A Man's Revenge
A Winnebago (Hotcâk) Legend
When they told stories, people always said of what tribe they were. That they said. They are Hotcâk and numbered only about a thousand. They built a village. People were constantly on the go and kept moving. In the early days, they ate a variety of meat. They used to track after deer and buffalo. And in the winter they used to move near to the lake. Before the winter was long underway, he was living with an old man, his wife, his woman, and his son-in-law, four of them alone in a lodge. The old man, as he was old, could not go hunting, and he couldn't trap or hunt even small animals. Consequently, his son-in-law had to provide for him by hunting. And that old man used to give a feast. Thus it would be. And, "Daughter," he said, "every winter I used to feast. It is near time now, and if my only son-in-law were to kill something for me, that is what I would use in the feast." He knew of this. "Just one deer would be good, but if that most excellent one could get two for me, he would make me very happy," the old man said.

That man said to his wife, "Here it is not safe to move about the land, and what he did, hanka-a (no way) would I do it. So tomorrow take the children along with you and the material that you will need for camping and go to the place where we do a lot of camping. It would be enough if I got one on the hunt." The next morning they went back, taking the children with them. As they went along there was a good camping place there. There they stopped.

In the evening the woman tried to make a lodge. The man said, "I will go quickly and hunt something while you are constructing the lodge," he said. When he got there, there was his wife was standing and looking around. And he started. He took his bow and arrows, and after the woman had finished collecting wood, she went to dip a pail in the water. She poured it in a kettle and placed it on the fire so that it would be ready.

Already it was getting dark. The man packed a deer home. They skinned it and cut it up and since they weren't going to eat all of it, the woman placed it out to dry. And when the kettle was cooled, they ate it. After they quit eating, they retired. The children went quickly to sleep and the woman also, but the man was unable to sleep. He was thinking as he lay there, what thing tomorrow would be the foremost, he was thinking. "What would be the best thing to kill to make my father-in-law's heart feel best?," he thought.

The next morning he awoke and ate. He said, "My wife, I think much of you. As far as coming back, this situation that we've gotten into is a bad thing. I always say, anytime wherever you are in trouble, I will come. If something that is not good should happen, do not leave the children," he said. The children, he kissed them, and started out. He was the whole day long hunting. So he kept on across the lake. A deer he killed, skinned, and went home packing that on his back.

When he approached, he saw that the lodge poles were still straight up. From the very first he knew what they had done. Thus they used to do. "My wife, my children, they are dead, " he thought. That one started back to the lodge. When he got there, he peeped in. His own children, there they sat where they had placed them. They had killed them. They placed the lips in a raised position, that one's teeth shown. His heart ached much, nevertheless, he laughed and [said], "Come children, we'll eat food, I am going to cook for the last time." It was cooked. He cut a little piece of meat for them. He pried open the mouth, and into the mouth he placed a little piece of meat, and he ate, and he was talking to them. "Children, you have made my heart ache. I will make enough very good gifts to your limbs and in the earth I will place you, and I will get back your mother, I say. Therefore, I myself could do this warfare in this way. When I think of myself, I count myself to be a little man. When your spirits go there, as a result of this they will go very well," he told them.

And he painted himself. He did half of his body, and this side he made dark. He got a lot done. He tightened the bowstring and he straightened the arrow that he took with him, and he started off. As he went along, that one got onto a trail, the war road. That one looked for tracks. His wife's tracks came into view with them. He knew that they had taken her prisoner. There he ran after them in the form of a ghost. When he got nearer to them, he ran ahead of them and there that one hid himself.

When the Sak'ina (Warbundle Bearer) came by, he whooped and knocked him down. He cut it off at the neck and ran off. There he hid it away and so he ran ahead of them. So now the next time the Warbundle Bearer came along he whooped and knocked him down. So immediately he broke the head off and again he ran away in order to hide away the head there. And so he ran ahead of them.

There the third time the Warbundle Bearer came along. Then again he whooped and broke it off at the neck and he ran away to hide it there. And again he ran ahead of them there. And thus he did the fourth time. Eight Warbundle Bearers he killed, and when the sun appeared, here he took all the warclubs and those heads he had and he came towards the camp. Where he camped, there he returned. There he fixed the heads and he talked to the children: "The many gifts to the children's limbs are certainly good enough -- that I did, but the sun came upon me," he said. "I did not get your mother," he told them. And the man started back the same way to his people.

When he got back near there, near the village, there he placed the human heads in a row, and the warclubs, He knew how each one was paired, placing one beside the other. And when it became night, he came towards his father's camp. He got there late at night when the fire was dying out. Where he used to sit, there at that place, he very carefully sat down. That one's parents were asleep. He put his hair in braids and the remainder he pinned under. He began to sit down there in order to take refuge. The old man became awake. That one glanced about. There a man, where his son used to sit, was blackened, and he sat down. "My wife, there is a man where our son used to sit, and since he is sitting where our son sat, it seems like it must be him. I'll fix a little fire," he said. The old man fixed the fire.

When it became light, they looked at the man that must be their son and they knew who it was. And the old man said, "Djaha, my son! what brings you here again?" he said. And the son said, "It was a matter of war -- while I was out hunting they came upon the lodge. In the evening when I came back, the lodge poles were upright. When I came back, they had killed the children, and 'My wife, my son,' [I said]. My heart ached, and the children took along very good food and I put them away somewhere. I told them what I was going to do for them, and I went after them. Eight Warbundle Bearers I killed. Our Grandfather appeared. I quit and I brought them back to the lodge. And the children, thus I told for them something. I made enough for their limbs. They will certainly travel well and when I brought these heads home, here near the village, there in a row I put only what warclub belonged to each. I placed them on the roof," said the man's son.

The old man said, "Some further good you did for the children and thus you have done very well for your people. You have brought them very good heads, which will do for some great fun. They will place you in front. Just this way I wanted you to be rich in everything, this is why I used to say this to you when you were small. If only you could pursue them very well, it would make my heart feel good. I myself am saying, I will play with them myself," the old man said. And [he said], "At first light the messenger of that village will go around and announce what men had returned there." When the brothers-in-law heard this, they immediately went there. "We want to be the first to hit them, that way we will be genuine brothers-in-law, that sort we seek to be," Kunu said.

The man told them, "Wherever the heads were, there they would be the first to count coup," and he liked it very much. They thanked their brother-in-law and they gathered together as many men as could handle a warclub. They all started for those human heads. When they found them, the man's brothers-in-law found them first, so they were the first to visit them. As they kept coming, they all gave a whoop. They all scrambled to hit them. Then they took the "scalps," the human heads, along to the War Lodge. When they brought them there, they meticulously began to do the Scalp Dance. There the men were telling everything, the holy thing he had done, they were telling. Finally, after a time, the man quit the dance.

And so he meticulously rubbed in charcoal and fasted. He said that he was going for a full forty at one time. His brothers-in-law killed a deer for him. He offered the heart and said, "You young men here, I think that those who are in charge of war must also have blessed me a little," he said, "my wife, it is that one I'm going after. I know what I am going to try to do to that village, so I have been doing this. I fasted, that is what I have been doing, and I'm going to do as much as I can. Those who will follow me, get ready to make yourselves a feast, and when you're through, tomorrow when our Grandfather appears, all those who are going to march, we will gather here near the brush over on the other side of this hill from where we'll start," he told them.

They were all gathered there, all his brothers-in-law joined in. They went forth for the whole day. Finally, early in the morning, he arrived there where they marked out the camp horizontally. Through the remainder of the whole morning, those warriors told stories (woraks). This they were doing. That way they would not fall asleep on the warpath. And the next morning the day came, and they went back. This they did. "You young men, we are near the place that we're going to," he said. "I'm going to scout with you this night," he told these men. And he started forth.

He went swiftly and late that night he came to the village. He was going to do the whole village. Wherever the chief's lodge where, to that one he would repair, as his wife was there. Here he spoke to her: "If you want to live, make for your brothers, as this is the only fight that I'm going to do. I say it now as I have always said it, how wherever it is that they would take you, I would come after you. Let me tell you at that very time I came after you I killed eight only out of the large number there were of them, but it became day, so I did not take you away from them. I offered our children's limbs enough very good things, and your brothers counted coup well. And then I came after you, here I am, I have come. The War Controllers (Wonághire Hiruk'óno) gave me this whole village," he said. "In the morning when the sun approaches his appearance, then we'll make for them. All of your brothers came with me, so don't be afraid of them: go in the midst of your brothers. You must say to them, "My brothers, I want to live!" This you must say. And I'm going to tell them that I knew the way that you'll be. Don't be afraid of the ghosts. If you do what I say you won't die. If you do it and accomplish it, there they will make you rich in everything," he said to her.

And he came forth to contend with them. He told the men how that village was very good. They did not know anything about it. "We'll do some good killing," he said. His wife would be with her brothers, he told them. He had contacted the woman and how if she did what he told her, he made it clear to them, that they would not kill her. "I am going to take her back, so take her with you," he said. "But these, I tell you, I'm going to fight," he said. And he said, "You, our young men, get yourselves ready. It is early in the morning," he said. As soon as darkness stands, when it gets light enough, well move around. I have been made rich in everything. My very good men, we will try to do some killing, but do not mutilate them any more than you have to, as they gave all of them to me. It is a good thing to do," he said. "Our grandfathers will like it," he said.

