Читать книгу Creation Myths of Primitive America - Jeremiah Curtin - Страница 5

Table of Contents

PERSONAGES

After each name is given that of the beast, bird, or thing into which the personage was changed subsequently. Names on which accents are not placed are accented on the penult. Names of places are explained in the notes. Kiemila and Herit mean “old” and “young,” respectively; they are applied to male persons. Pokaila and Loimis are applied to females; the first means “old,” the second “young.”

Bisus, mink; Chálilak, goose; Chuluhl, meadow-lark; Dokos, flint; Hau, red fox; Héssiha, tomtit; Hilit, house-fly; Hlihli, white oak acorn; Hus, turkey buzzard; Kahit, wind; Kahsuku, cloud dog; Kaisus, gray squirrel; Kar, gray heron; Karili, coon; Katkatchila, swift; Katsi, chicken-hawk; Kau, white crane; Kiriú, loon; Klabus, mole; Klak, rattlesnake; Kuntihlé, fish-hawk; Lutchi, humming-bird; Mem Loimis, water; Mem Tulit, beaver; Min Taitai, sap-sucker; Móihas, bald eagle; Pákchuso, the pakchu stone; Patsotchet, badger; Poháramas, shooting star; Sas, sun; Sedit, coyote; Sosini, a small web-footed bird; Sútunut, black eagle; Tede Wiu, a small bird; Tilichi, a water-bird; Tilikus, fire drill; Titchelis, ground squirrel; Toko, sunfish; Tórihas, blue crane; Tsárarok, kingfisher; Tsaroki Sakahl, green snake; Tsurat, woodpecker; Wehl Dilidili, road-runner; Wima Loimis, grizzly bear; Wokwuk, a large bird, extinct; Yilahl, gopher; Yoholmit, frog; Yonot, buckeye bush.

THE first that we know of Olelbis is that he was in Olelpanti. Whether he lived in another place is not known, but in the beginning he was in Olelpanti (on the upper side), the highest place. He was in Olelpanti before there was anything down here on the earth, and two old women were with him always. These old women he called grandmother, and each of them we call Pakchuso Pokaila.

There was a world before this one in which we are now. That world lasted a long, long time, and there were many people living in it before the present world and we, the present people, came.

One time the people of that first world who were living then in the country about here[1] were talking of those who lived in one place and another. Down in the southwest was a person whose name was Katkatchila. He could kill game wonderfully, but nobody knew how he did it, nor could any one find out. He did not kill as others did; he had something that he aimed and threw; he would point a hollow stick which he had, and something would go out of it and kill the game. In that time a great many people lived about this place where we are now, and their chief was Torihas Kiemila; these people came together and talked about Katkatchila.

[1] That is, in the Upper Sacramento Valley.

Some one said: “I wonder if he would come up here if we sent for him.”

“Let us send for him,” said Torihas; “let us ask him to come; tell him that we are going to have a great dance. To-morrow we will send some one down to invite him.”

Next morning Torihas sent a messenger to invite Katkatchila; he sent Tsaroki Sakahl, a very quick traveller. Though it was far, Tsaroki went there in one day, gave the invitation, and told about Torihas and his people.

“I agree,” said Katkatchila. “I will go in the morning.”

Tsaroki went home in the night, and told the people that Katkatchila would come on the following day.

“What shall we do?” asked they.

“First, we will dance one night,” said the chief; “then we will take him out to hunt and see how he kills things.”

Katkatchila had a sister; she had a husband and one child. She never went outdoors herself. She was always in the house. Nobody ever saw the woman or her child.

When Katkatchila was ready to start he told his sister that he was going, and said to his brother-in-law: “I am going. You must stay at home while I am gone.”

The sister was Yonot. Her husband was Tilikus.

Katkatchila came to a hill up here, went to the top of it, and sat down. From the hill he could see the camp of the people who had invited him. He stayed there awhile and saw many persons dancing. It was in summer and about the middle of the afternoon. At last Katkatchila went down to where they were dancing, and stopped a little way off. Torihas, who was watching, saw him and said—

“Come right over here, Katkatchila, and sit by me.”

Olelbis was looking down from Olelpanti at this moment, and said to the old women, “My grandmothers, I see many people collected on earth; they are going to do something.”

Katkatchila sat down and looked on. Soon all the people stopped dancing and went to their houses. Torihas had food brought to Katkatchila after his journey. While he was eating, Torihas said to him—

“My grandson, I and all my people have lived here very long. My people want to dance and hunt. I sent one of them to ask you to come up here. They will dance to-night and go hunting to-morrow.”

Torihas stood up then and said—

“You my people, we will all dance to-night and to-morrow morning we will go to hunt. Do not leave home, any of you. Let all stay. We will have a great hunt. Katkatchila, will you stay with us?” asked he. “I shall be glad if you go and hunt with us.”

“I will go with you,” said Katkatchila. “I am glad to go.”

They danced all night. Next morning, after they had eaten, and just as they were starting off to hunt, the chief said to his people—

“I will send my grandson with Katkatchila, and some of you, my sons, stay near him.”

Some said to others: “When Katkatchila shoots a deer, let us run right up and take out of the deer the thing with which he killed it, and then we won’t give it back to him.”

“Do you stay with him, too,” said Torihas to Kaisus, who was a swift runner.

The whole party, a great many people, went to Hau Buli to hunt. When they got onto the mountain they saw ten deer. Katkatchila shot without delay; as soon as he shot a deer fell, and Kaisus, who was ready, made a rush and ran up to the deer, but Katkatchila was there before him and had taken out the weapon.

He killed all ten of the deer one after another, and Kaisus ran each time to be first at the fallen body, but Katkatchila was always ahead of him. When they went home Kaisus carried one deer, and told of all they had done, saying—

“Now you people, go and bring in the other deer. I don’t believe any man among us can run as fast as Katkatchila; he is a wonderful runner. I don’t know what he uses to kill game, and I don’t think we can get it away from him.”

That night Hau spoke up among his friends and said, “I will go with Katkatchila to-morrow and see what I can do.”

A great many of the people talked about Katkatchila that night, saying—

“We do not think that he will ever come to us again, so we must all do our best to get his weapon while he is here.”

Katkatchila was ready to go home after the hunt, but Torihas persuaded him, saying: “Stay one day more. Hunt with us to-morrow.”

Katkatchila agreed to stay. Next morning they went to hunt. Hau went among others, and stayed near Katkatchila all the time.

