PERSONAGESAfter each name is given that of the creature or thing into which the personage was changed subsequently.Chikpitpa, young weasel;Jahtaneno, a kind of shell creature;Metsi, coyote;Ichpul, frog;Sukónia, a name of pine martin, whose ordinary name is Demauna;Tsoré Jowá, a kind of eagle.
PERSONAGES
After each name is given that of the creature or thing into which the personage was changed subsequently.
Chikpitpa, young weasel;Jahtaneno, a kind of shell creature;Metsi, coyote;Ichpul, frog;Sukónia, a name of pine martin, whose ordinary name is Demauna;Tsoré Jowá, a kind of eagle.
OLD Jahtaneno had a great many daughters, and all but two of these were married.
At that time Sukonia was a great chief in this country about us. He had a large sweat-house, and many people to serve him.
One day Jahtaneno called his daughters and said: “My girls, I want you to go to Sukonia’s house. I have heard that he is very rich; go and see him. He has no wife yet; he may marry you. Rise early in the morning, bathe, comb your hair, go and see the chief Sukonia.”
The two sisters made no answer, said nothing, obeyed their father. They rose early next morning, bathed, combed their hair, painted their faces red (young people painted red always). Their mother gave each girl a nice basket; she hung beads on their necks, and put food in their baskets.
“If any man meets you on the road,” said Jahtaneno, at parting, “do not look at him. Aman richly dressed and wearing many beads will come toward you, will speak to you; do not look at that man; he is no one but Metsi.”
The two girls began to sing when they started, and their song was:—
“Au ni á, au ni á, mo a wé, he ló,Au ni á, au ni á, mo a wé, he ló.”
“Au ni á, au ni á, mo a wé, he ló,Au ni á, au ni á, mo a wé, he ló.”
“Au ni á, au ni á, mo a wé, he ló,Au ni á, au ni á, mo a wé, he ló.”
They went northeast, the way which the old man had told them to go. He warned them further, saying,—
“There is a house this side of Sukonia’s, and not very far from it; two women live in that house, two old maids. Be sure not to stop at that house. Do not go near these women; pass their place quickly, do not stop before it, do not talk to the women. They are bad, evil women. If you go into their house, you will never come out of it; if you go, you will be killed there.”
Jahtaneno’s daughters started, walked away quickly, singing as they went,—
“Au ni á, au ni á, mo a wé, he ló,Au ni á, au ni á, mo a wé, he ló.”
“Au ni á, au ni á, mo a wé, he ló,Au ni á, au ni á, mo a wé, he ló.”
“Au ni á, au ni á, mo a wé, he ló,Au ni á, au ni á, mo a wé, he ló.”
Metsi heard the song; he listened and said to himself: “That is a good song, that is nice singing; I like to hear that song. I think those two girls are going to the chief. I think they are going to visit Sukonia Mujaupa. Now, otter-skins be here before me, and beads in plenty, and beautiful shells.”
He wished for all other things that he liked. Metsi dressed himself richly and waited.
Jahtaneno’s daughters walked and walked on without stopping, met no one on the way till they came to where Metsi was waiting. The younger sister was walking ahead; she saw Metsi at one side of the trail, but would not look at him a second time. The elder sister looked a second and a third time.
“I think that is Sukonia Mujaupa,” said she.
“Your father would not say so,” answered the younger sister; “that is Metsi.”
But the elder sister liked the stranger’s appearance; she looked at him many times.
“I think this is Sukonia,” said she.
“Come on with me,” said the younger sister. “Have you lost your eyes? That is Metsi.”
The younger girl was ahead now some distance; the elder stopped to look at the stranger more closely.
“Which way are you going?” asked Metsi.
“Our father sent us to Sukonia the chief.”
“Oh, I am chief,” said Metsi; “you are to come with me. I will start for home very soon.”
“My sister is ahead, she is waiting. I must hurry and tell her first. I will come back to you then.”
She caught up with her sister and said: “I will go with this man; this is Sukonia, the chief. He said he was chief.”
“You must have lost your mind,” answered the younger sister; “that is Metsi. He is no chief, he is not Sukonia.”
The elder sister went with the younger, but shewanted to go back to Metsi, she wished to go with him; she liked his dress, his words pleased her, she believed him. Both went on, though the elder went against her will.
“You will see two black bearskins hanging over the sweat-house door,” said the father, when his daughters were starting. “Stop there; that is Sukonia’s house, that is the house to which you are going.”