And towards morning as the sun arose back up, as the village was in sight, he gave a whoop as he came on. And the woman very much did she come. "Don't kill her, she's my wife," he said. So they did not kill her. Then they made for the village to kill and also to take prisoners and a little while later they made it so. They counted many coup. They killed every single person in the village. The young man was smart, but they tried to make fun of them [his children]. They made the village invisible, killing everyone. This is what they were saying. That one they meant. He fasted. He, that man, they talked about whenever they used to tell stories. That they will do as long as it will endure above, is what they are saying. That holy (wak'âtcáñk) young man, thus he did, is what they were saying. The old people when they were telling woraks, that is what they were saying.

The End.

Bear Spirits
A Winnebago (Hotcâk) Legend
After Earthmaker created this island on which we live, he created all living things, man being the very last of these. The first and foremost animal that Earthmaker created was a bear of pure white color, whom he placed in the north. This is White Bear. The second bear that he created was Red Bear, whom he placed in the west. Earthmaker next created in the east a kind of grizzly bear Blue Bear, who was the color of the sky, either blue, or as some say, gray. The last bear created by Earthmaker was Black Bear, who was placed in the south. These four kinds of bears were created as Island Weights to help stop the incessant spinning of the primordial earth.

Spiritually, they were not only bears, but the four cardinal winds as well. White Bear was chief over polar bears, Red Bear held hegemony over the brown bears of earth, Blue Bear ruled over Grizzlies, and Black Bear was chief of the terrestrial black bears.

Great Walker's Medicine
A Winnebago (Hotcâk) Legend
There was once a man named "Great Walker" who began to fast for a blessing. One day he finally had a dream in which a Loon Spirit blessed him, and afterwards said to him, "Great Walker, I also bless you with this other thing. When I worked for our chief in Spirit land and swept out his lodge, I removed bad things and swept them outside -- so too will this medicine sweep bad things from your body. No matter what bad thing you swallow, it shall not kill you, for this medicine will sweep it out." Then Great Walker looked at the Loon Spirit and saw something growing out of his back. That was the medicine plant. The Loon Spirit continued: "When you want to use this plant, don't just dig it up, but first make offerings of a white feather, a white deerskin, and red feathers. Pour me tobacco and I shall smoke it. Then you may dig it up -- and when you use it you will not fail in anything. I bless you alone with this herb." Great Walker performed many cures with this purgative medicine and passed the knowledge of it on to his descendants.

In recent times an old man named "Dog Head" followed the war leader Smoke Walker to Tippecanoe. In that battle Smoke Walker was killed, but before he died, Dog Head told him that he would give his son Small Snake a blessing. As they made their escape from the battlefield, Dog Head told Small Snake, "My son, I promised your father that I would give you a blessing. It is not a thing like the Medicine Lodge, for that would not go on after your death. I shall give you a medicine of great value that first came to a man named 'Great Walker'." Then he told Small Snake the story of how Great Walker acquired the medicine from the spirits.

The owner of the medicine kept it hidden in a small hole in the side of a cliff. When he went to get it, it was gone. He said, "We should have been more careful where we kept it."

Dog Head spoke the truth, for even to this day the descendant of Small Snake have benefited people with this medicine.

Big Eagle Cave Mystery
A Winnebago (Hotcâk) Legend
Three boys went out hunting, but never returned. A war party was sent out to track them, and followed their tracks into a cave. As each member of the war party descended into the cave, he disappeared. The last man heard a death song coming from the cave, a melody that he had never before encountered.

Tcaxcepxedega, Big Eagle, chief of the tribe returned with many men, but every time his men descended, no matter what precautions were taken, the first man in line would always disappear at a certain point in the descent. The eerie song was once again heard.

One day a boy appeared leading a blind man who was completely white. The boy appeared to be one of those who was lost, but he claimed to have come from another tribe to the northwest. The man became noted as a great healer. At the request of the chief, he looked into the matter of the cave. He and the boy descended. As they disappeared, the song of death became louder. Finally
the man emerged alone, and embarked on a canoe that sailed away across the lake. Later some adventurers descended into the cave, despite its fearful reputation, and found there a chamber with a single giant empty throne, and laying about it face down, the bones of all the men who had descended into the cave.

Little Brother snares the Sun
A Winnebago (Hotcâk) Legend
At the beginning when the earth was new, the animals were the chiefs. They were more powerful than humans, whom they hunted, killed, and ate.

Finally they killed all the people except one girl and her little brother, who lived in hiding. The brother was very small, no bigger than a newborn child, but the girl was normal in size. Because she was so much bigger, she took care of him and did all the work.

One winter day the girl had to go out and gather food in the woods. To keep Little Brother occupied, she gave him her bow and arrows. "Hide until a snowbird comes," she told him. "Wait until he looks for grubs in the huge dead tree. Then kill him with one of your arrows."

She went off, and the snowbird came, but Little Brother's arrows missed him. "It doesn't matter," the sister said when she came home. "Try again tomorrow."

The next day she went into the forest again. Once more the bird came, and this time the boy's arrow hit and killed him. Proudly he showed the bird to his sister when she returned at night.

"Sister, I want you to skin the snowbird and stretch the hide," he said. "I'll be killing more birds, and when we have enough skins, you can make a feather robe for me."

"But what shall we do with the meat?" asked the girl. At that time people ate only berries and other green things, because they didn't hunt; it was the animals who hunted them. "Make soup out of it," said Little Brother, who was clever in spite of his size.

Every day for ten days he shot a snowbird, and his sister made him a fine feather robe from the skins.

"Sister, are there no other people in this world?" he asked one day. "Are we the only ones?"

"There may be others," she said, "but we don't dare go looking for them. Terrible animals would stalk and kill us."

But Little Brother was consumed with curiosity. So when his sister went off to gather food again, he set out to look for other humans. He walked a long time but met neither people nor animals. He got so tired that he lay down in a spot where the sun had melted the snow away. While he was sleeping, the sun rose and shot fiery rays upon Little Brother.

Waking up, the boy found that his feather robe had scorched and tightened around him so that he couldn't move. To free himself he had to tear it apart, ruining it. He shook his fists and shouted, "Sun, I'll get even! Don't think you're so high that I can't get at you! Do you hear me up there?"

Angry and sad, Little Brother returned home. He wept when he told his sister how the sun had spoiled his feather robe. He lay down on his right side for ten days and refused to eat or drink.

Still fasting, he lay on his left side for another ten. After twenty days he got up and told his sister to make a snare for him to catch the sun. She had only a short length of dried deer sinew, and out of that she made a noose.

"I can't catch the sun with this little thing," he said. So the girl made a string for him out of her hair, but he said, "This isn't long or strong enough."

"Then I'll have to make a snare out of something secret," she said.

She went out and gathered many secret things and twisted them into a strong cord. The moment he saw it, Little Brother said, "This is the one!" To wet the cord he drew it through his lips again and again, so that it grew longer and stronger.

Then Little Brother waited until the middle of the night, when it is darkest. He went out and found the hole through which the sun would rise, and at its entrance he set his snare.

When the sun came up at the usual time, he caught and held fast, and there was no day that day. There was no light, no warmth.

Even though the animals were the chiefs who had killed and eaten the people, they were afraid. They called a council of all their elders and talked for a long time. At last they decided that the biggest and most fearsome of all the animals should go and gnaw through the cord holding the sun.

This animal was Dormouse, who was not small, as it is now, but as big as a mountain. Even so, Dormouse was afraid of the sun. "What you want me to do is dangerous," she said, "but I'll try."

Dormouse went to the place where the sun rises and found him in the snare.

Struggling to free himself, the sun had grown hotter. As Dormouse approached, the hair on her back smoked and was singed off, but she crouched down and began to gnaw at the cord. She chewed and chewed and after a long time managed to bite it in two.

Freed at last, the sun rose at once and made everything bright again. But the heat had shriveled Dormouse down to her present size, and the sun's rays had half blinded her. So she was given the name of Kug-e-been-gwa-kwa, Blind Woman.

Though brave Dormouse had freed the sun, everybody realized that Little Brother, who had snared the sun, was the wisest being in this world, and the one with the greatest power.

Since that time the humans have been the chiefs over the animals, the hunters instead of the hunted.

Skunk Origin Myth
A Winnebago (Hotcâk) Legend
In a village long ago a woman gave birth to a girl with pure white hair. She grew up to be beautiful beyond compare, and because of her white hair, she was thought to be very holy. Men would often court her, but she showed no interest in them, preferring to gaze at her own reflection in still waters. She loved the smell of flowers and would rub their perfumed petals on her skin and hair.

One day a strange looking man showed up and was very keen to court her. She laughed at him, scolding him for his ugliness -- yet he was not a mere man, but one of the great spirits, Turtle. Turtle shed his wrinkled outer skin and appeared in all his glory. He decreed, "Since you rejected one of the great spirits, you shall be transformed into a lowly animal! When people see you, they will turn away from your repulsive odor." She began to shrink, and she became covered with little black hairs. The only trace left of her beautiful white hair was the furry white stripe down her back. She became the first of her race, the race of skunks (gûcge) who live to this day.

Bird Origin Myth
A Winnebago (Hotcâk) Legend
The first birds created by Earthmaker were the Thunders, who can make themselves invisible. As the Thunderbirds traversed the heavens, they would occasionally lose a feather. From such feathers, the visible birds sprang into existence. From the largest quill feathers of the Thunders there came into being the race of eagles; from other large feathers came the race of hawks and their kind; from the small feathers came such birds as partridges; from the down feathers came the small birds like robins and pigeons; and from the mere fuzz of down feathers emerged the very smallest of birds, such as sparrows and hummingbirds. All birds, therefore, are descended from the Thunders.

