Seneca Fiction, Legends, and Myths Thirty-Second Annual...

When the sister went out to plant, she would fasten the door of the lodge so that nothing might harm her brother. She did not allow him to go out alone. To amuse him she got a raccoon’s foot, and also brought him a bow and some arrows. In playing he tossed up the raccoon’s foot, telling the arrows to strike it, and the arrows always hit the foot before it fell to the ground.

One day while Yenyentʻhwus was at home, a voice was heard in the upper part of the lodge, saying, “Mush, brother! Mush, brother!” Hodadeñon asked, “How is this? I thought we were alone in the lodge?” The sister said, “It is our poor brother; he is only just alive.” “Well, my sister, make him some mush,” said the little boy.

Uncovering a place under her couch, the sister took out a very small pot and a little fragment of a chestnut. Putting the least bit of meal scraped from the chestnut into the pot with water, she boiled it. While doing this she stirred the meal and tapped the pot, which increased in size until it became as large as any pot. When the mush was cooked the sister took it off the fire and put it all into a [200]bowl, saying to Hodadeñon, “Go up the ladder and feed your brother.” Climbing the ladder, he found a man lying in the upper room or attic. The little fellow said, “I have brought you mush, my brother.” The brother, whose name was Hadjisgwas,57 took two or three mouthfuls of the mush and it was all eaten. Then, after exhaling his breath two or three times and rubbing his arms and legs, he began to sing.

Hodadeñon heard the singing and the beating of time overhead. A little later they heard Hadjisgwas call out, “Tobacco!” and the little boy said, “My sister, our brother wants to smoke.” “Oh!” said she, “Our poor brother! he is barely alive; he lives on chestnut meal and tobacco.” Going aside, she got a big pipe, into which she put tobacco. Lighting it with a coal of fire, she gave it to the little boy, saying, “Take this up to your brother.” Hodadeñon went, with the words, “My brother, I have come with a pipe for you.” “Thank you,” said Hadjisgwas, and with one puff he so filled the room with smoke that he nearly smothered the boy, who had to hurry down to escape. Soon they who were below heard a sound as though Hadjisgwas blew through the pipestem and rapped out the ashes from the pipe. After rubbing his arms and legs, he began to sing. They thought his voice was stronger. Then Yenyentʻhwus went out planting, having first fastened the door so as to keep in her little brother.

When his sister had gone, Hodadeñon thought he would like to make some chestnut mush for his brother in the loft and to sing and dance for him. Finding the little pot under his sister’s couch, he took from it the piece of chestnut, every bit of which he scraped into the kettle. As it boiled he tapped the pot, which grew as large as any vessel. When the meal was cooked he poured it out—a great bark bowl full of chestnut mush. This he took up to the loft, saying, “My brother, I have made you another bowl of mush.” “Thank you, brother,” said Hadjisgwas, who ate the mush and, after rubbing himself, began to sing. He was stronger now, so he could sing a regular song. After Hodadeñon had come down and put away the kettle, he thought, “My brother must have a smoke.” Therefore he cut up all the tobacco there was and put it into the pipe, which he carried to the loft, saying, “My brother, I have brought you a pipe.” His brother said, “Thank you.” “After you have smoked, I wish you would sing while I dance,” said Hodadeñon.

Hadjisgwas sent out such a puff of smoke that the little boy had to hurry down the ladder to escape it. He had not been down long before his sister came in. He said to her, “Oh, my sister, I have made our brother some pudding.” “How did you make it?” she asked. “I cut up all the chestnut and boiled it,” he replied. “Oh, now he will die on your account,” she said. “After he ate the mush,” said Hodadeñon, “I gave him a smoke.” “How did you do that?” asked [201]Yenyentʻhwus. “I shaved up the piece of tobacco, put it into the pipe, and gave it to him,” said he. “Now we shall surely lose our brother on your account,” said Yenyentʻhwus; “you have done great mischief.” “Well, my sister, where are the chestnuts? I will go and get more of them.”

