There was a great long house built of poles and bark. This long house was in a secluded place where men were not accustomed to come, but there were sorcerers who knew its location, but shunned it, for there lived Shogoⁿ‘´gwā‘s and his nephew Djoñiaik. The nephew was young when the uncle assumed charge of him, and he had no real regard for the boy, for he had slain by sorcery all his near relatives, and knew that he must some day overcome the orenda (magic) that had accrued to the boy, or he himself would be undone.

Djoñiaik was carefully reared, for the uncle wished to make him suffer at the end and cry out his weakness, thereby more greatly enjoying the triumph over him.

When the boy had grown to the age just before he became eligible for his dream fast, the uncle said, “Now my nephew, the time has come when you should hunt for yourself without me. Go into the forest and bring me meat.”

Thereupon Djoñiaik took his small bow and after a time found a partridge which he shot. Bringing it to the lodge of his uncle he presented it to the elder man. “Oh now, my nephew,” said Shogoⁿgwas, “what is the name of this thing?”

“Oh my uncle,” replied the boy, “I have never known the name of this kind of a thing.”

“Ho!” exclaimed the uncle, “How then do you expect to be able to eat it?”

The boy then was given the task of cleaning the bird for soup, and when it was ready the older man put it in a clay kettle and boiled it with a gruel of corn meal. Then he lifted out the meat and placed it with the fat gravy in a bark bowl which he laid aside for himself. Taking another bowl he filled it with the thin soup from the middle of the kettle and handed it over the fire to the boy. The boy reached from his seat, stretching his arms and finally grasped the bowl, but as he did so the uncle pulled on the bowl and the boy fell face forward into the fire, scorching his chest and burning his hands. At this the uncle roared and called him clumsy, asking moreover, “Where is your soup? You have tried to put out the fire with it!”

With great gusto the uncle devoured the partridge, picking the bones clean and casting them into the fire. Djoñiaik had nothing for his meal and was very hungry. Wearily he wandered out into the thicket, coming at length to an unfamiliar spot where there was a low mound, as if a mud hut had fallen down and become overgrown. As he looked at the spot he heard a sound, “Ketcuta, ketcuta!” Peering more closely in the snow-covered moss he saw the face of a tcis´gä (skull) looking at his with open mouth.

“I am your uncle,” said the skull. “Give me tobacco.”

Djoñiaik obeyed, and when the skull had smoked a pipeful, it coughed and said, “I am your uncle, bewitched by my brother who has stolen you in order to work vengeance on you for the power you inherit from your relatives who have been killed by sorcery. You must remember the names of the animals you kill and the next one you shall find will be a raccoon. Remember its name and when your guardian asks you its name tell him ‘raccoon’.”

In time the boy went hunting again and finding a raccoon shot it. Greatly excited he began to repeat the name raccoon over and over. “Raccoon, raccoon, raccoon, raccoon,” he shouted as he bore it to his uncle’s lodge. But so rapidly was he running that he fell over the door-sill and sprawled into the lodge.

“Oh now nephew, what have you this time?” inquired the uncle, but so excited and chagrined was the boy that he totally forgot the name. “Wa!” exclaimed the old man, “If you cannot speak the name of this thing you shall not eat of it. Dress it for me and I will cook it as a soup.”

When the raccoon was cooked the old man skimmed off the fat and poured out some thin soup for Djoñiaik, who by this time was very hungry. Uncle and nephew sat on seats opposite each other with the lodge fire between. Passing over the bowl of soup the uncle gave a quick jerk as the boy grasped the rim and again pulled him into the fire.

“Oh nephew, I am sorry,” said he, laughing, “I am always in a hurry.” But Djoñiaik was sadly burned about the face and made no reply. With hungry eyes he watched his uncle stow away the uneaten portion of the raccoon. He had not a mouthful.

That afternoon he again visited his skeletal uncle and related all that had happened. He was thoroughly afraid now for his uncle was most ugly. But the skull, when it had smoked, only advised him to remember the names of the animals killed. “Today, I believe, you will shoot a turkey. Remember the name and begin to use your power to retaliate,” said the skull.

After watching quietly Djoñiaik saw a turkey,—a very large and fat turkey, which he shot. Tying its feet together he held it to his back by a burden strap and lugged it home, rushing into the lodge saying, “Turkey, turkey, turkey, turkey.”

This time the uncle asked no questions, but with a frown watched his nephew pluck the turkey and prepare it.

“This time I shall prepare a roast of meat,” said the boy. “I shall not make soup as my uncle does.” So he cooked the turkey in a pot and when done he divided the meat in two portions, putting each in a bark bowl. “Now come eat, Uncle,” said the boy handing the bowl over the fire to his uncle.

As the old man’s hand grasped the bowl, Djoñiaik gave it a quick pull, overbalancing his uncle and pulling him into the fire.

“Oh nephew!” exclaimed the uncle. “You have purposely abused me and burned my face and stomach. My hair is on fire. You have distressed me.” But the boy said only, “Oh I was in such a hurry.” And then he fell to eating the turkey, putting the uneaten portion on the shelf over his bed. This time the old man ate nothing.