A Raccoon tricks four blind men
A Winnebago (Hotcâk) Legend
Once there was a raccoon who went up a stream. As he went along suddenly he came to an Indian rope trap. He thought it was that kind, so he raised his left paw, but did not put it down. 'If I put it down, the trap will bite me.' Then all day he stood there, only at night did he go home. The sun rose as he went along the Indian path and soon he came to water.

He kept going on the path, and then there was a long lodge. He peeped in and there four old men were on each side within this house. One of them said, 'Your cooking must be done by now.' 'Yes, it is cooked. Hand the dish here and I will give you some.' The raccoon went in. All four of these old men were blind. Then the old men on the other side said, 'Ho! here is the dish, pass it over.' But then the raccoon said, 'Ho!' and took the dish. The one being served said, 'What? ' as he had not gotten the dish. 'What happened? I handed it to you and you took the corn,' he said. 'I am saying that no one here handed it to me,' he said. Then he hit him right in his face.

He said, 'Ho! We will do it. I said I handed it to you.' Then the other one right in the face he hit him. 'Ho! we will do it,' he said, and he stood up. Now the two fellows got a hold of one another and began to fight each other. It was the raccoon who stood up and did it, hitting them in the face too. 'Well! We will do it,' then all four of them began fighting and then the raccoon laughed as the old men were funny.

The four then went into town and there they knew of him. 'Ho ho! Old men, the raccoon is the cause of this,' they said. 'Stand at the door.' Then they did it, but the raccoon had gone out on top of the lodge.

The Baldness of the Buzzard
A Winnebago (Hotcâk) Legend - Retold by Richard L. Dieterle
In his travels about the world, Trickster climbed up a hill and when he reached the top, he laid down to rest. As he was looking up, he saw a bird floating effortlessly in the sky. Trickster thought to himself how nice it would be to have a view of the whole countryside like the bird's. Just as Trickster was looking at the bird, so it was looking at Trickster. It thought that he was an animal that might make a good meal, so he circled down a bit lower. As soon as he got a closer look, he could see that he was being watched, so he floated down to a dead tree with only a few branches. As the bird perched there, he thought to himself, "I'll preen a few of these feathers and let the man enjoy my natural beauty. This bird was a buzzard.

In those times buzzards were very beautiful and also very vain. As Trickster laid there watching him, he said, "Hâho, little brother.

I was watching you circling above. It sure must be great to fly around with no effort at all." However, the bird said nothing at all back to Trickster. Then Trickster said,"Did I ever say how beautiful a bird you are?" "No," replied the buzzard. "Well, you really are, you know. I like the way that the light shines from your feathers when you turn your head. But what I like best is the way you can have a view of the whole world from where you are flying. I only wish you could give me a ride so that I too could enjoy it." The bird said, "I can probably do that," but when he reached Trickster, he said, "You're way too heavy. If I put you on my back, I would never get off the ground." "Well," said Trickster, "I can fix that." Then Trickster thought to himself, "I'll become just the right size to ride on that bird's back," and no sooner had he thought this, than he suddenly shrunk in size so that he was no bigger than a baby. Then he climbed up on the buzzard's back and hung on tight.

The bird flapped his wings and soon they were airborne. He circled around until he hit an updraft, then suddenly he sailed away high into the sky. Trickster exclaimed, "Ah, little brother, this is truly the life. There is nothing like this, to be able to see all over. You really have a great life gliding around up here." Now the buzzard thought Trickster just wanted a short ride, but nothing could make him return. Now Trickster kept telling the buzzard to fly here or fly there, and was starting to make a nuisance out of himself by his constant demands. Suddenly, the buzzard made a steep turn, and Trickster cried out, "Whoa, watch that or I'll fall off!" This gave the buzzard an idea. He circled around and around gradually descending as he went. He was looking for a hollow stump that he had seen earlier. After much searching, there it was. He flew directly over it, then he suddenly performed a mid-air flip, and Trickster fell right off. The buzzard's aim was perfect and Trickster landed right in the hollow of the stump. Thus stump had been burned out, and the hole was small enough that Trickster couldn't get back out again. Trickster was furious, and called the bird every bad name he could think of. Then he said, for good measure, "I'll get even with you someday" However, the buzzard simply ignored him and flew away.

After all that time traveling about the world, now Trickster was a prisoner. Then Trickster decided to restore himself to his normal size, but when he did that, he found himself stuck even tighter than before. Then he heard the voices of women out gathering wood. They were speaking to one another in Hotcâk. This gave Trickster an idea, and he sung out,

Wakedogiya Xede
egi nâkcâna,

which means, "I am a big mother raccoon." The woman exclaimed, "Wehehe! There is something over there. They went over to where they heard the singing. Then Trickster sand again in a bass voice,

Wakedogiya Xede
egi nâkcâna,

The women said, "Let's get this raccoon, and they began to chop away at the tree. When they had cut an opening through it, Trickster held up his raccoon blanket, and the women exclaimed, "That's a big fat one!" Then Trickster said, "Yes indeed, I am a really big one. Now, you're going to have to chop the hole much bigger to get me out." After the women had chopped away furiously at the stump, the hole was now so big that Trickster stepped right out. He dropped his blanket and laughed. The women were so angry at him that they chased him with their axes, but he made good his escape.

No matter where Trickster went in his travels, he never ceased thinking about avenging himself against the buzzard. He contemplated many schemes, but nothing seemed to work. Then one day when he was watching a herd of buffalo, he suddenly got a brilliant idea: "Now then," he said, "I'll become a buffalo and drop over dead. That will give the buzzard just what he wants most, a really big meal of carrion."

So Trickster turned himself into a buffalo and spent his days grazing on the luxuriant grass, and in time became very fat. Then he laid down and died. There he lay in the hot sun, rotting. Some time later a tcosgenîka bird (woolly? woodpecker) spotted the buffalo rotting in the grass. This bird is a very noisy one, and when he returned to the woods, he called out to all the meat eating birds that there was a fine, big meal going to waste in the meadow.

A great group of birds descended on the corpse and began pecking it all over, but its hide was so tough that none of the birds could penetrate it. Trickster shut his eyes so tight that they couldn't even pick his eyes out. Finally, they called upon the magpie, who was a large bird with a sharp beak. They told him to peck a hole right through the hide.

The magpie hammered away for a long time, but could get nowhere. Then he said, "Let me do this my way. The best way to get into a tough animal is to enter through its anus." So he began pecking away at the buffalo's anus, and soon he had made an entry. Then the other birds went in as well, and flew off with bits of fat.

Eventually, the news reached the buzzard who flew down to a nearby tree. He was wary of what Trickster might be up to, and was on his guard against any tricks that might be in the offing; but the other birds kept saying, "Brother, come on down, we are getting to the best part now." So finally the buzzard descended, thinking that he had better get some now before there was nothing good left. The other birds said, "We found this way in, right through his anus. We saved it for you, the most beautiful of birds, brother."

So the buzzard stuck his head deep into the rectum of the buffalo. Then, unexpectedly, the anus tightened around his neck and his head was trapped inside. Then suddenly the buffalo rose to his feet and began eating grass. After that he went down and drank a lot of water, after which he resumed eating enormous amounts of lush, green grass, the kind that makes strong, hot buffalo chips. After a day of this, he finally relaxed his anus and let the bird go.

As the bird lay there in shock, Trickster changed himself back into his normal form. "Well now, you beautiful bird, how did you like the dinner I served up to you?" When the bird came to his senses and saw Trickster standing before him, his worst fears were realized, and he flew up to the nearest tree. There he shook himself off, but must to his surprise, all the feathers on his head fell off as he shook. Then Trickster said, "Because you have abused me, forevermore your kind shall have bald heads, and no longer will the people say ;you are the most beautiful of birds, for in truth you will now be the ugliest." Even down to this day turkey buzzards have no feathers on their head.

Rattlesnake kills the Chief's Daughter
A Wintu Legend
Long ago some women gathered, put a blanket on the ground, and lay down. They made their leaders, the chief's daughter, lie in the middle. And they sang songs.

The chief's daughter was a good singer and many people gathered to see her. Some wanted to abduct her, but could not get close to her because she was the chief's daughter and everyone kept an eye on her.

She was rich because her father was rich. The people who wanted to abduct her were not from the area; they had come from somewhere else. They watched her, but there was no way of taking her because many people kept a close eye on her.

The women lay down and sang. Chief Tisasa's daughter was a good singer with a beautiful strong voice. This is not a tale, but a story about real Indians. Tisasa was a real Indian chief who was my father's grandfather. The woman was Tisasa's daughter.

The Indians thought very highly of Tisasa and he had many sons who were good people. He helped everybody, and when he hired people to do things, he always paid them well. The women lay down and sang many songs. At midnight they all left. But the others were still watching. They watched those who were watching the chief's daughter. Tisasa was a real chief. His family's home was called Kensunus, "Next Below."

When the chief's daughter went to pick clover, all the women followed the "little chief" and picked clover too. She was bitten by a rattlesnake, and they took her some. She died before many days had passed. The rattlesnake had killed her.

Her mother, the chief's wife, grieved the loss of her daughter. She made many sticks, packed them, and went out. She went west to a snake den called Snake Rock. There she dug for rattlesnakes and killed those she saw coming out, with a long green stick. She also had a short stick with her.