Toward sunset they came near the place where the Ichpuls lived.
“Let us stop here,” said the elder sister, “and get something to eat. I am hungry.”
“Our father told us to pass this house; he told us not to stop near it, not to go to it, not to look at it,” said the younger sister; and she went on without looking, she went straight ahead.
The elder sister followed her, but followed unwillingly. At last both came near Sukonia’s, and saw the two bearskins hanging out over the sweat-house.
Chikpitpa, Sukonia’s little brother, was on the roof, and Tsore Jowa, his sister, was at work making a house for herself a little way off at one side. Chikpitpa ran into the house, calling loudly,—
“Two girls are coming! Two girls are coming with baskets!”
The old man, Sukonia’s father, brought bearskins for the young women to sit on, and waited. The sisters came in and took the places shown them. Chikpitpa was in a corner when the sisters sat down. He ran to one and then to the other, looked at them,sat on their laps. He was very glad that the sisters had come; he liked to be with them and talk to them.
Old Sukonia went out and called to Tsore Jowa, “Come, my daughter; bring food to our guests, to the young women who have come to us.”
She brought deer’s marrow; she brought other kinds of food, too. The sisters had put down their baskets outside, near the door. On the way they had said to the baskets, “Let the food in you be nice;” and when leaving them at the door, they said, “Be large and be full.”
The two small baskets stood outside now, very large and full of every good food. Sukonia came home with, his men about sunset. Chikpitpa sprang up to the roof of the house, and called to his brother,—
“Two guests have come to our house. Two women are sitting inside. They are sitting in your place.”
The men came in, and Sukonia sat down with the sisters. They pleased him; he liked their looks.
“Have you brought food to our guests?” asked Sukonia.
“I brought some,” said Tsore Jowa.
“Oh, give more. Bring plenty of everything!” The two baskets which Jahtaneno’s daughters had brought were carried into the house. The sisters invited all present to try their food. All the men ate food from the baskets and praised it. Sukonia, the chief, was pleased more and more with the sisters that evening, and married them.
After all the people had eaten next morning, Sukonia went to hunt. He took many men with him.
That day Sukonia’s sisters showed his wives every place in the house and outside it,—showed them where venison, roots, and acorns were kept; showed them where the water was. The spring was in the house in one corner, carefully covered.
After some days Sukonia said to his wives: “I want you to tell me what your father said when you were leaving him. When does he want you to go back? When does he wish you to visit him?”
“He did not tell us when to go to him. He did not tell us to go back at all, he only told us to come here; but we want to see him. We want to tell him how we live here.”
“Well,” said Sukonia, “go to-morrow; go to see your father. What does he eat? What does he like?”
“He eats salmon; he likes nice beads, furs, and shells.”
“I will send him some of my meat, I will send him venison. I will send him beads and furs.”
“May I go with my sisters-in-law?” asked Chikpitpa.
“No, I want you here,” said Sukonia. “I want you here, my little brother.”
The two women rose early next morning, and Tsore Jowa helped them to make ready. Sukonia gave them fat venison, and every kind of bright beads and rich presents for their father.
They started; went as far as the Ichpul house,where the two frog sisters lived. The two old maids were in the road and spoke to Sukonia’s wives. They were very kind and pleasant.
“Put down your baskets and sit a while with us to talk,” said they.
The Jahtaneno sisters were frightened. They did not wish to stop. They feared the Ichpul women, did not like to make them angry by refusing. They were afraid to sit down, afraid to refuse.
“Oh, how your hair looks! let me see your head,” said one Ichpul woman to the elder sister.
“Oh, how your hair looks!” said the other to the younger sister; “let me look at your head.”
“Put your head on my lap,” said each Ichpul sister to each of Sukonia’s wives.
Each was afraid, but still put her head on the old maid’s lap. The Ichpul sisters killed Sukonia’s wives, flayed their bodies, and put their skins on themselves.
About sunset next day the two frog women went to Sukonia’s house; went in and sat where Jahtaneno’s daughters had always sat; took the place of Sukonia’s wives; looked just like them because they had their skins on.
About dusk Sukonia came home from the hunt. Chikpitpa, who ran ahead, rushed into the sweat-house to see if his sisters-in-law had come back from their father’s. He saw the two women, looked at them; they seemed like his sisters-in-law, but when he came near he cried out at once,—
“Phu! they smell like frogs! The Ichpul sisters are here: these are the frog old maids!”
He cried and ran out to meet his brother.
