The Southern Mewuk of Merced River foothills say:

Some of the rivers are inhabited by Ho-hā’-pe, the River Mermaids or Water Women. The Ho-ha’-pe have long hair and are beautiful to look at. They usually live in deep pools, and are known at several places in Wah-kal’-mut-tah (Merced River). In that part of the river which runs through Ah-wah’-ne (Yosemite Valley) they have been seen a number of times.

One lives now lower down in the river, at the upper end of Pleasant Valley in the large round pool called Ow’-wal. In the early days two partners used to fish for salmon at Ow’-wal, one on each side of the pool; several times they saw Ho-hā’-pe.

Another lives in the deep water at Wel’-le-to (on the Barrett ranch, a little below Pleasant Valley). At this place a few years ago some Indians from Bear Valley and Coulterville came to catch salmon. They put their net in a deep place in the river, and when it was full of fish tried to pull it out, but could not, for it was stuck on the bottom. Ho-hā’-pe the Water Woman had fastened it to a rock, but the men did not know this. One of them went down to find where the net had caught, and to lift it up. While he was doing this Ho-hā’-pe put a turn of the net-rope around his big toe and he was drowned. Then several of the men had to go down to get him. After they brought up his body all of them saw Ho-hā’-pe in the pool below, and saw her long hair float out in the current.

NOTE–The story of Ho-hā’-pe the River Mermaid, varying more or less in details, reaches north at least to American River, where the Nissenan (who call her Ho-sā’-pah) have the following version:

Two maidens were walking along American River below the foothills when they heard a baby cry. They followed the sound and soon saw the baby lying on a sand bar in the edge of the river. One of them reached down to pick it up when it suddenly changed to Ho-sā’-pah the River Mermaid, who, seizing the young woman, dragged her into the river. She cried out and her companion took hold of her arm and pulled and pulled as hard as she could to save her, but Ho-sā’-pah was the stronger and dragged her under the water and she was never seen again.

The other maiden ran home to the village and told her people what had happened. She was so terribly frightened that her mind became affected and in a short time she died.

The Dawn of the World; Myths and Weird Tales Told by the Mewan [Miwok] Indians of California; Collected and Edited by C. Hart Merriam; Cleveland: Arthur H. Clarke Co., [1910] ] and is now in the public domain

Hiawatha (Haion-hwa-tha-He-Who-Makes-Rivers) is thought to have been a statesman, lawgiver, shaman, and unifier who lived around 1570. According to some sources, he was born a Mohawk and sought refuge among the Onondaga when his own tribe at first rejected his teachings. His efforts to unite the Iroquois tribes were opposed by a formidable chieftain, Wathatotarho, whom he eventually defeated and who killed Hiawatha’s daughter in revenge.

The slumber of Ta-ren-ya-wa-gon, Upholder of Heavens, was disturbed by a great cry of anguish and woe. He looked down from his abode to earth and saw human beings moaning with terror, pursued by horrifying monsters and cruel, man-devouring giants. Turning himself into a mortal, Ta-ren-ya-wa-gon swiftly descended to earth and, taking a small girl by the hand, told the frightened humans to follow him. By ails known only to him, he led the group of shivering refuges to a cave at the mouth of a great river, where he fed them and told them to sleep.

After the people had somewhat recovered under his protection, Ta-ren-ya-wa-gon again took the little girl by the hand and led them toward the rising sun. The band traveled for many days until they came to the confluence of two mighty rivers whose waters, white and with spray, cascaded over tremendous rocks. There Ta-ren-ya-wa-gon halted and built a longhouse for himself and his people.

For years they lived there, content and growing fat, their children turned into strong men and handsome women. Then Ta-ren-ya-wa-gon, the Sky Upholder became mortal, gathered the people around him and spoke: “You, my children, must now spread out and become great nations. I will make your numbers like the leaves of a forest in summertime, like pebbles on the shore of the great waters.” And again he took one little girl by the hand and walked toward the setting sun, all the people following him.

After a long journey they came to the banks of a beautiful river. Ta-ren-ya-wa-gon separated a few families from the rest and told them to build a longhouse at that spot and found a village. “You shall be known by the name of Te-ha-wro-gah, Those-of-Divided-Speech,” he told them, and they grew into the Mohawk tribe. And from the moment he named them, their language changed and they could no longer understand the rest of the people.