On the mountain they saw ten deer again. Katkatchila stood back to shoot. Hau was ready to spring forward to get the weapon. The moment the weapon was shot, Hau ran with all his strength, reached the deer first, took out the weapon and hid it in his ear.

That moment Katkatchila was there. “You have taken my flint!” cried he. “Give it back!”

“I have not taken it,” said Hau. “I have nothing of yours. I have just come.”

“You have it. I saw you take it,” said Katkatchila.

“I took nothing. I only put my hand on the deer’s head.”

“I saw you take it.”

“No, you did not. I haven’t it.”

Katkatchila kept asking all day for his flint, but Hau would neither give it back nor own that he had it. At last, when the sun was almost down, Katkatchila turned to Hau and said—

“I saw you take my flint. It would be better for you to give it back to me, better for you and very much better for your people. You want to keep the flint; well, keep it. You will see something in pay for this, something that will not make you glad.”

He left the hunt and went away in great anger, travelled all night and was at home next morning.

Torihas’s people went back from the hunt, and Hau with the others. He went into the sweat-house, took the flint out of his ear and held it on his palm. Every one came and looked at it. It was just a small bit of a thing.

“When I took this,” said Hau, “Katkatchila got very angry; he left us on the mountain and went home.”

All the people stood around looking at the flint in Hau’s hand.

“You have done wrong, you people,” said Patsotchet. “Katkatchila is very strong and quick; you will see what he will do. He has great power, more power than you think, and he will have vengeance. He will make us suffer terribly. He is stronger than we are. He can do anything. You will see something dreadful before long.”

“Now, my people,” said Torihas, “come into the sweat-house and we will see what we can do with that flint.”

All went in. Hau went last, for he had the flint. He held it out, showed it again, and said, “I took this because you people wanted it.”

They passed the flint from one to another; all looked at it, all examined it. One old man said: “Give it to me here, let me see it.” He got it in his hand, and said: “Now all go outside of the sweat-house.”

This was Hilit Kiemila. They went out, leaving him alone. Patsotchet kept on repeating, “Katkatchila is angry, he is malicious; before long we shall see what will happen.”

As soon as Hilit was alone in the sweat-house, he began to rub the flint with his hands and roll it with his legs (Hilit was turned afterward into a house-fly, and that is why house-flies keep rubbing their legs against each other to this day). He wanted to make the flint large. After he had rolled and rubbed the flint all night, it was four or five feet long, and as thick and wide. He let the block fall to the ground and it made a great noise, a very loud noise; people heard it for a long distance. Hilit went out then and said—

“Go in, all you people, and look at that good flint.”

They went and looked. It was almost daylight at the time, and each one said—

“Well, I don’t know what is best to do; perhaps it would be best to send this off. It may be bad for us to keep it here; bad for us to have it in the sweat-house or the village.”

They did not know who could carry the great block, it was so heavy. “Perhaps Patsotchet can carry it,” said they.

Torihas went outside and called Patsotchet, saying: “Come into the sweat-house a little while. You come seldom; but come now.”

Patsotchet left his house, which was near by, and went into the sweat-house.

“What are you going to do?” asked he. “It is too late to do anything now. I have known a long time about Katkatchila. He is very strong. He will do something terrible as soon as daylight comes.”

“Patsotchet,” said Torihas, “you are a good man. I wish you would take this big flint and carry it far away off north.”

“I don’t want to take it,” said Patsotchet. “It is too heavy.”

Torihas went to Karili, who lived a little way off, and said: “Come into the sweat-house. I wish to talk with you.”

Karili went in. “Take this block,” said Torihas. “No one is willing to carry it away, but you are strong. Carry it north for me.”

Karili took up the flint, but when he had it outside the house he said: “I cannot carry this. It is too heavy. I am not able to carry it.”

Torihas called in Tichelis, and said: “My uncle, will you take this north for me?”

“Why will not others take it? Why are they unwilling to carry it?” asked Tichelis. “Well, I will take it,” said he, after thinking a little; and he made ready.

“Take it and start right away,” said Torihas. “Daylight is coming. Go straight. I will go, too, and when I am on the top of Toriham Pui Toror I will shout, and show you where to put the block.”

Tichelis put the flint on his back and hurried away with it.

When Katkatchila reached home he told his brother-in-law, Tilikus, and his brother-in-law’s brother, Poharamas, and Yonot, his sister, how his flint had been stolen.

It was just before sunrise. Tilikus and Poharamas went out in front of the house and swept a space clean and smooth; then they ran off to the east and got pine as full of pitch as they could find it. They brought a great deal of this, split some very fine, and made a large pile there on the smooth place.

Just at this time Torihas’s people were in his sweat-house talking about the theft. “Nothing will happen,” said most of them; “old Patsotchet is always talking in that way, foretelling trouble. We will dance to-day. Tichelis has carried that thing far away; all will be well now.”

Yonot, Katkatchila’s sister, had one child, a little baby which she called Pohila (fire child). The woman never left the house herself, and never let any one carry the child out.

“Now, my sister,” said Katkatchila, “bring your child here; bring my nephew out, and put him on that nice, smooth place which we have swept clean; it will be pleasant there for him.”

She brought the boy out, put him on the smooth place. Poharamas was on the southeast side all ready, and Tilikus on the southwest side. As soon as Yonot put down the baby, they pushed pitch-pine sticks toward it. That instant fire blazed up. When the fire had caught well Poharamas took a large burning brand of pitch-pine and rushed off to the southeast; Tilikus took another and ran to the southwest. Poharamas, when he reached the southeast where the sky comes to the earth, ran around northward close to the sky; he held the point of his burning brand on the ground, and set fire to everything as he ran. When Tilikus reached the southwest, at the place where the sky touches the earth, he ran northward near the sky. The two brothers went swiftly, leaving a line of flame behind them, and smoke rose in a cloud with the fire.

After the two had started Yonot snatched up Pohila, and as she raised the boy a great flame flashed up from the spot. She ran into the house with her son, and put him into the basket where she had kept him till that morning.

Torihas’s people had begun to dance. Some time after sunrise they saw a great fire far away on the east and on the west as well.

“Oh, look at the fire on both sides!” said one.

“It is far off, and won’t come here,” said another.

“I feel the heat already!” cried a third.

Soon all saw that the fire was coming toward them from the east and the west like waves of high water, and the line of it was going northward quickly. The fire made a terrible roar as it burned; soon everything was seething. Everywhere people were trying to escape, all were rushing toward the north. By the middle of the forenoon the heat and burning were so great that people began to fall down, crying out—

“Oh, I’m hot! Ah, I’m hot!”

