Chapter V - Sioux Myths and Legends

 

The Sioux or Dakota Indians

THE Sioux or Dakota Indians dwell north of the Arkansas River on the right bank of the Mississippi, stretching over to Lake Michigan and up the valley of the Missouri. One of their principal tribes is the Iowa.

 

The Adventures of Ictinike

Many tales are told by the Iowa Indians regarding Ictinike, the son of the sun-god, who had offended his father, and was consequently expelled from the celestial regions. He possesses a very bad reputation among the Indians for deceit and trickery. They say that he taught them all the evil things they know, and they seem to regard him as a Father of Lies. The Omahas state that he gave them their war-customs, and for one reason or another they appear to look upon him as a species of war-god. A series of myths recount his adventures with several inhabitants of the wild. The first of these is as follows.

One day Ictinike encountered the Rabbit, and hailed him in a friendly manner, calling him ‘ grandchild/ and requesting him to do him a service. The Rabbit expressed his willingness to assist the god to the best of his ability, and inquired what he wished him to do.

“Oh, grandchild,” said the crafty one, pointing upward to where a bird circled in the blue vault above them,

“take your bow and arrow and bring down yonder bird.”

The Rabbit fitted an arrow to his bow, and the shaft transfixed the bird, which fell like a stone and lodged in the branches of a great tree.

“Now, grandchild,” said Ictinike,

“go into the tree and fetch me the game.”

This, however, the Rabbit at first refused to do, but at length he took off his clothes and climbed into the tree, where he stuck fast among the tortuous branches.

Ictinike, seeing that he could not make his way down, donned the unfortunate Rabbit’s garments, and, highly amused at the animal’s predicament, betook himself to the nearest village. There he encountered a chief who had two beautiful daughters, the elder of whom he married. The younger daughter, regarding this as an affront to her personal attractions, wandered off into the forest in a fit of the sulks. As she paced angrily up and down she heard some one calling to her from above, and, looking upward, she beheld the unfortunate Rabbit, whose fur was adhering to the natural gum which exuded from the bark of the tree.

Image right: “He jumped so high that every bone in his body was shaken”

The girl cut down the tree and lit a fire near it, which melted the gum and freed the Rabbit. The Rabbit and the chief’s daughter compared notes, and discovered that the being who had tricked the one and affronted the other was the same. Together they proceeded to the chiet’s lodge, where the girl was laughed at because of the strange companion she had brought back with her. Suddenly an eagle appeared in the air above them. Ictinike shot at and missed it, but the Rabbit loosed an arrow with great force and brought it to earth.

Each morning a feather of the bird became another eagle, and each morning Ictinike shot at and missed this newly created bird, which the Rabbit invariably succeeded in killing. This went on until Ictinike had quite worn out the Rabbit’s clothing and was wearing a very old piece of tent skin ; but the Rabbit returned to him the garments he had been forced to don when Ictinike had stolen his. Then the Rabbit commanded the Indians to beat the drums, and each time they were beaten Ictinike jumped so high that every bone in his body was shaken. At length, after a more than usually loud series of beats, he leapt to such a height that when he came down it was found that the fall had broken his neck. The Rabbit was avenged.

 

Ictinike and the Buzzard

One day Ictinike, footsore and weary, encountered a buzzard, which he asked to oblige him by carrying him on its back part of the way. The crafty bird immediately consented, and, seating Ictinike between its wings, flew off with him.

They had not gone far when they passed above a hollow tree, and Ictinike began to shift uneasily in his seat as he observed the buzzard hovering over it. He requested the bird to fly onward, but for answer it cast him headlong into the tree-trunk, where he found himself a prisoner. For a long time he lay there in want and wretchedness, until at last a large hunting-party struck camp at the spot. Ictinike chanced to be wearing some racoon skins, and he thrust the tails of these through the cracks in the tree. Three women who were standing near imagined that a number of racoons had become imprisoned in the hollow trunk, and they made a large hole in it for the purpose of capturing them. Ictinike at once emerged, whereupon the women fled. Ictinike lay on the ground pretending to be dead, and as he was covered with the racoon-skins the birds of prey, the eagle, the rook, and the magpie, came to devour him. While they pecked at him the buzzard made his appearance for the purpose of joining in the feast, but Ictinike, rising quickly, tore the feathers from its scalp. That is why the buzzard has no feathers on its head.

 

 

Ictinike and the Creators

In course of time Ictinike married and dwelt in a lodge of his own. One day he intimated to his wife that it was his intention to visit her grandfather the Beaver. On arriving at the Beaver’s lodge he found that his grandfather-in-law and his family had been without food for a long time, and were slowly dying of starvation. Ashamed at having no food to place before their guest, one of the young beavers offered himself up to provide a meal for Ictinike, and was duly cooked and served to the visitor. Before Ictinike partook of the dish, however, he was earnestly requested by the Beaver not to break any of the bones of his son, but unwittingly he split one of the toe-bones. Having finished his repast, he lay down to rest, and the Beaver gathered the bones and put them in a skin. This he plunged into the river that flowed beside his lodge, and in a moment the young beaver emerged from the water alive.

“How do you feel, my son ?” asked the Beaver.

“Alas ! father,” replied the young beaver,

“one of my toes is broken.”

From that time every beaver has had one toe—that next to the little one—which looks as if it had been split by biting.

Ictinike shortly after took his leave of the Beavers, and pretended to forget his tobacco-pouch, which he left behind. The Beaver told one of his young ones to run after him with the pouch, but, being aware of Ictinike’s treacherous character, he advised his offspring to throw it to the god when at some distance away.

The young beaver accordingly took the pouch and hurried after Ictinike, and, obeying his father’s instruction, was about to throw it to him from a considerable distance when Ictinike called to him :

“Come closer, come closer.”

The young beaver obeyed, and as Ictinike took the pouch from him he said :

“Tell your father that he must visit me.”

When the young beaver arrived home he acquainted his father with wHat had passed, and the Beaver showed signs of great annoyance.

“I knew he would say that,” he growled,

“and that is why I did not want you to go near him.”

But the Beaver could not refuse the invitation, and in due course returned the visit. Ictinike, wishing to pay him a compliment, was about to kill one of his own children wherewith to regale the Beaver, and was slapping it to make it cry in order that he might work himself into a passion sufficiently murderous to enable him to take its life, when the Beaver spoke to him sharply and told him that such a sacrifice was unnecessary. Going down to the stream hard by, the Beaver found a young beaver by the water, which was brought up to the lodge, killed and cooked, and duly eaten.