The next morning very early the boy said, “I shall now arise and hunt game which comes to feed early in the morning.” So saying he arose, dressed and took his bow and went out. The old man was awake and looked very angry.

So Djoñiaik went directly to the skull and gave it tobacco. When it had smoked it said, “You shall hunt today and shoot a deer, but when you go back to the lodge your uncle will say, ‘It will be a cold night and I will gather large logs for a night fire.’ He will awaken at midnight with a dream and you must hit him on the head to awaken him, when he will relate his desire, it being to barter meat for fat bear casings. You must prepare yourself by taking a grape vine and transforming it as desired.” So instructed the boy went upon his hunt and killed a deer, bringing it home saying, “I have furnished a deer for the larder.” That night after they had eaten of the deer, the old man looked very angry.

“This will be a very cold night, I think,” said the old man. “I shall gather logs to burn during the night.” And so saying he made a roaring fire and went to bed.

Cautiously the nephew arranged his buffalo skin coverlet so that he had a peep-hole through a worn spot. At midnight the uncle arose and walking on his knees to the fire began to utter a worried sound, “Eñh, enh, enh, enh!” Then he threw one of the burning logs upon Djoñiaik, his nephew. Immediately the boy leaped up, being awake, and threw the log back into the fireplace, at the same time crying, “What is your dream, my uncle?” and then tapping the old man on the head with a club.

“It has now ceased,” answered the uncle, rubbing his head and becoming awake.

“The roof must be removed,” said the uncle, meaning that he had dreamed that the two must engage in a duel of wits. “Tomorrow we must barter, and I shall give, and you, Oh nephew, shall repay me with that which I must not tell you, but which you must guess, and failing great calamity will befall us.”

“That is very easy,” answered the boy. “Go to sleep; in the morning I will be ready.”

Morning came and the old man began to sing. “Yoh heh, yoh heh, yoh heh, I shall trade with my nephew Djoñiaik, and he shall give me my desire.” So did he sing continually.

It was a song that only a sorcerer would sing and its sound traveled far, so much so that all the wizards heard it and said, “Shogoⁿ‘´gwā’s is singing again and this time has chosen his own nephew as a victim.” So they all came and perched about in the house, being invisible, to watch the duel of orendas (magic powers).

Djoñiaik was bidden sit at the end of the long house, and it was very long indeed, there being many abandoned fireplaces in it. Far at the end he sat on the far side of an old fire bed. His uncle began to sing again, and walked forward with a bark tray in which were pieces of meat. “I offer these to you,” he said. “You shall give me what I am thinking about.”

“Only give me a clue, uncle,” begged the boy. “How can I divine what is in your mind?”

“Torture by fire awaits you if you guess not by mid-sun,” sang the old man still holding out the meat, while the boy pretended to be thinking deeply.

“Oh, uncle,” said the boy, “you desire raccoon meat.”

“No, not raccoon meat. Oh nephew, you must divine my word.”

“Oh uncle, you want turkey.”

“No not turkey. Oh nephew, you must divine my word.”

“Oh uncle, you want partridge.”

“No not partridge. Oh nephew you must divine my word.”

Again the boy sought to evade his uncle by exclaiming, “How can you expect me to guess your dream unless you give me some clue to your desire?”

Again the uncle fell to singing the charm song that conjures up flames, and suddenly they burst forth from the ground with a loud sound enveloping the poor nephew who wrestling with them, cried, “Oh uncle your desire is for the bear casings enclosed in deep fat.”

“Niio‘!” exclaimed the uncle, and the flames died down, whereupon Djoñiaik brought forth his grape stalk which he had conjured to look like the casings of a bear. Then was the uncle satisfied.

That afternoon the boy retired to the forest and sought his skeletal advisor, telling him all that had happened.

“Once more,” said the skull, “your uncle will make a demand and all the circumstances will be similar. This time he will desire a bear’s liver. Go to a log in the swamp, pluck a red tree fungus and rub it with your hands until it becomes a liver.”

So instructed the boy was ready for his wizard uncle. As before the logs were gathered and a great fire made, and in the middle of the night the old man flung fire upon the boy again.

When the dialogue was over the boy found that once more a test was to come. “It is nothing,” said he. “Go to sleep.”

Morning came and the old wizard sang his charm song. The boy took his seat as before and when pressed by the flame he cried out, “You wish a liver of a bear, Oh uncle.”

The uncle was not at all pleased with his nephew’s power for he wished to consume him with fire, after the manner prescribed for torture, but he could not.

Reporting the event to the skull, the boy asked for further help. “Tonight you must dream, and when your guardian has struck you with a club to awaken you, you must crave the guessing of your word, which shall be one of the squashes that grow in a sand box under your uncle’s bed. It is a great prize. Have no mercy but get what you demand.”

That night the boy gathered firewood, remarking that he expected the night to be very cold and wanted to warm the lodge. The uncle only scowled.

Midnight came, and the invisible wizards and sorcerers were watching. Stealthily the boy arose, and creeping on his knees, he approached the fire, grasping a blazing log and throwing it upon his uncle, as sleeping persons do. Then he began to grunt, “Eñh, enh, enh, enh,” as if in distress.