“Those chestnuts,” she said, “grow at the eastern end of the world; and on this side of them, where the tobacco grows, are many wizards. Before you come to the lodge of the wizards is a river, over which trees are thrown to walk upon. Just beyond the river are two great rattlesnakes, one on each side of the path, which attack every one who goes that way. If you pass them safely, you will come to a great rocky mountain, so steep that no mere man can climb it. There is but one pass through that mountain, and just beyond the pass stand two Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa, each one half as tall as a tree. If you should succeed in passing these, going farther you would come upon two men at the edge of an opening or clearing, who give the alarm the moment they see anyone, whereupon the wizards run out to attack whomsoever they find approaching. If you should make your way past these men and reach a knoll from which the lodge of the wizards can be seen, you would find there a woman walking back and forth on a platform in front of the lodge, who begins to sing as soon as she sees a stranger; straightaway the wizards, rushing out, kill him who is approaching.”

The next day when Yenyentʻhwus went to plant she fastened the door, shutting in Hodadeñon. While she was gone, hearing some living thing outside, he tried to get out to shoot it. Then he heard a noise on the lodge roof and, looking up, he saw some kind of creature—he did not know what—with its eyes fixed on him. Then he said, “You are Odyaqgweonion,58 anyhow,” thinking to himself, “I will shoot at the game.” Drawing his bow, he said to the arrow, “I wish you to go straight to the game.” The arrow struck the creature, killing it; thereupon he rushed to bring it in. Not being able to open the door, he dug a hole in the earth close to the door, through which he got out. Bringing in the game, he put it into the corn mortar and covered it. When Yenyentʻhwus, his sister, came, he said, “My sister, I have killed game.” “Well, where is it?” she asked. “Here in the corn mortar,” answered Hodadeñon. Running thither, he brought the game to his sister. “Oh! that is a chickadee,” said she. Having dressed and cooked the bird, Yenyentʻhwus began to eat it. Hodadeñon stood there watching her eat, and asked, “Is it good?” “Yes,” she replied. After looking on a while longer, he asked, “Are you not going to give me some?” “No,” she replied, “this is the first game you have killed, and you must not eat of it; it would not be right.”59 [202]

The next morning the boy said to his sister, “You will have to tie a belt around me now; I am going out.” She had to do what he asked, for she could not help doing it. Putting the belt on him and preparing him for the day, she said, “You must not go north nor far away; stay near the lodge.”

Yenyentʻhwus then went to her work in the field. Soon the boy, seeing a bird on a tree, said, “You must be the bird they call Gwenhdaen nisedosyoden,”60 whereupon he killed it with his arrow. Carrying in the game, he put it into the corn mortar. When his sister came he said, “I have some game, sister,” showing her the bird. “Oh!” said she, “that is the Gwenhdaen nisedosyoden.” She dressed, cooked, and ate the bird, but did not give him a bite.

The next morning, getting up early and making a fire, he called his sister to get breakfast, so that he might go hunting in good time. After breakfast he said, “My sister, put on my belt and get me ready.” She girded him and made him ready for the day. Both went out, she to her planting and he to his hunting. After he had been out a while, seeing a bird, he said, “I do not know you, but I think you are Djeqgowa.”61 He hit the bird with his arrow, killing it, and brought it home; putting it into the corn mortar, he covered it. When his sister came he said, “My sister, I have game; here it is.” “Thank you,” said she; “that is what we call a pigeon.” After dressing the bird she cut it into two parts, one of which she put away and the other cut into pieces, saying that she was going to make dumplings. She pounded corn meal and, mixing the meat with it, made dumplings, which both of them ate.

He went farther than before, and seeing a new kind of bird running along, said, “You look pretty well; you must be what they call Dyoyoqgwahacyon.”62 He drew his bow and hit the bird with his arrow. It ran a while, and he called, “Hold on; do not break my best arrow.” The bird stopped and died.