On another occasion Ictinike announced to his wife his intention' of calling upon her grandfather the Musk-rat. At the Musk-rat’s lodge he met with the same tale of starvation as at the home of the Beaver, but the Musk-rat told his wife to fetch some water, put it in the kettle, and hang the kettle over the fire. When the water was boiling the Musk-rat upset the kettle, which was found to be full of wild rice, upon which Ictinike feasted. As before, he left his tobacco-pouch with his host, and the Musk-rat sent one of his children after him with the article. An invitation for the Musk-rat to visit him resulted, and the call was duly paid. Ictinike, wishing to display his magical powers, requested his wife to hang a kettle of water over the fire, but, to his chagrin, when the water was boiled and the kettle upset instead of wild rice only water poured out. Thereupon the Musk-rat had the kettle refilled, and produced an abundance of rice, much to Ictinike’s annoyance.

Ictinike then called upon his wife’s grandfather the Kingfisher, who, to provide him with food, dived into the river and brought up fish. Ictinike extended a similar invitation to him, and the visit was duly paid. Desiring to be even with his late host, the god dived into the river in search of fish. He soon found himself in difficulties, however, and if it had not been for the Kingfisher he would most assuredly have been drowned.

Lastly, Ictinike went to visit his wife’s grandfather the Flying Squirrel. The Squirrel climbed to the top of his lodge and brought down a quantity of excellent black walnuts, which Ictinike ate. When he departed from the Squirrel’s house he purposely left one of his gloves, which a small squirrel brought after him, and he sent an invitation by this messenger for the Squirrel to visit him in turn. Wishing to show his cleverness, Ictinike scrambled to the top of his lodge, but instead of finding any black walnuts there he fell and severely injured himself. Thus his presumption was punished for the fourth time.

The four beings alluded to in this story as the Beaver, Musk-rat, Kingfisher, and Flying Squirrel are four of the creative gods of the Sioux, whom Ictinike evidently could not equal so far as reproductive magic was concerned.

 

The Story of Wabaskaha

An interesting story is that of Wabaskaha, an Omaha brave, the facts related in which occurred about a century ago. A party of Pawnees on the war-path raided the horses belonging to some Omahas dwelling beside Omaha Creek. Most of the animals were the property of Wabaskaha, who immediately followed on their trail. A few Omahas who had tried to rescue the horses had also been carried off, and on the arrival of the Pawnee party at the Republican River several of the Pawnees proposed to put their prisoners to death. Others, however, refused to participate in such an act, and strenuously opposed the suggestion. A wife of one of the Pawnee chiefs fed the captives, after which her husband gave them permission to depart.

After this incident quite a feeling of friendship sprang up between the two peoples, and the Pawnees were continually inviting the Omahas to feasts and other entertainments, but they refused to return the horses they had stolen. They told Wabaskaha that if he came for his horses in the fall they would exchange them then for a certain amount of gunpowder, and that was the best arrangement he could come to with them: On his way homeward Wabaskaha mourned loudly for the horses, which constituted nearly the whole of his worldly possessions, and called upon Wakanda, his god, to assist and avenge him. In glowing language he recounted the circumstances of his loss to the people of his tribe, and so strong was their sense of the injustice done him that next day a general meeting was held in the village to consider his case. A pipe was filled, and Wabaskaha asked the men of his tribe to place it to their lips if they decided to take vengeance on the Pawnees. All did so, but the premeditated raid was postponed until the early autumn.

After a summer of hunting the braves sought the war-path. They had hardly started when a number of Dakotas arrived at their village, bringing some tobacco. The Dakotas announced their intention of joining the Omaha war-party, the trail of which they took up accordingly. In a few days the Omahas arrived at the Pawnee village, which they attacked at daylight. After a vigorous defence the Pawnees were almost exterminated, and all their horses captured. The Dakotas who had elected to assist the Omaha war-party were, however, slain to a man. Such was the vengeance of Wabaskaha.

This story is interesting as an account of a veritable Indian raid, taken from the lips of Joseph La Fl£che, a Dakota Indian.

 

The Men-Serpents

Image right: The War-chief kills the Monster Rattlesnake.

Twenty warriors who had been on the war-path were returning homeward worn-out and hungry, and as they went they scattered in search of game to sustain them on their way.

Suddenly one of the braves, placing his ear to the ground, declared that he could hear a herd of buffaloes approaching.

The band was greatly cheered by this news, and the plans made by the chief to intercept the animals were quickly carried into effect.

Nearer and nearer came the supposed herd. The chief lay very still, ready to shoot when it came within range. Suddenly he saw, to his horror, that what approached them was a huge snake with a rattle as large as a man’s head. Though almost paralysed with surprise and terror, he managed to shoot the monster and kill it. He called up his men, who were not a little afraid of the gigantic creature, even though it was dead, and for a long time they debated what they should do with the carcass. At length hunger conquered their scruples and made them decide to cook and eat it. To their surprise, they found the meat as savoury as that of a buffalo, which it much resembled. All partook of the fare, with the exception of one boy, who persisted in refusing it, though they pressed him to eat.

When the warriors had finished their meal they lay down beside the camp-fire and fell asleep. Later in the night the chief awoke and was horrified to find that his companions had turned to snakes, and that he himself was already half snake, half man. Hastily he gathered his transformed warriors, and they saw that the boy who had not eaten of the reptile had retained his own form. The lad, fearing that the serpents might attack him, began to weep, but the snake-warriors treated him very kindly, giving him their charms and all they possessed.

At their request he put them into a large robe and carried them to the summit of a high hill, where he set them down under the trees.

“You must return to our lodges,” they told him,

“and in the summer we will visit our kindred. See that our wives and children come out to greet us.”

The boy carried the news to his village, and there was much weeping and lamentation when the friends of the warriors heard of their fate. But in the summer the snakes came and sat in a group outside the village, and all the people crowded round them, loudly venting their grief. The horses which had belonged to the snakes were brought out to them, as well as their moccasins, leggings, whips, and saddles.

“Do not be afraid of them,” said the boy to the assembled people.

“Do not flee from them, lest something happen to you also.”

So they let the snakes creep over them, and no harm befell.

In the winter the snakes vanished altogether, and with them their horses and other possessions, and the people never saw them more.