Torihas made a rush toward the north, and reached the top of Toriham Pui Toror. When he saw the fire coming very near he called out to Tichelis, who was struggling along with the great block of flint on his back—

“Go ahead with the flint! Go on, go on, the fire is far from here, far behind us!”

Tichelis heard the shouting, but said nothing; kept going northward steadily. When he was northeast of Bohem Puyuk, he saw the fire coming very fast, a mighty blaze roaring up to the sky. It was coming from the south, east, west. Tichelis could go no farther; there was no place for escape above ground; the fire would soon be where he was. The flint had grown very hot from the burning; he threw it down; it had skinned his back, it was so hot and heavy. He ran under the ground, went as far as he could, and lay there. Presently he heard the fire roaring above him, the ground was burning, he was barely alive; soon all blazed up, earth, rocks, everything.

Tichelis went up in flames and smoke toward the sky.

When the brothers Tilikus and Poharamas had carried the fire around the world and met in the north, just half-way between east and west, they struck their torches together and threw them on the ground. The moment before they joined the burning brands two persons rushed out between them. One was Klabus and the other Tsaroki, who had carried the invitation from Torihas to Katkatchila. They just escaped.

The flint rock that Tichelis dropped lies there yet, just where it fell, and when the Wintu people want black flint they find it in that place.

Poharamas and Tilikus ran home as soon as they struck their torches together.

Katkatchila had a little brother. He put the boy on his back, and went beyond the sky where it touches the earth in the south.

Yonot, the mother of Pohila, took her son and went behind the sky; her husband, Tilikus, went with her. Poharamas went to Olelpanti. He flew up to where Olelbis is.

Olelbis looked down into the burning world. He could see nothing but waves of flame; rocks were burning, the ground was burning, everything was burning. Great rolls and piles of smoke were rising; fire flew up toward the sky in flames, in great sparks and brands. Those sparks became kolchituh (sky eyes), and all the stars that we see now in the sky came from that time when the first world was burned. The sparks stuck fast in the sky, and have remained there ever since the time of the wakpohas (world fire). Quartz rocks and fire in the rocks are from that time. There was no fire in the rocks before the wakpohas.

When Klabus escaped he went east outside the sky, went to a place called Pom Wai Hudi Pom. Tsaroki went up on the eastern side of the sky—ran up outside.

Before the fire began Olelbis spoke to the two old women and said: “My grandmothers, go to work for me and make a foundation. I wish to build a sweat-house.”

They dug out and cleared a place for the sweat-house the day before the world-fire began. Olelbis built it in this way: When the two women had dug the foundation, he asked—

“What kind of wood shall I get for the central pillar of the house?”

“Go far down south,” said the old grandmothers, “and get a great young white oak, pull it up with the roots, bring it, and plant it in the middle to support the house.”

He went, found the tree, and brought it.

“Now, my grandmothers, what shall I do next?”

“Go north and bring a black oak with the roots. Go then to the west, put your hand out, and there you will touch an oak different from others.”

He went north and west, and brought the two trees.

“Now,” said Olelbis, “I want a tree from the east.”

“Go straight east to a live-oak place, you can see it from here, get one of those live-oaks.” He brought it with the roots and said—

“Now I want two trees more.”

“Go to the southeast,” said they, “where white oaks grow, and get two of them.”

He went and got two great white oak trees, pulled them up with the roots, brought them with all the branches, which were covered with acorns.

Olelbis put the great white oak from the south in the middle as the central pillar; then he put the northern black oak on the north side; he put it sloping, so that its branches were on the south side of the house; over against this he put a southeastern white oak sloping in like manner, so that its head came out on the north side. The western oak he planted on the west side, sloping so that its branches hung on the east side; then he put up the two white oaks from the southeast on the east side: six trees in all. The top of each tree was outside opposite its roots; acorns from it fell on the opposite side. Olelbis wished to fasten the trees firmly together so they should never loosen.

“Stop, grandson,” said one of the old women. “How will you bind the top?”

“I have nothing to bind it with,” answered Olelbis.

She put her hand toward the south, and on it came humus koriluli (a plant with beautiful blossoms). She took it with roots, stem, and blossoms and made a long narrow mat, the stem and roots all woven together inside and the blossoms outside. “Here, grandson,” said she, “put this around the top of the house and bind the trees with it firmly.”

He did this. The binding was beautiful and very fragrant. He wrapped it around the trees where they came together at the top of the house inside.

The two old women made four very large mats now, one for each side of the house. They wove first a mat of yosoü (a plant about a foot high, which has no branches and only a cluster of red flowers at the top). When they had finished it they told Olelbis to put it on the north side of the house.

“Now, my grandmothers,” said Olelbis, “I want a cover for the east side.”

“My grandson,” said each, “we are sorry that you are alone, sorry that you have no one to help you in building this house. Now take this mat and put it on the east side.”

They gave him a mat made of the same plant that was used for a binding to hold the top of the house.

“I want a cover now for the south side.”

The old women put their hands to the east, and a plant came to them a foot high with white blossoms, of very sweet odor. A great deal of this plant came, and they made a mat of it. They put all the blossoms outside. The mat covered the south side.

“Now, how shall I cover the west side?”

“We have the covering here already, made of kin-tekchi-luli” (a plant with blue and white blossoms).

They put that mat on the west side, the blossoms turned outward.

The old women gave him all kinds of beautiful plants now, and flowers to form a great bank around the bottom of the sweat-house. All kinds of flowers that are in the world now were gathered around the foot of that sweat-house, an enormous bank of them; every beautiful color and every sweet odor in the world was there.

When they went into the sweat-house, the perfume was delightful. The two old women said then:

“All people to come in the world below will talk of this house, and call it Olelpanti Hlut when they tell about it and praise the house on high.”

Olelbis said: “I want to lay something lengthwise on each side of the door. What shall I get?”

The two said: “We will get sau” (acorn bread made in a great round roll like a tree-trunk).

They got sau, and put a roll at each side of the door; these rolls were put there for people to sit on.

Olelbis walked around, looked at everything, and said—

“I want this house to grow, to be wide and high, to be large enough for all who will ever come to it.”

Then the house began to extend and grow wider and higher, and it became wonderful in size and in splendor. Just as daylight was coming the house was finished and ready. It stood there in the morning dawn, a mountain of beautiful flowers and oak-tree branches; all the colors of the world were on it, outside and inside. The tree in the middle was far above the top of the house, and filled with acorns; a few of them had fallen on every side.

