Читать книгу Seneca Fiction, Legends, and Myths - Jeremiah Curtin - Страница 43

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One day Haieñdoñnis, carrying all his small effects, was walking along through the forest. It seems that he did not know where he came from, nor did he know to what particular place he was going, although he well knew that he was going in a northerly direction. Wherever evening overtook him there he would place his bundle on the ground and get into it, when he had no hollow tree to enter, and thus spend the night. In this way he traveled many days. [122]

One morning he came to a steep precipice; here he began to wonder how he might be able to descend its face with so large a pack on his back. At last he placed his pack on the ground, and, hastening to a basswood tree standing some distance away, he stripped all the bark from it, which he slit into fine strands. Tying the strips together, end to end, he made a long strand, one end of which he fastened to a hemlock tree standing on the brink of the precipice and the other he let down over the brink. Then taking hold of the strand near the hemlock tree, he carefully lowered himself over the edge of the cliff. He was soon at the end of the strand and there he hung. His bundle pulled down the upper part of his body until he was in an almost horizontal position, with his face turned upward, so he could not see just where he was. Although he was near the ground he did not know it. Feeling that his situation was critical, he thought: “What shall I do now? Would it not be better for me to kill myself by letting go of the strand, for I can not get up, nor can I in any manner descend.” Finally he decided to let go of the rope of basswood bark and fall to the bottom of the precipice; but, as he released his grip, his pack touched the ground and his head rested on the pack. He thought, however, that he was falling all the time. At last he felt weary of falling, and said, “I will try to turn over on one side, so that I can see whither I am going.” So turning himself on one side he found that he was on the ground, and he exclaimed, “I have been greatly delayed by not knowing that the ground was at the end of the strand of basswood bark.” So saying he arose and went on.

When darkness came he found, after diligent search, a hollow tree, in which he spent the night. In this manner he traveled for many days. Finally he decided to find a place in which to dwell, and he resolved that it must be a place where the trees stood only a short distance apart. Having found such a spot, he built a small cabin, in which he put his pack. Then he began to arrange his things in order—skins and furs, ladles and bark bowls, pouch and weapons.

The next morning he went out very early to hunt for food. Soon he saw a deer walking along, and on pointing his finger at it the deer fell dead. Then he carried its carcass home on his back. He then ordered that it skin itself, and this it did. He cut the carcass into suitable portions, some of which he hung up around the inside of the cabin and some he roasted for his meal. That night he found that he had no firewood. Going out of doors, he said in a loud voice, “Let wood for fuel come and pile itself beside my doorway.” The wish thus expressed was immediately accomplished.

This remarkable man had an influence over every kind of game. When he desired a particular animal, all that he had to do was to point his finger at it, and the victim would fall dead. In this way [123]he was able to kill much game in a day. When he returned to his small cabin he did not carry the game, but would stand at the door and say, “Let the game which I have killed be piled up beside my doorway.” When this was done he would say, “Let the skins come off and the meat be quartered, put up to dry, and be smoked.” Then he would enter his cabin, paying no further attention to the game. In the morning he would find the meat hanging up to dry and a large heap of skins lying at his door. He would then spend the day in tanning the skins.

One day while he was out hunting he saw Gaasyendietʻha,32 whereupon he pointed his finger at him and Gaasyendietʻha at once fell dead. Haieñdoñnis took off his skin for a pouch. Going some distance farther, he beheld a panther. On pointing his finger at it, the panther fell dead and he then skinned it. In like manner he killed and skinned a fox. With these three skins he was enabled to make three pouches, which, on his arrival at his home, he hung on the wall of his cabin.

After a while the thought came to him, “What shall I do with these three pouches?” Then he took down the pouch made of the skin of Gaasyendietʻha and commanded it, saying, “Stand upright here.” Instantly Gaasyendietʻha stood there before him alive. Then Haieñdoñnis made the other two pouches come to life in the same manner, and there they stood inside his cabin. Meanwhile the rumor spread that Haieñdoñnis had settled down in that place and that he was possessed of potent orenda, or mighty magic power, and that he was a sorcerer through possession of this mysterious potency, which worked good for his friends and evil for his enemies.

Not far from the cabin of the mysterious Haieñdoñnis stood the lodge of a woman and her three daughters. The mother was reputed to be a great witch, and it was said that she had come there to dwell because no one in the settlement of her tribe wanted to live near her.