 

The Three Tests

There dwelt in a certain village a woman of remarkable grace and attractiveness. The fame of her beauty drew suitors from far and near, eager to display their prowess and win the love of this imperious creature—for, besides being beautiful, she was extremely hard to please, and set such tests for her lovers as none had ever been able to satisfy.

A certain young man who lived at a considerable distance had heard of her great charms, and made up his mind to woo and win her. The difficulty of the task did not daunt him, and, full of hope, he set out on his mission.

As he travelled he came to a very high hill, and on the summit he saw a man rising and sitting down at short intervals. When the prospective suitor drew nearer he observed that the man was fastening large stones to his ankles.

The youth approached him, saying:

“Why do you tie these great stones to your ankles ? ”

“Oh ,” replied the other,

“I wish to chase buffaloes, and yet whenever I do so I go beyond them, so I am tying stones to my ankles that I may not run so fast.”

“My friend,” said the suitor,

“you can run some other time. In the meantime I am without a companion : come with me.”

The Swift One agreed, and they walked on their way together. Ere they had gone very far they saw two large lakes. By the side of one of them sat a man, who frequently bowed his head to the water and drank.

Surprised that his thirst was not quenched, they said to him :

“Why do you sit there drinking of the lake ?”

“I can never get enough water. When I have finished this lake I shall start on the other.”

“My friend,” said the suitor, “

do not trouble to drink it just now. Come and join us.”

The Thirsty One complied, and the three comrades journeyed on. When they had gone a little farther they noticed a man walking along with his face lifted to the sky. Curious to know why he acted thus, they addressed him.

“Why do you walk with your eyes turned skyward ?” said they.

“I have shot an arrow,” he said,

“and I am waiting for it to reappear.”

“Never mind your arrow,” said the suitor.

“Come with us.”

“I will come,” said the Skilful Archer.

As the four companions journeyed through a forest they beheld a strange sight. A man was lying with his ear to the ground, and if he lifted his head for a moment he bowed it again, listening intently. The four approached him, saying :

“Friend, for what do you listen so earnestly ?”

“I am listening,” said he,

“to the plants growing. This forest is full of plants, and I am listening to their breathing.”

“You can listen when the occasion arises,” they told him.

“Come and join us.”

He agreed, and so they travelled to the village where dwelt the beautiful maiden.

Image right: “He leaned his shoulder against the rock”

When they had reached their destination they were quickly surrounded by the villagers, who displayed no small curiosity as to who their visitors were and what object they had in coming so far. When they heard that one of the strangers desired to marry the village beauty they shook their heads over him. Did he not know the difficulties in the way ? Finding that he would not be turned from his purpose, they led him to a huge rock which overshadowed the village, and described the first test he would be required to meet.

“If you wish to win the maiden,” they said,

“you must first of all push away that great stone. It is keeping the sunlight from us.”

“Alas !” said the youth,

“it is impossible.”

“Not so,” said his companion of the swift foot;

“nothing could be more easy.”

Saying this, he leaned his shoulder against the rock, and with a mighty crash it fell from its place. From the breaking up of it came the rocks and stones that are scattered over all the world.

The second test was of a different nature. The people brought the strangers a large quantity of food and water, and bade them eat and drink. Being very hungry, they succeeded in disposing of the food, but the suitor sorrowfully regarded the great kettles of water.

“Alas !” said he,

“who can drink up that ?”

“I can,” said the Thirsty One, and in a twinkling he had drunk it all.

The people were amazed at the prowess of the visitors. However, they said,

“There is still another test,”

and they brought out a woman who was a very swift runner, so swift that no one had ever outstripped her in a race.

 

The Race

“You must run a race with this woman,” said they. “If you win you shall have the hand of the maiden you have come to seek.”

Naturally the suitor chose the Swift One for this test. When the runners were started the people hailed them as fairly matched, for they raced together till they were out of sight.

When they reached the turning-point the woman said:

“Come, let us rest for a little.”

The man agreed, but no sooner had he sat down than he fell asleep. The woman seized her opportunity. Making sure that her rival was sleeping soundly, she set off for the village, running as hard as she could.

Meanwhile the four comrades were anxiously awaiting the return of the competitors, and great was their disappointment when the woman came in sight, while there was yet no sign of their champion.

The man who could hear the plants growing bent his ear to the ground.

“He is asleep,” said he;

“I can hear him snoring.”

The Skilful Archer came forward, and as he bit the point off an arrow he said :

“I will soon wake him.”

He shot an arrow from the bowstring with such a wonderful aim that it wounded the sleeper’s nose, and roused him from his slumbers. The runner started to his feet and looked round for the woman. She was gone. Knowing that he had been tricked, the Swift One put all his energy into an effort to overtake her. She was within a few yards of the winning-post when he passed her. It was a narrow margin, but nevertheless the Swift One had gained the race for his comrade.

The youth was then married to the damsel, whom he found to be all that her admirers had claimed, and more.

 

The Snake-Ogre

One day a young brave, feeling at variance with the world in general, and wishing to rid himself of the mood, left the lodges of his people and journeyed into the forest. By and by he came to an open space, in the centre of which was a high hill. Thinking he would climb to the top and reconnoitre, he directed his footsteps thither, and as he went he observed a man coming in the opposite direction and making for the same spot. The two met on the summit, and stood for a few moments silently regarding each other. The stranger was the first to speak, gravely inviting the young brave to accompany him to his lodge and sup with him. The other accepted the invitation, and they proceeded in the direction the stranger indicated.

On approaching the lodge the youth saw with some surprise that there was a large heap of bones in front of the door. Within sat a very old woman tending a pot. When the young man learned that the feast was to be a cannibal one, however, he declined to partake of it. The woman thereupon boiled some corn for him, and while doing so told him that his host was nothing more nor less than a snake-man, a sort of ogre who killed and ate human beings. Because the brave was young and very handsome the old woman took pity on him, bemoaning the fate that would surely befall him unless he could escape from the wiles of the snake-man.

“Listen,” said she :

“I will tell you what to do. Here are some moccasins. When the morning comes put them on your feet, take one step, and you will find yourself on that headland you see in the distance. Give this paper to the man you will meet there, and he will direct you further. But remember that however far you may go, in the evening the Snake will overtake you. When you have finished with the moccasins take them off, place them on the ground facing this way, and they will return.”

“Is that all ?” said the youth.

