The god Michabo was hunting with his pack of trained wolves one day when he saw the strangest sight-the wolves entered a lake and disappeared. He followed them into the water to fetch them and as he did so, the entire world flooded.

Michabo then sent forth a raven to find some soil with which to make a new earth, but the bird returned unsuccessful in its quest.

Then Michabo sent an otter to do the same thing, but again to no avail.

Finally he sent the muskrat and she brought him back enough earth to begin the reconstruction of the world.

The trees had lost their branches in the flood, so Michabo shot magic arrows at them that immediately became new branches covered with leaves.

Then Michabo married the muskrat and they became the parents of the human race.

In the beginning, when spirit beings still lived among people, Manabozho was the protector of the human race. He was the son of an earthly woman and the Great Spirit, Manitou. Manabozho taught the people how to hunt and catch fish, how to plant crops, and how to make sugar from the sap of the maple tree. He shared with them the secret of fire so they could prepare hot meals and warm themselves on cold nights.

Manabozho lived in a lodge with his young cousin, whom he treated as a son. One day Manabozho returned home from a long journey to find his beloved cousin missing. He called out the little boy’s name but received no answer. So Manabozho went outside to look for the boy There he discovered the trail of his enemy, the Great Serpent, and realized that the giant snake had kidnapped the boy Manabozho grabbed his bow and arrow and followed the trail. It led him across several high mountains and steep valleys, over a fast- moving river, and through a dark forest. At last it brought him to the edge of a deep, gloomy lake.

At the bottom of the lake dwelled the Great Serpent with his many companions and servants. All were terrible monsters with evil sprits and snakelike forms. They obeyed the Great Serpent without hesitation. Manabozho peered into the water, and in the middle of all the vile creatures he spied the Great Serpent The serpent’s immense head was blood-red in color with fierce eyes of blazing fire Hard, glistening scales of every shade covered his body To Manabozho’s horror he saw that the serpent’s massive form was coiled around the lifeless body of the precious young boy.

In sadness and anger, Manabozho vowed revenge. He decided to make the lake so hot that the Great Serpent and his ruthless companions could not remain. They would be forced to find shelter in the cool shade of the trees growing on the lake bank. There Manabozho would dispense his own justice.

Manabozho asked the clouds to vanish from the sky the winds to cease their cooling breeze and the sun to shine unremittingly on the lake. Manabozho then picked up his bow and arrow and found the coolest, shadiest patch of forest, knowing that this was where the Great Serpent would come. Manabozho then transformed himself into a broken stump so the evil spirits would not detect his presence.

Soon the winds stopped blowing, the clouds disappeared, and the sun beat down relentlessly on the lake. The water became warm, and then hot. When it began to steam and hiss the vile creatures poked their heads above the surface and scanned the shore. Sensing a trap, they searched for signs of Manabozho and listened for his footsteps. But they found no trace of him.

The heat became too much for the Great Serpent to tolerate. Slowly he emerged from the lake’s depths. His blood-red head shimmered a deep crimson, and the fire in his eyes burned white-hot. Had he been capable of spitting fire, flames surely would have leapt from his mouth. As he slithered onto the banks of the lake, his cronies trailed after him, filling the shore with their foul-smelling hulks. When the creatures spied the broken trunk, they immediately suspected that it was Manabozho. So one of them wrapped its body around the stump and tried to uproot it. But Manabozho held on fast. After a few minutes the creatures gave up and slunk away to find shady places to rest.

The Great Serpent slipped into the forest and looped his gargantuan body around several majestic trees. Soon he and his companions fell fast asleep, leaving one particularly savage fiend on the lookout for Manabozho.

When the guard was looking the other way Manabozho silently picked up his bow and arrow and carefully took aim. Then he shot the Great Serpent in the heart. The serpent awoke with an ear-splitting shriek.

His face contorted in pain, the Great Serpent dragged his wounded body back into the lake, where his worried companions joined him.