One day she said to her three daughters, “Let us pound corn for meal and make corn bread.” So, having prepared the corn for the mortar, they began to pound it, each using a pestle. The corn was soon reduced to meal and the mother made it into corn bread. Filling a basket with this, she said to her eldest daughter, Deyondennigongenyons,33 who was a very handsome girl, “I want you to go to Haieñdoñnis’s lodge to learn whether he will marry you or not.” They lived one-half day’s journey from Haieñdoñnis. Willingly obeying her mother, the girl started with the basket of corn bread.

Haieñdoñnis saw the woman coming with a basket on her back, and he exclaimed: “Hoho! There is a woman coming. I think that she is coming to see me. I do wonder if indeed she desires to marry me.” Then, addressing the pouch, Gaasyendietʻha, he said: “I [124]want you to go yonder and to stand beside that tree there. You, Panther, stand a little nearer to the cabin, and you, Fox, stand in the doorway of the cabin.”

As the woman drew near Haieñdoñnis sat smoking his pipe. She came quite close to Gaasyendietʻha, but as she walked with her head down at first she did not see him; but when just in front of him she noticed something, and, looking up, saw so fierce-looking a person that instinctively she turned back and fled. As she ran along the bread all fell out of her basket, so when she reached home there was none left. Her mother, Yenogeauns, asked her, “What is the matter?” But she was entirely out of breath and could not answer. Haieñdoñnis was laughing, for he saw her run all the way home.

After several days the mother said to her daughters, “We will again make corn bread.” Soon the girls had prepared and pounded the corn into meal, which the mother made into bread. Then she addressed her second daughter, Yonwithahon,34 saying: “Take this basket and go to the lodge of Haieñdoñnis and see if he will marry you. Your sister was a great coward, and so she failed.” Obeying her mother, the girl started on her journey.

Haieñdoñnis saw her coming and said: “Here comes another woman. She will soon be scattering her corn bread, too.” So he stationed the living pouches as he had before. The girl came along with her head down until she reached Gaasyendietʻha, and, seeing him, she said, “I need not be afraid,” and passed on. In like manner she passed Panther, and came to the doorway; there before her stood a man rubbing something against the door which frightened her greatly, and she screamed and fled homeward. On her way she likewise lost all the bread out of her basket. Seeing her flight, Haieñdoñnis laughed at her, too.

Haieñdoñnis hunted a good deal and was accustomed to clean intestines of the game he had killed and fill them with blood and pieces of fat and meat, and so cook them. He cooked many of these and hung them over his couch.

After a few days had elapsed the old woman said to her daughters, “Let us make another trial.” It would seem that the mother well knew what had happened to her daughters who had made the journey to the lodge of Haieñdoñnis. So they made corn bread of such kind as was customary in proposals for marriage, and they filled a basket with it. Then the wily old mother said to her youngest daughter, Yenongäa: “You make the attempt this time. Do not notice anything or fear anything, but go directly to the lodge of Haieñdoñnis.” The dutiful daughter replied with some inward misgivings: “It is well. I will try,” and, taking up the basket of bread, she started.

Now, Haieñdoñnis soon saw her coming, and he exclaimed: “Is it not wonderful what small value these people place on bread? They [125]come here with it and then run off, scattering it along the path as they flee. Now this one is coming with a basketful on her back, and I suppose that she will run off, dropping it along the way behind her.” He watched her come up to Gaasyendietʻha, and saw her look at him and then strike him, so that he fell to the ground. She saw that this seemingly ferocious figure was only the animated skin of Gaasyendietʻha. So coming up to Panther, she dealt with him as she had with Gaasyendietʻha. On arriving at the door where her second sister had thought she saw a man, Yenongäa went up to Fox and struck him a blow with her hand; down he fell, for he, too, was nothing but a pouch of fox skin, the tail of which the wind had been brushing against the flap of the doorway, the occurrence which frightened her sister. The other sisters had thought that living beings stood before them.

Now, when Haieñdoñnis saw her doing these things, he thought, “She will surely come into the lodge; so I must get my pipe and pretend to be an old man.” On entering the lodge, Yenongäa inquired, “Where is Haieñdoñnis?” Receiving no answer, she repeated her question, and then Haieñdoñnis replied in an old man’s accents. “It seems to me that I hear a woman’s voice.” So she called in a louder tone. Then he looked up, saying, “I do not think that he is at home, or that he will return before the end of ten days.” The unabashed young woman replied, “It is well. Then I will come in ten days,” and started for home.