“No” she replied.

“Before you go you must kill me and put a robe over my bones.”

 

The Magic Moccasins

Image right: “With one great step he reached the distant headland”

The young brave forthwith proceeded to carry these instructions into effect. First of all he killed the old woman, and disposed of her remains in accordance with her bidding. In the morning he put on the magic moccasins which she had provided for him, and with one great step he reached the distant headland. Here he met an old man, who received the paper from him, and then, giving him another pair of moccasins, directed him to a far-off point where he was to deliver another piece of paper to a man who would await him there. Turning the first moccasins homeward, the young brave put the second pair to use, and took another gigantic step. Arrived at the second stage of his journey from the Snake’s lodge, he found it a repetition of the first. He was directed to another distant spot, and from that to yet another. But when he delivered his message for the fourth time he was treated somewhat differently.

“Down there in the hollow,” said the recipient of the paper,

“there is a stream. Go toward it, and walk straight on, but do not look at the water.”

The youth did as he was bidden, and shortly found himself on the opposite bank of the stream.

He journeyed up the creek, and as evening fell he came upon a place where the river widened to a lake. Skirting its shores, he suddenly found himself face to face with the Snake. Only then did he remember the words of the old woman, who had warned him that in the evening the Snake would overtake him. So he turned himself into a little fish with red fins, lazily moving in the lake.

 

The Snake's Quest

The Snake, high on the bank, saw the little creature, and cried :

“Little Fish ! have you seen the person I am looking for ? If a bird had flown over the lake you must have seen it, the water is so still, and surely you have seen the man I am seeking ?”

“Not so,” replied the Little Fish,

“I have seen no one. But if he passes this way I will tell you.”

So the Snake continued down-stream, and as he went there was a little grey toad right in his path.

“Little Toad,” said he,

“have you seen him for whom I am seeking ? Even if only a shadow were here you must have seen it.”

“Yes,” said the Little Toad,

“I have seen him, but I cannot tell you which way he has gone.”

The Snake doubled and came back on his trail. Seeing a very large fish in shallow water, he said :

“Have you seen the man I am looking for ?”

“That is he with whom you have just been talking,” said the Fish, and the Snake turned homeward. Meeting a musk-rat he stopped.

“Have you seen the person I am looking for ?” he said.

Then, having his suspicions aroused, he added craftily :

“I think that you are he.”

But the Musk-rat began a bitter complaint.

“Just now,” said he,

“the person you seek passed over my lodge and broke it.”

So the Snake passed on, and encountered a redbreasted turtle.

He repeated his query, and the Turtle told him that the object of his search was to be met with farther on.

“But beware,” he added,

“for if you do not recognize him he will kill you.”

Following the stream, the Snake came upon a large green frog floating in shallow water.

“I have been seeking a person since morning,” he said.

“I think that you are he.”

The Frog allayed his suspicions, saying :

“You will meet him farther down the stream.”

The Snake next found a large turtle floating among the green scum on a lake. Getting on the Turtle’s back, he said:

“You must be the person 1 seek,”

and his head rose higher and higher as he prepared to strike.

“I am not,” replied the Turtle.

“The next person you meet will be he. But beware, for if you do not recognize him he will kill you.”

When he had gone a little farther down the Snake attempted to cross the stream. In the middle was an eddy. Crafty as he was, the Snake failed to recognize his enemy, and the eddy drew him down into the water and drowned him. So the youth succeeded in slaying the Snake who had sought throughout the day to kill him.

 

The Story of the Salmon

A certain chief who had a very beautiful daughter was unwilling to part with her, but knowing that the time must come when she would marry he arranged a contest for her suitors, in which the feat was to break a pair of elk’s antlers hung in the centre of the lodge.

“Whoever shall break these antlers,” the old chief declared,

“shall have the hand of my daughter.”

The quadrupeds came first—the Snail, Squirrel, Otter, Beaver, Wolf, Bear, and Panther ; but all their strength and skill would not suffice to break the antlers. Next came the Birds, but their efforts also were unavailing. The only creature left who had not attempted the feat was a feeble thing covered with sores, whom the mischievous Blue Jay derisively summoned to perform the task. After repeated taunts from the tricky bird, the creature rose, shook itself, and became whole and clean and very good to look upon, and the assembled company saw that it was the Salmon. He grasped the elk’s antlers and easily broke them in five pieces. Then, claiming his prize, the chiefs daughter, he led her away.

Before they had gone very far the people said :

“Let us go and take the chief’s daughter back,”

and they set off in pursuit of the pair along the sea-shore.

When Salmon saw what was happening he created a bay between himself and his pursuers. The people at length reached the point of the bay on which Salmon stood, but he made another bay, and when they looked they could see him on the far-off point of that one. So the chase went on, till Salmon grew tired of exercising his magic powers.

Coyote and Badger, who were in advance of the others, decided to shoot at Salmon. The arrow hit him in the neck and killed him instantly. When the rest of the band came up they gave the chief’s daughter to the Wolves, and she became the wife of one of them.

In due time the people returned to their village, and the Crow, who was Salmon’s aunt, learnt of his death. She hastened away to the spot where he had been killed, to seek for his remains, but all she could find was one salmon’s egg, which she hid in a hole in the river-banki Next day she found that the egg was much larger, on the third day it was a small trout, and so it grew till it became a full-grown salmon, and at length a handsome youth.

 

Salmon’s Magic Bath

Leading young Salmon to a mountain pool, his grand-aunt said :

^“Bathe there, that you may see spirits.”

One day Salmon said :

“I am tired of seeing spirits. Let me go away.”

The old Crow thereupon told him of his father’s death at the hands of Badger and Coyote.

“They have taken your father’s bow,” she said.

The Salmon shot an arrow toward the forest, and the forest went on fire. He shot an arrow toward the prairie, and it also caught fire.

“Truly,” muttered the old Crow,

“you have seen spirits.”

Having made up his mind to get his father’s bow, Salmon journeyed to the lodge where Coyote and Badger dwelt. He found the door shut, and the creatures with their faces blackened, pretending to lament the death of old Salmon. However, he was not deceived by their tricks, but boldly entered and demanded his father’s bow. Four times they gave him other bows, which broke when he drew them. The fifth time it was really his father’s bow he received. Taking Coyote and Badger outside, he knocked them together and killed them.