That sweat-house was placed there to last forever, the largest and most beautiful building in the world, above or below. Nothing like it will ever be built again.

“Now, my grandson,” said the old women, “the house is built and finished. All the people in the world will like this house. They will talk about it and speak well of it always. This house will last forever, and these flowers will bloom forever; the roots from which they grow can never die.”

The world fire began on the morning after the sweat-house was finished. During the fire they could see nothing of the world below but flames and smoke. Olelbis did not like this.

“Grandson,” said the old women, “we will tell you what to do to put out that terrible wakpohas. There is a very old man, Kahit Kiemila, and he lives far north toward the east, outside the first sky. He stays there in one little place; he is all alone, and always in the same place. Tell him what to do, and he will do it. If you don’t like the fire and smoke down below, tell the old man to turn his face toward you, to come this way and to bring with him Mem Loimis. He sits with his head between his hands and his face to the north, and never looks up. The place where he sits is called Waiken Pom Pui Humok Pom.”

The first person who came to Olelbis on the day of the fire was Kiriu Herit. He came about daylight.

“You have finished the sweat-house, my nephew,” said he.

“I have,” said Olelbis, “but we are going to have trouble, and do you, my uncle, go up on the west side of the sweat-house, look around everywhere, and tell me what you see.”

Kiriu went to the top of the house and looked. Soon another man came and said, “My brother, you have finished the sweat-house.”

“Yes,” said Olelbis, “and do you, my brother, go up on the east side of the house, stand there, and call to Kahit.”

This was Lutchi Herit. Two more came and saluted Olelbis. “Go into the sweat-house,” said he. These were the two brothers, Tilichi. A fifth person came, Kuntihle, and then a sixth, Sutunut, a great person. Lutchi kept darting around, looking toward the north and calling: “Kahit cannot take me! Kahit cannot take me!” Kahit was getting angry by this time, and thinking to turn and look at Lutchi, for though far away, he heard the noise of his darting and his calling. “That old Kahit may come out, but he cannot catch me!” called Lutchi, as he darted around, always watching the north.

Now Olelbis called Lutchi and Sutunut, and said: “You, Lutchi, go north, pry up the sky and prop it; here is a sky pole and a sky prop.” Turning to Sutunut, he plucked a feather from each of his wings and said: “Go to Kahit in Waiken Pom Pui Humok Pom; tell him to come south with Mem Loimis. She lives not far from him. Her house is in the ground. And tell him to blow his whistle with all his breath. Put these two feathers on his cheeks just in front of his ears.”

Lutchi went quickly. No one could travel as fast as he. He reached the sky on the north, raised and propped it. Sutunut gave the message to Kahit, who raised his head from between his hands slowly and turned toward the south. Sutunut put the feathers in his cheeks then, as Olelbis had commanded.

One person, Sotchet, who lived just south of Kahit, spoke up now and said—

“Go ahead, Kahit. I am in a hurry to see my father, Olelbis. I will follow you. I am drinking my mother’s milk.” (He was doing that to bring great water.) His mother was Mem Loimis.

“Come with me, Mem Loimis,” said Kahit to Sotchet’s mother. “When I start, go ahead a little. I will help you forward.”

Olelbis was watching, and thought, “Kahit is ready to start, and Mem Loimis is with him.”

Olelbis made then an oak paddle, and hurled it to where Sotchet was. Sotchet caught the paddle, made a tail of it, put it on, and went plashing along through the water. Not far from Kahit lived an old woman, Yoholmit Pokaila. She made a basket of white willow, and finished it just as Mem Loimis was ready to start. In the same place was Sosini Herit, just ready to move. In one hand he held a bow and arrows, with the other he was to swim.

Olelbis saw all this—saw and knew what people were doing or preparing to do. “Grandmothers,” said he, “Mem Loimis is ready to move. Kahit is ready. All the people around them will follow.”

The great fire was blazing, roaring all over the earth, burning rocks, earth, trees, people, burning everything.

Mem Loimis started, and with her Kahit. Water rushed in through the open place made by Lutchi when he raised the sky. It rushed in like a crowd of rivers, covered the earth, and put out the fire as it rolled on toward the south. There was so much water outside that could not come through that it rose to the top of the sky and rushed on toward Olelpanti.

Olelbis went to the top of the sweat-house and stood looking toward the north. Sula Kiemila and Toko Kiemila had come that morning. “Take your places north of the sweat-house,” said Olelbis, and they did so. Olelbis saw everything coming toward him in the water from the north, all kinds of people who could swim. They were so many that no one could count them. Before he had built the sweat-house, the two grandmothers had said to Olelbis: “Go far south and get pilok, which is a tall plant with a strong fibre, and make a cord.” He did so, and twisted a strong cord from pilok. Of this he made a sling. He put his hand to the west, and kilson came on it, a round white stone an inch and a half in diameter. He put the stone in the sling, tied the sling around his head, and kept it there always.

He took this sling in his hand now, and stood watching ready to throw the stone at something that was coming in the water. Olelbis threw with his left hand. He was left-handed, and for this reason was called Nomhlyestawa (throwing west with the left hand).

Mem Loimis went forward, and water rose mountains high. Following closely after Mem Loimis came Kahit. He had a whistle in his mouth; as he moved forward he blew it with all his might, and made a terrible noise. The whistle was his own; he had had it always. He came flying and blowing. He looked like an enormous bat, with wings spread. As he flew south toward the other side of the sky, his two cheek feathers grew straight out, became immensely long, waved up and down, grew till they could touch the sky on both sides.

While Kahit flew on and was blowing his whistle, old Yoholmit lay in her basket; she floated in it high on the great waves, and laughed and shouted, “Ho! ho!”

“How glad my aunt is to see water; hear how she laughs!” said Olelbis. And he gave her two new names, Surut Womulmit (hair-belt woman) and Mem Hlosmulmit (water-foam woman). “Look at my aunt,” said Olelbis again. “She is glad to see water!”

As Yoholmit was laughing and shouting she called out—

“Water, you be big! Grow all the time! Be deep so that I can float and float on, float all my life.”

Olelbis was watching everything closely. Sosini Herit was coming. He held a bow and arrows in one hand and swam with the other. He was next behind old Yoholmit.