To the Mohawks Ta-ren-ya-wa-gon gave corn, beans, squash, and tobacco, together with dogs to help them hunt game. He taught them how to plant and reap and pound corn into meal, He taught them the ways of the forest and the game, for in that long-ago time, people did not yet know all these things. When he had fully instructed them and given them the necessities of life, Ta-ren-ya-wa-gon again took one little girl by the hand and traveled with the remaining people toward the sunset.

After a long journey they halted in a beautiful well-watered valley surrounded by forests, and he commanded another group to build their village in that spot. He gave them what was necessary for life, taught them what they needed to know, and named them Ne-ha-wre-ta-go, the Big-Tree people, for the great forests surrounding them. And these people, who grew into the Oneida nation, also spoke a tongue of their own as soon as he had named them.

Then once more Ta-ren-ya-wa-gon took a little girl’s hand and wandered on, always toward the setting sun, and the rest of the people followed him. They came to a big mountain which he named O-nun-da-ga-o-no-ga. At its foot he commanded some more families to build a longhouse, and he gave them the same gifts and taught them the same things that he had the others. He named them after the mountain towering above them and also gave them a speech of their own. And these people became the Onondaga nation.

Again with a small girl at his side. Ta-ren-ya-wa-gon wandered on, leading the people to the shores of a lake sparkling in the sun. The lake was called Go-yo-gah, and here still another group built their village, and they became the Cayugas.

Now only a handful of people were left, and these Ta-ren-ya-wa-gon led to a lake by a mountain called Ga-nun-da-gwa. There he settled them, giving them the name of Te-ho-ne-noy-hent-Keepers of the Door. They too received a language of their own and grew into the mighty Seneca nation.

There were some among the people who were not satisfied with the places appointed to them by the Upholder of Heavens. These wandered on toward the setting sun until they came to a river greater than all others, a river known as the Mississippi. They crossed it on a wild apevine that formed a bridge from bank to bank, and after the last of them had crossed over, the vine tore asunder. None could ever return, so that this river divided the western from the eastern human beings.

To each nation the Upholder of Heavens gave a special gift. To the Senecas he gave such swift feet that their hunters could outrun the deer. To the Cayugas he gave the canoe and the skill to guide it through the most turbulent waters. To the Onondagas he gave the knowledge of eternal laws and the gift to fathom the wishes of the Great Creator. To the Oneidas he gave skills in making weapons and weaving baskets, while to the Mokawks he gave bows and arrows and the ability to guide the shafts into the hearts of their game and their enemies.

Ta-ren-ya-wa-gon resolved to live among the people as a human being. Having the power to assume any shape, he chose to be a man and took the name of Hiawatha. He chose to live among the Onondagas and took a beautiful young woman of that tribe for his wife. From their union came a daughter. Mini-haha, who surpassed even her mother in beauty and womanly skills. Hiawatha never ceased to teach and advise, and above all he preached peace and harmony.

Under Hiawatha the Onondagas became the greatest of all tribes, but the other nations founded by the Great Upholder also increased and prospered. Traveling in a magic birchbark canoe of dazzling whiteness, which floated above waters and meadows as if on an invisible bird’s wings, Hiawatha went from nation to nation, counseling them and keeping man, animal, and nature in balance according to the eternal laws of the manitous. So all was well and the people lived happily.

But the law of the universe is also happiness alternates with sorrow, life with death, prosperity with hardship, harmony with disharmony. From out of the north beyond the Great Lakes came wild tribes, fierce, untutored nations who knew nothing of the eternal law; peoples who did not plant or weave baskets or fire clay into cooking vessels. All they knew was how to prey on those who planted and reaped the fruits of their labor. Fierce and pitiless, these strangers ate their meat raw, tearing it apart with their teeth. Warfare and killing were their occupation. They burst upon Hiawatha’s people like a flood, spreading devastation wherever they went. Again the people turned to Hiawatha for help. He advised all the nations to assemble and wait his coming.

And so the five tribes came together at the place of the great council fire, by the shores of a large and tranquil lake where the wild men from the north had not yet penetrated. The people waited for Hiawatha one day, two days, three days. On the fourth day his gleaming-white magic canoe appeared, floating, gliding above the mists. Hiawatha sat in the stern guiding the mystery canoe, while in the bow was his only child, his daughter.

