poisonous diseases. Wéwenkee reproached him, told him that sickness belonged to Nébăks, that it was only loaned to him, that he had no right to let it out. Kéis did not listen, and, as a result of his rage, sickness spread over the world.

HOW OLD AGE CAME INTO THE WORLD

It would be interesting to know who the five brothers were, but the knowledge is lost. Their first notable encounter was with Storm, a person who could kill any one whom he could catch and draw under water.

The brothers traveled till they came to a country where they found only one man and one woman. The man said: “You cannot destroy us. We shall live always.” When the brothers tried to kill him, and could not, they were frightened and ran away. Komúchass followed them to their own country, and killed them. The Indian woman who related this myth believed that if the brothers had let Komúchass alone, there would have been no such thing as old age.

LEMÉIS AND NUL-WE

In this myth Leméis is described as a man-eater. In Indian myths lightning, thunder, earthquake, and cyclone are man-eaters. Every effort was made to find out who Nul-we and his grandmother were. Old Ko-a-lák-ak-a, who told the story, said that when she was young she knew, but she had forgotten. In a Nosa myth, somewhat similar in construction, but where Lightning is the chief personage, the old grandmother is Pom, the earth.

WIND AND THUNDER

For ages the reverence and enthusiasm of primitive men have been given to elemental heroes, and they are given them yet by every tribe which preserves its ancient beliefs and ideas.

Fortunately we know all of the characters in this story of the elements.

Tcûskai, who represents spring, thought that he could cut off North Wind’s head. When Wind put his head out Tcûskai died.

Tskel killed South Wind, made a cap of his skin, put it on and went to North Wind’s house and killed him.

Since the death of North Wind and South Wind the wind that comes from the south is South Wind’s spirit, and the wind that comes from the north is North Wind’s spirit.

The Warm Spring Indians of Oregon have a beautiful myth about the Southwest Wind brothers and the Northeast Wind brothers and their sister, Tekstye. When Southwest Wind had killed Tekstye’s brothers she ran away. Southwest Wind overtook her just as she reached a river; he struck her and she fell into the water. Then he said: “You’ll no longer be a person and freeze people. You can blow once in a while, then I will come and overpower you. Rain will be your enemy, too. You will blow and freeze up everything, then he and I will come, we will thaw out the ground, warm it up, and make it green and beautiful.”

GÁUKOS AND KÛLTA

Gáukos, the moon, is afraid of the big-mouthed people, the grizzly bears (clouds). He takes Weketas to protect him. He says: “If only a bit of me is left in Lok’s mouth Weketas can bring me to life.” In the old time nearly every tribe of Indians on the western continent believed that an eclipse was caused by an animal’s attempt to swallow the sun, or the moon. Some tribes believe it yet and think that the animal is a grizzly bear. In Guatemala, when there is an eclipse, the Indians assemble in their villages, beat on drums, scream and make as much noise as possible, “to scare the bear away.”

In “Tulchuherris,” a Wintu myth, Olelbis, the creator, warns Sas, the Sun, against the grizzlies; he says: “While coming from the east you will see thick brush along the road. In that brush are grizzly bears. Be on your guard against them; they will kill you if they can.”

DJÁKALIPS—RED CLOUDS

In this myth it is not told who the two sisters are, but in most myths that describe rope-makers it is stated that when the great change came they turned to spiders. The Kaltsik (spider) people play a prominent part in “The Star Brothers.” In a Wintu Myth Norwanchakus hires the spider people to go to Sun’s house and ask where Keriha is. In Látkakáwas they made a basket and would have fastened it to the sky, but misfortune came from looking back.

MOASÄM BEPS, THE DAUGHTER OF SOUTH WIND

Moasäm Beps is a myth in which Winter and Spring are the characters. The fate of Tsákiak is pathetic, but we may be sure that if we knew what he represented, and had all the details of the myth, we should find it consistent, and true to nature.

WEST WIND’S WIVES

Is a beautiful myth. The mind that conceived it was full of poetic thought.

THE STAR BROTHERS

Ko-a-lák-ak-a, the woman who told this myth-tale, thought that Tekewas was a cloud—the red cloud that in morning heralds a storm, for she was often seen, a red cloud, lying on the top of a mountain watching the valley below. Her family were afraid of her. Even the sun feared her.