 

The Wolf Lodge

As he travelled across the prairie he stumbled on the habitation of the Wolves, and on entering the lodge he encountered his father’s wife, who bade him hide before the monsters returned. By means of strategy he got the better of them, shot them all, and sailed away in a little boat with the woman. Here he fell into a deep sleep, and slept so long that at last his companion ventured to wake him. Very angry at being roused, he turned her into a pigeon and cast her out of the boat, while he himself, as a salmon, swam to the shore.

Near the edge of the water was a lodge, where dwelt five beautiful sisters. Salmon sat 011 the shore at a little distance, and took the form of an aged man covered with sores. When the eldest sister came down to speak to him he bade her carry him on her back to the lodge, but so loathsome a creature was he that she beat a hasty retreat. The second sister did likewise, and the third, and the fourth. But the youngest sister proceeded to carry him to the lodge, where he became again a young and handsome brave. He married all the sisters, but the youngest was his head-wife and his favourite.

 

The Drowned Child

On the banks of a river there dwelt a worthy couple with their only son, a little child whom they loved dearly. One day the boy wandered away from the lodge and fell into the water, and no one was near enough to rescue him. Great was the distress of the parents when the news reached them, and all his kindred were loud in their lamentations, for the child had been a favourite with everybody. The father especially showed signs of the deepest grief, and refused to enter his lodge till he should recover the boy. All night he lay outside on the bare ground, his cheek pillowed on his hand. Suddenly he heard a faint sound, far under the earth. He listened intently : it was the crying of his lost child ! Hastily he gathered all his relatives round him, told them what he had heard, and besought them piteously to dig into the earth and bring back his son. This task they hesitated to undertake, but they willingly collected horses and goods in abundance, to be given to any one who would venture.

Image right: “They arrived at the abode of the Water-god”

Two men came forward who claimed to possess supernatural powers, and to them was entrusted the work of finding the child. The grateful father gave them a pipe filled with tobacco, and promised them all his possessions if their mission should succeed. The two gifted men painted their bodies, one making himself quite black, the other yellow. Going to the neighbouring river, they plunged into its depths, and so arrived at the abode of the Water-god. This being and his wife, having no children of their own, had adopted the Indian’s little son who was supposed to have been drowned, and the two men, seeing him alive and well, were pleased to think that their task was as good as accomplished.

“The father has sent for his son,” they said.

“He has commanded us to bring him back. We dare not return without him.”

“You are too late,” responded the Water-god.

“Had you come before he had eaten of my food he might safely have returned with you. But he wished to eat, and he has eaten, and now, alas ! he would die if he were taken out of the water.”^[1]

Sorrowfully the men rose to the surface and carried the tidings to the father.

“Alas!” they said,

“he has eaten in the palace of the Water-god. He will die if we bring him home.”

Nevertheless the father persisted in his desire to see the child.

“I must see him,” he said, and the two men prepared for a second journey, saying :

“If you get him back, the Water-god will require a white dog in payment.”

The Indian promised to supply the dog. The two men painted themselves again, the one black, the other yellow. Once more they dived through the limpid water to the palace of the god.

“The father must have his child,” they said.

“This time we dare not return without him.”

So the deity gave up the little boy, who was placed in his father’s arms, dead. At the sight the grief of his kindred burst out afresh. However, they did not omit to cast a white dog into the river, nor to pay the men lavishly, as they had promised.

Later the parents lost a daughter in the same manner, but as she had eaten nothing of the food offered her under the water she was brought back alive, on payment by her relatives of a tribute to the Water-god of four white-haired dogs.

 

The Snake-Wife

A certain chief advised his son to travel. Idling, he pointed out, was not the way to qualify for chieftainship.

“When I was your age,” said he,

“I did not sit still. There was hard work to be done. And now look at me : I have become a great chief.”

“ I will go hunting, father,’’ said the youth. So his father furnished him with good clothing, and had a horse saddled for him.

The young man went off on his expedition, and by and by fell in with some elk. Shooting at the largest beast, he wounded it but slightly, and as it dashed away he spurred his horse after it. In this manner they covered a considerable distance, till at length the hunter, worn out with thirst and fatigue, reined in his steed and dismounted. He wandered about in search of water till he was well-nigh spent, but after a time he came upon a spring, and immediately improvised a song of thanksgiving to the deity, Wakanda, who had permitted him to find it. His rejoicing was somewhat premature, however, for when he approached the spring a snake started up from it. The youth was badly scared, and retreated to a safe distance without drinking. It seemed as though he must die of thirst after all. Venturing to look back after a time, he saw that the snake had disappeared, and very cautiously he returned. Again the snake darted from the water, and the thirsty hunter was forced to flee. A third return to the spring had no happier results, but when his thirst drove him to a fourth attempt the youth found, instead of a snake, a very beautiful woman. She offered him a drink in a small cup, which she replenished as often as he emptied it. So struck was he by her grace and beauty that he promptly fell in love with her.

When it was time for him to return home she gave him a ring, saying :

“When you sit down to eat, place this ring on a seat and say, ‘ Come, let us eat/ and I will come to you.”

Having bidden her farewell, the young man turned his steps homeward, and when he was once more among his kindred he asked that food might be placed before him.

“Make haste,” said he,

“for I am very hungry.”

Quickly they obeyed him, and set down a variety of dishes. When he was alone the youth drew the ring from his finger and laid it on a seat.

“Come,” he said,

“let us eat.”

Immediately the Snake-woman appeared and joined him at his meal. When she had eaten she vanished as mysteriously as she had come, and the disconsolate husband (for the youth had married her) went out of the lodge to seek her.

Thinking she might be among the women of the village, he said to his father :

“Let the women dance before me.”

An old man was deputed to gather the women together, but not one of them so much as resembled the Snake-woman.

Again the youth sat down to eat, and repeated the formula which his wife had described to him. She ate with him as before, and vanished when the meal was over.

“Father,” said the young man,

“let the very young women dance before me.”

But the Snake-woman was not found among them either.

Another fleeting visit from his wife induced the chief’s son to make yet another attempt to find her in the community.

“Let the young girls dance,” he said. Still the mysterious Snake-woman was not found.

One day a girl overheard voices in the youth’s lodge, and, peering in, saw a beautiful woman sharing his meal. She told the news to the chief, and it soon became known that the chief’s son was married to a beautiful stranger.

The youth, however, wished to marry a woman of his own tribe ; but the maiden’s father, having heard that the young man was already married, told his daughter that she was only being made fun of.