The uncle awoke, being severely scorched and his bed set afire. “Oh nephew,” he called as he gave the boy a knock on the head to awaken him. “What do you wish?”

“It has now ceased,” said the boy. “Oh uncle, I have dreamed that you and I must exchange gifts, and that you must give me what I desire.”

“It shall so be,” answered the uncle. “This is nothing.”

The two then retired and early in the morning the boy awoke and took his seat. In a tray he had some turkey meat.

Commencing his song he called out, “I am trading a gift with Shogoⁿ‘´gwa‘s, my uncle. He shall give me in exchange what I most desire.” So saying he sang the charm song that conjures flames from the earth.

The old man took his seat and when approached said,

“I shall divine your word if you will give me a clue.”

“Any clue would spoil the intention of the dream, uncle.”

“Then tell me at once what you wish,—be quick about it!”

“To utter one word would be fatal to my desire.”

“Then the word is deer meat.”

“No not deer meat, uncle. Hurry for I shall sing.”

“Then you wish moose meat.”

“No not moose meat, uncle. Hurry or I shall sing.”

“Then you wish my coonskin robe.”

“No not your coonskin robe. I now commence to sing.”

“Then you wish my otterskin robe,” hastened the uncle, naming one of his prized possessions.

“No uncle, not your otterskin robe. I now sing.”

With a burst of the conjurer’s song, the boy began to sing, “Yoh heh, yoh heh, yoh heh. My uncle and I are exchanging. He shall give me what I most desire.” As he sang his flames leaped from the ground, for Djoñiaik was now an adept in magic. Surrounding the uncle the flames began to singe him. With a shriek he leaped to the platform above his bed, but the flames followed, until he called out, “Oh nephew I yield!”

Descending he said, “You desire the squash beneath my bed,” and the boy exclaimed, “It is so.”

With great reluctance the old wizard opened the bed, lifting up the bottom boards like the top of a chest. Beneath in boxes of sand were vines with squashes growing upon them, though it was winter outside. Taking a look at the largest, the old man shut down the cover and exclaimed:

“Oh nephew, it is the custom to simulate what is desired in a dream. I shall now carve you from wood a squash that you may preserve as a charm.”

“Only the real object desired shall satisfy me,” answered the boy. “Must I sing again?” And he started his song which brought forth flames that enshrouded the old man, causing him to cry out, “Oh nephew, I yield!”

This time the boy obtained the squash and with it the injunction to take care of it, for it was a great prize.

Reporting the episode to the skull, the boy received further instruction. He was to dream again and was to demand as the satisfying word, his hidden sister who was concealed in a bark case beneath the wizard’s bed. This was a great surprise to the boy, for he had not dreamed that he had a sister concealed, this being the treatment given children born with a caul. They were hidden by day and only allowed to go out by night.

“The wizard hopes to keep the child,” said the skull. “It is his greatest prize and unless you are very firm he will cause you to err, thereby escaping your demand. Have no pity but push him to the uttermost with your demand.”

Again the boy built the lodge fire and as midnight came, he crept from his coverings and crawled along the floor of the great cavernous lodge. Slowly creeping to the fire he seized a blazing log and with a cry flung it upon his sleeping uncle, at the same time grunting, “Enh, enh, enh, enh,” as if in distress.

With a whack of his club the old man awakened the boy, who called out, “It has ceased,” meaning the vision.

“Oh uncle,” he said. “I have dreamed that you must give me something in exchange for the gift I shall offer you tomorrow.”

“It shall be done,” answered the uncle with a dark frown.

Morning came and with it the test. Long the old man sought to cause the boy to make one small slip in the custom but he failed. Mid-day came and as the sun beat down through the smoke hole the boy began his charm song, causing flames to arise as torture for the old wizard.

After much haggling the old man opened his bed once more and revealed a bark case beautifully decorated. He removed this and placed it on a mat, after which he opened the case and unwrapped a small woman, beautifully white, and perfect in form, though only as long as a man’s arm.

“Oh nephew,” said the uncle, “Now that you have seen your sister, I will replace her and give you what is customary in such instances, a carved imitation. You will be greatly pleased with the doll I give you.”

In reply the boy gave his charm song and again the magic flames circled about the uncle like a clinging garment. “Oh nephew, I yield,” he cried and handed over the case.

After much haggling the old man opened his bed once assured that success would come if he withstood one more test,—that of bodily torture by cold. “Your uncle will dream tonight and his word will be satisfied only by causing you to be divested of all clothing and tied to a bark toboggan and dragged ten times around the long house where you dwell. I know not that you will endure, for your magic is equal.”

As predicted the old man dreamed that his nephew strip the next morning, though the weather was extremely cold. “I must drag you around the lodge ten times,” said the uncle, but first I must bind you securely with thongs.”

“It will be very easy,” said the boy. “Really, it is nothing at all.”

Emerging from the door the boy stood in the intense cold and stripped himself, throwing his garments back into the lodge. “Now I am ready,” said he, and his uncle then bound him tightly with thongs, placing him on the bark toboggan.

After the first trip around the uncle called out, “Oh nephew, are you still alive?” And the boy answered, “Yes, uncle,” in his loudest tones.