The sachems, elders, and wise men of the tribes stood at the water’s edge to greet the Great Upholder. Hiawatha and his daughter stepped ashore. He greeted all he met as brothers and spoke to each in his own language.

Suddenly there came an awesome noise like the rushing of a hundred rivers, like the beating of a thousand giant wings. Fearfully the people looked upward. Out of the clouds, circling lower and lower, flew the great mystery bird of the heavens, a hundred times as big as the largest eagles, and whenever he beat his wings he made the sound of a thousand thunderclaps. While the people cowered, Hiawatha and his daughter stood unmoved. Then the Great Upholder laid his hands upon his daughter’s head in blessing, after which she said calmly, “Farewell, my father.” She seated herself between the wings of the mystery bird, who spiraled upwards and upwards into the clouds and at last disappeared into the great vault of the sky.

The people watched in awe, but Hiawatha, stunned with grief, sank to the ground and covered himself with the robe of a panther. Three days he sat thus in silence, and none dared approach him. The people wondered whether he had given his only child to the manitous above as a sacrifice for the deliverance of his people. But the Great Upholder would never tell then, would never speak of his daughter or of the mystery bird who had carried her away.

After having mourned for three days, Hiawatha rose on the morning of the fourth and purified himself in the cold, clear waters of the lake. Then he asked the great council to assemble. When the sachems, elders, and wise men had seated themselves in a circle around the sacred fire, Hiawatha came before them and said:

What is past is past; it is the present and the future which concern us. My children, listen well, for these are my last words to you. My time among you is drawing to the end.

My children, war, fear, and disunity have brought you from your villages to this sacred council fire. Facing a common danger, and fearing for the lives of your families, you have yet drifted apart, each tribe thinking and acting only for itself. Remember how I took you from one small band and nursed you up into many nations. You must reunite now and act as one. No tribe alone can withstand our savage enemies, who care nothing about the eternal law, who sweep upon us like the storms of winter, spreading death and destruction everywhere.

My children, listen well. Remember that you are brothers, that the downfall of one means the downfall of all. You must have one fire, one pipe, one war club.

Hiawatha motioned the five tribal firekeepers to unite their fires with the big sacred council fire, and they did so. Then the Great Upholder sprinkled sacred tobacco upon the glowing embers so that its sweet fragrance enveloped the wise men sitting in the circle. He said:

Onondagas, you are a tribe of mighty warriors. Your strength is like that of a giant pine tree whose roots spread far and deep so that it can withstand any storm. Be you the protectors. You shall be the first nation.

Oneida, your men are famous for their wisdom. Be you the counselors of the tribes. You shall be the second nation.

Seneca, you are swift on foot and persuasive in speech. Your men are the greatest creators among the tribes. Be you the spokesmen. You shall be the third nation.

Cayuga, you are the most cunning. You are the most skilled in the building and managing of canoes. Be you the guardians of our rivers. You shall be the fourth nation.

Mohawk, you are foremost in planting corn and beans and in building longhouses. Be you the nourishers.

You tribes must be like the five fingers of a warrior’s hand joined in gripping the war club. Unite as one, and then your enemies will recoil before you back into the northern wastes from whence they came. Let my words sink deep into your hearts and minds. Retire now to take counsel among yourselves, and come to me tomorrow to tell me whether you will follow my advice.

On the next morning the sachems and wise men of the five nations came to Hiawatha with the promise that they would from that day on be as one nation. Hiawatha rejoiced. He gathered up the dazzling white feathers which the great mystery bird of the sky had dropped and gave the plumes to the leaders of the assembled tribes. “By these feathers,” he said, “you shall be known as the Ako-no-shu-ne, the Iroquois.” Thus with the help of Hiawatha, the Great Unifier, the mighty League of the Five Nations was born, and its tribes held sway undisturbed over all the land between the great river of the west and the great sea of the east.

The elders begged Hiawatha to become the chief sachem of the united tribes, but he told them: “This can never be, because I must leave you. Friends and brothers, chose the wisest woman in your tribes to be the future clan mothers and peacemakers, let them turn any strife arising among you into friendship. Let your sachems be wise enough to go to such women for advice when there are disputes. Now I have finished speaking. Farewell.”