So the girl had nothing more to do with her wooer, who turned for consolation to his ring. He caused food to be brought, and placed the ring on a seat.

 

The Ring Unavailing

“Come,” he said,

“let us eat.’’

There was no response ; the Snake-woman would not appear.

The youth was greatly disappointed, and made up his mind to go in search of his wife.

“I am going a-hunting,”

said he, and again his father gave him good clothes and saddled a horse for him.

When he reached the spot where the Snake-woman had first met him, he found her trail leading up to the spring, and beyond it on the other side. Still following the trail, he saw before him a very dilapidated lodge, at the door of which sat an old man in rags. The youth felt very sorry for the tattered old’fellow, and gave him his fine clothes, in exchange for which he received the other’s rags.

“You think you are doing me a good turn,” said the old man,

“but it is I who am going to do you one. The woman you seek has gone over the Great Water. When you get to the other shore talk with the people you shall meet there, and if they do not obey you send them away.”

In addition to the tattered garments, the old man gave him a hat, a sword, and a lame old horse.

At the edge of the Great Water the youth prepared to cross, while his companion seated himself on the shore, closed his eyes, and recited a spell. In a moment the young man found himself on the opposite shore. Here he round a lodge inhabited by two aged Thunder-men, who were apparently given to eating human beings. The young stranger made the discovery that his hat rendered him invisible, and he was able to move unseen among the creatures. Taking off his hat for a moment, he took the pipe from the lips of a Thunder-man and pressed it against the latter’s hand.

“Oh,” cried the Thunder-man,

“I am burnt!”

But the youth had clapped on his hat and disappeared.

“It is not well,” said the Thunder-man gravely.

“A stranger has been here and we have let him escape. When our brother returns he will not believe us if we tell him the man has vanished.”

Shortly after this another Thunder-man entered with the body of a man he had killed. When the brothers told him their story he was quite sceptical.

“If I had been here,” said he,

“I would not have let him escape.”

As he spoke the youth snatched his pipe from him and pressed it against the back of his hand.

“Oh,” said the Thunder-man,

“I am burnt!”

“It was not I,” said one brother.

“It was not I,” said the other.

“It was I,” said the youth, pulling off his hat and appearing among them.

“What were you talking about among yourselves ? Here I am. Do as you said.”

But the Thunder-men were afraid.

“We were not speaking,” they said, and the youth put on his hat and vanished.

“What will our brother say,” cried the three in dismay,

“when he hears that a man has been here and we have not killed him ? Our brother will surely hate us.”

In a few minutes another Thunder-man came into the lodge, carrying the body of a child. He was very angry when he heard that they had let a man escape.

The youth repeated his trick on the new-comer— appeared for a moment, then vanished again. The fifth and last of the brothers was also deceived in the same manner.

Seeing that the monsters were now thoroughly frightened, the young man took off his magic hat and talked with them.

 

The Finding of the Snake-Wife

“You do wrong,” said he,

“to eat men like this. You should eat buffaloes, not men. I am going away. When I come back I will visit you, and if you are eating buffaloes you shall remain, but if you are eating men I shall send you away.”

The Thunder-men promised they would eat only buffaloes in future, and the young man went on his way to seek for the Snake-woman. When at last he came to the village where she dwelt he found she had married a man of another tribe, and in a great rage he swung the sword the magician had given him and slew her, and her husband, and the whole village, after which he returned the way he had come. When he reached the lodge of the Thunder-men he saw that they had not kept their promise to eat only buffaloes.

“I am going to send you above,” he said.

“Hitherto you have destroyed men, but when I have sent you away you shall give them cooling rain to keep them alive.”

So he sent them above, where they became the thunder-clouds.

Proceeding on his journey, he again crossed the Great Water with a single stride, and related to the old wizard all that had happened.

“I have sent the Thunder-men above, because they would not stop eating men. Have I done well ?”

“Very well.”

“I have killed the whole village where the Snake-woman was, because she had taken another husband. Have I done well ?”

“Very well. It was for that I gave you the sword.”

The youth returned to his father, and married a very beautiful woman of his own village.

 

A Subterranean Adventure

There lived in a populous village a chief who had two sons and one daughter, all of them unmarried. Both the sons were in the habit of joining the hunters when they went to shoot buffaloes, and on one such occasion a large animal became separated from the herd. One of the chief’s sons followed it, and when the pursuit had taken him some distance from the rest of the party the buffalo suddenly disappeared into a large pit. Before they could check themselves man and horse had plunged in after him. When the hunters returned the chief was greatly disturbed to learn that his son was missing. He sent the criers in all directions, and spared no pains to get news of the youth.

“If any person knows the whereabouts of the chiePs son,” shouted the criers,

“let him come and tell.”

This they repeated again and again, till at length a young man came forward who had witnessed the accident.

“I was standing on a hill,” he said,

“and I saw the hunters, and I saw the son of the chief. And when he was on level ground he disappeared, and I saw him no more.”

He led the men of the tribe to the spot, and they scattered to look for signs of the youth. They found his trail; they followed it to the pit, and there it stopped.

They pitched their tents round the chasm, and the chief begged his people to descend into it to search for his son.

“If any man among you is brave and stout-hearted,” he said,

“let him enter.”

There was no response.

“If any one will go I will make him rich.”

Still no one ventured to speak.

“If any one will go I will give him my daughter in marriage.”

There was a stir among the braves and a youth came forward.

“I will go,” he said simply.

Ropes of hide were made by willing hands, and secured to a skin shaped to form a sort of bucket.

After arranging signals with the party at .the mouth of the pit, the adventurous searcher allowed himself to be lowered. Once fairly launched in the Cimmerian depths his eyes became accustomed to the darkness, and he saw first the buffalo, then the horse, then the young brave, quite dead. He put the body of the chief’s son into the skin bucket, and gave the signal for it to be drawn up to the surface. But so great was the excitement that when his comrades had drawn up the dead man they forgot about the living one still in the pit, and hurried away.

 

Lost Underground

By and by the hero got tired of shouting, and wandered off into the darkness.

He had not gone very far when he met an old woman. Respectfully addressing her, he told her his story and begged her to aid his return to his own country.

“Indeed I cannot help you,” she said,

“but if you will go to the house of the wise man who lives round the corner you may get what you want.”