For a second time the uncle made a circuit of the long house, which was the longest in the world, and again called out, “Oh nephew, are you alive?” receiving an answer just a bit fainter, “Yes, uncle.”

Each time around the uncle asked the same question and each time the answer was fainter until the ninth time his nephew’s voice was scarcely audible. So he made another circuit, thinking as he made it, “This time he is frozen as stiff as an icicle.”

So when he had completed his tenth round he spoke again, “Oh nephew, are you alive?” And to his great surprise the boy called in the most sprightly tones, “Yes uncle,” whereupon he was released of the cords and entered the lodge.

All this the boy reported to the skull who said, “On this night you shall dream, and you shall demand that your wizard uncle submit to the same ordeal. Allow him no mercy, for if he gains in one point all is lost.”

Midnight came and with it the episode of the dream demand. The old man weakly yielded and then both slept until morning. The test then began, but the old man begged, saying, “I am old and if you will allow me to retain my clothing you will be satisfied.” But the nephew answered, “Oh no, uncle, I must be satisfied according to my desires. What you say has nothing to do with the event.”

“Then do not bind me, for the cords will cut my flesh and this is not a part of the demand.”

Nevertheless the boy bound his uncle and threw him on his toboggan. With the completion of each circuit he would ask his uncle if he were alive, and each time would be assured that he was. Upon finishing the ninth trip he again asked, “Uncle, are you alive?” but there was no reply and drawing the toboggan to the door he felt of his uncle and found him frozen as stiff as an icicle.

He thereupon, lifted the toboggan high, and his uncle was upon it. With a mighty fling he threw it afar and when it came down with a crash his uncle broke into bits like an image of ice.

Reporting the event to the skull he was praised for his endurance. “Now we shall all live again and those who have been overcome by magic will be set free,” said the skull. “Cover me with a bear skin and when I call lift me from the ground.” Soon he called and Djoñiaik grasped the skull and lifted it from the earth and with it the cramped body of the tcisga. Rubbing it with his hands and anointing it he restored it to the form of a normal man.

“I am your uncle, restored,” said the former skeleton. “Let us now search for your father and mother.” Together they set off and found another mound from which they conjured the skeletons of a man and a woman, and restored them by rubbing and by oil.

All with great joy returned to the long house where they attended to the little sister, Djoñiaik rubbing her as was his custom and restoring her to a full grown maiden.

Everyone was now happy, and the roosting wizards silently departed, leaving the great long house habitable for the restored family, and soon more men and women and children came to live in the long house and it became a dwelling where all were happy.

There was a long bark lodge, alone by itself in a small clearing. Here dwelt an elderly man and his nephew. Hadno’´sĕⁿ, the uncle, possessed a marvelous flute, which he kept in his war bundle, wherein also were all his charms for luck in warfare and in hunting. The flute possessed great power, and it was the oracle most consulted by the old man. Misfortune had befallen the people through the machinations of certain sorcerers, and the flute remained the only potent charm left by which the old man might foretell events.

As the uncle grew older he began to worry about the future, for he was reaching the age when men cease to go on hunting excursions. Now his nephew, Hauñwaⁿ´dĕⁿ’, was at the age when it was considered that a boy is not yet ready for the rigors of the chase. Therefore, the old uncle was perplexed.

On a certain night the old man came home to the great empty bark lodge and threw down a deer. “This is my last hunt,” he exclaimed. “My nephew, you must soon learn to shoot.”

“Oh I can shoot as well as any one,” said the boy with great assurance, and so the old man gave him his bow and an arrow. “Shoot the spot where I have hit that stump with an arrow,” said the old man, and the boy taking the big bow and long arrow, pulled the cord back and shot. His arrow struck the very spot where his uncle had pointed out an arrow mark. “Tcă‘, tcă‘!” exclaimed the old man. “You are now able to shoot. Tomorrow you may go hunting, but first wait, I will tell you what animal you will be able to kill.”

So saying the uncle took his flute from its bundle and examined it. Then he blew a few notes of a charm song upon it. In another moment the flute itself uttered notes though nobody blew upon it. “This indicates that you will kill a deer,” announced the uncle.

The next day Hauñwandeh went into the forest alone and shot a deer, which he brought home to his uncle. “This is good,” said the uncle. “Now let me consult my flute again.”

Once again he blew the notes of the charm song upon his flute, waited a moment and then heard it call out, “Two deer shall be killed tomorrow.”

“Now, my nephew,” said the uncle looking very grave, “I must tell you that while you must in the future hunt for both of us, you must never go south. Listen to what I say, never go south.”

On the morrow the boy returned dragging two deer and threw them on the ground outside his uncle’s doorway. Again the uncle expressed his satisfaction, and again he consulted his flute. “My nephew,” he announced after listening to the oracle, “tomorrow you shall kill a deer and a fat bear. Again I warn you never to go south.”

The boy that night had troubled dreams and through his mind the question was repeated over and over, “Why may I not go south, Oh why may I not go south?”

The hunting continued each day as before, but the boy was greatly troubled about his uncle’s command. Nevertheless he obeyed until he saw that the lodge was well supplied with meat which hung in the smoke from every rafter, curing for winter’s use. Then he thought that come what might to him he would go south, and if he died his uncle would have plenty to eat for a long time.