“Brother,” said he, “the Ichpul women are in our house. They killed my sisters-in-law to-day. I know they did.” And he kept crying, “They killed my sisters-in-law, they killed my poor sisters-in-law!” and he cried without stopping, cried bitterly.
The two old maids wearing the skins of Sukonia’s wives were making acorn porridge. When it was almost ready, Sukonia looked at the two women. They seemed like his wives, and he was in doubt, till all at once he thought: “I will ask them to bring water from the spring. If they know where the water is, they are my wives; if not, they are false.”
“Bring me water, my wife,” said he to one of the women.
She stood up, took a water basket, turned toward the door, and said to Chikpitpa, “Come out with me for water, my little brother-in-law.”
“Wait,” said Sukonia. “You need not go now.”
She came back to the fire and sat down with her sister. Sukonia knew now that those were strange women.
“Whip me,” said Chikpitpa to his brother, “I will cry, roll around and kick. I will kick those nasty frogs! I will kill them.”
When the acorn porridge was boiling hard, Sukonia struck Chikpitpa with a switch and scolded him: “Why are you crying? I can do nothing, you cry so.”
The boy rolled on the floor, cried more than ever, kicked, rolled around, kicked as hard as he could,rolled toward the fire and kicked, kicked one woman into the boiling porridge, kicked the other one into the burning fire, and in this way he killed the false sisters.
Chikpitpa was glad; he laughed. Sukonia threw the two women out doors, and mourned all that night for his wives. Next morning early he rose and said, “Stay home to-day, all of you.”
“Where are you going?” asked Chikpitpa.
“Stay here, my little brother,” said Sukonia. “I am going somewhere.”
Sukonia followed the trail of his wives, reached the place where the Ichpul sisters had stopped them, and found their dead bodies. He took out his bow-string of deer sinew, struck the two women, called them, raised them to life.
“How were you killed?” asked Sukonia; “how did it happen? Did you go to the Ichpul house?”
“We did not go to that house; those two women were out on the road and they stopped us. They asked us to sit down and talk with them. We were afraid to sit, afraid to refuse. We sat down, and they killed us.”
Sukonia took his wives home. When they were in sight of the house, Chikpitpa was on the roof watching.
“Oh, those are your sisters-in-law,” said he to Tsore Jowa; and he ran out to meet them.
“Go, now, to your father,” said Sukonia, next morning. “Carry presents and venison to him, and be here at sunset.”
The two sisters rose early, took two baskets, andstarted. At noon they were at their father’s house. Old Jahtaneno was glad when he looked at his daughters and saw the nice presents.
“Our husband told us to go home to-day, and we cannot stay long with you.”
They took back many presents from their father, and were home at sunset. They met no trouble on the way. The Ichpul sisters were dead, and Metsi did not meet them a second time.
PERSONAGESAfter each name is given that of the creature or thing into which the personage was changed subsequently.Ahalamila, gray wolf;Au Mujaupa, master of fire;Chil Daiauna, big hail;Chil Wareko, big rain;Juhauju, west wind;Júkami, north wind;Jukilauyu, east wind;Juwaju, south wind;Gagi, crow;Metsi, coyote;Patcha, snow;Sabil Keyu, small hail;Shushu Marimi, dog woman;Siwegi, a small bird, unknown.
PERSONAGES
After each name is given that of the creature or thing into which the personage was changed subsequently.
Ahalamila, gray wolf;Au Mujaupa, master of fire;Chil Daiauna, big hail;Chil Wareko, big rain;Juhauju, west wind;Júkami, north wind;Jukilauyu, east wind;Juwaju, south wind;Gagi, crow;Metsi, coyote;Patcha, snow;Sabil Keyu, small hail;Shushu Marimi, dog woman;Siwegi, a small bird, unknown.
IN the beginning Au Mujaupa had fire very far down south on the other side of a big river. The people in this country had no real fire; they had a kind of fire, but it wasn’t good. It just warmed a little; it wouldn’t cook like the fire which we have now. People killed deer and fished, but they had to eat fish and venison raw.
In the west people had fire, but it wouldn’t cook. In the north there were many people, and in the east; but they had no fire that would cook.
“There must be fire in some place,” said the people at Pawi; “how can we find it?”
“I will go out to-night to look,” said Ahalamila.
That night he went to look for fire. He went to the top of Wahkanopa, looked east and west, saw no fire in either place. Next he looked north; no fire in the north. He looked south; saw no fire anywhere.