Having followed the direction she had indicated with a withered finger, the youth shortly arrived at a lodge. Hungry and weary, he knocked somewhat impatiently. Receiving no answer, he knocked again, still more loudly. This time there was a movement inside the lodge, and a woman came to the door. She led him inside, where her husband sat dejectedly, not even rising to greet the visitor. Sadly the woman told him that they were mourning the death of their only son. At a word from his wife the husband looked at the youth. Eagerly he rose and embraced him,

“You arc like our lost child,” said he.

“Come and we will make you our son.”

The young brave then told him his story.

“We shall treat you as our child,” said the Wise Man.

“Whatever you shall ask we will give you, even should you desire to leave us and to return to your own people.”

Though he was touched by the kindness of the good folk, there was yet nothing the youth desired so much as to return to his kindred.

“Give me,” said he,

“a white horse and a white mule.”

 

The Return to Earth

Image right: “He emerged in his own country”

The old man bade him go to where the horses were hobbled, and there he found what he had asked for. He also received from his host a magic piece of iron, which would enable him to obtain whatever he desired. The rocks even melted away at a touch of this talisman. Thus equipped, the adventurer rode off.

Shortly afterward he emerged in his own country, where the first persons he met were the chief and his wife, to whom he disclosed his identity, as he was by this time very much changed. They were sceptical at first, but soon they came to recognize him, and gave him a very cordial reception.

He married the chief’s daughter, and was made head chieftain by his father-in-law. The people built a lodge for him in the centre of the encampment, and brought him many valuable presents of clothing and horses. On his marriage-day the criers were sent out to tell the people that on the following day no one must leave the village or do any work.

On the morrow all the men of the tribe went out to hunt buffaloes, and the young chieftain accompanied them. By means of his magic piece of iron he charmed many buffaloes, and slew more than did the others.

Now it so happened that the chief’s remaining son was very jealous of his brother-in-law. He thought his father should have given him the chieftainship, and the honours accorded by the people to his young relative were exceedingly galling to him. So he made up his mind to kill the youth and destroy his beautiful white horse. But the sagacious beast told its master that some one was plotting against his life, and, duly warned, he watched in the stable every night.

On the occasion of a second great buffalo hunt the wicked schemer found his opportunity. By waving his robe he scared the buffaloes and caused them to close in on the youth and trample him to death. But when the herd had scattered and moved away there was no trace of the young brave or of his milk-white steed. They had returned to the Underworld.

 

White Feather the Giant-Killer

There once dwelt in the heart of a great forest an old man and his grandchild. So far as he could remember, the boy had never seen any human being but his grandfather, and though he frequently questioned the latter on the subject of his relatives he could elicit no information from him. The truth was that they had perished at the hands of six great giants. The nation to which the boy belonged had wagered their children against those of the giants that they would beat the latter in a race. Unfortunately the giants won, the children of the rash Indians were forfeited, and all were slain with the exception of little Chácopee, whose grandfather had taken charge of him. The child learned to hunt and fish, and seemed quite contented and happy.

One day the boy wandered away to the edge of a prairie, where he found traces of an encampment. Returning, he told his grandfather of the ashes and tent-poles he had seen, and asked for an explanation. Had his grandfather set them there ? The old man responded brusquely that there were no ashes or tent-poles : he had merely imagined them. The boy was sorely puzzled, but he let the matter drop, and next day he followed a different path. Quite suddenly he heard a voice addressing him as “Wearer of the White Feather.” Now there had been a tradition in his tribe that a mighty man would arise among them wearing a white feather and performing prodigies of valour. But of this Chácopee as yet knew nothing, so he could only look about him in a startled way. Close by him stood a man, which fact was in itself sufficiently astonishing to the boy, who had never seen any one but his grandfather ; but to his further bewilderment he perceived that the man was made of wood from the breast downward, only the head being of flesh.

Image right: “Everything happened as the Man of Wood had predicted”

“You do not wear the white feather yet,” the curious stranger resumed,

“but you will by and by. Go home and sleep. You will dream of a pipe, a sack, and a large white feather. When you wake you will see these things by your side. Put the feather on your head and you will become a very great warrior. If you want proof, smoke the pipe and you will see the smoke turn into pigeons.”

He then proceeded to tell him who his parents were, and of the manner in which they had perished, and bade him avenge their death on the giants. To aid him in the accomplishment of this feat he gave him a magic vine which would be invisible to the giants, and with which he must trip them up when they ran a race with him.

Chácopee returned home, and everything happened as the Man of Wood had predicted. The old grandfather was greatly surprised to see a flock of pigeons issuing from the lodge, from which Chácopee also shortly emerged, wearing on his head a white feather. Remembering the prophecy, the old man wept to think that he might lose his grandchild.

 

In Search of the Giants

Next morning Chácopee set off in search of the giants, whom he found in a very large lodge in the centre of the forest. The giants had learned of his approach from the ‘little spirits who carry the news.’ Among themselves they mocked and scoffed at him, but outwardly .they greeted him with much civility, which, however, in nowise deceived him as to their true feelings. Without loss of time they arranged a race between Chácopee and the youngest giant, the winner of which was to cut off the head of the other. Ch&copee won, with the help of his magic vine, and killed his opponent. Next morning he appeared again, and decapitated another of his foes. This happened on five mornings. On the sixth he set out as usual, but was met by the Man of Wood, who informed him that on his way to the giants’ lodge he would encounter V the most beautiful woman in the world.

 

Chácopee’s Downfall

“Pay no attention to her,” he said earnestly.

“She is there for your destruction. When you see her turn yourself into an elk, and you will be safe from her wiles.”

Cádcopee proceeded on his way, and sure enough before long he met the most beautiful woman in the world. Mindful of the advice he had received, he turned himself into an elk, but, instead of passing by, the woman, who was really the sixth giant, came up to him and reproached him with tears for taking the form of an elk when she had travelled so far to become his wife. Ch&copee was so touched by her grief and beauty that he resumed his own shape and endeavoured to console her with gentle words and caresses. At last he fell asleep with his head in her lap. The beautiful woman once more became the cruel giant, and, seizing his axe, the monster broke Chácopee’s back ; then, turning him into a dog, he bade him rise and follow him. The white feather he stuck in his own head, fancying that magic powers accompanied the wearing of it.