She killed off all the rattlesnakes that came out and strung them on a trimmed sharp stick. She strung them and tied them up. She dug up their rocky nest. She killed many rattlesnakes that were in the den. She killed forty rattlesnakes and strung them up on the stick. When she could not find any more, she leveled the den. She wiped them out. Their dens stink terribly, but the woman who had lost her daughter did not give up looking for rattlesnakes everywhere.

When she found some, she killed them and strung them up. She went everywhere looking for rattlesnakes and did not give up. For five years she did not forget to kill rattlesnakes. There were no more rattlesnakes close by, for she had killed them all. She had lost her daughter and did not want to stop. Their home was Kensunus. They buried their daughter in an elk hide with all her belongings. She took many good beads, clamshell beads, and things with her. They gathered everything, wrapped her in elk hide and buried her. She took much with her. That was because they were never going to see their daughter again.

But the mother grieved so that for thirty days after her daughter's death she did not want to stay at home. She went all over the mountains, steep hills, and rock piles, looking for rattlesnakes. When she saw a rattlesnake, she killed it. She did not kill any of the other snakes, water snakes or bull snakes. When she saw king snakes, she did not kill them. She only killed rattlesnakes. And then after some five years she stopped. She did not hunt rattlesnakes any more. She stopped hunting rattlesnakes.

About Rope
A Wintu Legend
You have rope there already, tangled up. You untangle it. You untangle it and tie knots. You tie knots and tie it together. You pull it toward yourself and tie it tight. You pull out more rope and tie it together twice so it won't come untied. You untie it, and if you cannot untie it, you cut the rope. And you bring it toward you, fix it, and tie another knot. You tie it together where it was cut. You tie it together with a know and when you are finished, you wind it around between fingers and elbow and put it down.

Then you make a new rope. You make another strong one. You twist the rope on your knee, twisting wild riri for rope. And you make a long rope. It will be a very strong rope that nothing can break. A deer caught in it cannot break it. It will now break. That rope is really strong. And with that rope you can set a trap. With that rope you can trap deer. When a deer is caught in the rope, it hangs itself. You tie down a sugar pine or a fir and set a trap that way. When a deer is driven into it, it is caught in the rope. The tree flips up and hangs the deer. It dies there, choking to death in the rope.

The Indians would take the rope home and take good care of it, not letting it get wet. In the summer they did not put it out in the sun. The hung it in the shade. They took care of that rope. And for birds, too, they made a small, thin rope, and made the bird peck it to trap it. This time a long willow branch is fixed so it flips up. The ends are tied with a string and bent down to trap the bird. Acorns are put down, and when the bird pecks at them, it is caught in that little string as if hung. That is how the Indians trapped a long tome ago.

They trapped mountain quail, Steller's jays, and towhees. They ate them in the winter. You cannot catch gray squirrels, though, because they quickly cut themselves loose. When a gray squirrel is caught in a rope, it cuts it. Gray squirrels are strong. They hold on to the rope, hanging sideways, pull themselves up with one of their paws, and cut the rope. You cannot catch gray squirrels.

That is all.

Native American Legends
Amamet
A Wintu Legend
Long ago, among the real Indians, there was some kind of being nobody knew what it was. They called it Anamet. It came from the mountains and made believe that it was a person. It carried women away on its back. It also took children who were playing outside and carried them away. Anamet would say "K-ete p'iw!" [one jump] as it jumped away with them.

What could it have been? The Indians called it Anamet. It stole children and they would say, "Don't let children play late in the evening." They brought all the children inside at dusk.

They also took their children along wherever they went, saying "Don't leave them home along," for fear of Anamet.

Once some people left home for only a short time and whey they returned their children were gone. Anamet had already taken them.

They did not know what it was. It was a terrible thing; not a person.

Bat and his wives
A Wintu Legend
Bat was married. He was married to two mallard duck women. He went hunting all the time. He hunted in all the mountains. In the mountains he went west and north. He went down along the creek.

He took a fir limb and lay down facing up. He turned his belly inside out, pulled out his liver, and cut it out. Then he got up. He sewed up his belly and took the liver home. He was going to feed it to his wives. He did this all the time, bringing it home.

Then one of the women, the younger one, said, "This is bad! I don't want to eat this food any more. It tastes bad."

The Older one said, "Oh, what's the matter with you? You always talk too much!"

"Well, let's go see how many of them are hunting, and what they are killing," the younger one said.

They left. They went to watch him and he went downstream alone. They followed him.

He went downhill to the north and lay on be back. He turned his belly inside out and took out his liver. They saw that and ran home. They ran, took their clothes, got dressed, and went floating downstream.

The man came home and noticed that the two were missing. He missed them.

He searched everywhere, went upstream and downstream. He went far. But he did not meet anyone anywhere.

Then he saw Gray Squirrel who was climbing, cutting fray pine cones.

Bat asked, "Have you seen my wives?

Gray Squirrel gave no answer. He just kept on cutting pine cones. Bat spoke again: "Have you seen my wives? Have you seen anyone here?

Gray Squirrel became angry. "Get over here under the tree, get close, look up, close your eyes and look up, and I'll tell you where your wives are!" he said.

"Okay," said Bate.

He went over and looked up. Gray Squirrel dropped pitch in his eyes. "I'm blind," called Bat. "Something fell into my eyes. Get me something to take out the pitch!" He felt around, took a pine needle and poked at his eyes. "I can see. I can see a little," he said. And he left.

Rolling Head
A Wintu Legend
Long ago there was a village filled with people. They lived in the flatlands on both the west and the east sides of the river. The younger of the chief's two daughters had just reached puberty, and her parents were planning to call a puberty dance.

In the evening the father spoke to the other women. "Early in the morning go strip bark for a maple-bark apron," he said. "But don't take my younger daughter with you. Go secretly."

So the women got up very early and stole away. Quite far north they went, and some even climbed uphill and crossed the ridge to the north.

Later the girl who had reached puberty woke up and, though it was forbidden, followed the others. When she reached them, they were stripping bark. She went up to them and began cutting maple bark too.

All at once she struck her little finger with a splinter. Her older sister came up to her and wiped the blood with dead leaves. The other women said, "When will it leave off? The blood cannot stop flowing."

Afraid of what had happened, they ran back to the village. They reached the house and told the father, "She got stuck with a splinter while stripping bark." And the old man said, "She doesn't listen to me."

The girl and her older sister were left behind alone. The younger one, who stood downhill to the north, now sucked blood and spat it out. Then more blood came, and though she sucked and sucked, she could not stop the flow.

Meanwhile the sun began to set. She kept on sucking until early evening, unable to help herself. Suddenly she happened to swallow blood and smelled the fat. It tasted sweet. So she ate her little finger, and then ate her whole hand. Then devoured both her hands. Then she ate her leg, ate both her legs. Then she ate up her whole body. Then her head alone was left. It went rolling over the ground, with her sister still beside her.

In the village the chief said, "From the north she'll come. Put on your clothes, people. Get your weapons. We must go." And the people dressed themselves and got their weapons. And from the north they saw her come, rolling toward her father's house. She arrived in the early evening and lay there.

After she had rested a while, she bounced up to the west across the river to the flat on the west, where she threw the people into her mouth. Without stopping, she turned the village upside down as she devoured them all.

Then she fell to the east across the river and lay there, and the next morning she threw the people who lived on the eastern flat into her mouth and ate them, devoured them all. Only her eldest sister she left for a while.

And she went about the world, and when she saw people, she threw them into her mouth and ate them. Each evening she came home, each morning she went about the world looking for people. Always she went searching.

One day she climbed up to the northern edge of the sky and looked all over the world, but she saw no one. So in the evening she came home, and the next morning she got up and threw her sister into her mouth.

Then she went on her way until she reached the edge of a big creek which she did not know how to cross.

A man was sitting on the other side. She called to him, and he threw a bridge over. She was crossing, and when she had gone halfway he jerked it, and it went down at Talat. And she fell into the river, and a riffle pike jumped and swallowed her. And it is finished.

Ghost Stallion
A Yinnuwok Legend
This is a tale the old men tell around the fire, when the stars are blown clean on a windy night, and the coyotes are howling on the Cree Jump. And when, sometimes, over the wind, comes clearly the sound of running horses, their hearers move a little closer to one another and pile more wood on the fire.

This is a story from a long time ago, say the Old Ones. What the man's name was, no one knows now, and so they call him "The Traveler".

Long ago, The Traveler was a wealthy chief. A warrior in his young days, he had taken many scalps, many horses, and many another trophy of value. And he had increased his possessions by hard dealings with that less fortunate, and by gambling with younger men who were no match for his cunning.

His fellow tribesmen did not love him although they admired his bravery, for in times of hardship, when other chiefs shared freely whatever they had, he drove hard bargains and generally prospered from the ills of others. His wives he had abused till their parents took them away; his children hated him, and he had no love for them.

There was only one thing he cared for: his horses. They were fine horses, beautiful horses, for he kept only the best; and when a young warrior returned from a raid with a particularly good horse, The Traveler never rested until (whether by fair means or not) he had it in his possession. At night, when the dance drum was brought out, and the other Indians gathered round it, The Traveler went alone to the place where his horses were picketed, to gloat over his treasures. He loved them. But he loved only the ones that were young, and handsome, and healthy a horse that was old, or sick, or injured, received only abuse.