The next morning Hodadeñon was up early. His sister put on his belt for him, and both went out. She told him to stay near the lodge. Then she went to plant and he to hunt. He went farther than he had gone the day before. He saw a creature coming toward him; after watching it, he said, “I think it is you they call Shanoons­dehon.”63 Looking again, he said, “I think you are the one they call [203]Shadjinoqgyot.”64 The third time he said, “I think it is you they call Osoont.”65 At that moment the creature, seeing him, turned to run, but on Hodadeñon calling out, “Stop!” it stopped right there. Drawing his bow, he shot it. As the animal struggled he called, “Look out! do not break my best arrow.” Whereupon it stopped and died. Hodadeñon tried to carry the carcass, but could not lift it. Running to the place where his sister was planting, he said, “My sister, I have shot big game. I can not carry it.” She went with him to the game; when she saw it, she said, “That is what we call Osoont” (i.e., a turkey). She carried home the turkey, and after dressing it put half away and cooked the other half.

The next morning Yenyentʻhwus put the belt on Hodadeñon. She warned him against going north, or far from the lodge. On going a few steps farther than the day before he found tracks, all pointing in the same direction; thereupon he said: “My sister never told me that people lived here and that there was a path.” Putting his feet in the tracks, he found they fitted exactly. Just before him in the trail he saw a game animal coming. He said to himself: “This must be what they call Spotted Face, what they call Dyoyoqgwahacyon, or Striped Tail.” Drawing his bow, he pierced the creature with an arrow. As it went staggering along he called out: “Here! do not break my arrow; that is my best arrow.” Running up to it, he pulled out the arrow. Finding he was not able to carry the game animal, he had to go for his sister. When she came she said, “That is called Djoeaga.”66 After thanking her brother, she seized the raccoon by one leg and, throwing it over her shoulder, went toward home. She told her brother that she was going to make corn bread to eat with this kind of meat. When they reached home they cooked part of the raccoon and made corn bread. While the meat was cooking she skimmed off the oil, telling her brother that she had wanted oil for a long time. This oil she rubbed into her hair.

The brother and sister had more meat from this Djoeaga than they could eat, and some was left. The next morning, after breakfast, they went out, the sister to plant and the brother to hunt. At parting she warned him, as she had done every day before. Hodadeñon went this time a few steps farther than before. When he saw game coming toward him, he said: “You are the one they call Hustoyowanen.”67 Then, looking again, he said: “I think that you are the one they call Dodjenendogeni,”68 and as he looked, the animal, seeing him, turned to run. He called out to it: “Stop!” As it did so, drawing his bow, Hodadeñon pierced it with an arrow. The animal ran off out of sight, whereupon Hodadeñon screamed: “Stop! Stop! You are breaking my arrow!” But the game animal was not to be seen. Still the boy cried: “Stop! Stop! That is my best arrow. Stop!” Then he thought: “I have lost my arrow, but I will follow a little [204]farther. If I can not catch the game animal, I shall go for my sister, who will find it.”

Going on a short distance, he found the game animal lying dead. He ran for his sister, who came, and thanking him, said: “This time you have brought me Onogengowa.”69 She brought a strap braided out of hemp bark, so as to carry the meat home on her shoulders. Having skinned and cut up the deer, she divided it into pieces. Hodadeñon wanted to carry a part, so his sister, cutting off the feet, tied them together, and gave them to him. She carried half the meat home at one time and then went back for the other half.

The next day Hodadeñon went a little farther than before. On seeing a game animal walking along, he said to it, “You must be what they call Dasidowanes.”70 The game animal, seeing him, jumped, but he said, “Keep still.” It stopped, whereupon, drawing his bow, he shot an arrow into the animal, which rushed through the woods and out of sight. Hodadeñon cried, “Look out! that is my best arrow.” Following, he found the animal dead, with the arrow point sticking out of its body. He said to it, “You are Dasidowanes”; then he ran for his sister. When she came, she said, “This is Ganiagwaihe.”71 She skinned the bear and cut off the feet. She gave her brother the fore feet to carry, while she herself took half the meat home, and then went for the rest. They had a good supper that night, and the sister got more hair oil.