So resolved he went on his hunt, and by taking a circuitous route, he went from east to south. Soon he found the trail of an elk which he followed southward for a very long ways. Greatly fatigued by the chase he still kept up the pursuit, until he came to a little open place in the forest, where to his great surprise he saw a young woman sitting on a log at the side of the trail. She looked up at him with a bewitching smile and said, “Come sit on the log with me, you look tired.”

Hauñwandeh looked at her, found her pleasing, and so went to the log and sat down, saying nothing. Soon the girl spoke again. “It is not customary,” said she, “for young people to sit so far apart when they meet as we have done. Draw close to me and rest your head on my lap, for you are very tired.”

The boy therefore sat closely to her and then placed his head in her lap. Thereupon the girl fell to stroking his hair and scratching his head, looking the while for wood lice. As she did this the boy began to feel sleepy and fearing something of evil might befall him tied one of his hairs to a root beneath the log, which act the girl did not notice. Then he fell into a deep sleep.

When the young woman saw that he was fully asleep she began to pat his body with her hand, and the boy shrunk in size with every pat until he was so small that the young woman placed him with ease in the basket she carried. Then she leaped into the air and flew away, as witches do. In a short time, however, she came to a halt and was slowly drawn back to the log from which she had started. The hair had stretched its limit and drew her back. She took the boy out of the basket and struck him with a small paddle and he became restored. “I will fix him next time,” thought she.

Hauñwandeh was now in the power of the witch-girl and stayed all day with her, until he became sleepy again, when she stroked his head once more, putting him to sleep. Making him small by patting, she again placed him in her basket and flew through the air to a river bank. Taking him out she asked, “Do you know where you are?” Hoping to destroy her magic he answered, “Oh yes, I know where I am. This is the place where my uncle and I catch our fish.” So she put him in her basket and flew to an island in a large lake. Taking him out she questioned him further, “Do you know this place?” Still hoping to deceive her he answered, “Oh this is the place where my uncle and I come with our canoe.”

Angry that she could not take him to an unfamiliar spot the witch-girl replaced him in her basket and leaped high in the air, this time taking him to a far distant place. Descending she alighted on the edge of a great precipice, so deep that the tops of the trees below were only faintly visible. She gave a shriek and threw the basket over the cliff.

Now Hauñwandeh, being attacked by the powers of witchcraft, began to develop his own magic power, and when he went over the cliff and felt himself falling, he desired to fall as an autumn leaf, and so he fluttered down to the bottom without injury. He tumbled out of the basket and saw that he was in a deep hole in the earth and that there was no means of escape. Looking about him he saw the skeletons of numerous men, and not far away he saw two men who were alive but partially eaten.

They spoke to him. “Oh miserable youth,” said they. “We are of the opinion that you have not long to live.”

“How did you get here?” asked the boy.

“We met a young woman,” said they, “who lured us to be friendly with her, and she stroked our hair, then took us in a basket and threw us down the cliff. A great bird comes and bites our bodies and we are being eaten and yet cannot die.”

As they spoke, a gigantic bird flew by, and darting at the youth, took a large bit out of his arm. He looked at the wound and licked it, and it immediately healed.

When the uncle missed his nephew he became greatly distressed. Taking out his flute he looked at it and found that the mouth of it was stained with a smear of blood. “Agi‘,” he exclaimed. “My nephew has disobeyed and now is wounded.”

The next day the big bird returned and took a mouthful from the boy’s arm, but as before he placed the wound to his mouth and healed it by his own power.

That night the waiting uncle looked at his flute again and found it very bloody. “Agi‘,” he exclaimed, “some direful thing has happened and I shall never see my nephew again.”

On the following day the bird swooped at him and tore his body cruelly, eating large chunks of it, but as before he healed himself.

As he lay pondering over his misery he heard a voice and looking up saw a little old woman. Very small was she and stooped over. “I have taken pity on you,” she said. “I have a medicine for you. Take it and if in the morning you find a green sprig coming from your mouth, snatch it quickly, for it is a quickly growing tree. Pull up the plant that you find beneath your feet and put the green sprig into the hole. It will grow to the top of the cliff and you may escape. If you have strong power within you there can be no failure.” So saying she handed the boy a small white root which he swallowed. Seeing this the little old woman vanished.

The next morning Hauñwandeh felt a pain in his stomach and soon he felt a scratching in his throat. Out came a green sprig which he snatched quickly and, pulling up a small withered plant he thrust the sprig into the hole and waited.

For a very long time the uncle awaited the return of his nephew, and mourned greatly. Not once did he leave the lodge but sat within with his face covered with the white ashes from the lodge fire. Each day a sound would be heard and a voice would call, “Hail Uncle, I have returned!” Leaping up with gladness the uncle would look out, but see only a scampering fox or mocking screech owl, or perhaps a wild goose. So he fell to answering all calls by saying, “Depart quickly, I know that you are deceiving me.” So, in mourning he sat, covered with ashes and growing thinner and weaker every day.