One morning, when he went to the little valley in which his horses were kept, he found in the herd an ugly white stallion. He was old, with crooked legs, and a matted coat, thin, and tired looking.

The Traveler flew into a rage. He took his rawhide rope, and caught the poor old horse. Then, with a club, he beat him unmercifully. When the animal fell to the ground, stunned, The Traveler broke his legs with the club, and left him to die. He returned to his lodge, feeling not the slightest remorse for his cruelty.

Later, deciding he might as well have the hide of the old horse, he returned to the place where he had left him. But, to his surprise, the white stallion was gone. That night, as The Traveler slept, he had a dream. The white stallion appeared to him, and slowly turned into a beautiful horse, shining white, with long mane and tail - a horse more lovely than any The Traveler had ever seen.

Then the Stallion spoke: "If you had treated me kindly," the stallion said, "I would have brought you more horses. You were cruel to me, so I shall take away the horses you have!"

When The Traveler awoke, he found his horses were gone. All that day, he walked and searched, but when at nightfall he fell asleep exhausted, he had found no trace of them. In his dreams, the White Stallion came again, and said, "Do you wish to find your horses? They are north, by a lake. You will sleep twice, before you come to it."

As soon as he awakened in the morning, The Traveler hastened northward. Two days' journey, and when he came to the lake there were no horses. That night, the Ghost Stallion came again. "Do you wish to find your horses?" he said. "They are east, in some hills. There will be two sleeps before you came to the place.'

When the sun had gone down on the third day, The Traveler had searched the hills, but had found no horses. And so it went night after night the Stallion came to The Traveler, directing him to some distant spot, but he never found his horses. He grew thin, and foots sore. Sometimes he got a horse from some friendly camp; sometimes he stole one, in the night. But always, before morning, would come a loud drumming of hoofs, the Ghost Stallion and his band would gallop by, and the horse of The Traveler would break its picket, and go with them.

And never again did he have a horse; never again did he see his own lodge. And he wanders, even to this day, the old men say, still searching for his lost horses.

Sometimes, they say, on a windy autumn night when the stars shine very clearly, and over on the Cree Jump the coyote's howl, above the wind you may hear a rush of running horses, and the stumbling footsteps of an old man. And, if you are very unlucky, you may see the Stallion and his band, and The Traveler, still pursuing them, still trying to get back his beautiful horses.

War of the Foothill and Plains People
A Yaudanchi Yokut Legend
The birds and animals from the mountains [foothills] went to war with the animals of the lake below. With the party from the mountains was Coyote. He had a large quiver full of arrows. In the morning he got up, knotted his hair behind, took his bow, and called to all, "Get up, get up, or I will kill you. I am ready to go to war." Now they started.

All the way down into the plains Coyote led the way and hurried the others. Alongside him was the humming-bird. They two were the leaders. There were three owls, with the party. One of these carried an inexhaustible supply of arrow point; in his mouth; another carried sinew; and a third feathers for arrow-shafts.

As the arrows became used during the fight, they produced these materials and kept the people supplied. So they fought. The people from the mountains beat those of the plains. But there were two that they could not kill, the fish epis and the turtle. One of these was slippery, the other was hard, and the arrows glanced off their backs. Then Coyote broke his leg, took out the bone, stuck it into the end of his arrow, and shot. He struck the fish in the back of its neck and killed it. Then he shot at the turtle and struck it in its head aperture and killed it.

Now the eagle, who was the chief of all, sent off the victorious mountain people. He said: "You cannot live here any longer. You must go away. Where do you want to go?"

Coyote said: "Wishawishawisha! Wishawishawisha! Wishawishawisha! I do not want to go." The humming-bird agreed with him.

The eagle, said: "Well, what are you going to become? What will you be? I am going to fly high up in the air and live on squirrels and sometimes on deer."

The dog said: "I will stay with people and be their friend. I will follow them, and perhaps I will get something to eat in that way."

The buzzard said: "When something dies I will smell it. I will go there and eat it."

The crow said: "When I see something lying dead I will pick its eyes."

Coyote said: "I will go about killing grasshoppers. That is how I will live."

The humming-bird said: "I will go to the flowers and get my food from them."

The condor said: "I will not stay here. I will go far off into the mountains. Perhaps I will, find something there."

The woodpecker said: "I will get acorns and make holes in the trees."

The bluejay said: "I am going to make trees grow over the hills. I will work."

The rat said: "I will go where there are old trees and make my house in them."

The mouse said: "I will run here and there and everywhere. I shall have holes and perhaps I can live in that way."

The trout said: "I will live in the water and perhaps I can find something to eat there."

That was the time they stopped being like us and scattered.

How Fire Came to the Six Nations

Often, around the fire in the long house of the Iroquois, during the Moon of the Long Nights, this tale is told.

Three Arrows was a boy of the Mohawk tribe. Although he had not yet seen fourteen winters he was already known among the Iroquois for his skill and daring. His arrows sped true to their mark. His name was given him when with three bone-tipped arrows he brought down three flying wild geese from the same flock. He could travel in the forest as softly as the south wind and he was a skilful hunter, but he never killed a bird or animal unless his clan needed food. He was well-versed in woodcraft, fleet of foot, and a clever wrestler. His people said, 'Soon he will be a chief like his father.' The sun shone strong in the heart of Three Arrows, because soon he would have to meet the test of strength and endurance through which the boys of his clan attained manhood. He had no fear of the outcome of the dream fast which was so soon to take. His father was a great chief and a good man, and the boy's life had been patterned after that of his father.

When the grass was knee-high, Three Arrows left his village with his father. They climbed to a sacred place in the mountains. They found a narrow cave at the back of a little plateau. Here Three Arrows decided to live for his few days of prayer and vigil. He was not permitted to eat anything during the days and nights of his dream fast. He had no weapons, and his only clothing was a breechclout and moccasins. His father left the boy with the promise that he would visit him each day that the ceremony lasted, at dawn.

Three Arrows prayed to the Great Spirit. He begged that soon his clan spirit would appear in a dream and tell him what his guardian animal or bird was to be. When he knew this, he would adopt tat bird or animal as his special guardian for the rest of his life. When the dream came he would be free to return to his people, his dream fast successfully achieve.

For five suns Three Arrows spent his days and nights on the rocky plateau, only climbing down to the little spring for water after each sunset. His heart was filled with a dark cloud because that morning his father had sadly warned him that the next day, the sixth sun, he must return to his village even if no dream had come to him in the night. This meant returning to his people in disgrace without the chance of taking another dream fast.

That night Tree Arrows, weak from hunger and weary from ceaseless watch, cried out to the Great Mystery. 'O Great Spirit, have pity on him who stands humbly before Thee. Let his clan spirit or a sign from beyond the thunderbird come to him before tomorrow's sunrise, if it be Thy will.' As he prayed, the wind suddenly veered from east too north. This cheered Three Arrows because the wind was now the wind of the great bear, and the bear was the totem of his clan. When he entered the cavern he smelled for the first time the unmistakable odour of a bear: this was strong medicine. He crouched at the opening of the cave, too excited to lie down although his tire body craved rest. As he gazed out into the night he heard the rumble of thunder, saw the lightning flash, and felt the fierce breath of the wind from the north. Suddenly a vision came to him, and a gigantic bear stood beside him in the cave. Then Three Arrows heard it say, 'Listen well, Mohawk. Your clan spirit has heard your prayer. Tonight you will learn a great mystery which will bring help and gladness to all your people.' A terrible clash of thunder brought the dazed boy to his feet as the bear disappeared. He looked from the cave just as a streak of lightning flashed across the sky in the form of a blazing arrow. Was this the sign from the thunderbird ?

Suddenly the air was filled with a fearful sound. A shrill shrieking came from the ledge just above the cave. It sounded as though mountain lions fought in the storm; yet Three Arrows felt no fear as he climbed toward the ledge. As his keen eyes grew accustomed to the dim light he saw that the force of the wind was causing two young balsam trees to rub violently against each other. The strange noise was caused by friction, and as he listened and watched fear filled his heart, for, from where the two trees rubbed together a flash of lightning show smoke. Fascinated, he watched until flickers of flames followed the smoke. He had never seen fire of any kind at close range nor had any of his people. He scrambled down to the cave and covered his eyes in dread of this strange magic. Then he smelt bear again and he thought of his vision, his clan spirit, the bear, and its message. This was the mystery which he was to reveal to his people. The blazing arrow in the sky was to be his totem, and his new name - Blazing Arrow.

At daybreak, Blazing Arrow climbed onto the ledge and broke two dried sticks from what remained of one of the balsams. He rubbed them violently together, but nothing happened. 'The magic is too powerful for me,' he thought. Then a picture of his clan and village formed in his mind, and he patiently rubbed the hot sticks together again. His will power took the place of his tired muscles. Soon a little wisp of smoke greeted his renewed efforts, then came a bright spark on one of the stick. Blazing Arrow waved it as he had seen the fiery arrow wave in the night sky. A resinous blister on the stick glowed, then flamed - fire had come to the Six Nations!

KARMA!!!!!!!!!!

Hello my freind - good to see you back again, thank you for your story it is much appreciated, i will be posting more of the iriquois nations as i go but i will scratch that one off - hahaha

i hope your doing well and getting back together again, you have been missed - from tribo aka;

Agayuli waya [old wolf]

The visit to the Dead
A Tachi Yokut Legend
A Tachi had a fine wife who died and was buried. Her husband went to her grave and dug a hole near it. There he stayed watching, not eating, not using only tobacco. After two nights he saw that she came up, brushed the earth off herself, and started to go to the island of the dead. The man tried to seize her but could not hold her.