The next day they went out again, as usual, Hodadeñon to hunt and Yenyentʻhwus to plant. The brother went to the spot where he had killed the bear, but could see no game. Then he traveled in a circle, but could see nothing. As he looked toward the north it seemed very pleasant. There was an opening, or clearing, in front of him, and he thought he would go into it, hoping that he would find game there. In the middle of the clearing was a lodge. On peeping through a crack in the wall he saw a crowd of naked men of the Odjineowa72 people, dancing. Very soon one of these men said, “Some one is looking at us,” and then another said, “Let us kill him.”

Hodadeñon ran back to the woods, the men chasing him to the edge of the opening, where they turned back. Hodadeñon went a short distance toward home; then, taking a long stick of wood from a pile which his sister had made, he carried it to the edge of the opening, where he stuck it into the ground, saying, “When the men in that lodge run after me with their clubs, do you fight against them to help me.” Then he brought another stick, which he put down by the side of the first, with the same words. He kept on in this way until he had a great many sticks standing in the ground. [205]

Then, running to the lodge, he looked in again. The Odjineowa men, seeing him, said, “Let us be sure to kill him this time,” and rushed out with their clubs. The boy escaped, however, to the woods, and when the naked men came to the edge of the woods the sticks of Hodadeñon became people and fought, killing all the men. Thereupon Hodadeñon came, and after dragging the men one after another into their lodge, he set fire to it, burning them all up.

Having taken the sticks back to his sister’s woodpile, Hodadeñon went on until he came to the tall stump of a broken tree on which stood a man, who called out “Ogongaqgeni hiwaden, My eyes have outmatched yours, my nephew,” but the boy thought, “He does not see me,” so he passed by. The uncle did not see him. When the boy walked up, the uncle said: “You have come to me. I am an Hodiadatgon, a great wizard. What would you do if it should rain spears upon you?” “Oh,” said the boy, “I think my sister and I would be very glad, for we have no spears to fish with now.” Then he ran home with all his speed. When near the lodge he saw his sister go into it, whereupon he ran around it, saying, “Let our lodge be stone,” and straightway it was stone. Just then he heard a terrible roar, and a great rain of spears came down; some broke on the roof, others fell on the ground. When the shower of spears was over, his sister said, “You have gone toward the north.” “Yes, but I shall not go again,” replied the boy.

After a while he went out to play. While playing he thought, “I will go to my uncle and be the first to say, ‘Ogongaqgeni, My eyes outmatch yours.’ ” So he went on until he came as near his uncle as he could without being seen. Then he called a mole and, entering his body, he traveled underground up to the roots of the stump on which his uncle was standing. Coming out, he cried, “Ogongaqgeni hawknosen, What would you say if a fire should come and burn up that stump and the woods and all else there is about here?” “Oh, nephew, that is too much,” answered the uncle. “I did not say that is too much,” replied Hodadeñon, “when you sent a rain of darts on my sister and me.” At that moment thick smoke was seen coming, and soon the woods were in a blaze on every side. The fire spread to the spot where Hodadeñon’s uncle was. He fell off the stump, and, his head bursting, an owl came out of it and flew away.

Hodadeñon thought, “Now, I will go farther.” He had not traveled far through the woods before he came to another clearing, in which there was a lodge. Peeping through a crack, he saw within an old man with both eyes closed. All at once he called, “Come in, nephew! come in!” When the boy went in the old man said. “I always play a game of dice with people who come here. If I win, I shall have your head; if you win, you shall have mine.” The old man brought out six night owls’ eyes (hihi ogasʻhoon) for dice, saying, [206]“If they all turn up the same color, the throw will count five; if not, it will count one.” The uncle wanted the boy to play first, but he refused; the uncle insisted, but the boy would not. At last the old man agreed. Putting the six eyes into a bowl of wood, he shook it, throwing them up; they went out through the smoke-hole into the air. When they returned, they counted but one. “Now,” said the nephew, “take your dice out of the bowl. I have dice of my own.” The uncle did not wish to take out his dice, but the boy insisted, so he had to do so. Then Hodadeñon put in his dice, which were woodcocks’ eyes, and threw them up. They went high in the air and came down, calling out, “I think she is not setting, Nondjoqgwen.”73 The boy said, “Let them all come one color,” but the uncle said, “No, let them come in different colors.” All came alike in color, so the old man lost. “Now, nephew,” said he, “let me have one smoke more.” “Oh, no!” said Hodadeñon, “I can not do that.” Thereupon he cut off the old man’s head and went on farther.