When the serpent realized that he had been mortally wounded, he and his cohorts vented their rage on Manabozho. They forced the lake to expand and rise from its depth. In giant waves, the water cascaded over the banks and poured onto the forest floor.

Writhing in agony the Great Serpent rode the crest of the first mighty wave. The color had drained from his head and scales, but his eyes still burned like fiery coals. Alongside the serpent raced his loyal followers, hissing loudly vowing vengeance.

Retreating from the onslaught, Manabozho thought of the men, women, and children who lived in the countryside. He also thought of the spirit beings, like Beaver, Otter, and Muskrat, who lived among the humans. Quickly Manabozho raced to their villages and warned everyone to flee to the mountains. As the people and spirit beings fled, water filled the valleys and swallowed the highest hills. Now it clawed at the sides of the mountains, and Manabozho urged everyone to climb higher.

The water rose higher still. Soon it gobbled up every mountain except for the highest one, where Manabozho stood surrounded by desperate people and spirit beings. Manabozho hastily gathered up trees and lashed them together to form an enormous raft. Just as the floodwaters licked the mountaintop, Manabozho guided the last of the people and spirit beings onto the raft.

For a week, Manabozho and his charges floated alone on the water. The people begged him to disperse the water and renew the Earth. But to repair the world, Manabozho first needed a few grains of earth from beneath the floodwaters.

Beaver volunteered to dive to the bottom of the floodwaters and retrieve some earth. Although she was warned of the danger, she dove into the deluge. As the minutes and then hours passed with no sign of Beaver, the anxious people realized that she could not have survived her mission. Her body eventually floated to the surface, and the people opened her paws. There was no earth inside them.

Next Otter offered to try. He plunged into the murky waters and was gone longer than Beaver. At first when his body resurfaced, the people thought he had survived. But like Beaver, Otter had perished, and there was no earth in his paws.

The people were becoming desperate. Who could save them? Finally Muskrat stepped forward. He took a deep breath before diving into the water and disappeared for an even longer period than Otter. The people thought he would never return.

Suddenly someone spotted a speck in the water. Slowly it moved closer to the raft. It was Muskrat, so tired he could barely swim. The people pulled him aboard, where he gave one final gasp and died from exhaustion. Inside his paw Muskrat grasped a few clumps of earth.

Manabozho took the precious grains and laid them out in the sun. When they were dry, he pulverized them into tiny bits of dust and blew the dust over the water.

Instantly the floodwaters began to subside, and soon the mountains appeared and then the hills and the valleys. The newly emerged land showed no trace of the flood except for a thick layer of mud, which was the dust that Manabozho had blown over the water.

And the evil spirits? Although their master, the Great Serpent, had died from his wound, his followers returned to the bottom of the lake. They were so frightened of Manabozho they never dared to leave their home again.

Chippeway-Ojibwa
Minnesota, Wisconsin, and the Province of Ontario
Retold in the book Weather Legends – Native American Lore and the Science of Weather by Carole Garbuny Vogel

In the old days Täwi’skälä (Flint) lived up in the mountains, and all the animals hated him because he had helped to kill so many of them. They used to get together to talk over means to put him out of the way, but everybody was afraid to venture near his house until the Rabbit, who was the boldest leader among them, offered to go after Flint and try to kill him. They told him where to find him, and the Rabbit set out and at last came to Flint’s house.

Flint was standing at his door when the Rabbit came up and said, sneeringly, “Siyu’! Hello! Are you the fellow they call Flint?” “Yes; that’s what they call me,” answered Flint. “Is this where you live?” “Yes; this is where I live.” All this time the Rabbit was looking about the place trying to study out some plan to take Flint off his guard. He had expected Flint to invite him into the house, so he waited a little while, but when Flint made no move, he said, “Well, my name is Rabbit; I’ve heard a good deal about you, so I came to invite you to come and see me.”

Flint wanted to know where the Rabbit’s house was, and he told him it was down in the broom-grass field near the river. So Flint promised to make him a visit in a few days. “Why not come now and have supper with me?” said the Rabbit, and after a little coaxing Flint agreed and the two started down the mountain together.