She went southeast and he followed her. Whenever he tried to hold her she escaped. He kept trying to seize her, however, and delayed her. At daybreak she stopped. He stayed there, but could not see her.

When it began to be dark the woman got up again and went on. She turned westward and crossed Tulare Lake [or its inlet]. At daybreak the man again tried to seize her but could not hold her. She stayed in that place during the day.

The man remained in the same place, but again he could not see her. There was a good trail there, and he could see the footprints of his dead friends and relatives.

In the evening his wife got up again and went on. They came to a river which flows westward toward San Luis Obispo, the river of the Tulamni [the description fits the Santa Maria, but the Tulamni are in the Tulare drainage, on and about Buena Vista lake].

There the man caught up with his wife and there they stayed all day. He still had had nothing to eat. In the evening she went on again, now northward. Then somewhere to the west of the Tachi country he caught up with her once more and they spent the day there.

In the evening the woman got up and they went on northward, across the San Joaquin river, to the north or east of it. Again he overtook his wife. Then she said: "What are you going to do? I am nothing now. How can you get my body back? Do you think you shall be able to do it?"

He said: "I think so."

She said: "I think not. I am going to a different kind of a place now."

From daybreak on that man stayed there. In the evening the woman started once more and went down along the river, but he overtook her again. She did not talk to him. Then they stayed all day, and at night went on again.

Now they were close to the island of the dead. It was joined to the land by a rising and falling bridge called Ch'eleli. Under this bridge a river ran swiftly. The dead passed over this.

When they were on the bridge, a bird suddenly fluttered up beside them and frightened them. Many fell off into the river, where they turned into fish. Now the chief of the dead said: "Somebody has come."

They told him: "There are two. One of them is alive; he stinks."

The chief said: "Do not let him cross."

When the woman came on the island, he asked her: "You have a companion?" and she told him: "Yes, my husband."

He asked her: "Is he coming here?"

She said: "I do not know. He is alive."

They asked the man: "Do you want to come to this country?"

He said: "Yes." Then they told him: "Wait. I will see the chief."

They told the chief: "He says that he wants to come to this country. We think he does not tell the truth."

"Well, let him come across." Now they intended to frighten him off the bridge. They said: "Come on. The chief says you can cross."

Then the bird [Kacha] flew up and tried to scare him, but did not make him fall off the bridge into the water. So they brought him before the chief. The chief said: "This is a bad country. You should not have come. We have only your wife's soul [ilit]. She has left her bones with her body. I do not think we can give her back to you."

In the evening they danced. It was a round dance and they shouted. The chief said to the man: "Look at your wife in the middle of the crowd. Tomorrow you will see no one."

Now the man stayed there three days. Then the chief said to some of the people: "Bring that woman. her husband wants to talk to her."

They brought the woman to him. He asked her: ''Is this your husband?"

She said: "Yes."

He asked her: "Do you think you will go back to him?"

She said: "I do not think so. What do you wish?"

The chief said: "I think not. You must stay here. You cannot go back. You are worthless now." Then He said to the man: "Do you want to sleep with your wife?"

He said: "Yes, for a while. I want to sleep with her and talk with her." Then he was allowed to sleep with her that night and they talked together.

At daybreak the woman was vanished and he was sleeping next to a fallen oak. The chief said to him: "Get up. It is late." He opened his eyes and saw an oak instead of his wife. The chief said: "You see that we cannot make your wife as she was. She is no good now. It is best that you go back. You have a good country there." But the man said: "No, I will stay."

The chief told him: "No, do not. Come back here whenever you like, but go back now." Nevertheless the man stayed there six days. Then he said: "I am going back."

Then in the morning he started to go home. The chief told him: "When you arrive, hide yourself. Then after six days emerge and make a dance."

Now the man returned. He told his parents: "Make me a small house. In six days I will come out and dance." Now he stayed there five days. Then his friends began to know that he had come back. "Our relative has come back," they all said.

Now the man was in too much of a hurry. After five days he came out. In the evening he began to dance and danced all night, telling what he saw. In the morning, when he had stopped dancing, he went to bathe. Then a rattlesnake bit him. He died. So he went back to the island.

He is there now. It is through him that the people know how it is there. Every two days the island becomes full. Then the chief gathers the people. "You must swim," he says. The people stop dancing and bathe. Then the bird frightens them, and some turn to fish, and some to ducks; only a few come out of the water again as people. In this way room is made when the island is too full. The name of the chief there is Kandjidji.

Átahsaia, The Cannibal Demon
A Zuni Legend
In the days of the ancients, when the children of our forefathers lived in Héshokta ["Town of the Cliffs"], there also lived two beautiful maidens, elder and younger, sisters one to the other, daughters of a master-chief.

One bright morning in summer-time, the elder sister called to the younger, "Háni!" "What sayest thou?" said the háni. "The day is bright and the water is warm. Let us go down to the pool and wash our clothes, that we may wear them as if new at the dance to come."

"Ah, yes, sister elder," said the háni; "but these are days when they say the shadows of the rocks and even the sage-bushes lodge unthinkable things, and cause those who walk alone to breathe hard with fear."

"Shtchu!" exclaimed the elder sister derisively. "Younger sisters always are as timid as younger brothers are bad-tempered." "Ah, well, then; as you will, sister elder. I will not quarrel with your wish, but I fear to go."

"Yaush! Come along, then," said the elder sister; whereupon they gathered their cotton mantles and other garments into bundles, and, taking along a bag of yucca-root, or soap-weed, started together down the steep, crooked path to where the pool lay at the foot of the great mesa.

Now, far above the Town of the Cliffs, among the rocks of red-gray and yellow -- red in the form of a boulder-like mountain that looks like a frozen sandbank -- there is a deep cave. You have never seen it? Well! To this day it is called the "Cave of Átahsaia," and there, in the times I tell of, lived Átahsaia himself. Uhh! What an ugly demon he was! His body was as big as the biggest elk's, and his breast was shaggy with hair as stiff as porcupine-quills. His legs and arms were long and brawny, -- all covered with speckled scales of black and white. His hair was coarse and snarly as a buffalo's mane, and his eyes were so big and glaring that they popped out of his head like skinned onions. His mouth stretched from one cheek to the other and was filled with crooked fangs as yellow as thrown-away deer-bones. His lips were as red and puffy as peppers, and his face as wrinkled and rough as a piece of burnt buckskin.

That was Átahsaia, who in the days of the ancients devoured men and women for his meat, and the children of men for his sweetbread. His weapons were terrible, too. His fingernails were as long as the claws of a bear, and in his left hand he carried a bow made of the sapling of a mountain-oak, with two arrows ready drawn for use. And he was never seen without his great flint knife, as broad as a man's thigh and twice as long, which he brandished with his right hand and poked his hair back with, so that his grizzly fore-locks were covered with the blood of those he had slaughtered. He wore over his shoulders whole skins of the mountain lion and bear clasped with buttons of wood.

Now, although Átahsaia was ugly and could not speak without chattering his teeth, or laugh without barking like a wolf, he was a very polite demon. But, like many ugly and polite people nowadays, he was a great liar.

Átahsaia that morning woke up and stuck his head out of his hole just as the two maidens went down to the spring. He caught sight of them while his eyes traveled below, and he chuckled. Then he muttered, as he gazed at them and saw how young and fine they were: "Ahhali! Yaatchi!" (" Good lunch! Two for a munch!") And howled his war cry, "Ho-o-o-thlai-a!" till Teshaminkia, the Echo-god, shouted it to the maidens.

"Oh!" exclaimed the háni, clutching the arm of her elder sister; "listen!" "Ho-o-o-thlai-a!" again roared the demon, and again Teshaminkia. "Oh, oh! Sister elder, what did I tell you?

"Why did we come out today!" and both ran away; then stopped to listen. When they heard nothing more, they returned to the spring and went to washing their clothes on some flat stones.

But Átahsaia grabbed up his weapons and began to clamber down the mountain. Muttering and chuckling to himself as he went: "Ahhali! Yaatchi!" (" Good lunch! Two for a munch!").

Around the corner of Great Mesa, on the high shelves of which stands the Town of the Cliffs, are two towering buttes called Kwilli-yallon (Twin Mountain). Far up on the top of this mountain there dwelt Áhaiyúta and Mátsailéma.

You don't know who Áhaiyúta and Mátsailéma were? Well, I will tell you. They were the twin children of the Sun-father and the Mother Waters of the World. Before men were born to the light, the Sun made love to the Waters of the World, and under his warm, bright glances, there were hatched out of a foam-cup on the face of the Great Ocean, which then covered the earth, two wonderful boys, whom men afterward named Ua nam Atch Píahk'oa ("The Beloved Two who Fell").

The Sun dried away the waters from the highlands of earth and these Two then delivered men forth from the bowels of our Earth mother, and guided them eastward toward the home of their father, the Sun. The time came, alas! When war and many strange beings arose to destroy the children of earth, and then the eight Stern Beings changed the hearts of the twins to sawanikia, or the medicine of war. Thenceforth they were known as Áhaiyúta and Mátsailéma ("Our Beloved," the "Terrible Two," "Boy-gods of War").