At that moment there came to those assembled a sweet sound like the rush of rustling leaves and the song of innumerable birds. Hiawatha stepped into his white mystery canoe, and instead of gliding away on the waters of the lake, it rose slowly into the sky and disappeared into the clouds. Hiawatha was gone, but his teachings survive in the hearts of the people.

-Retold from Victorian sources.-

In 1714, the Tuscarora tribe joined the Iroquois League, which had been in existence since the fifteenth century and which now became known as well as the Six Nations. The League was a powerful force in what is now northeast Pennsylvania and upstate New York until the Revolutionary War, when they sided with the British. After the Treaty of Fort Stanwix in 1784, the League’s strength was effectively broken, though it has never formally disbanded.
 

The ground shakes and the opening to the cave is exposed – the People slowly walk to the opening and look out onto a strange new place – this is the Mother that had been created for them – but the cave represented security – as a child can not resist the calling of birth the People could not resist the calling of the new place. the cave now gave birth to the People – new life stepped onto the breast of Mother – a beautiful new beginning was at hand.

The People were greeted by their many brothers and sisters that the Great Spirit had sent out ahead of them. Grandfather moved in the sky and kept the cycles in harmony and spoke to the People with his movement. Kiyas also moved and kept the cycles at the time of darkness and spoke to the People with his movement. Beyond Kiyas lay the Okiyas lights that were placed in order – all were in proper place and harmony for the telling of cycles and the times of planting, harvest and movement. It was into this place of creation that the Great Spirit delivered the People at the time of their cave birth.

The People could speak to and understand all of the words of their four-legged, one-legged, winged, crawler, and swimming brothers and sisters. By instruction, these brothers taught and guided the People in the ways of the Great Spirit. Each of the brothers was told to take a small family group of the People and to teach and guide them. Some of the brothers found great favor with the Great Spirit and the families of the People were to be called by the name of these favored brothers.

The wind spirit had breathed life into the People and he too was given a family of the People that would be called after his name. After family clan names were given to the People. Each family clan went out and built their village. No one was to take a wife from their own family clan – this was never to happen – nothing good could ever come from that marriage – each young man was to go to another family clan to get a wife – from this marriage good seeds could be planted in fertile place – and the spirit of the child would be a good spirit – the child would be a blessing to both family clans.

Each clan received the gift of their brother who’s name they used. Some were known as healers, some as warriors, some as leaders – each with their special gift. For many, many cycles the People lived in the way of harmony – led by those of great wisdom and following the movements of Grandfather, Kiyas and Okiyas.

The ways of war, greed and jealousy were not known. The bones of the ancients rested in peace – their ways were the ways of the beginning and that was the way of harmony and understanding the cycles of life.

Then came a time when the People selected a single leader, and this leader commanded the clans of warriors, and this leader fell in love with the movement and cycles of Grandfather – the leader looked to Grandfather for all answers – the cycles of Kiyas and the placement of Okiyas were used only for the worship of Grandfather – these things were not in harmony with the beginning and slowly pain and suffering came to the People.

(as told by Jayabutu McClellan)

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Hitchiti (Creek: ahítchita, ‘to look upstream’). A Muskhogean tribe formerly residing chiefly in a town of the same name on the east bank of Chattahoochee river, 4 miles below Chiaha, and possessing a narrow strip of good land bordering on the river, in west Georgia. When Hawkins visited them in 1799 they had spread out into two branch settlements, one, the Hitchitudshi, or Little Hitchiti, on both sides of Flint river below the junction of Kinchafoonee creek, which passes through a country named after it; the other, Tutalosi, on a branch of Kinchafoonee creek , 20 miles west of Hitchitudshi. The tribe is not often mentioned in history, and appears for the first time in 1733, when two of its delegates, with the Lower Creek chiefs, met Gov. Oglethorpe at Savannah. The language appears to have extended beyond the limits of the tribe as here defined, as it was spoken not only in the towns on the Chattahoochee, as Chiaha, Chiahudshi, Hitchiti, Oconee, Sawokli, Sawokliudshi, and Apalachicola, and in those on Flint river, but by the Mikasuki, and, as traceable by the local names, over considerable portions of Georgia and Florida. The Seminole are also said to have been a half Creek and half Hitchiti speaking people, although their language is now almost identical with Creek; and it is supposed that the Yamasi likewise spoke the Hitchiti language. This language, like the Creek, has an archaic form called “woman’s talk,” or female language. The Hitchiti were absorbed into and became an integral part of the Creek Nation, though preserving to a large extent their own language and peculiar customs.