Ahalamila came home and talked to the chief and people. “I saw no fire,” said he; “I could not see any, but I will go to a better place the next time and take some one with me. I will go to-morrow night to the top of Wahkalu. Who here has a good head, who a sharp eye to see fire? I want to look for fire to-morrow night from the top of Wahkalu; from that place I will look all around the whole world to find fire.”
“We have a man here,” said the chief, “who can see through a tree, who can see down through the earth to bed rock, who can see through a mountain. You can take him to-morrow night with you. He is Siwegi.”
Ahalamila went to Siwegi. “Will you go to-morrow night to look for fire?” asked he.
“I will go if the way is not too long.”
“Oh,” said Ahalamila, “it will not be long. I will shorten it.”
Siwegi agreed to go; and when the time came, they started. Ahalamila doubled up the trail and made it short; in an hour they were on the top of Wahkalu, both ready now to look for fire. The night is very dark; they can see the smallest fire easily.
They look to the east, look with great care, look a good while, see no fire; they look to the north in the same way, see no fire; they look to the west, no fire there. Now Ahalamila looks south, looks a long time, and sees nothing: he looks half an hour to the south, sees a little glimmer like a light very far away.
“Siwegi,” said he, “I see a small light down south; it seems like fire far away. I think it is fire.”
“Look again,” said Siwegi, “look sharply. Maybe it is fire.”
“I have looked enough, I think it is fire,” said Ahalamila; “but I want you to see it, I want you to look now.”
Siwegi looked a little while. “Yes, that is fire,” said he.
“Well,” said Ahalamila, “we see fire, we know that it is far off in the south.”
Ahalamila made the road short, and they were back at Pawi in an hour. “We have found fire,” said Ahalamila to the chief and the people. “We know where fire is, we can have fire now.”
“We must have that fire,” said the people.
“There is no way to get the fire but to go for it,” said Ahalamila.
“Well,” said the chief, “since Ahalamila saw the fire he will go for it; but the road is long. Who will go and help him? Who will go for fire with Ahalamila?”
About fifty men offered to go, and they started next morning. The journey was long and very hard. Soon two or three men were tired and went home; not long after more were tired, and when they had gone far down to a great river, just north of where the fire was, of the fifty who started only three were left,—Ahalamila, Metsi, and old Shushu Marimi.
Just south of the great river Au Mujaupa had a very big village, and in the village a large sweat-house.In that house he kept the fire, and had a great crowd of people living in the country outside who served him, and kept every one in the world from stealing his fire. These people were Patcha, Chil Wareko, Chil Daiauna, Sabil Keyu, Juhauju, Juwaju, Jukami, Jukilauju.
The three, Ahalamila, Metsi, and old Shushu Marimi, were at the northern end of the bridge, and sat there watching till all at the sweat-house was quiet. The bridge was very narrow and slippery; so Ahalamila put pitch on his feet and hands, and on Metsi’s and Shushu’s feet and hands. All three crossed without slipping, and found every one asleep in the sweat-house.
The old chief, Au Mujaupa, had covered the fire well with ashes. All was silent within and without. Ahalamila, Metsi, and Shushu crept onto the sweat-house quietly, and looked in. All were asleep.
“I will go down first,” said Metsi.
“No, I will go first,” said Ahalamila. “I will get the fire and reach it to you; you take it and run very fast.”
Ahalamila slipped down. Metsi and Shushu remained on the roof. Ahalamila opened the fire carefully, took out a good piece and handed it to the old woman. She put it in her ear. He handed her another; she put it in her other ear, slipped down from the top of the sweat-house, ran across the bridge, and hurried away.
Ahalamila gave Metsi two pieces. He put them in his two ears and started. Ahalamila filled his own ears and followed.
The three had run over two mountains when Au Mujaupa woke up and saw that the ashes had been opened, and that fire had been taken, that a coal had fallen near the central pillar. He sprang up, went to the top of the sweat-house, shouted, called to all his people,—
“Fire has been stolen! Fire has been stolen! Go, you, and follow!”
Now Patcha, Chil Wareko, Chil Daiauna, Sabil Keyu, and all the wind people rose up and followed, raced and stormed in every direction. So much rain came that the whole country was covered with water.
Now Juwaju was ahead of all Au Mujaupa’s people chasing the three robbers. Chil Wareko came too, and fell upon the three furiously; he drenched and chilled them. Next came Jukami and Patcha, who nearly froze them.