When they came near the Rabbit’s hole the Rabbit said, “There is my house, but in summer I generally stay outside here where it is cooler.” So he made a fire, and they had their supper on the grass. When it was over, Flint stretched out to rest and the Rabbit got some heavy sticks and his knife and cut out a mallet and wedge. Flint looked up and asked what that was for. “Oh,” said the Rabbit, “I like to be doing something, and they may come handy.” So Flint lay down again, and pretty soon he was sound asleep. The Rabbit spoke to him once or twice to make sure, but there was no answer. Then he came over to Flint and with one good blow of the mallet he drove the sharp stake into his body and ran with all his might for his own hole; but before he reached it there was a loud explosion, and pieces of flint flew all about. That is why we find flint in so many places now. One piece struck the Rabbit from behind and cut him just as he dived into his hole. He sat listening until everything seemed quiet again. Then he put his head out to look around, but just at that moment another piece fell and struck him on the lip and split it, as we still see it.

Myths of the Cherokee by James Mooney. From the Nineteenth Annual Report of the Bureau of American Ethnology 1897-98, Part I. [1900] and is now in the public domain.

Flint Boy – Yana

[1]
I shall commence my myth.

The Flint people were living at Djô’djanu.[2] The Flint people quarreled with the Grizzly Bear people. All the Flint people dwelling together had a sweat-house. They used to go to hunt deer, but four were always missing when they returned home. The Grizzly Bears lay in wait for the Flint people, the Grizzly

Bears killed the Flint people. All the Flint people living together were very numerous and had a sweat-house. Some were, missing when they returned home, until the Grizzly Bears had, killed all the Flint people. There was just one that returned home. An old woman was sitting inside the sweat-house, Rock Woman, and all the Flint people living together, it is said, were her children. They did not come home from the deer hunt; indeed, they were all killed, the Grizzly Bears killed them all.

Now the old woman was weeping. “Hehe’?! Where can they all have gone?” wept that old woman, waiting for them to come back home. The Grizzly Bears had killed all the Flint people. The old woman, weeping, stayed home by herself, all alone, all her children having been killed. She had quivers hanging, many were the quivers hanging close together, with bows and arrows. Now the old woman was all alone, weeping, being the only Flint, person.

“I shall not die,” had said (one of the Flint people), leaving’ word behind to her. He hung up a bow, a coarse-sinewed bow up yonder on the south side, while she cried, continuing to weep, sitting inside the sweat-house. The Grizzly Bears were looking into the sweat-house. “I spit out spittle on the ground, on the south side. If I die, pray look at it, grandmother! I shall come to life again from my spittle. Pray look at it! Pray look at it!”, She did so in the middle of the night, looking at it. There were no men in the sweat-house, all having been eaten up, the Grizzly Bears having eaten them up. The old woman put pitch on herself as sign of mourning. Suddenly the spittle bawled out. A person came to life again in the middle of the night. “Where is it?” she said. “Who is the child?” “Unā’! unā’!” it said. It was indeed the spittle that had already come to life again. The old woman arose, took the boy up in her arms, and wrapped him up in a blanket. The old woman washed him, carrying him about in her arms. She washed him in the night. “Grand-mother!” “Keep quiet! There are Grizzly Bears outside.”

When it was daylight he who had come back to life was crawling about; when the sun was overhead he was already grown up. “Give me a bow,” he said, being already grown up. He looked to the south side, looking at the bow. “Grandmother! I shall go outside to play, grandmother.” “No,” she said, speaking to Flint Boy, “danger lies outside.” “What is it, grandmother?” “All of our people were eaten up,” she said, speaking to the young man. She would not let him go outside, saying, “Do not go outside! Outside lies danger.” “What is it, grandmother?” “Do you not see that our people are not here in the sweat-house?” “I am not afraid, grandmother.” He put out his hand for the bow and said, “I shall go outside. Whose bow is this?” he asked. He took down the quiver hanging on the south side. the bow was so long, short, a coarse-sinewed bow, an ugly bow. “I shall shoot arrows in play. I shall not go far off.” “Yes, yes, yes,” she said. She believed him.