“Look at my brother, Sosini, look at him swimming,” said Olelbis. When mountains of water were coming near swiftly, Olelbis said to the two old women, “Go into the sweat-house.” The two brothers, Kuntihle and Tede Wiu, went in also. Olelbis stood ready to use his sling. When Yoholmit was coming near, he hurled a stone at her. He did not hit her. He did not wish to hit her. He hit the basket and sent her far away east in it until the basket struck the sky.

When the water reached Toko, it divided, went east and west, went no farther south in Olelpanti. At this time Olelbis saw a hollow log coming from the north. On it were sitting a number of Tede Memtulit and Bisus people. Just behind the log came some one with a big willow-tree in his mouth, sometimes swimming east, sometimes swimming west. He slapped the water with his new tail, making a loud noise. This was Sotchet, the son of Mem Loimis. Olelbis struck the log with a stone from his sling, and threw it far away west with all the Memtulits on it except one, which came to the sweat-house and said—

“My brother, I should like to stay with you here.” This was Tede Memtulit.

“Stay here,” said Olelbis.

Next came Wokwuk. He was large and beautiful, and had very red eyes. When Kahit came flying toward the sweat-house, and was still north of it, Olelbis cried to him—

“My uncle, we have had wind enough and water enough; can you not stop them?”

Kahit flew off toward the east and sent Mem Loimis back. “Mem Loimis,” said he, “you are very large and very strong, but I am stronger. Go back! If not, I will stop you. Go home!”

Mem Loimis went back north, went into the ground where she had lived before. Kahit went east, then turned and went north to where he had been at first, and sat down again in silence with his head between his hands.

When Mem Loimis and Kahit had gone home, all water disappeared; it was calm, dry, and clear again everywhere. Olelbis looked down on the earth, but could see nothing: no mountains, no trees, no ground, nothing but naked rocks washed clean. He stood and looked in every direction—looked east, north, west, south, to see if he could find anything. He found nothing. After a time he saw in the basin of a great rock some water, all that was left. The rock was in Tsarau Heril.

“My grandmothers,” asked Olelbis, “what shall I do now? Look everywhere, there is nothing in the world below but naked rocks. I don’t like it.”

“Wait awhile, grandson,” said they. “We will look and see if we can find something somewhere. Perhaps we can.”

On this earth there was no river, no creek, no water in any place but that water at Tsarau Heril. This was the morning after Mem Loimis had gone home.

Now a person came from the east to Olelpanti, Klabus Herit. “My uncle,” said Olelbis to Klabus, “I am looking all over the world below, but can see nothing on it. Do you know any place beyond the sky on the north, south, east, or west, where there is earth?

“I know no place where there is earth,” said Klabus.

Soon another person, Yilahl Herit, was seen coming from the west. When he came up, Olelbis asked—

“My uncle, do you know of earth, or trees, or people in any place beyond the sky?”

“I do not,” answered Yilahl. “But are you all well here?”

“We are well and unharmed,” answered Olelbis.

“How did you come here? Which way did you come? Where did you stay that the world fire did not burn you?” asked Klabus of Yilahl.

“I will tell you,” said Yilahl. “When the fire began, I went west, I went under the sky where it touches the lower world, I went out to the other side. The fire did not go there. There is earth now in that place.”

“My uncles,” said Olelbis, “I want you both to go down, to go west, and get that earth for me.”

“I will go,” said Klabus; and turning to the two old women he said: “Give me two baskets, very large round baskets.”

The old women made two very large baskets. Klabus took these and went west with Yilahl. As soon as they started Olelbis took a great sky net (kolchi koro), and it spread out; it reached to the ends of the sky in every direction; it was full of small, fine holes, like a sieve. He spread it out in Olelpanti; put it under his sweat-house. It is above this world yet, but we cannot see it.

Klabus and Yilahl went west to where the earth was. Klabus dug it up and filled the baskets quickly; went to the north side of the sweat-house and threw the earth into the great net, then hurried back and brought more earth and threw it on the net. It went through the net and fell down here, fell on the rocks in this world like rain.

Klabus hurried back and forth very quickly, carrying one basket on each arm. He was going and coming for five days and five nights; fine earth was falling all this time, till the rocks were covered, and there was plenty of earth everywhere.

Yilahl gave no help. He went down the first time with Klabus, showed him the earth, and stayed there, but he did not help to carry earth or to dig it.

When Klabus had covered all the rocks with good earth, Olelbis told him to rest.

“Go west and tell Yilahl to help you,” said Olelbis to Klabus the next morning, after he had rested. “Tell him to work with you, fixing the earth which you have thrown down. Go, both of you; make mountains, hills, and level country; arrange everything.”

No fire was visible anywhere; every bit had been quenched by the flood which came in after Lutchi propped up the sky. Yilahl came out into this world below from under the edge of the sky in the west, and Klabus came out from under it in the east. Both met and went to work. Yilahl made the small hills and fixed the rolling country. Klabus raised the great mountains and mountain ranges. There was nothing but earth and rock yet; no people at work only these two, Klabus and Yilahl.

Olelbis stood watching and looking; he looked five days, found no fire in any place. Next day he saw a little smoke in the southwest coming straight up as if through a small opening. Olelbis had a Winishuyat on his head tied in his hair, and the Winishuyat said to him—

“My brother, look; there is a little fire away down south; a woman there has fire in a small basket.”

This woman was Yonot, the mother of Pohila, who had gone back to live in her old house.

“My brother,” said Olelbis, turning to Tede Wiu, “do you see that place there? Go and bring fire from it.”

Tede Wiu went quickly to the place where Olelbis had seen the smoke. He found a house, and looking through a crack he saw the glow of fire, but not the fire itself.

Tede Wiu stayed five days and nights watching. He could not get into the house where the basket was. That house was closed firmly, and had no door. At last he went back to Olelpanti without fire.

“I should like to catch the fish which I see jumping in that southern water,” said Kuntihle, “but we could not cook fish if we had it, for we have no fire.”

“You would better go yourself and try to get fire,” said Olelbis.

Kuntihle went and watched five days. He could not get into the house, and no fire fell out. He went back to Olelpanti.

“We need fire,” said Olelbis, “but how are we to get it? Go again and try,” said he to Tede Wiu; “watch till fire falls out, or go in and take some.”

Klabus and Yilahl were at work yet.

Tede Wiu went, crept under the house, watched five days and nights, stayed right under the basket in which Pohila was. On the sixth morning, very early, just at daybreak, a spark of fire fell out. Tede Wiu caught the spark, ran off quickly to Olelbis, and gave it to him.