Metsi was almost dead; the fire went out in both his ears. Ahalamila lost his fire, too. Chil Wareko, Juwaju, and Patcha quenched it, and then he let it fall.
Old Shushu was behind a good way, but she ran all the time. She kept her hand on one ear as she ran. She lost the fire out of her other ear, and when the piece fell out it broke in two and fell apart. Chil Wareko picked up the fire and took it back; he found six pieces, thought that he had all. He and the others stopped following.
Ahalamila and Metsi ran ahead, left old Shushu to get on the best she could, and reached home first. They were wet, very cold, and tired.
“Where is your fire?” asked the chief.
“I have none; Chil Wareko took my fire,” said Ahalamila.
“Where is your fire?” asked the chief.
“Chil Wareko took it,” said Metsi.
The chief was very sorry, and all the people were sorry. The old woman did not come, and the people said, “She must be frozen dead.”
At sundown old Shushu came back; she came very slowly, was terribly tired, but courageous. She reached the sweat-house, came in, said nothing, lay down wet and cold.
“Where is the fire?” asked she; “did not Ahalamila and Metsi bring fire? They are young and strong, and had plenty of fire.”
After a while she stood up, drew some wood-dust together, then sat down, opened her ear and held it over the dust; a big piece of fire came out. Wood was brought quickly, and soon the whole sweat-house was warm. The people who were cold before were warm now and glad.
“Bring meat and we will try how it tastes when ’tis roasted,” said the chief.
He cut some venison and roasted it. One and another tasted the meat. “It is very good,” said they; a third one said, “I’ll try it,” and Gagi took a taste. “Oh, it is sweet, very good,” said Gagi.
Each one roasted meat and ate heartily. Next day all went to hunt, and had a great feast in the evening. A chief from another place came to the feast and got fire, took it home with him. Soon all people had fire; every one had fire in all parts of the country.
PERSONAGESAfter their transformation the personages in “Haka Kaina” were mainly birds. I have not been able to identify the majority of them, and would refer to the notes to this myth.Hwipajusi, the father of the three girls, is a whistling swan; we find among the charactersGowila, a lizard,Malwila, meadow-lark, andMaibyu, wood dove. The only way to identify such characters surely is to hire men to shoot them in the woods and mountains. This I have done as often as possible, but in the present case the specimens were lost before I could fix their identity. All the information at my disposal now will be found in the notes.
PERSONAGES
After their transformation the personages in “Haka Kaina” were mainly birds. I have not been able to identify the majority of them, and would refer to the notes to this myth.Hwipajusi, the father of the three girls, is a whistling swan; we find among the charactersGowila, a lizard,Malwila, meadow-lark, andMaibyu, wood dove. The only way to identify such characters surely is to hire men to shoot them in the woods and mountains. This I have done as often as possible, but in the present case the specimens were lost before I could fix their identity. All the information at my disposal now will be found in the notes.
HAKA KAINA was the greatest chief in this country; his very large and beautiful sweat-house was Wahkalu.
One time Haka Kaina stole the three daughters of Hwipajusi, a chief who lived down in the far south, beyond the valley of the Daha. When Haka Kaina had brought the three girls home, he said,—
“I must find a good man, a careful man, now, to guard these three girls, a man who never sleeps in the night-time. Hwipajusi will send people here to steal them back; we must be ready for his men.”
At last the chief chose Hohwitina because he whistled all night. Every one thought that he never slept, for he whistled all the time, whistled without stopping from evening till daylight. Hohwitina watched the three girls a good many nights;he never looked after them during daylight, for he rested at that time. They were brought to him at dusk every evening to the central pillar of the sweat-house. The arms of each girl were tied together; one girl was tied to Hohwitina’s left arm, the second to his right arm, and the third behind to his waist.
After a time old Hwipajusi sent ten of the best southern men to bring back his three daughters; the names of these men were Pusi Tena, Wija Lala, Chami Nuri, Malwila, Gowila, Grana Rana, Dekkech, Pushi Chowa, Manu Rana, Taki Lapiki. These men were called Yolaina,—that is, the bravest, men who feared nothing.
These men painted their arms and faces black before starting, took good bows and arrows, and went to Wahkalu.
Hwipajusi had kept his three daughters always hidden away in his sweat-house, rolled up in otter-skin carefully; but Haka Kaina, the chief of Wahkalu, had stolen in while all were sleeping and carried away the three maidens.