He pulled out a bow from the quiver. He stretched it, and his bow broke. “Hê!” he said, “that was no man,” for he had broken his bow. He took out another bow and stretched it also. He stretched and broke another bow, in this way breaking all the bows. “They were no men. I have broken all their bows.” Now he put out his hand for the coarse-sinewed bow. He bent it to himself, it was strong. Again he bent it to himself, it was strong. It did not break, for it was strong. He laughed. “Grandmother, truly it is strong.” He laughed, and bent it to himself again, put his feet down on it, pulling at it, so as to break the bow. He put the coarse-sinewed bow down on a rock. “It is strong, grandmother,” he said, while the old woman kept on weeping, crying. “This one was a man. Hêhê! Why did he die? Grandmother, I am not able to break it.” He put the bow on a rock, and lifted up a big rock; he tried to break the bow by throwing the rock down on it. The coarse-sinewed bow bounced up. “Grandmother, I shall go outside. I shall go around to shoot small game outside. I shall take the bow along, grandmother. I shall not go far off.” “Yes! Do not start to go far away. Danger lies outside. Grizzly Bears are waiting for you outside.” Now he was the only one. “Yes, grandmother, give me three arrows. Look up the smoke-hole of the sweat-house at the jack-rabbit!” He went outside. Now he shot his arrows, went about shooting at jack-rabbits. (When he returned inside he said,) “Grandmother! What might that be looking in from above?” “What does he look like? What do his eyes look like?” “His eyes are small; he is small-eyed.” “So!” she said. “Perhaps that one is dangerous. Indeed, perhaps that one is a Grizzly Bear, a small-eyed Grizzly Bear.” “Grandmother! What is that above?” “What is he like?” “His eyes are big.” “So! Perhaps that one is a jack-rabbit, it is jack-rabbits that have big eyes.

Now Flint Boy went out. “Grandmother, I shall go to the south,” he said. “I shall go about.” “Yes, go about!” “Grandmother, have you any acorn bread?” “Yes.” Then she gave him her acorn bread in one round lump. He put his acorn bread [3] inside his blanket, and held it wrapped up here. Now he went off, far away to the south. He came to a halt, looking down hill to the south. There was smoke and many Grizzly Bear women were building a fire, while it was raining, as it is now. [4] The Grizzly Bear women were twenty in number and were digging up earth-worms. Flint Boy went to the fire, built by the Grizzly Bear women. There was nobody at the fire now, as the Grizzly Bear women were occupied in digging up earth-worms. The Grizzly Bear women had stuck their teeth in the ground in a circle about the fire. [5] Flint Boy laughed and said, as he stood near the fire, “Hê!” The Grizzly Bear women thereupon turned around to look. “Who is it?” they said. “Well! Come on, all of you.” Flint Boy seized all the Grizzly Bear teeth that had been stuck out to dry, so that they were deprived of their teeth. Now they came back together. “Well! Give me something to eat. I am hungry,” said he, lying. The Grizzly Bear women were afraid, for they did not have their teeth. They whispered among themselves: “Who is it? (aloud:) We have no food. We would give you something to eat, but we have no food.” “Yes,” Flint Boy said, “you are afraid, are you not?” “We are not afraid.” “Are you not hungry? I carry ground acorn bread with me.” “Yes,” said the Grizzly Bear women. Flint Boy intended to kill the Grizzly Bear women; they did not have their teeth. “I have some acorn bread.” “Where is it?” said the Grizzly Bear women. Flint Boy put his hand inside the blanket, and drew forth his acorn bread. He gave each one of them to eat, and they ate of it. “I shall go back home,” said Flint Boy. Thus he spoke to the Grizzly Bear women, bidding them adieu. Flint Boy went off back home and came back to his grandmother. “Grandmother! I have seen many women.” The Grizzly Bear women were all sick now at the fire, for the acorn bread had made them sick. The women fell back and all died, as they had really eaten flint.