Hauñwandeh watched the green sprig, and noticed that it had begun to grow. This pleased him greatly and he called all the bones in the valley saying: “I will gather you together in one pile. I will cause your resurrection and you shall escape with me for I have a growing tree which we may climb.” So saying he gathered the bones in a pile and called quickly, “Hurry now, for you shall arise. Quickly, for the tree is growing. Hasten, for I am now thrusting a tree upon you, and you must arise before the tree falls upon you.” Then he kicked over the tree and it fell, but before it touched the ground all the skeletons arose looking like men. The two partly eaten men recovered and said, “We are your relatives.” Now two men who had been restored fell to quarreling, because each had taken the other’s legs in the haste of arising, but the boy commanded them to be still and follow him up the tree. So all followed, and he further ordered all to look upward and not downward, for one look downward meant destruction. The tree was very tall and it took a long time to climb it, and when the company had climbed a long ways the two quarreling men looked down to see how far they had gone, and as they looked they turned to skeletons again and their bones rattled through the limbs of the tree and past the others who were climbing.

At length all reached the top and gathered about the edge of the cliff. Then the boy saw that the company looked very friendly, and he discovered two brothers among them. “I must go to the house of the young woman,” he said to his brothers. “I leave this company in your care. I must overcome the evil magic of the great witches. When I have done this I shall return. Wait for me.”

Hauñwandeh determined to have his revenge. He sought the house of the witches and went straight toward it. Reaching the door, he entered saying, “I have come.”

Sitting in the lodge was the young woman who had bewitched him, and at the lodge fire was the mother, the great witch, and in the rear of the lodge were six daughters.

The mother looked up, saying, “Oh son-in-law, I dreamed you would come. My daughter is waiting for you.”

That night the old witch became disturbed in her sleep and arose and flung herself in the fire, crying out a strange noise. Hauñwandeh grabbed the corn pounder and hit her on the head, saying, “Awake and tell me.” So she awoke and said, “Oh son-in-law, I have dreamed that calamity will befall us unless you repair to the long lake and kill two white otters, and do it quickly, before the skin curtain of the lodge door stops swinging, from your out-going.”

“That will be very easy,” answered the youth. “Be at ease and I will soon return.” So speaking he tied his long hairs together and made a string that reached from the door to the lake. This he tied to the skin curtain and kept it swinging as he ran to the lake.

“Otters come forth,” he commanded, and one great white otter leaped from the lake, but the youth killed it with a round white stone that he carried in his pouch. As he did this a wave arose and sped toward him bearing on its crest the other great white otter. As it leaped toward him he killed it as he had the first. Running back to the lodge he flung the bodies in, with a laugh, exclaiming, “Here are your otters.”

“Where?” screamed the witch woman, leaping from her bed. “Here,” he replied. “I shall now build the fire and skin them.” He did this, saving the skins and throwing the carcasses into the fire. At this the witch woman screamed, “Oh, you have killed my brothers!” And the boy replied, “Did you not require this of me?” It was true, the otters were the witch woman’s wizard brothers, and they were mighty in magic. The water in which they lived was magic water and when it touched the skin of a man the flesh was eaten off, as if scalded. But Hauñwandeh was harmed not at all. He was becoming a great wizard himself.

The following night the witch woman dreamed again and when awakened by her son-in-law, required that he immediately depart and kill a great eagle that dwelt in the top of a certain tall tree, and do so before the door curtain stopped swinging from his departure. Hauñwandeh obeyed and finding the tree, shot a strong arrow at the big bird, but though he used great force in drawing the bow, the arrow paused in mid air and returned. The eagle’s magic was too great. Again he shot an arrow, commanding it to kill the eagle, and the arrow obeyed, piercing the heart of the bird. It fell to his feet, and grabbing it in haste he ran to the lodge. With a laugh he flung it in the door saying, “Here is your third brother!” “Where?” shrieked the old witch, leaping from her bed. “Right here by the fire,” answered Hauñwandeh. “I shall now skin it and burn its body.” When he had done this, the old witch was in a great rage. With all six daughters she was screaming and waving her blanket.

Hauñwandeh then beckoned to the young woman who had bewitched him. She looked frightened. “Come along,” he commanded, “this is a bad place. We are going away.”

Taking the young woman outside, he ordered her to look at the lodge, at the same time saying, “House become flint. House become heated red hot.” The house obeyed and all the witches inside perished.

Then he took the young woman to the precipice and greeting the men he had rescued said, “This young woman is said to be my wife.” So saying he tied her with bark cords and flung her over the cliff.

The entire company of restored men then followed Hauñwandeh, and he led them back to his uncle’s lodge, calling from without, said, “Hail uncle, I have returned.”

Again and again he called, and after a time he heard a voice answering, “Be away, be away from here! I shall not be deceived again by you animals!”

“I am your nephew,” called the boy. “I have returned.”

“Well, if you are my nephew thrust your hands through the hole in the curtain and grasp the door-post,” said the uncle.

The boy did as suggested and his uncle tied his arms very tightly, so that he was made prisoner. Then the uncle looked out and saw his nephew.

“Oh wait until I become cleaned,” cried the uncle, brushing off the ashes and washing his blackened face.

So he cleansed himself and untied his nephew’s arms. Then he invited all the restored relatives into the lodge for a great feast; so then Hauñwandeh told the story of his adventures; that is how we know about it.