The books presented are for their historical value only and are not the opinions of the Webmasters of the site.

 

Handbook of American Indians, 1906

 

PERSONAGES:

After each name is given that of the creature or thing into which the personage was changed subsequently.

Hitchinna, wildcat; Hitchín Marimi, wildcat woman, his wife; Hitchinpa, young wildcat; Metsi coyote; Putokya, skull people, or head people.

Hitchinna had a wife and a son a few days old. Hitchinpa, the little son, was sleeping, and Hitchin Marimi, the wife, was taking care of her child. Hitchinna had dreamed the night before, and his dream was a bad one.

“I had a dream last night,” said he to his wife, “a very bad dream.”

“What did you dream?” asked she.

“I dreamed that I climbed a big pine-tree; the tree was full of cones. I was throwing them down, had thrown down a great many, when at last I threw down my right arm. I dreamed then that I threw down my left arm.”

He told her no more. That morning early, before he had talked of his dream, the woman said,–”I should like to have pine-nuts; I want to eat pine-nuts; I am hungry for pine-nuts.”

He went out to find the nuts, and she went with him, taking the baby. They came to a large pine-tree, and he climbed it. Hitchin Marimi put the baby aside on the ground, and made a fire at some distance to roast the pine-cones.

Hitchinna threw down cones; she roasted them to get out the nuts. He threw down a great many cones. She roasted these cones and pounded the nuts out.

After a while Hitchinna’s right arm fell off; he threw that to the ground, then he threw down his left arm. His left leg came off; he threw it down. Next his right leg dropped off, and he threw that to the ground.

The woman was roasting and pounding the pinecones; she did not look around for a good while. At last she went to the tree, found blood on it, and looking up, saw that her husband was throwing himself down, that there was not much left of his body.

Hitchin Marimi was scared half to death; she ran away home. She was so terrified that she left the little child behind, forgot all about it. When she reached home, she called the people together and said,– “My husband went up into a pine-tree; he threw down a great many pine-cones. Then he began to throw himself down; first he threw one arm, then the other. We must hurry and hide somewhere; he will be bad very soon; he will kill us all if he finds us.”

The people asked, “Where can we go to hide from him,–north, south, east, or west?”

“I know a good place,” said one man, “and it is not too far from here,–Wamarawi.”

“Well, we must go to that place, and go very quickly,” said Hitchinna’s wife; and all the people agreed with her.

The people ran to Wamarawi, which is a round mountain; they ran the whole way and went into a cave in the mountain. When all were inside, they closed the entrance very firmly, shut it up tight. Nothing could get in through that door.

After his wife had run home, Hitchinna threw down his ribs one by one, and kept asking his wife if she was there. He got no answer. She was gone and he did not know it. He threw down first all the ribs of his right side, then all of his left side. Every time he threw a rib he cried, “Uh! Uh!” to his wife.

At last there was nothing left of him on the tree but his head, and that came down soon after. His eyes were very big now, sticking out, staring with a wild and mad look. The head lay under the tree a while. Hitchinna had become another kind of people. He had become a Putokya. He was one of the skull people, a very bad terrible people. Each one of them is nothing but a skull.

Putokya is new now. He has a new mind, new wishes. He is under the tree, and lies there a little while. He cannot walk any more. He can only roll on the ground like a ball. After resting and thinking a while, he starts to find his wife; rolls till he comes to the fire. There is no woman there. He looks around, cannot find her, looks again, and sees the baby. He rolls to the baby, catches it in his mouth, eats up the baby in one moment. The head talks then, and says, “I dreamed last night that I ate up my own son.”

He is dreadful now. He scatters the pine-cones, quenches the fire, rages, roars awfully, a real Putokya. He rolls, bounds, knocks against a tree, cuts it down, breaks it to pieces, scatters it.

Next he starts for the village, springing and bounding along like a football, making a terrible wind as he goes, reaches the house, looks through it. All are gone from the house and from the village. All have run off to Wamarawi.

First he knocks against his own house, breaks it, smashes it to pieces, and then he breaks all the other houses in the same way, one after another. He scatters and smashes up everything, wrecks the whole village, just as if a strong whirlwind had gone through it. The people are all in Wamarawi, in the stone cave in the mountain, a very great crowd of them.