There are valuable elements in the myth: hastening the course of the sun; the destruction caused by looking back; two newly born children pressed into one (we do not know what phenomena or force the children represent); the one, by the blow of an arrow, made two.

The heroes had many adventures. The elder wrestled with Yahyáhaäs, killed him, and condemned his spirit to wander forever on mountains, and along rivers and brooks. The moment the victor pronounced the curse the conquered said: “You will no longer be a person. You and your brother will be stars.” Thereupon they became what their opponent had made them. When the word had been uttered nothing in the universe could turn it aside or resist it.

Ko-a-lák-ak-a thought that Yahyáhaäs personified fog. Captain John said that Yahyáhaäs was lightning, and the people who wrestled with him were clouds.

Yahyáhaäs appears in a number of myths. He always has the same characteristics and the same power. His only way of killing an enemy is by wrestling with him. His spirit goes to the sky and becomes Leméis, thunder.

THE RAINMAKER

The people who lived in the world before this had all the weaknesses of the people of the twentieth century; they were jealous, unfaithful, and revengeful. But not in the beginning. For untold ages those “first people” lived in peace and harmony. “No man knows, no man can tell, how long they lived in that way.” Then, by degrees, a change came.

Gáhga, old, and blind, and jealous, “could have destroyed” (drowned) “all the people in the world had he so willed.” He was Rain. A similar character in Gaelic mythology is called “Wet Mantle.” His power was in his mantle, which was rain itself.

WUS KUMUSH AND TSMUK

Tsmuk is darkness, and his daughter, whose name is given in another version of the story, is Iúnika, Twilight.

In this myth there is a fine description of Wus. He could make people old; he could change them to animals or to anything he chose. He was the greatest trickster in the world; he delighted in deceiving people. He made Tsmuk look toward the east; immediately Tsmuk’s body became a black cloud. A west wind came and carried the cloud away; it was daylight. Wus said to Tsmuk, “You’ll no longer be a person. You’ll be darkness, and people will sleep when you are here. But I shall not sleep. I will sleep in the daytime and travel at night.” The last part of Wus’ declaration must be an interpolation, for Wus is connected with light. In the mythology of one of the Pacific coast tribes a personage with many of the characteristics of Wus is known to be that warm light which in fine weather we see waving and dancing above the earth. He leads persons astray, and is full of mischief and deceit.

FROST AND THUNDER (YAHYÁHAÄS).

This is the only myth in the collection in which Frost is a known character. Wus steals Gowwá’s wife, Gowwá gets her back, then the Lok people (clouds) steal her, Gowwá kills the Loks and rescues his wife only to have her stolen by Yahyáhaäs, who carries her to his home under the rocks. All the strong people in the world assemble to aid Gowwá, but they cannot break the rocks. Then Tckumhûs, or Tsasgips, as he is familiarly called,—a little man who looks puny and powerless,—says that he can break the rocks. He blows on them and they fall apart.

YAHYÁHAÄS

Yahyáhaäs makes the sun hasten its course. In this myth the misfortune which results from looking back is clearly stated: “If you look back you will die.”—Usually the person who looks back is turned to stone, as in the Bible Lot’s wife was turned into a pillar of salt.

YAHYÁHAÄS AND THE KÚJA SISTERS

As usual in Indian myth-tales, the younger sister has the most power.

Yahyáhaäs boasted that he could conquer the Kúja sisters. The eldest, to show her power, stuck a woodpecker’s feather in the ground and it came up a streak of fire in Yahyáhaäs’ cane.

Kûlta had been dead a long time. Kúja washed his body and stretched it, then, by stepping over it, brought it to life.

Bringing to life is one of the most familiar performances in American and in Oriental mythology. The Mongolian hero sprinkles a pile of bones with the Water of Life taken from a spring near a silver-leafed aspen tree. Immediately the bones resume their old connections and take on flesh; the man rises and proceeds on his journey as though nothing had happened.

It should be remembered that, whatever be the names of the myth-tale heroes at present, the original heroes were not human; they perform deeds which no man could perform, which only one of the forces of nature could perform, if it had the volition and desires of a person. In a beautiful myth of the Warm Spring Indians of California, Summer, a long time dead, is brought to life by the South Wind.