Far from any settlement of Oñgwe Hoñwe‘, there was a lonely lodge wherein dwelt two brothers, one older than the other. Older Brother was the hunter and provided meat for the lodge, and Younger Brother cooked the food. All things went well until upon a certain day Older came home with no game. Younger carefully observed his clothing and found fresh blood stains upon it, thereby knowing that he had killed game.

Day by day the brother now returned without game of any kind, although his body and clothing proved by blood stains that he had been successful. Food in the lodge became scarce and Younger began to get very hungry, but Older seemed to be well fed. Younger watched him and noticed that he seemed to be thinking of something other than the matters about which he spoke. Inquiry revealed nothing of value, for Older would always say, “Oh my Younger Brother, you should not bother me.”

The Older Brother went on another hunting trip, taking many accoutrements, as if for a long trip. Younger determined to follow him and spy upon his actions. Carefully tracking Older, Younger went down the trail until he came to a spring, where he noticed a small path concealed by leaves and branches. He determined to follow this. In a short time he saw a new lodge. It appeared to be very new for the bark had not yet fully dried, being still of the smell of the tree. Concealing himself in a clump of bushes he watched. Soon he heard two voices, one of them a woman’s. The woman was ordering a man to do certain things and he was pleading to be set free. Soon a man came out of the lodge and went west. Younger then saw that it was his brother.

When Older had been gone for a time Younger stood up and walked toward the lodge, making a noise with his feet to attract attention. The woman heard the sound and came out of the house. She was young and very handsome and had a peculiar way of lifting her head and when she looked she seemed to draw her eyes together making an upright wrinkle between. Her eyes seemed yellow with bright spots in them.

Soon she observed Younger standing still on the path and smiled, calling him to her. He advanced to the lodge and she stepped inside, saying “Dadjoh,” inviting him in. Younger entered and the young woman embraced him and placed her hand on his body, in greeting. Younger noticed that she had a hook on her hand attached to a long fish line and that she was endeavoring to fasten the hook into him. He fled from the lodge and ran down the trail, saying, “I will make ready and return.” Younger now returned to his own lodge and awaited the coming of Older Brother.

After a long time Older returned and sat down by the fire. Younger looked at him a while, and noticed as usual, blood stains on his shirt. He observed something else.

At last Younger spoke. “My Older Brother,” he said, “It is my opinion that you have a fishhook in your neck. You are held by a long line that goes out of the lodge. I shall now proceed to remove the hook.”

Taking Older out of the lodge he removed the hook and fastened it to a thorn bush that stood on the edge of a cliff. “Oh now, my Older Brother, I must tell you that soon a woman, who is your wife, will pull on the line and when you do not return she will be after you. Such is my opinion. I also think that the woman is a sorceress and that she will endeavor to kill both of us. Now I have acquired strong magic and will save you. You must stand here and allow me to pat you into a small object which I will place in the hollow of an antler-tipped arrow-point. I will shoot this arrow into the sky. It will go a long ways and then fall to the ground. When you strike the ground become normal in size and run as fast as you can until you find a new lodge far to the east. There dwell until I come for you.”

Now all happened as related by Younger and when the arrow was shot it made a path in the sky, and striking the earth, Older came out of the conical tip and ran east.

After the arrow’s flight the sorceress pulled on the fish line, seeking to draw Older back to her, but the string held fast. So she followed the line until she came to the thorn bush. Then she saw what had happened and was very angry. Her first thought was to hunt for Younger, to whom she attributed the blame.

Younger ran as fast as he could, aided by his magic, but the sorceress was swifter than he and soon saw him before her. With a shrill cry she bore down upon him making a barking sound and yelling, “You cannot escape me, you cannot escape me.”

Younger then disappeared around a big rock and took off his moccasins. “Run to the end of the world,” he commanded, and then transformed himself into the likeness of an old stump.

On came the sorceress, following the moccasin tracks. She paused at the stump and then said, “Most truly this stump looks like a man, but I see his tracks going in a direction away from here.” Thereupon she began her chase again yelling as was her custom, “You cannot escape me.” After a long time she came to the end of the world and found a pair of moccasins. Her rage was terrible and she tore up the ground, saying, “He thinks, perhaps, that he has deceived me, but I will find him. He cannot escape me.” She retraced her steps and came to the place where the stump had been but it had vanished, for Younger had been running away all this time. The sorceress followed his trail until she came into sight of him again, when she yelled, “You cannot escape me.” When she was almost upon him he took a small round stone from his pocket and cast it upon the ground, at the same time running with all the speed his magic would give.

The stone became an immense escarpment, so high that the sorceress could not climb over it. She uttered exclamations in token of her disgust and began to run at the foot of the cliff but it went on without ceasing until she came to the end of the world, when she ran back to the place where she had started and then on to the other end of the world. Returning she began to push the cliff and then to beat it with her hands. Finally she ran into it trying to batter it down with her head but she crashed into the rock with such force that she fell down as if hit by a war club, and fainted. For a long time she lay still like a dead person, but finally revived. Looking about she spied a small white stone. “Tcisna!” she exclaimed, “Have I been overcome by so small a stone? I now perceive that the boy is a magician.”