Putokya looks around, finds tracks, follows the people southward, goes with a terrible roar, raising a storm as he moves. He breaks everything he strikes, except rocks. From these he bounds off like a football.

He follows the people of the village, follows on their tracks, stops before Wamarawi, rolls up to the entrance, listens quietly, hears a sound inside like the buzzing of bees. Putokya is glad. He stops a while and thinks what to do. “You cannot go from me now,” says he.

All the people were inside except Metsi; he had gone north somewhere.

“I will break in the cave,” said Putokya.

He began at the west side, went back a whole mile, bounded, rushed, hurled himself at the mountain, whistled through the air with a noise like the loudest wind, struck the mountain, made a great hole in it, but could not go through to the cave. Putokya felt sure that he could break through. He went back a whole mile again from the north side, bounded, rushed forward, made a tremendous hole in the north side; but he could not go through, and the rock closed again.

The people inside are glad now; they are laughing, they think themselves safe,–jeer at Putokya. Putokya hears them. He is angrier than ever, he is raging. “I will try the east side,” said he; “that is better.”

He went back as before, bounded forward, made a deep hole in the east, but it closed again, and he left it. He tried the south. It was just like the other sides. Putokya stops a while, is afraid that he cannot get in, that he cannot get at the people.

“The Yana are not very wise,” said he. “I should like to know who told them what to do. They did not know themselves. Who told them to go to Wamarawi?”

He tried to go to the top of the mountain and make a hole there. He could not roll up in any way. He fell back each time that he tried. He could travel on level ground only, he could only rise by bounding.

“I cannot go up there, I am not able,” said he.

He lay down close to the entrance of the cave and thought a while. He made up his mind to bound like a ball, to spring from point to point, higher and higher, on neighboring mountains, till he got very high, and then come down on the top of Wamarawi. He did this, went far up on the top of other and higher mountains till at last he was very high; then with a great bound he came down on the top of Wamarawi, came down with a terrible crash. He made an awfully big hole in it, bigger than all the four holes he had made in the sides put together; and this hole did not close, but it did not reach the cave.

After that blow he came again to level ground. He lay there and said to himself: “I have tried five times to get at those people. I will try once more. I may get at them this time.”

He went high up in the sky, higher than before. He was angrier and madder than ever, and he came down with a louder crash; the whole mountain shook and trembled. No one inside the cave was laughing now; all the people were terrified.

Putokya went almost through to the cave. The rock above the people was very thin after this blow, and the hole did not close again.

“I will not try any more,” said Putokya; “I cannot get at the people.” He was discouraged, and left Wamarawi.

All the people within were in terror. “If he tries once more, we are lost,” said they. “He will burst through and eat us, eat every one of us.”

The great hole remained on that mountain top, and people say that there is a lake up there now with goldfish in it.

Putokya started north, went toward Pulshu Aina, his own village. As he went toward home, he made a great roaring and wind, cut down trees and brush, people, beasts, everything that he met; he left a clean road behind. He swept through Pulshu Aina, and went farther north, went almost to Jigulmatu.

Metsi was coming down to the south, along the same trail; he was very well dressed. Metsi always dressed well. He wore a splendid elkskin belt and a hair net; he was fine-looking.

Metsi was right in the middle of the trail. He had learned that Putokya was out killing people in the south; he heard. the roar a great way off, and said to himself,– “I hear Putokya; he is killing all the people.”Metsi thought over what he was to do. “I will meet him. I will say to this Putokya, ‘You are smart, you are good, but you are sick. I will cure you.’”

Metsi took off all his fine clothes in a hurry and hid them, made himself naked. “I must be quick,” said he “the noise and wind are coming nearer and nearer. I wish a rusty old basket to be here before me.” The basket was there. He wished for an old strap to carry it. The old strap was there with the basket.

Metsi made buckskin rings around his arms and legs, turned himself into an old, very old woman, all bent and wrinkled, with a buckskin petticoat. He put the rusty basket on his back.

Putokya was hurrying on; the roar grew louder and nearer. Metsi knew that Putokya was very dangerous, and that he must be careful. He took white clay, painted his face, made a regular old woman of himself. Putokya came near. Metsi was ready, the basket on his back and a stick in his hand. He was walking along slowly, a very old woman and decrepit. The old woman began to cry, “En, en, en!”