They had fire in Olelpanti now, and were glad. Neither Yonot, the mother, nor Tilikus, the father of Pohila, knew that fire had been carried away to Olelpanti.

Klabus and Yilahl were still at work making the mountains and valleys, and had almost finished.

Now that there was fire in Olelpanti, Kuntihle said: “I will go and see that fish. Tilitchi, will you come with me?”

Tilitchi went. Before they started Olelbis gave them a fish net. They caught a fish, and went back, dressed, cooked, and ate it.

“This is a good fish,” said Olelbis. “How did it get into that water? That pond in the rock is small and round; there is no water to run into it. Grandmothers, what shall we do with this pond and the fish in it?”

“We will tell you,” said the old women. “Go to the west under the sky, break off a strip of the sky, bring it here, and make a pointed pole of it.”

Klabus and Yilahl were just putting the top on Bohem Puyuk; all the other mountains in the world were finished.

Olelbis went west, got the sky pole, and pointed one end of it. He stuck the pole down at the foot of Bohem Puyuk, drew the point of it along southward, making a deep furrow. Then he stuck the pole far north, and made a second furrow to join the eastern end of the first one. There was no water in either furrow yet, and Olelbis said—

“Now, my grandmothers, what shall I do next?”

“Take this grapevine root,” said they. “Throw it to the place where you thrust in the pole at the foot of Bohem Puyuk.”

He threw the root. One end of it went into the mountain, the other hung out; from this water flowed.

“This will be called Wini Mem,” said the grandmothers. “The country around it will be good; many people will go there to live in the future.”

The grandmothers gave a second root, a tule root, and Olelbis threw this far up north, where one end stuck in the ground as had the grapevine root, and from the other end flowed Pui Mem—there is much tule at the head of Pui Mem to this day.

Olelbis took his sky pole again and made deep furrows down southward from Bohema Mem, large ones for large rivers and smaller ones for creeks. Water flowed and filled the furrows, flowed southward till it reached the place where Kuntihle found the first fish; and when the large river reached that little pond, fish went out of it into the river, and from the river into all creeks and rivers.

When the rivers were finished, and water was running in them, Olelbis saw an acorn tree in the east, outside the sky. He looked on the north side of the tree and saw some one hammering. He hurled a stone from his sling, struck down the person, and sent Tilitchi to bring him. Tilitchi brought him.

“Of what people is this one?” asked he of the old women.

“He is of a good people,” answered they. “Put him on the central pillar of the sweat-house; we call him Tsurat.”

Tsurat was only stunned. When Tsurat was taken to the central pillar, he climbed it, stopping every little while and hammering. The sound which he made, “Ya-tuck! ya-tuck!” was heard outside the sweat-house—a good sound; all liked to hear it.

Olelbis saw on the same tree another of the same family. When he was brought, the old women said, “This is Min Taitai; put him on the ground east of the fire”—the fire was in the middle.

Min Taitai began to talk to himself. They could hear two words, “Wit, wit!” (coming back, coming back).

Olelbis stunned a third person, who was brought by Tilitchi. The old women said, “He, too, is of a good people, he is Hessiha; let him be with Min Taitai, and put a basket of red earth and water near them.”

Min Taitai talked on to himself, “Wit, wit!”

“Who is ‘Wit, wit?’ ” asked Hessiha.

“Sas” (the sun), answered Min Taitai, “was going down, and now he is coming back; that is who ‘Wit, wit’ is.”

“Who is coming back?” asked Hessiha.

“Sas is coming back.”

“Sas is not coming back, he is going on.”

(In winter Sas goes down south, and in summer he comes back north. Min Taitai was saying Sas is coming back, up north. Hessiha thought he was saying Sas has gone down toward the west, and now is coming back east without setting.)

“Wit, wit” (coming back, coming back), said Min Taitai.

“Cherep, cherep!” (going on, going on), said Hessiha.

Soon they came to blows, began to fight; when fighting, Hessiha took red mud from the basket and threw it. Min Taitai took mud, too, and threw it at Hessiha. Both were soon covered with mud and water.

Clover, beautiful grasses, and plants of all kinds were growing around the sweat-house in Olelpanti. The whole place was a mass of blossoms. “Now, my grandmothers,” said Olelbis, “tell me what you think. All that ground below us is bare; there is nothing on it. What can we do for it?”

“My grandson, in a place southeast of this is a house in which people live. The place is called Hlihli Pui Hlutton [acorn eastern sweat-house place]. An old man lives there. Send Tsurat to bring that old man to us.”

“I will,” said Olelbis; and he sent Tsurat, who brought Hlihli Kiemila, who had lived all his life in that eastern sweat-house. When Olelbis looked at the old man, he said to Tsurat: “Go to the world beneath us with Hlihli. Carry him all over it—north, south, east, and west.”

Hlihli was like an old worm-eaten acorn outside; inside he was like meal or snuff, and when he moved this inside sifted out of him. He had a daughter, Hlihli Loimis, and she had many sons.

Tsurat carried Hlihli all over the world, and when he had carried him five days little oak bushes were springing up everywhere from the dust which fell from him. They took seeds of clover growing around the sweat-house in Olelpanti and scattered them; clover grew up in every place. Olelbis threw down all kinds of flower seeds from the flowers blossoming in Olelpanti.

A little way east of Olelbis’s sweat-house lived Sedit. At the time of the fire he ran through under the sky in the south and went up on the sky to Olelpanti. He stayed there with Olelbis until the fire and water stopped. Then he went east a short distance, and made a house for himself. During the great water Sedit caught Wokwuk, and afterward built a house near his own for him.

There was a big rock east of Sedit’s house. Olelbis saw Chuluhl sitting on this rock, and he said—

“My brother, I have put clover on the earth. I want you to go down there and stay with that clover, stay with it always. The place is a good one for you.” This place was Tokuston on Pui Mem. “Take this pontcheuchi [headband made of dew], wear it around your head, wear it always, guard the clover, put your head among its leaves, and keep the grass and clover wet and green all the time. I will take that rock from near Sedit’s house, and put it down on the earth for you.” (The rock stands now about fifty miles above Paspuisono. It is called Pui Toleson—rock leaning east.)