Again she began to run and soon again saw Younger running before her. “You cannot escape me,” she called as she ran toward him, whereupon Younger took a handful of pigeon feathers from his pouch and cast them into the air, saying, “Do you become a great pigeon roost as if of long duration.”

With this command the feathers became pigeons and they flew through the trees until all were filled. Beneath them the ground became deep with slime and into this the sorceress ran. She drew back for it was like a pitch bed to a beetle. In vain she tried to plow through, and then turned and ran along the edge until she reached the end of the world, and failing to break through she ran the other way, but found the slime made a track to the other end of the world. Returning to the middle spot she began to beat it with her head, but became smothered and fell down in a faint, as if dead.

After a long time she revived and found a pigeon feather on her nose. “Tcisna!” she exclaimed. “This boy is a magician. But he cannot escape me.” So crying, she started the pursuit again and after a long time saw him ahead of her running very fast. When she was nearly upon him Younger stamped his foot into the ground and cried, “Become a deep hole.” Then he ran on. The sorceress came to the hole but it was so wide and so deep that she could not cross it. She endeavored to run around it but could not find an end in either direction and finally returned to the starting point and endeavored to jump across, but she fell in with a loud noise and went to the bottom, knocking her head on a stone. Long she lay stunned and when she revived she looked about and saw only a moccasin track in the mud, laid across the path. “He is a magician, he thinks, but he cannot escape me,” cried the sorceress, and began the chase once more.

Now after a time Younger came to a broad river where he saw a great number of people swimming about and racing in the water. He heard the sounds of the sorceress as she pursued him and exerting his magic said, “May the swimmer who is the greatest distance out in the river take on my appearance, whilst I become a tree stub.” The angry sorceress reached the river and paused at the stub, and soon discovered the appearance of Younger far out in the river. In plunged the angry woman and soon came to the bather whom she saw was not her victim. With a cry she swam back to the shore to find the deceiving tree stub, but it had vanished leaving moccasin tracks in the direction it had taken.

Younger ran very fast this time for he was almost at the end of his tricks. When he was about discouraged, a strange old man with a broad back and a wide mouth appeared before him. “My nephew,” said the old man. “My name is Toad. I will aid you in your escape. I understand that there is a woman who is pursuing you, and this is great trouble. Get on my back and bounce up and down. I will give a spring and throw you far up on a smooth hill. Climb as far as you can to the top.”

Younger clambered on Toad’s back which was very springy, and Toad arose with a leap throwing Younger far through the air and landing him on the surface of a slippery hill. He endeavored to climb the hill but reaching a very shiny spot fell into a groove and began to slip. Down, down he slipped with great rapidity until he slid with a cloud of dust into a big lodge where an old woman and her two daughters were boiling bear oil over the fireplace.

“Augh!” cried the old woman, “I guess somebody has fallen in our trap. Let us see what it is.”

When the women saw Younger, the old woman asked, “What are you doing here?”

“Oh my aunt,” exclaimed the distressed Younger. “I have been running away from a very evil witch. She is now pursuing me. I met an old man who threw me upon a slippery hillside and I slipped down where I am now sitting.”

“Well, she is coming now,” said the old woman. “You climb up on the platform over my bed and hide. I think I can overcome this witch.”

Younger obeyed with alacrity, and soon heard the sorceress slide into the lodge, crying, “He cannot escape me!”

“What are you doing here?” asked the old woman.

“I am pursuing a very bad magician,” answered the sorceress. “He has caused me much trouble. Have you seen him in this lodge?”

“Oh yes, my niece,” answered the old woman. “I have him now. He is a great magician and went into this pot of bear oil.”

Now the old woman possessed magic, and conjured the face of Younger into the bottom of the pot of oil.

The sorceress looked in, and, crying, “You cannot escape me now,” leaped into the pot, going to the bottom. Now the oil was boiling and it killed her so that she could never return to life again. It was the end of her.

Then the old woman called Younger and said, “I have been waiting for you a long time. I notice that you are of our kind of people. You shall become my son-in-law, by taking my youngest daughter.”

Younger looked at the girl and saw that she was most desirable. He had never seen a girl who was so much to his taste. So soon they were married.

Younger lived in the lodge with the women and he hunted for them, bringing in a great number of deer every day, which the women dried and smoked. After a year Younger’s wife bore him two sons. They were precocious boys who learned to talk very early, also to play about.

It was not long before they were full grown and asked where their relatives lived. Younger, their father, answered that all had been killed by sorcery but their uncle, his own brother, whom he has rescued by sending him away in an arrow.

“It is well,” said the boys. “We will go after him.” So they set forth after their uncle. Long they traveled until in a strange country they found an old lodge and in it a lonely old man with a sore spot in his neck, which he was continually nursing.

“Our uncle,” they called to him. “We two are your nephews and have come for you. Come with us. We have an aunt older than our mother. You can marry her.”

So Older returned with his nephews and when he came to the lodge he found his brother Younger. Then he saw the woman who would become his wife. He liked her and they were soon married. All lived together and they had no more trouble with wizards or witches. Younger had too much power now, and everything otgont (evil) was afraid of him.