In the path of the travellers there lay a certain village in which dwelt two young girls, the daughters of a chief. Having heard the prophecy concerning the wearer of the white feather, each made up her mind that she would marry him when he should appear. Therefore, when they saw a man approaching with a white feather in his hair the elder ran to meet him, invited him into her lodge, and soon after married him. The younger, who was gentle and timid, took the dog into her home and treated him with great kindness.

One day while the giant was out hunting he saw the dog casting a stone into the water. Immediately the stone became a beaver, which the dog caught and killed. The giant strove to emulate this feat, and was successful, but when he went home and ordered his wife to go outside and fetch the beaver only a stone lay by the door. Next day he saw the dog plucking a withered branch and throwing it on the ground, where it became a deer, which the dog slew. The Giant performed this magic feat also, but when his wife went to the door of the lodge to fetch the deer she saw only a piece of rotten wood. Nevertheless the giant had some success in the chase, and his wife repaired to the home of her father to tell him what a skilful hunter her husband was. She also spoke of the dog that lived with her sister, and his skill in the chase.

 

The Transformation

The old chief suspected magic, and sent a deputation of youths and maidens to invite his younger daughter and her dog to visit him. To the surprise of the deputation, no dog was there, but an exceedingly handsome warrior. But alas ! Chácopee could not speak. The party set off for the home of the old chief, where they were warmly welcomed.

It was arranged to hold a general meeting, so that the wearer of the white feather might show his prowess and magical powers. First of all they took the giant’s pipe (which had belonged to Chácopee), and the warriors smoked it one after the other. When it came to Chácopee’s turn he signified that the giant should precede him. The giant smoked, but to the disappointment of the assembly nothing unusual happened. Then Chácopee took the pipe, and as the smoke ascended it became a flock of pigeons. At the same moment he recovered his speech, and recounted his strange adventures to the astounded listeners. Their indignation against the giant was unbounded, and the chief ordered that he should be given the form of a dog and stoned to death by the people.

Chácopee gave a further proof of his right to wear the white feather. Calling for a buffalo-hide, he cut it into little pieces and strewed it on the prairie. Next day he summoned the braves of the tribe to a buffalo-hunt, and at no great distance they found a magnificent herd. The pieces of hide had become buffaloes. The people greeted this exhibition of magic art with loud acclamations, and Chácopee’s reputation was firmly established with the tribe.

Chácopee begged the chief’s permission to take his wife on a visit to his grandfather, which was readily granted, and the old man’s gratitude and delight more than repaid them for the perils of their journey.

 

How the Rabbit Caught the Sun

Once upon a time the Rabbit dwelt in a lodge with no one but his grandmother to keep him company. Every morning he went hunting very early, but no matter how early he was he always noticed that some one with a very long foot had been before him and had left a trail. The Rabbit resolved to discover the identity of the hunter who forestalled him, so one fine morning he rose even earlier than usual, in the hope of encountering the stranger. But all to no purpose, for the mysterious one had gone, leaving behind him, as was his wont, the trail of the long foot.

This irritated the Rabbit profoundly, and he returned to the lodge to consult with his grandmother.

“Grandmother,” he grumbled,

“although I rise early every morning and set my traps in the hope of snaring game, some one is always before me and frightens the game away. I shall make a snare and catch him.”

“Why should you do so?” replied his grandmother.

“In what way has he harmed you ?”

“It is sufficient that I hate him,” replied the querulous Rabbit, and departed. He secreted himself among the bushes and waited for nightfall. He had provided himself with a stout bowstring, which he arranged as a trap in the place where the footprints were usually to be found. Then he went home, but returned very early to examine his snare.

When he arrived at the spot he discovered that he had caught the intruder, who was, indeed, no less a personage than the Sun. He ran home at the top of his speed to acquaint his grandmother with the news. He did not know what he had caught, so his grandmother bade him seek the forest once more and find out. On returning he saw that the Sun was in a violent passion.

“How dare you snare me!” he cried angrily.

“Come hither and untie me at once !”

The Rabbit advanced cautiously, and circled round him in abject terror. At last he ducked his head and, running in, cut the bowstring which secured the Sun with his knife. The Sun immediately soared upward, and was quickly lost to sight. And the reason why the hair between the Rabbit’s shoulders is yellow is that he was scorched there by the great heat which came from the Sun-god when he loosed him.

 

How the Rabbit Slew the Devouring Hill

In the long ago there existed a hill of ogre-like propensities which drew people into its mouth and devoured them. The Rabbit’s grandmother warned him not to approach it upon any account.

But the Rabbit was rash, and the very fact that he had been warned against the vicinity made him all the more anxious to visit it.

So he went to the hill, and cried mockingly :

“Pahe-Wathahuni, draw me into your mouth ! Come, devour me ! ”

But Pahe-Wathahuni knew the Rabbit, so he took no notice of him.

Shortly afterward a hunting-party came that way, and Pahe-Wathahuni opened his mouth, so that they took it to be a great cavern, and entered. The Rabbit, waiting his chance, pressed in behind them. But when he reached Pahe-Wathahuni’s stomach the monster felt that something disagreed with him, and he vomited the Rabbit up.

Image right: “Once more the Rabbit entered, disguised as a man”

Later in the day another hunting-party appeared, and Pahe-Wathahuni again opened his capacious gullet. The hunters entered unwittingly, and were devoured. And once more the Rabbit entered, disguised as a man by magic art. This time the cannibal hill did not eject him. Imprisoned in the monster’s entrails, he saw in the distance the whitened bones of folk who had been devoured, the still undigested bodies of others, and some who were yet alive.

Mocking Pahe-Wathahuni, the Rabbit said :

“Why do you not eat ? You should have eaten that very fat heart.”

And, seizing his knife, he made as if to devour it. At this Pahe-Wathahuni set up a Mismal howling ; but the Rabbit merely mocked him, and slit the heart in twain. At this the hill split asunder, and all the folk who had been imprisoned within it went out again, stretched their arms to the blue sky, and hailed the Rabbit as their deliverer ; for it was Pahe-Wathahuni’s heart that had been sundered.

The people gathered together and said:

“Let us make the Rabbit chief.”

But he mocked them and told them to be gone, that all he desired was the heap of fat the hill had concealed within its entrails, which would serve him ,and his old grandmother for food for many a day. With that the Rabbit went homeward, carrying the fat on his back, and he and his grandmother rejoiced' exceedingly and were never in want again.

Footnotes and references:

[1]:

See p. 129, “The Soul’s Journey.”