Even though changed, they still guarded our ancients and guided them to the Middle of the World, where we now live. Gifted with hearts of the medicine of war, and with wisdom almost as great as the Sun-father's own, they became the invincible guardians of the Corn-People of Earth, and, with the rainbow for their weapon and thunderbolts for their arrows, -- swift lightning-shafts pointed with turquoise, -- were the greatest warriors of all in the days of the new.

When at last they had conquered most of the enemies of men, they taught to a chosen few of their followers the songs, prayers, and orders of a society of warriors who should be called their children, the Priests' of the Bow, and selecting from among them the two wisest, breathed into their nostrils (as they have since breathed into those of their successors) the sawanikia. Since then we make anew the semblance of their being and place them each year at "mid sun" on the top of the Mountain of Thunder, and on the top of the Mountain of the Beloved, that they may know we remember them and that they may guard (as it was said in the days of the ancients they would guard) the Land of Zuñi from sunrise to sunset and cut off the pathways of the enemy.

Well, Áhaiyúta, who is called the elder brother, and Mátsailéma, who is called the younger, were living on the top of Twin Mountain with their old grandmother. Said the elder to the younger on this same morning: "Brother, let us go out and hunt. It is a fine day. What say you?

"My face is in front of me," said the younger, "and under a roof is no place for men," he added, as he put on his helmet of elk-hide and took a quiver of mountain-lion skin from an antler near the ladder.

"Where are you two boys going now?" shrieked the grandmother through a trap door from below. Don't you ever intend to stop worrying me by going abroad when even the spaces breed fear like thick war?"

"O grandmother," they laughed, as they tightened their bows and straightened their arrows before the fire, "never mind us; we are only going out for a hunt," and before the old woman could climb up to stop them they were gaily skipping down the rocks toward the cliffs below.

Suddenly the younger brother stopped. "Ahh!" said he, "listen, brother! It is the cry of Átahsaia, and the old wretch is surely abroad to cause tears!" "Yes," replied the elder. "It is Átahsaia, and we must stop him! Come on, come on; quick!"

"Hold, brother, hold! Stiffen your feet right here with patience. He is after the two maidens of Héshokta! I saw them going to the spring as I came down. This day he must die. Is your face to the front?" "It is; come on," said the elder brother, starting forward.

"Stiffen your feet with patience, I say," again exclaimed the younger brother. "Know you that the old demon comes up the pathway below here? He will not hurt them until he gets them home. You know he is a great liar, and a great flatterer; that is the way the old beast catches people. Now, if we wait here we will surely see them when they come up."

So, after quarreling a little, the elder brother consented to sit down on a rock, which overlooked the pathway and was within bow shot of the old demon's cave.

Now, while the girls were washing, Átahsaia ran as fast as his old joints would let him until the two girls heard his muttering and rattling weapons.

"Something is coming, sister!" cried the younger, and both ran toward the rocks to hide again, but they were too late. The old demon strode around by another way and suddenly, at a turn, came face to face with them, glaring with his bloodshot eyes and waving his great jagged flint knife. But as he neared them he lowered the knife and smiled, straightening himself up and approaching the frightened ones as gently as would a young man.

The poor younger sister clung to the elder one, and sank moaning by her side, for the smile of Átahsaia was as fearful as the scowl of a triumphant enemy, or the laugh of a rattlesnake when he hears any old man tell a lie and thinks he will poison him for it.

"Why do you run, and why do you weep so? Asked the old demon. "I know you. I am ugly and old, my pretty maidens, but I am your grandfather and mean you no harm at all. I frightened you only because I felt certain you would run away from me if you could."

"Ah!" faltered the elder sister, immediately getting over her fright. "We did not know you and therefore we were frightened by you. Come, sister, come," said she to the younger. "Brighten your eyes and thoughts, for our grandfather will not hurt us. Don't you see?"

But the younger sister only shook her head and sobbed. Then the demon got angry. "What are you blubbering about?" he roared, raising his knife and sweeping it wildly through the air. "Do you see this knife? This day I will cut off the light of your life with it if you do not swallow your whimpers!"

"Get up, oh, do get up, háni!" whispered the elder sister, now again frightened herself. "Surely he will not cut us off just now, if we obey him; and is it not well that even for a little time the light of life shine-though it shine through fear and sadness-than be cut off altogether? For who knows where the trails tend that lead through the darkness of the night of death?"

You know, in the speech of the rulers of the world and of our ancients, a man's light was cut off when his life was taken, and when he died he came to the dividing-place of life. The háni tried to rally her and rose to her feet, but she still trembled.

"Now, my pretty maidens, my own granddaughters, even," said the old demon once more, as gently as at first, "I am most glad I found you. How good are the gods! For I am a poor, lone old man. All my people are gone." (Here he sighed like the hiss of a wildcat.) "Yonder above is my home" (pointing over his shoulder), "and as I am a great hunter, plenty of venison is baking in my rear room and more sweet-bread than I can eat. Lo! It makes me homesick to eat alone, and when I saw you and saw how pretty and gentle you were, I thought that it might be you would throw the light of your favor on me, and go up to my house to share of my abundance and drink from my vessels. Besides, I am so old that only now and then can I get a full jar of water up to my house. So I came as fast as I could to ask you to return and eat with me."

Reassured by his kind speech, the elder sister hastened to say: "Of course, we will go with our grandfather, and if that is all he may want of us, we can soon fill his water-jars, can't we, háni?"

"You are a good girl," said the old demon to the one who had spoken; then, glaring at the younger sister: "Bring that fool along with you and come up; she will not come by herself; she has more bashfulness than sense, and less sense than my knife, because that makes the world more wise by killing off fools."

He led the way and the elder sister followed, dragging along the shrinking háni. The old demon kept talking in a loud voice as they went up the pathway, telling all sorts of entertaining stories, until, as they neared the rocks where Áhaiyúta and Mátsailéma were waiting, the Two heard him and said to one another: "Ahh, they come!"

Then the elder brother jumped up and began to tighten his bow, but the younger brother muttered: "Sit down, won't you, you fool! Átahsaia's ears are like bat-ears, only bigger. Wait now, till I say ready. You know he will not hurt the girls until he gets them out from his house. Look over there in front of his hole. Do you see the flat place that leads along to that deep chasm beyond?" "Yes," replied the elder brother. "But what of that?"

"What but that there he cuts the throats of his captives and casts their bones and heads into the depths of the chasm! Do you see the notch in the stone? That's where he lets their blood flow down, and for that reason no one ever discovers his tracks. Now, stiffen your feet with patience, I say, and we will see what to do when the time comes.

Again they sat and waited. As the old demon and the girls passed along below, the elder brother again started and would have shot had not Mátsailéma held him back. "You fool of a brother elder, but not wiser, No! Do you not know that your arrow is lightning and will kill the maidens as well as the monster?"

Finally, the demon reached the entrance to his cave, and, going in, asked the girls to follow him, laying out two slabs for them to sit on. "Now, sit down, my pretty girls, and I will soon get something for you to eat. You must be hungry." Going to the rear of the cave, he broke open a stone oven, and the steam, which arose, was certainly delicious and meaty. Soon he brought out two great bowls, big enough to feed a whole dance. One contained meat, the other a mess resembling sweetbread pudding. "Now, let us eat," said the demon, seating himself opposite, and at once diving his horny fingers and scaly hand half up to the wrist in the meat-broth. The elder sister began to take bits of the food to eat it, when the younger made a motion to her, and showed her with horror the bones of a little hand. The sweetbread was the flesh and bones of little children. Then the two girls only pretended to eat, taking the food out and throwing it down by the side of the bowls.

"Why don't you eat?" demanded the demon, cramming at the same time a huge mouthful of the meat, bones and all, into his wide throat. "We are eating," said one of the girls. "Then why do you throw my food away?" "We are throwing away only the bones."

"Well, the bones are the better part," retorted the demon, taking another huge mouthful, by way of example, big enough to make a grown man's meal. "Oh, yes!" he added; "I forgot that you had baby teeth."

After the meal was finished, the old demon said: "Let us go out and sit down in the sun on my terrace. Perhaps, my pretty maidens, you will comb an old man's hair, for I have no one left to help me now," he sighed, pretending to be very sad. So, showing the girls where to sit down, without waiting for their assent he settled himself in front of them and leaned his head back to have it combed. The two maidens dared not disobey; and now and then they pulled at a long, coarse hair, and then snapped their fingers close to his scalp, which so deceived the old demon that he grunted with satisfaction every time. At last their knees were so tired by his weight upon them that they said they were done, and Átahsaia, rising, pretended to be greatly pleased, and thanked them over and over. Then he told them to sit down in front of him, and he would comb their hair as they had combed his, but not to mind if he hurt a little for his fingers were old and stiff. The two girls again dared not disobey, and sat down as he had directed. Uhh! How the old beast grinned and glared and breathed softly between his teeth.

The two brothers had carefully watched everything, the elder one starting up now and then, and the younger remaining quiet. Suddenly Mátsailéma sprang up. He caught the shield the Sun-father had given him, -- the shield, which, though made only of nets and knotted cords, would ward off alike the weapons of the warrior or the magic of the wizard. Holding it aloft, he cried to Áhaiyúta: "Stand ready; the time is come! If I miss him, pierce him with your arrow. Now, then--" He hurled the shield through the air. Swiftly as a hawk and noiselessly as an owl, it sailed straight over the heads of the maidens and settled between them and the demon's face. The shield was invisible, and the old demon knew not it was there. He leaned over as if to examine the maidens' heads. He opened his great mouth, and, bending yet nearer, made a vicious bite at the elder one.