Wokwuk at the time of the great water lost the middle and longest finger on one hand; it went far north, and after a time became a deer, and from that deer came all the deer in the world after the fire. When Kahit and Mem Loimis went east on the way home, Wokwuk lost a small feather from above one of his eyes. It went west and was turned into the beautiful shells tsanteris. He also lost two neck feathers. They went west and became kalas, and from that came all pearl shells. He lost the tip of his little finger. It went west and became the Wokwuk bird down here. He lost some spittle. It went east on the water and turned to blue beads, such as people wear now around their necks. Wokwuk lost a small bit of his intestines. It went south on the water and became mempak; from that come all mempak (water bone). He lost a piece of his backbone. It went east on the water and became an elk, and from that elk came all elks.

One day Sedit said to Olelbis, when all were telling Olelbis what they were going to do: “Grandson, I am going to take off my skin and let it go to the world below.”

“Do so,” said Olelbis.

Sedit took off his skin as he would a coat, and threw it down to this world.

“Now there will be Sedits all over down there,” said he.

While Olelbis was gathering into Olelpanti all the people from every place outside this sky above us, Min Taitai and Hessiha were disputing and throwing red mud at each other.

Olelbis gathered people from every side till he had gathered them all at his house. They were there in crowds and in thousands, singing and talking inside and outside, everywhere in Olelpanti.

One morning Olelbis said to the old women—

“My grandmothers, I cannot tell what to do nor how to get what I want, but far west of here is a ridge that stretches from the south to the north, and on that ridge people of some kind come from the south and hurry north; they do that every day; they go north along that ridge, and I do not know what kind of people they are. When they are on the top of the ridge, they run north very swiftly. As soon as Klabus and Yilahl finished the level ground and the hills and mountains in the world below, these people began to travel along the ridge in this way, and they have been going north ever since.”

“You do not know those people,” said the old women, “but we know them, the Katkatchila brothers know them; they are Kahsuku, the cloud dogs, the cloud people. If you wish to know more about these cloud people, ask the elder Katkatchila; he knows them; he lives far west at this time; go and ask him, go yourself.”

Olelbis set out next morning early, and just before he reached Katkatchila’s house in the west he came upon some one who was stooping and looking toward the south. It was the elder Katkatchila, who was watching the cloud people.

“Stop, my brother,” said Katkatchila, “and watch with me.”

The two looked along the ridge toward the south—it was before sunrise then—and they saw a person come a little way in sight, then turn and go back. He did not come nearer because he saw Olelbis. The cloud people are very timid; they can see a long distance, and have a very keen scent. When he saw Olelbis, this one ran away home.

“My brother,” said Katkatchila to Olelbis, “we have been watching here to drive back these cloud people. We have watched night and day, I and my little brother. My brother is near the eastern slope of this ridge which runs north and south; he stays there and watches.”

“What do you mean by cloud people?” asked Olelbis; “what kind of people are they? I have seen only the head and neck of one; what I saw looked well, seemed good. I wish you, my brothers, would catch one of these people, if you can.”

“How is it that you do not know these people?” asked Katkatchila. “You ought to know them; you have seen every place, every person, everything; you ought to know these people. I will tell you how they came. My sister and I made the great world fire; we made the wakpohas because Torihas and his people stole my flint. I was angry. I told my sister to put her baby outside the house. We put pitch-pine around it, and fire blazed up from the baby. When the fire was burning all over the earth and there were great flames and smoke, a big water and a strong wind came; the water filled the whole world with steam, and the wind drove the steam and smoke from the great fire, and carried them far off to the south, where they became a people—the cloud people. These people are red or white or black, all of them, and they are going north always. They have good heads and long necks.”

“I should like to stand near some of these people and look at them,” said Olelbis.

“I do not like to see them go north,” said Katkatchila. “My brother and I are here trying to drive them back; but they go north in spite of us. My brother is on the other slope over there to frighten them back; but they turn to the east a little and go around him.”

“Bring your brother here,” said Olelbis.

Katkatchila brought his brother, and the two said—

“These cloud people are very wild; we cannot go near them. But we should like to drive them back or catch them.”

“Go west, my brothers,” said Olelbis, “and get something to stop that gap on the east where the cloud people pass you and go north. Stop that opening on the east, and stop the western slope also, leaving only a narrow place for them to go through. Get yew wood, make a very high fence with it, and stop the eastern slope.”

They brought the yew wood and made a very high fence on the eastern slope, and then one on the west, leaving only a narrow gap open.

“Go to the east now,” said Olelbis, “get katsau, which is a strong, fibrous plant, and make strings of it. Make a rope of the string and set a snare in the opening of the fence across the western slope to catch those cloud people.”

The elder brother was on the ridge near the western slope, and the younger on the ridge near the eastern slope. The brothers made the snare and set it on the western slope. Both watched and waited for the clouds to come.

“Now, my brother,” said Olelbis, when he saw this work, “watch these people well, frighten them into the trap, and I will go back to Olelpanti.”

Next morning early the two brothers were watching, and very soon they saw a great many cloud people coming. Both brothers were lying flat on the middle of the ridge, so that the clouds could not see them. The clouds watched closely. They came to the place where they had always turned east to go past little Katkatchila; they ran against the fence and could not pass. They turned and went toward the west to pass northward along the central ridge; but when both brothers stood up, the clouds rushed to the western slope and fell into the trap.

Olelbis saw this and said: “Now, my brothers are driving them in. I must go and see!” And he ran off quickly.

“Oh, my brother,” said the Katkatchilas when he came, “we have caught one cloud. All the rest went through the fence. They broke it—we caught one; the others burst away.”

Olelbis looked at the cloud and said—

“This is a black one! They broke down the fence and ran away! They are a strong people.”

“Now, my brother,” said the elder Katkatchila, “we will skin this cloud, and you may have the skin. We will give it to you.”

“I shall be glad to have it,” said Olelbis.

They stripped the skin from the cloud, and, when giving it to Olelbis, the elder one said, “You must tan this carefully.”

“Make another fence,” said Olelbis, “but make it stronger. You will catch more of these people.”

“A great many clouds have broken through our fence to-day and gone north. Others went before we made the fence. We shall see these people by and by,” said Katkatchila. (He meant that clouds would stay in the north and become another people; stay there always.)

Olelbis took the skin, turned toward home, and travelled on. He was rubbing it in his hands, tanning it as he went. The brothers put the body in a hole and buried it, not caring for the flesh. They wanted only the skin.

Olelbis went along tanning the skin of the black cloud, and he walked around everywhere as he tanned. He went away west, then north, then south, then east. At last he came home with the skin well tanned. He spread it and stretched it smooth. The two Katkatchila brothers had not been able yet to catch another of the cloud people, but they were working at it all the time. After Olelbis spread the skin on the ground, he took it up and said to one of the old women—

“My grandmother is always cold; let us give her this skin;” and he gave it to her. Each of the two old women said—

“My grandson, we are glad to have this skin. We shall sleep warm now.”