“This is good sport,” said Hodadeñon, “I shall find another uncle, perhaps.” He traveled through the woods for a while until he came to a third opening. Far ahead in the center of it was a great rock, on which sat a Dagwanoenyent. Near the opposite side of the opening was a lodge. As Hodadeñon went up to the rock, the Dagwanoenyent called out, “Oh! you are my nephew. I have been wishing for a long time that you would come to see me; now we will play hide and seek.” Hodadeñon was to hide first. Dagwanoenyent faced the other way, and at that moment Hodadeñon, making himself into a flea (dewaqsentwus), jumped into the long bushy hair of Dagwanoenyent, where he hid. Then he called out, “You can not find me, uncle; you can not find me.” Dagwanoenyent looked all around—up in the air, in the trees, everywhere. At last, noticing a weed with a knot on its stem, he said, “Nephew, you are in that knot;” but the nephew was not there. Looking around a second time, he saw a knot on one of the trees. “You are in the knot on that tree, nephew.” “I am not,” answered Hodadeñon. When Dagwanoenyent saw that he had not found the boy he was terribly frightened. “There is danger,” said he, flying far away from the rock. Rising above the clouds, he sat on them. Then Hodadeñon called out from the long shaggy hair, “You can not see me, uncle; you can not see me.” “Oh!” said the uncle to himself, “I have come just by accident on the place where he is.” Then, flying off to an island in the sea, the old man stood there. Again Hodadeñon called out, “You can not see me, uncle; you can not see me.”

He could not indeed see the boy, so he flew back to his place in the opening in the forest. Once more Hodadeñon cried, “You can not see me, uncle.” Dagwanoenyent replied: “I have [207]lost the game, but I did not bet my head. Now, you may have control of these three witches,” pointing to three women who were pounding corn outside the lodge at the edge of the clearing. The women, who were man-eaters, were very angry when they heard the words of Dagwanoenyent, their servant, and ran to strike him with their clubs. They had the clubs raised to give the blow, when Hodadeñon willed their death, and they dropped lifeless. The boy and his uncle cut their heads off and burned their lodge. Now Dagwanoenyent and Hodadeñon became friends, and the uncle said, “Nephew, if ever you get into trouble, all you have to do is to think of me, and I will come and help you.”

The boy thought, “I have had sport enough, and shall now go to my sister.” After he had come in and sat down he began to laugh. His sister asked, “Why do you laugh?” “Oh, I laugh about what I have seen,” he said. “I have put an end to my uncle on the stump and my uncle who played dice; I have beaten my uncle Dagwanoenyent and frightened him terribly; and I have killed the three witches and cut off their heads and burned their lodge. This is why I laugh.” “Now,” said the sister, “I thank you, my brother, for many people have been deceived and killed by these persons.”

That night he said to his sister, “Make me parched corn meal and two dumplings with bear’s fat in them. Tomorrow I am going to get the chestnuts.” She did all that he wished. Setting out the next morning, he kept on his way until he came to the river over which the tree was thrown. When halfway across on the tree, two rattlesnakes began to rattle. Thereupon, going back, he caught two Tsohoqgwais.74 Returning by way of the tree again, when he came to the snakes, he gave a chipmunk to each, saying, “You are free now. I shall kill you unless you leave this place.” The snakes ran away.

Hodadeñon went on until he came to the opening in the forest, at the farther end of which was the mountain wall. When he came to the wall he found the pass. As he was coming out on the other side he heard all at once hoⁿ hoⁿ hoⁿ hoⁿ, and saw the two Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa, half as tall as the highest tree. “Keep still! Keep still!” said Hodadeñon: “I have brought you dumplings. You like dumplings.” So saying, he gave each one. Then he said: “You are free now. You need not guard this place any longer.” Thereupon they ran away.