Hwipajusi’s ten men came near Wahkalu one evening between dusk and darkness, and were right there near the sweat-house. Haka Kaina, the chief, saw them coming, and prepared all his forces to fight.
“These are people,” said he, “sent by Hwipajusi, very brave and strong men. You must not let them come near the three girls; you must not let them go from here; you must not let them take the girls nor go away themselves; you must kill these ten enemies.”
One of the Haka Kaina’s men had a great hammer. He put a block of flint at the point which the ten men attacked when they came near; he struck the flint with his hammer; small sharp bits flew off from it like rain, fell on the attackers, and cut them terribly. The ten men had no fear of flint nor of other things. They rushed on until five were killed; the five others were not frightened and they went forward. The man with the hammer struck away on the flint block till five more were killed.
Now Hwipajusi’s ten brave men who feared nothing were dead.
Hwipajusi waited for his men to come back, looked for them, hoped to see them bring his daughters, but the men could not come; they were dead. They had promised their chief to bring the girls surely, but they could not bring them; the ten were dead at Wahkalu.
Hwipajusi sent ten other men, men who were very wise and cunning. These ten were Itchi Watibila, Chini Pachuna, Maibyu, Tsigaga, Maltama, Howichi Laina, Aichuch Hisipa, Tsawila, Haiyude Maupa, Tarku Wana. These ten men came near the sweat-house, sat down, and hid there in the evening.
“I will go up first on the sweat-house,” said Maibyu; “you are too heavy, your tread is heavy. If you go, they will hear you, they will wake up; we shall be killed, like the ten who came before us.”
“I know the man who watches the girls,” said Maibyu; “he whistles all night, but he sleeps; noone in the sweat-house sleeps more soundly than he does. Now, when he is asleep, I will go down and take the girls from him.”
“I will go myself,” said Itchi Watibila.
Haka Kaina’s people danced that evening, and played till late at night. Hwipajusi’s ten men crept near and watched the people dancing, but no one saw them. Haka Kaina sat inside the sweat-house, smoking and talking, talking loud; the ten heard his voice. At last, when it was late, all the men went into the sweat-house and other houses, and in time they were asleep everywhere. All were silent except Hohwitina, who sat watching the girls at the central pillar; and he whistled all the time.
The ten went around the sweat-house; saw that all were sleeping. They heard no noise but the whistling of Hohwitina.
“I know that he is asleep now,” said Itchi Watibila.
Four men went to the top of the sweat-house. The watcher was whistling not so loudly, but whistling. Itchi Watibila gave his arrows to Chini Pachuna, and Chini Pachuna gave them to Maibyu, for he had to lift up the girls.
“That man sleeps, I know,” said Itchi Watibila; and he went down slowly along the pillar, reached the bottom, and sat a while to listen. He looked closely at Hohwitina, and saw that he was whistling with his eyes shut. Itchi Watibila laughed to himself. He saw that one girl was tied to each of Hohwitina’s arms and one to his waist from behind. The girls were awake, all three of them.
Itchi Watibila untied the right-hand girl carefully; raised her to Chini Pachuna, who gave her to Maibyu at the top of the sweat-house. Hohwitina whistled on, and Itchi Watibila took the left-hand girl, raised her to the other man; at last he took the third, the youngest daughter of Hwipajusi, made no noise, raised her to the others, then climbed up himself, rested a moment on the top of the sweat-house, looked down. Hohwitina was whistling away and asleep all the time. The ten slipped down without noise and started home; hurried off toward the south with Hwipajusi’s three daughters.
Old Haka Kaina rose up at daylight, walked around the sweat-house, went to the central pillar to look at Hohwitina and the three girls he was guarding. He saw Hohwitina, heard how he was whistling, saw nobody near him,—no girls tied to his arms or his waist.
“He has let the girls go,” thought Haka Kaina. “You whistle all night, but don’t watch,” said Haka Kaina, pushing him. He woke him.
Hohwitina looked at his right arm, no girl; looked at his left, the second was gone; felt at his back, there was no one there.
“Where are the girls?” asked Haka Kaina.
“I cannot tell,” said Hohwitina.
Haka Kaina looked around and saw tracks in the ashes.
“You said that you never sleep at night; now look at those tracks; those are somebody’s tracks, somebody came here last night. What were you doing? Were you awake? were you sleeping? Didyou let the girls go because you were willing, or did somebody take them while you were sleeping?”
Hohwitina said nothing, held down his head. Haka Kaina went out, and saw tracks on the sweat-house, then he saw tracks below at some distance away from the sweat-house.