At the end of ten days the youngest daughter again set out for the lodge of Haieñdoñnis. When she drew near he saw her, and said to himself, “Now I shall change myself into a small boy.” On this visit the young woman paid no attention to the animated pouches representing Gaasyendietʻha, Panther, and Fox, but went directly to the doorway and stood there. On making her presence known, she heard the voice of a small boy say, “Come in.” After entering the lodge she asked, “Where is Haieñdoñnis?” The answer came: “He has just gone out. He has gone to the other side of the world.” “How long will he be gone?” was her next inquiry. “Oh!” came the reply, “he said that he would be gone about ten days.” Then she assured the small boy that she would return in that time.

At the end of the time Haieñdoñnis saw her coming again, and resolved to make himself invisible this time, to deceive her. So when she had made her way into the lodge and set her basket down, she looked around but saw no one. Then, saying, “I will wait a while,” she sat down on the couch of Haieñdoñnis. The situation was so amusing that Haieñdoñnis laughed out loud, and the young woman, becoming frightened, arose and fled home, where she arrived quite ashamed of herself, for she had left her basket of corn bread. Her mother asked, “Where is the basket of corn bread?” but she made [126]no reply, knowing that her mother was aware of what had taken place. The mother then heated water and prepared to wash her daughter clean, for she saw that some of the deer intestines which hung in the lodge of Haieñdoñnis were clinging to her daughter. The old woman took them with the remark: “I am thankful to you. These are good meat. You shall go there again to-morrow.”

So the next morning she went again, and when Haieñdoñnis saw her he laughed, saying, “I think that all the intestines will go this time.” On entering the lodge she saw Haieñdoñnis in his real shape. He asked her what she was going to do with the basket of bread which she had left in his lodge. She replied, “My mother sent me to live with you as your wife.” He replied, “It is well, and I agree to it,” and from that time they lived together as man and wife. These two were evil-minded, wicked people, who were full of the orenda, or magic power, of sorcerers, and all wizards and witches in the world knew just the moment that they became man and wife.

The next morning Yenongäa said to her husband that she desired to visit her mother. Haieñdoñnis readily gave his consent to her going; so she went to her home. At once her mother began to work over her for the purpose of endowing her with much more evil-working orenda, and she instructed her, too, how to enslave her husband. She also said to her, “You must urge him to come to live with us.” The young woman returned to her husband, who, on looking at her, discovered that she was being equipped to enslave him. But he foiled her this time and every succeeding time that she undertook to do so. She went to her mother’s lodge for a long time. Finally, Haieñdoñnis became wearied by this conduct of his wife and her mother, and said to himself: “I wonder why they act in this manner. I think that it would be well for me to destroy her people.” To this he made up his mind.

The next morning she again told him that she was going to visit her mother. After she had started Haieñdoñnis followed her. By taking a circuitous route he got ahead of his wife, arriving at her mother’s lodge before she did. Rushing into the lodge, he faced the old woman. He said to her, “I have come to fight with you,” and the aged hag graciously accepted his challenge. So they at once began fighting with war clubs, and were fighting fiercely when the wife entered the lodge. She wondered how her husband had passed her. She stood there powerless to aid either one. The combatants kept on fighting until Haieñdoñnis was certain that the old mother and the two elder daughters were dead. Then addressing his wife, he said, “You go off yonder a little way,” and she willingly obeyed him. Thereupon he set the lodge on fire, and the flames were soon rising high. After the fire had died out somewhat there were a number of explosions among the embers, sounding pop! pop! Then up flew a [127]horned owl, a common owl, and a screech owl to the upper limbs of a tree standing near the scene. These were owls in human form.

Thus were the three women utterly destroyed. Then Haieñdoñnis said to his wife, “Let us go home now.” But she stood there looking in one direction; she seemed spellbound. At last her husband took her by the arm, again saying, “Let us go home,” and she turned and followed him.

It seems that those who were most skilled in the arts of sorcery and enchantment, who dwelt even to the very edge of the world, knew the exact moment Haieñdoñnis had killed the old woman and her wicked daughters, for at that moment a great shout of joy went up from the people, which was heard all over the world; they rejoiced because these women so powerful in magic and so utterly wicked were dead and burned up.

Now, Haieñdoñnis, putting spittle on his hands, rubbed with opposing orenda, or magic power, the head of Yenongäa,35 his wife. He gently pulled and smoothed her hair, which had been short before that time, and it soon became long and glossy. He had neutralized her orenda through this manipulation. Thereafter they dwelt in the lodge of Haieñdoñnis in great contentment.