"Ai, ai! My poor little sister, alas!" with which both fell to sobbing and moaning, and crouched, expecting instantly to be destroyed.

But the demon's teeth caught in the meshes of the invisible shield, and, howling with vexation, he began struggling to free him of the encumbrance. Áhaiyúta drew a shaft to the point and let fly. With a thundering noise that rent the rocks, and a rush of strong wind, the shaft blazed through the air and buried itself in the demon's shoulders, piercing him through ere the thunder had half done pealing. Swift as mountain sheep were the leaps and light steps of the brothers, who, bounding to the shelf of rock, drew their war-clubs and soon softened the hard skull of the old demon with them. The younger sister was unharmed save by fright; but the elder sister lay where she had sat, insensible.

"Hold!" cried Mátsailéma, "she was to blame, but then-" Lifting the swooning maiden in his strong little arms, he laid her apart from the others, and, breathing into her nostrils, soon revived her eyes to wisdom.

"This day have we, through the power of sawanikia, seen for our father an enemy of our children, men? A beast that caused unto fatherless children, unto "menless" women, unto "womenless" men (who thus became through his evil will), tears and sad thoughts, has this day been looked upon by the Suit and laid low. May the favors of the gods thus meet us ever."

Thus said the two brothers, as they stood over the gasping, still struggling but dying demon; and as they closed their little prayer, the maidens, who now first saw whom they had to thank for their deliverance, were overwhelmed with gladness, yet shame. They exclaimed, in response to the prayer: "May they, indeed, thus meet you and ourselves!" Then they breathed upon their hands.

The two brothers now turned toward the girls. "Look ye upon the last enemy of men," said they, "whom this day we have had the power of sawanikia given us to destroy; whom this day the father of all, our father the Sun, has looked upon, whose light of life this day our weapons have cut off; whose path of life this day our father has divided. Not ourselves, but our father has done this deed, through us. Haste to your home in Héshokta and tell your father these things; and tell him, pray, that he must assemble his priests and teach them these our words, for we divide our paths of life henceforth from one another and from the paths of men, no more to mingle save in spirit with the children of men. But we shall depart for our everlasting home in the mountains--the one to the Mountain of Thunder, the other to the Mount of the Beloved -- to guard from sunrise to sunset the land of the Corn-priests of Earth, that the foolish among men break not into the Middle Country of Earth and lay it waste. Yet we shall require of our children the plumes wherewith we dress our thoughts, and the forms of our being wherewith men may renew us each year at "mid sun". Henceforth two stars at morning and evening will be seen, the one going before, the other following, the Sun-father--the one Áhaiyúta, his herald; the other Mátsailéma, his guardian; warriors both, and fathers of men. May the trail of life be finished ere divided! Go ye happily hence."

The maidens breathed from the hands of the Twain, and with bowed heads and a prayer of thanks started down the pathway toward the Town of the Cliffs. When they came to their home, the old father asked whence they came. They told the story of their adventure and repeated the words of the Beloved.

The old man bowed his head, and said: "It was Áhaiyúta and Mátsailéma!" Then he made a prayer of thanks, and cast abroad on the winds white meal of the seeds of earth and shells from the Great Waters of the World, the pollen of beautiful flowers, and the paints of war.

"It is well!" he said. "Four days hence I will assemble my warriors, and we will cut the plume-sticks, paint and feather them, and place them on high mountains, that through their knowledge and power of medicine our Beloved Two Warriors may take them unto themselves."

Now, when the maidens disappeared among the rocks below, the brothers looked each at the other and laughed. Then they shouted, and Áhaiyúta kicked Átahsaia's ugly carcass till it gurgled, at which the two boys shouted again most hilariously and laughed. "That's what we proposed to do with you, old beast!" they cried out.

"But, brother younger," said Áhaiyúta, "what shall be done with him now?" "Let's skin him," said Mátsailéma. So they set to work and skinned the body from foot to head, as one skins a fawn when one wishes to make a seed-bag. Then they put sticks into the legs and arms, and tied strings to them, and stuffed the body with dry grass and moss; and where they set the thing up against the cliff it looked verily like the living Átahsaia.

"Uhh! What an ugly beast he was!" said Mátsailéma. Then he shouted: "Wahaha, hihiho!" and almost doubled up with laughter. "Won't we have fun with old grandmother, though. Hurry up; let's take care of the rest of him!"

They cut off the head, and Áhaiyúta said to it: "Thou hast been a liar, and told a falsehood for every life thou hast taken in the world; therefore shall thou become a lying star, and each night thy guilt shall be seen of all men throughout the wide world." He twirled the bloody head around once or twice, and cast it with all might into the air. Wa muu! It sped through the spaces into the middle of the sky like a spurt of blood, and now it is a great red star. It rises in summer time and tells of the coming morning when it is only midnight; hence it is called Mokwanosana (Great Lying Star).

Then Mátsailéma seized the great knife and ripped open the abdomen with one stroke. Grasping the intestines, he tore them out and exclaimed: "Ye have devoured and digested the flesh of men over the whole wide world; therefore ye shall be stretched from one end of the earth to the other, and the children of those ye have wasted will look upon ye every night and will say to one another:

'Ah, the entrails of him who caused sad thoughts to our grandfathers shine well tonight!' and they will laugh and sneer at ye." Whereupon he slung the whole mass aloft, and tsolo! It stretched from one end of the world to the other, and became the Great Snow-drift of the Skies (Milky Way). Lifting the rest of the carcass, they threw it down into the chasm whither the old demon had thrown so many of his victims, and the rattlesnakes came out and ate of the flesh day after day till their fangs grew yellow with putrid meat, and even now their children's fangs are yellow and poisonous.

"Now, then, for some fun!" shouted Mátsailéma. Do you catch the old bag up and prance around with it a little; and I will run off to see how it looks."

Áhaiyúta caught up the effigy, and, hiding himself behind, pulled at the strings till it looked, of all things thinkable, like the living Átahsaia himself starting out for a hunt, for they threw the lion skins over it and tied the bow in its hand.

"Excellent! Excellent!" exclaimed the boys, and they clapped their hands and wa-ha-ha-ed and ho-ho-ho-ed till they were sore. Then, dragging the skin along, they ran as fast as they could, down to the plain below Twin Mountain.

The Sun was climbing down the western ladder, and their old grandmother had been looking all over the mountains and valleys below to see if the two boys were coming. She had just climbed the ladder and was gazing and fretting and saying: "Oh! Those two boys! Terrible pests and as hardhearted and as long-winded in having their own way as a turtle is in having his! Now, something has happened to them; I knew it would," when suddenly a frightened scream came up from below.

"Ho-o-o-ta! Ho-o-o-ta! Come quick! Help! Help!" the voice cried, as if in anguish. "Uhh!" exclaimed the old woman, and she went so fast in her excitement that she tumbled through the trap door, and then jumped up, scolding and groaning.

She grabbed a poker of piñon, and rushed out of the house. Sure enough, there was poor Mátsailéma running hard and calling again and again for her to hurry down. The old woman hobbled along over the rough path as fast as she could, and until her wind was blowing shorter and shorter, when, suddenly turning around the crags, she caught sight of Áhaiyúta struggling to get away from Átahsaia.

"O ai o! I knew it! I knew it!" cried the old woman; and she ran faster than ever until she came near enough to see that her poor grandson was almost tired out, and that Mátsailéma had lost even his war-club. "Stiffen your feet, --my boys, --wait--a bit," puffed the old woman, and, flying into a passion, she rushed at the effigy and began to pound it with her poker, till the dust fairly smoked out of the dry grass, and the skin doubled up as if it were in pain.

Mátsailéma rolled and kicked in the grass, and Áhaiyúta soon had to let the stuffed demon fall down for sheer laughing. But the old woman never ceased. She belabored the demon and cursed his cannibal heart and told him that was what he got for chasing her grandsons, and that, and this, and that, whack! Whack! Without stopping, until she thought the monster surely must be dead. Then she was about to rest when suddenly the boys pulled the strings, and the demon sprang up before her, seemingly as well as ever. Again the old woman fell to, but her strokes kept getting feebler and feebler, her breath shorter and shorter, until her wind went out and she fell to the ground.

How the boys did laugh and roll on the ground when the old grandmother moaned: "Alas! Alas! This day--my day--light is--cut off--and my wind of life--fast going."

The old woman covered her head with her tattered mantle; but when she found that Átahsaia did not move, she raised her eyes and looked through a rent. There were her two grandsons rolling and kicking on the grass and holding their mouths with hands, their eyes swollen and faces red with laughter. Then she suddenly looked for the demon. There lay the skin, all torn and battered out of shape.

"So ho! You pesky wretches; that are the way you treat me, is it? Well! never again will I help you, never!" she snapped, "nor shall you ever live with me more!" Whereupon the old woman jumped up and hobbled away.

But little did the brothers care. They laughed till she was far away, and then said one to the other: "It is done!" Since that time, the grandmother has gone, no one knows where. But Áhaiyúta and Mátsailéma are the bright stars of the morning and evening, just in front of and behind the Sun-father himself. Yet their spirits hover over their shrines on Thunder Mountain and the Mount of the Beloved, they say, or linger over the Middle of the World, forever to guide the games and to guard the warriors of the Land of Zuñi. Thus it was in the days of the ancients.