“People came from the south and took the three girls,” said he; “of course they were sent by Hwipajusi.”
Haka Kaina talked all the next night to his people, told how sorry he was that the girls had been taken, and to two men he said, “You must go and bring back the girls to us.”
The two were Bohkwi and Simu Nupchowa; they could run fast, and were very wise persons.
Now, on the top of his sweat-house, at the central pillar, Hwipajusi had posted Matsklila as a sentry, and he watched carefully to see who would come. Hwipajusi knew that Haka Kaina would try to get the girls back again. Matsklila had a knife in his nose and one in each arm.
Bohkwi and Simu Nupchowa set out to bring the girls back from the south. Just at sunset one evening they came near the village; they saw crowds of people everywhere, young men and women at play in the great village.
Old Hwipajusi sat talking; and a great many people, old and young, men and women, sat around him and listened. Haka Kaina’s two men went near the sweat-house.
“I am going in,” said Bohkwi.
“No, I am going,” said Simu Nupchowa. “Youcannot run fast. You stand near, and when I come out you run ahead, and I can carry the three girls easily. I will catch up with you.”
The people sat there near the sweat-house and listened to the chief as he talked. “Be on the watch; they will come to-night, they will come, I am sure,” said Hwipajusi.
After a time all separated, went to their houses, and lay down to sleep. At midnight, when all was silent, Haka Kaina’s two men crept up and climbed the sweat-house to look in at the top. Matsklila was at his post behind the central pillar, standing still. Haka Kaina’s men did not see him.
“I will look in,” said Bohkwi.
“So will I,” said Simu Nupchowa.
They stretched their heads and looked. They leaned over the opening, stretched their necks far. That moment Matsklila moved quickly, and both their heads dropped off, rolled down, and fell to the earth outside the sweat-house.
When Hwipajusi rose up in the morning, he went outside and saw two heads lying near the sweat-house.
“Wake up, jump up, my sons,” cried he, calling to the people; “enemies were here last night.”
All hurried out and saw two bodies and two heads. One asked, “Who is this lying dead?” A second asked, “Who is the other man?”
“I know them both,” said Hwipajusi. “One is Bohkwi, the other Simu Nupchowa, two great men in Haka Kaina’s forces.”
The two lay there behind the sweat-house all theday. That evening Hwipajusi summoned in his people, and talked to them. “Fix your arrows well, look at your bows, and have all your arms ready. Haka Kaina will send men here against us; he wants to steal my daughters again, or take them away in spite of me.”
They waited at Wahkalu for Bohkwi and Simu Nupchowa. When the two men did not come, old Haka Kaina said, “I think those two men are dead.”
He called all his people together and said: “We must go down and make war on Hwipajusi; there is no other way. He stole those three girls from me. Those three girls are mine. I must have them back again.”
All dressed next morning, put on their feathers, blackened their faces.
“Now, my men,” said Haka Kaina; “arm, stand out on a broad place, let me see you, then stand in a circle round the sweat-house. I want to see how you look when all together.”
They went out and stood together on a broad place. Haka Kaina was a long time going among them. After that all came back and stood in a circle around the whole sweat-house. All shouted and sprang about a good while; then they went back, took off their big elkskin armor.
“You look well,” said Haka Kaina. “You are ready for war, and we will start to-morrow early.”
Next morning the women painted their faces, put on feathers and beads, danced behind the men, sang, and said good words to them at parting. Asthe men marched along southward, there were so many that the dust which rose from them went up to the sun. They went forward singing. Haka Kaina himself sang as he led this great army. When near Hwipajusi’s country, Haka Kaina sent Pokil Kama, Gaman Atpa, Pahninopa, and Tsanu Noipa to examine everything and bring back news.
These four men saw many villages belonging to different people, and visited four of them. They went to the villages of Pareko, Chapilkeya, Chil Wareko, and Chil Dayauna. They saw a great many people at these four villages; each chief had an immense sweat-house, and Chil Dayauna’s people had elkskin armor to fight in.
The four men went back about dusk and had not seen all that there was to see. They said to Haka Kaina, “We saw a great many people; you must be careful; our people must fight well.”
Haka Kaina’s men sharpened their arrow-points.
Two Tsoplaina boys went with Haka Kaina. The chief was very fond of these boys, and they liked him. They heard what the four scouts had said, and at dusk these two boys went to Hwipajusi’s and saw the three girls playing around the fire.
“Look, look at the mouse,” said one of the girls.