Putokya stopped on the road, made no noise, listened to the old woman.

“He has stopped; he is listening to me,” said Metsi; and he cried more, cried in a louder voice and more pitifully.

Putokya was quiet. Metsi walked right up to him. looked at him, and said, “I came near stepping on you.” Metsi was crying more quietly now.

“Are you a dead person?” asked Metsi.

Putokya was silent.

“I heard you from where I was,” said Metsi “when you had a bad dream, I heard you in the south, heard you everywhere, heard you when you turned to be a Putokya, one of the head people, and wanted to kill everybody. You used to be good, you used to be wise, but now you are sick; you will die, and be among people no longer unless, you are cured. That is why I started to come south; I started south to find you, to see you. It is a good thing that you came up here; now I see you. I am your relative, your cousin. I want you to be healthy, to be as you were before; to have! Your arms and legs again, to feel well. I want to cure you.”

Metsi was sobbing all this time. He pretended to be awfully sorry; he wasn’t, for Metsi wasn’t sorry for any one, didn’t care for any one on earth; he only wanted to put Putokya out of the way, to kill him. Metsi was a great cheat.

“A good while ago,” said Metsi, “I met a man like you. He had had a dream, and he was nothing but a head, just like you. I travelled then as I am travelling to-day, and met this man just as I meet you now on this road. If you believe what I tell you, all right; if you don’t believe, it’s all the same to me. I will tell you what I did for that man, how I cured him. Do you want me to tell you what I did for him?”

Putokya was looking all the time with great wildcat eyes at the old woman. Now he spoke, saying: “Talk more, tell me all, old woman. I want to hear what you have to say.”

“Well, I made a man of that head,” said the old woman. “I cured that Putokya; I made him over. I made him new, and he walked around as well as before; I gave him legs and arms; all the bad went out of him; I made him clean and sound and good again.”

“How did you do that, old woman?” asked Putokya. “How can you make a man over again? I want to see that.”

“I will tell you how I do it. I will fix you; I will fix you right here on this road, just as I fixed that other man. I made a hole in the ground; a long hole, a pretty big one. I lined it with rocks; I made a little fire of manzanita wood, and when it was nice and warm in the hole, I put plenty of pitch in, and put the man on top of the pitch. It was good and soft for him, and nice and pleasant on the pitch. I put a flat rock over the hole. He stayed there a while and was cured.”

Putokya believed all this; had full faith in Metsi, and said,– “Very well, you fix me as you fixed that other man; make me new again, just as I used to be.”

Metsi added: “I put pitch very thick, one foot all around, and put him in the warm hole; covered him up. Pretty soon he began to stretch and grow; grew till he was as good as ever. That is how I cured that man.”

“That is good,” said Putokya. “Fix me in that way; fix me just as you fixed him.”

“I will,” said Metsi. “I will fix you just as I fixed that man, and you will come out just as he did; you will be in the right way and have no more trouble; you will never be sick again.”

Metsi did everything as he had said; made a long deep hole, put in fire and a great deal of pitch, a foot thick of it.

He placed Putokya on the pitch; put a wide flat stone over him, put on others; put the stones on very quickly, till there was a great pile of them.

The pitch began to burn well, to grow hot, to seethe, to boil, to blaze, to burn Putokya.

He struggled to bound out of the pitch; the stones kept him down, the pitch stuck to him. He died a dreadful death.

If Putokya had got out of the hole there would have been hard times in this world for Metsi.

When Putokya was dead under the pile of rocks, Metsi threw away his old things, his basket and buckskin petticoat, put on his nice clothes, and went along on his journey.

Metsi was a great cheat. He could change himself always, and he fooled people whenever he had a chance; but he did a good thing that time, when he burned up Putokya.

Notes: HITCHINNA

AMONG the Iroquois the cyclone was represented as a great head, the name of which in Seneca is Dagwa Noenyent. This head would pass through a forest and tear up the greatest trees by the roots.

The method used by the deceitful Metsi to rid the world of Hitchinna might remind one of the way of cooking oysters at the waterside in Virginia near the places where they are taken.

Creation Myths of Primitive America, by Jeremiah Curtin; Boston; Little, Brown [1898] and is now in the public domain.