Hodadeñon went on until he saw two Djoasha.75 Then, going into the woods, he dug up wild beans, which he brought as near as he could to the herons, calling out, “Pur! Pur! Stop! Stop! Here are beans for you to eat.” So saying, he set them free, with the words, “Go from here and be free,” and they left the place. [208]

Hodadeñon went on until he came to the woman’s skin walking along on a platform. Turning back, he peeled bark from a slippery-elm tree. Marked off into small pieces, he made it turn to wampum. Then he called a mole and, getting into it, said, “Carry me to the platform yonder.” The mole took him under the ground to the platform, whereupon he put his head out and gave the woman wampum, saying, “Keep quiet!” Leaving the mole, he went to a tree where there were great piles of chestnuts. Here he took up a nut and, splitting it, put one-half into his bag and hurried back. He had almost reached the woods when the woman on watch cried, “I have seen some one!” One of the three sisters, running out, looked at the woman, who changed her words, calling, “I have lied, Ogenowent.” The three sisters were very angry and had a mind to kill the watch. When the latter called again, “I have seen some one,” then the mother said, “Do your best, my daughters; do your best. It must be Hodadeñon; kill him and finish his family.”

The three sisters saw Hodadeñon far off in the distance. The eldest sister ran ahead. As she raised her club to strike, Hodadeñon disappeared into the ground and the woman, striking her kneepan with the club, fell and could go no farther. The next moment Hodadeñon was up, walking along again slowly. The second sister came up enraged, but as she raised her club to strike he disappeared into the ground. She, too, striking her kneepan, fell. The youngest sister tried, but with the same result, and then the old woman. All four were disabled, while Hodadeñon went back to his sister unharmed. He gave Yenyentʻhwus the half chestnut, saying, “Make plenty of mush for our brother, as much as he wants, and give it to him often.”

One day when Hodadeñon was playing near the lodge, he cried out suddenly and fell to the ground screaming. His sister ran to him, asking, “What is the matter? Where are you hurt?” “Nowhere,” he answered. “Why do you cry then?” she asked. “I heard my brother Hotgoendaqsais76 sing a song and call on my name; he says I am his brother,” said he. “That is true,” said Yenyentʻhwus; “and he is in the east, at the place where the sun comes up. He is tied to a stake there and people burn him with firebrands and torment him to make him cry, for his tears are wampum, and when they fall the people run to pick them up.” “Well, where does tobacco grow?” asked Hodadeñon. “On the other side of the world, where Deagahgweoses77 lives. This man stole our tobacco from us and carried it off. No one can conquer him, for he is a great wizard, i.e., Hotgongowa.”

That night Hodadeñon told his sister to pound parched corn and make meal for him. In the morning he got ready for the road. Yenyentʻhwus put the food in a bundle on her brother’s back. It was [209]so heavy that at noon he had only reached the edge of the clearing where their lodge was. Sitting down there, he ate his lunch. Yenyentʻhwus, who was watching him all the time, said, “Poor brother, I think he will come back soon.” She looked again, but he was gone.

In the evening Hodadeñon looked for a hollow tree in which to spend the night. Having found one, he crawled in, and was lying there at his ease when in the early part of the night he heard a man coming up. When he reached the tree, the man called out, “Hodadeñon, are you here?” “I am,” answered Hodadeñon. “Well,” asked the stranger, “what would you do if one of the Ganiagwaihe should come to eat you up?” “Oh, I should have fun with him,” said Hodadeñon.

The other went away and soon a very large Ganiagwaihe came. Pointing his arrow at it, Hodadeñon shot the bear in the neck. Then away ran the bear. The boy said, “I will go to sleep now, for there is no use in being troubled by such creatures.” The next morning when Hodadeñon came out he found that the trees had been torn up by the roots all along the track of the bear. At last coming to the place where the bear lay dead he thought, “I shall have nothing to do with such an ugly creature,” and drawing out his arrow, he left the bear’s carcass lying there.

The next evening he found another hollow tree, into which he crawled, prepared to sleep. But early in the night he heard some one come up to the tree and say: “Hodadeñon, you are now here. What would you do if a Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa should come to kill you?” “Oh! I should have sport with him,” replied Hodadeñon. “It is well,” the other returned, going away.