“That is a mouse coming after you,” said Hwipajusi, laughing.
“Where are the two brothers?” asked Haka Kaina, when he missed the Tsoplaina boys. No one had sent these young men to Hwipajusi’s.
Now, the Tsoplaina brothers worked hard, worked all night. They went through more than half thehouses, and destroyed a great many bow-strings. At daylight they went back and told Haka Kaina what they had done.
Hwipajusi’s people saw Haka Kaina’s great army coming; they ran for their bows, but many were destroyed. Those who had bows left fought well. But Haka Kaina’s men had arms of flint and arms of all kinds, and they beat down everything before them. At midday Hwipajusi’s people were destroyed and he himself was killed.
Haka Kaina took the three girls and set out for Wahkalu again, taking everything that Hwipajusi and his people had. Now there were two brothers, Mini Auna, who lived with their sisters at Wamarawi, near a trail which Haka Kaina had not used before, but he started home on it this time.
When Haka Kaina’s forces came in sight of Wamarawi, the two sisters were out husking acorns. They were frightened and ran home. One of them ran to her brothers and cried,—
“Come, brothers, hurry out and look. A great many people are coming. I do not know where they come from nor where they are going. Perhaps they will kill us.”
Each of Haka Kaina’s men had a great pack on his back holding all that he could carry. They were taking home everything from Hwipajusi’s village.
The two Mini Auna brothers ran quickly to their sweat-house; each of them caught up a great piece of fire. The two sisters ran into the sweat-house and hid there. The two brothers went to the top of the sweat-house, and when Haka Kaina’s greatarmy was near enough, they hurled fire around it, north, south, east, and west. All were surrounded. They looked to every side, tried to get out, but there was no escape anywhere. The great fire closed in around them, and every man perished. All were burned to death. Hwipajusi’s three daughters died with the others. As soon as all were dead, the fire went out and disappeared; the two brothers went back into their sweat-house.
When the Mini Aunas were going to hurl the fire, Haka Kaina sent two swift runners to Wahkalu to let his women know that all were coming with great plunder, and bringing Hwipajusi’s daughters. Sooner than these men were out of sight the fire was around the whole army, which perished before the eyes of the two swift runners.
When the swift runners reached Wahkalu, all the women were dancing; they thought that their husbands were fighting yet against Hwipajusi. When the swift runners were coming near, the women stopped dancing, and when both came up and said that Haka Kaina and his army were dead at Wamarawi, burned by the Mini Aunas, the women raised a cry of sorrow such as no one had ever heard in Wahkalu before. Soon some women said,—
“We must go down to Wamarawi, we must go a good many of us, and beg the two brothers to bring our men to life again.”
They took beautiful presents, shells and otter-skins, put them on their backs, and started; went without waiting, travelled all night, travelled quickly.They were at Wamarawi next morning. They went to the two brothers, gave them presents, begged them to bring their husbands to life again.
The brothers were willing at last to do this.
There was a great spring near their sweat-house, a spring as large as a lake of good size, and the brothers told the women from Wahkalu and their own two sisters to carry the bones to that water.
The Wahkalu women and the two sisters took baskets, carried bones all that day, and put them in the spring. At sunset the field was clear and all the bones were in the water.
“Now,” said the brothers to the women from Wahkalu, “you must camp far away from the spring, and not go near it till broad daylight to-morrow; and our sisters you must not rise up to-night to go out of the sweat-house.”
The two brothers closed the top of the sweat-house and did not sleep themselves.
About daylight they heard talking at the spring, then more talking, and later a great sound of voices. At broad daylight all had come out of the spring, and all the place around was full of people, crowds of people everywhere.
The two brothers looked from the top of the sweat-house, saw all Haka Kaina’s army standing there strong and well. Each man had his pack with its treasures, the plunder brought from Hwipajusi’s village; each had on his war-dress and feathers. Hwipajusi’s three daughters were there, too, as well as ever.
Haka Kaina went to the house of the Mini Aunasand talked to the brothers. He gave them otter-skins, beads, elkskins. He was grateful and very kind; called them cousins. After that he went home with his army and women. All those left at Wahkalu came out to meet the men, went far, danced, danced because all had come to life again and because the three girls were brought back.
The men put away their bows, arrows, and elkskins; all washed the paint from their faces.
“Now give us plenty to eat,” said Haka Kaina.
They went into the sweat-house; all ate and talked till midnight. At midnight each went to his own place and rested.