TSMUK AND GÓSHGOISE

When asked who the Yaukûl people were the story-teller said: “They were stone people.” The Modoc word for stone is bondak, that for rock is gowan. In a fragment of a variant of this myth Frost is one of the characters. The Modocs had a name for the different manifestations of frost; it is possible that Yaukûl is one of those names.

Góshgoise personifies spring. His grandmother made him a bright blue quiver out of her own hair. Then she made a spear that would last always and never get old,—lightning. He killed the Yaukûl people, then battled with the Kaudokis and the Juljulcus. He gave his spear, long lightning, to Juljulcus, and took Juljulcus’ spear, heat lightning, “that lightning which flashes around the sky in warm weather.” He went to Tsmuk’s house, and Iúnika (Twilight), Tsmuk’s daughter, who owned the moon, became his wife.

In this myth the idea that “bad thoughts” bring misfortune is brought out very strongly. A bad thought causes much trouble.

WAR BETWEEN BEASTS AND BIRDS

This myth recalls the fables of the great Russian writer, Kriloff. Whoever determines to be always, right or wrong, with the winning side, is likely to be left alone, as was Bat, who has no friend either among those that fly or those that walk.

LOK SNEWÉDJAS

Lok Snewédjas was a cloud, a snow storm and a whirlwind. The mountain was her father and the earth was her mother. In Wintu Wimaloimis, the grizzly-bear cloud woman, was not as good a mother as Lok Snewédjas, for she tried to eat her sons, Thunder and Lightning. Lok Snewédjas, when her child was in danger, rushed down the mountain in a whirlwind that tore big rocks from under the ground and threw them around as though they were tiny stones.

Lok Snewédjas owned all the yĕlalwek there was in the world. “No one had ever eaten any seed like it, or will ever eat any like it again.” No matter how much was eaten the same amount remained. From a handful all the people in a village were fed and the handful remained.

This myth shows what power the Indians thought their “medicine men” possessed: if they called to the spirit of a dead man before the spirit reached the place where the sun goes down, it would came back to the body.

HOW KALASLÁKKAS WON HIS WIFE

In this myth-tale Tusasás, who, wherever he appears, is always the same worthless, shiftless mischief-maker and boaster, is well described. The importance of dreams is also well brought out.

THE BAD BROTHER

The hero is Rain. He drowns his mother, then sends his sister to Kówe, who in other myths is described as having control of all the springs in the world: “She lives under the water, she is in every spring. She is our grandmother. If she gets mad she can dry up the deepest water.” The sister marries Djáudjau. Djáudjau visits his brother-in-law, and on leaving he gets green twigs, rubs himself with them, then rubs the twigs on the ground, and says: “I have brought away some of my brother-in-law’s bad thoughts; now, Earth, take them all.” He talks to the mountains and forgets his brother-in-law. A description of a similar act appears in several Modoc myths.

MINK AND WEASEL

Tskel and Tcûskai are great characters. In every myth in which they appear they are brothers and Skóŭks is Tskel’s wife; Tcûskai is always small, mischievous and inquisitive. Tskel, to punish Tcûskai for giving his blanket to Gopher (Pshagéknik), who is North Wind, hid water. Tcûskai found it and was drinking it up when Tskel came. Had he drunk it all there would be no water in the world. Tskel made a cap of the skin of Gopher’s head, and putting it on, went to Thunder’s house and killed the five brothers.

Tcûskai, though he was so small that he could camp in a woodpecker’s hole, pursued Wŏn, a creature that had to bend down to bite off the tops of trees. He wrestled with Sukas, a man-eater, who drew people in with his breath and swallowed them.—A wave.

PITOÍOIS

Pitoíois is now a bird (English name unknown). The old father-in-law is lightning. His life is in the stone mortar which he throws at persons whom he wishes to kill. If the mortar is broken he presses the pieces to his breast and it is whole again, but if it is buried in the ground under water he dies.

ILYÚYU

Ilyúyu became a head. The head crossed a mountain at a bound and rolled along in the air; it flew at men and killed them.—Among the Iroquois a cyclone is represented as a great head, the name of which, in Seneca, is Dagua Noenyent.

LOK AND KÉKINA