“I must go,” said Olelbis, “and see my brothers drive in more of the cloud people.” And he went.

“We cannot catch these clouds,” said the older brother; “they go through our fence, they escape, we cannot catch them; they have gone to the north, they will stay there and become a new people. We have caught only one, a white cloud. Those that have escaped will become a new people; they will be Yola Ka” (snow clouds).

The Katkatchilas stripped the skin from the white cloud and gave it to Olelbis. He went around north, south, east, and west, tanning it in the same way that he had tanned the black skin. After he had tanned it well he spread the skin, stretched it, straightened it; then he gave it to the other grandmother.

Both old women were glad now. Both said: “We shall sleep warm at night now all the time.”

Next day the two brothers caught a third cloud, a red one, but they kept that skin for themselves. They did not give it to Olelbis, because he told them to keep it. We see this skin now often enough, for the brothers hang it up when they like in the west and sometimes in the east.

“Now,” said the two old women, “we have this white skin and this black one. When we hang the white skin outside this house, white clouds will go from it—will go away down south, where its people began to live, and then they will come from the south and travel north to bring rain. When they come back, we will hang out the black skin, and from it a great many black rain clouds will go out, and from these clouds heavy rain will fall on all the world below.”

From that time the old women hang out the two skins, first the white, then the black skin, and when clouds enough have gone from them they take the skins into the sweat-house again; and from these two skins comes all the rain to people in this world.

“The cloud people who went north will stay in the northwest,” said Olelbis, “and from them will come snow to people hereafter.”

All this time the people in Olelpanti were singing and talking. Any one could hear them from a distance. Olelbis had brought in a great many different kinds of people, others had come themselves, and still others were coming. After the tanning of the two cloud skins a man came and took his place above the sweat-house door, and sat there with his face to the east. This was Kar Kiemila. Right after him came Tsararok, and took his place at the side of Kar. Next came Kau; then the two brothers Hus came, and Wehl Dilidili. All these people in the sweat-house and around it asked one another—

“What shall we do? Where shall we live? We should like to know what Olelbis will do with us.”

“You will know very soon where we are going,” said Toko and Sula. “Olelbis will put us in our places; he is chief over all.”

Next morning Olelbis said: “Now, my grandmothers, what do you think best? What are we to do with the people here? Is it best for them to stay in Olelpanti?”

“Our grandson,” answered the old women, “send all that are not needed here to the lower world; turn them into something good for the people who are to come soon—those fit for this place up here. The great people, the best ones, you will keep in Olelpanti, and send down only a little part of each of them to turn into something in the world below and be of use to people there.”

Olelbis called all who were in the sweat-house to come out, and he began to send them to their places.

To Kar he said: “Go and live on Wini Mem. Be a gray heron there; that is a good country for you.” (Before white people came there were many of these birds on that river.)

To Toko he said: “Go to Kawiken on Pui Mem. Be a sunfish and live there always. You, Sula, go to the south of Bohem Puyuk on Wini Mem. Be a trout, and live at Sulanharas.”

To Torihas he said: “You will be a blue crane,” and to Chalilak: “You will be a goose. You both will have two places to live in, one in the south and the other in the north. You will go north in the spring and live there all summer; you will go south in the fall and live in the south all winter. Do this always; travel that way every year.”

To Kiriu he said: “Go and live along the water. You will be a loon, and you will go up and down great rivers all your life.”

To Katsi he said: “You will be a fish hawk, catch fish and eat them, live along rivers.”

Olelbis plucked one small feather from the neck of Moihas. This he threw down and said, “Be an eagle, and live on high mountains.” All bald eagles on earth came from that feather, but the great Moihas remained above with Olelbis, where he is now.

From Lutchi Olelbis plucked one feather, threw it down, and said: “You will be a humming-bird. Fly around in spring when the green grass comes and the trees and flowers bloom. You will be on blossoms and dart from one to another everywhere.” Lutchi himself stayed in Olelpanti.

Olelbis pulled a feather from Kau, threw it down, and said: “You will fly along rivers, be a white crane, and live near them always.” The great Kau stayed in Olelpanti with Olelbis.

From the elder Hus brother Olelbis plucked a feather from the right side, sent the feather down on this earth, and said—

“You be a buzzard down there, and in spring go up on Wini Mem and look for dead salmon and other fish along Pui Mem, Bohema Mem, and other rivers, eat dead salmon and other fish. When people kill a snake or something else which they do not like, you will go and eat the snake or other dead thing. The Wintu, the coming people, will feed you always with what is dead.”

Tilitchi had been sent for three persons, and now he brought the first.

“Who is this?” asked Olelbis of the old women.

“This is Dokos,” said they; “he is bad.”

Dokos was placed a little northeast of the sweat-house. He sat looking toward the west. Tilichi brought in a second and third person.

“Who are these?” asked Olelbis.

“These are both bad people,” said the old women. “These are Wima Loimis and Klak Loimis.”

“Put them with Dokos,” said Olelbis. After he had called all the people out of the sweat-house to send them to their proper places, Olelbis had put something on their teeth to make them harmless.

“Come here, Wima Loimis,” said Olelbis. “I have something to put on your teeth so that they may harm no one.”

“I want nothing on my teeth,” said Wima Loimis. “If something were put on them I could not eat.” He asked again, but she shook her head, saying: “I want nothing on my teeth, I could not eat if anything were put on them.”

“If she will not come, come you, Klak Loimis.” Klak Loimis would not go to him.

“Why not come when I call you?” asked Olelbis.

“My sister Wima will not go. She says that she could not eat if her teeth were touched. I want nothing on my teeth. I am afraid that I could not eat.”

“Very well,” answered Olelbis, “you, Wima, and you, Klak, want to be different from others. Come, Dokos, I will touch your teeth.”

“My sisters, Klak and Wima, want nothing on their teeth. I want nothing on mine. I am angry at my sisters; my heart hates them. I do not wish to be good. I am angry at my sisters. I will be wicked as well as they.” Then turning to his sisters he said: “After a while people will employ me against you whenever they are angry at you. Whenever you bite people or hurt them, they will call me to fight against you, and I will go with them. I will go into your bodies and kill you. Then you will be sorry for what you have done to-day. Olelbis asked you to be good. He wants you to be good, but you are not willing. I will be bad to punish you.”