“I shall go to get ma’ls*unna roots, I shall go to dig up roots with a stick.” She told Flint Boy, “Stay at home!” “Yes,” said Flint Boy. Now she went off to dig roots with a stick. It was spring, and the ma’ls*unna roots were sprouting up out of the ground. Now the old woman dug up roots with her stick, while she carried a pack-basket on her back. Flint Boy, now all alone, stayed at home and looked all around inside. The ma’ls*unna roots were sprouting up out of the ground. The old woman saw them and dug them up. “Unā’! unā’! unā’!” said something which was sprouting up. Indeed it was anew-born babe. The old woman was frightened and dug the child up with a stick. “Heh!” said the old woman, looking at it. “Hehe’! What am I going to do with it?” She took it up in her arms and put the child that she had found down into her pack-basket. The old woman went off home. “Grandmother! Have you come back home already?” “Yes.” “Unā’! unā’! unā’!” it said outside. “Grandmother, what is that that is coming?” “I found that one.” “Where was it?” “I was digging up roots, when suddenly it cried.” “Indeed, grandmother, wash it, maybe that one is a person.” She did so, washing him. He also did not grow as people generally do; he grew up quickly.

Now Flint Boy went off, went outside. “Grandmother, I should like to take him along.” “Yes,” said the old woman, “Please do not go far away. Take care! Stay right around here, a little ways to the east.” “What is your name?” Flint Boy asked the child. “My name is Little Gray Squirrel,” [6] “Grandmother, what do you say to it? I shall take him along.” “Go off to a great distance.” “Grandmother, I wish to make a dog. We have no dog. What do you say to that!” “Do so! Make it, make it, make it!” “I shall go to hunt deer,” said Flint Boy, asking her. She assented. Now they went off to a great distance to the east, going to hunt deer. Flint Boy sat down on a mountain. “You! What would you do?” he asked the boy. “I want to make a dog of you. What, pray, would you say if you should bark?” He did not talk. “Oh, I should talk in any way at all.” “I want to hear it,” said Flint Boy. “Bark!” “Hū’, hū! hū!” Flint Boy was frightened as the dog barked. The earth shook while the dog barked. The sound went from there to the north, it went from there to the south, it went from there to the east, it went from there to the west. [7] Flint Boy looked at him and said, “It is good now.”

Now Flint Boy went off with his dog as far as up on the mountain here to the west. [8] “I want a woman,” said Flint Boy, talking within his heart; so he took a wife. When it was daybreak he went up on the mountain to the west, taking the woman and his dog with him. The dog lay curled up beside the house. “Listen,” he said to his wife, “I shall go out to hunt deer. I think this is a good place, here on the south, is it not?” “Yes,” she answered. “I shall not take the dog along with me. Tie him down to the ground, for he might run off after me.

“Pray do not play with the dog,” she said to the people there, tying the dog down to the ground. “He might run off after him,” said his wife, speaking to his people. “Yes, yes, we shall not play with the dog.” (Before he went off) Flint. Boy played with him. “Bark!” he said, and the dog barked “Hū’, hū’, hū’, hū’!” The earth shook; the people were afraid while the dog barked. They in the north heard the dog barking, they in the east heard the dog barking, the south people heard it, they to the west over the mountains heard it.

Now Flint Boy went off to hunt deer to the south. He went off leaving two women behind him in the house. (When he had gone) they whispered to one another, “What do you think? Let us turn the dog loose.” They did so and began to play with him. One of the women spoke to the dog, saying, “Bark!” While Flint Boy was away, the dog barked as he had done before, and his speech was like thunder. Flint Boy heard his dog barking. Now the dog ran away, looking for Flint Boy’s footsteps. The women called to the dog to come back, but he kept on barking after Flint Boy. “Hū’, hū’!” said the dog, crying. All at once there appeared a fog. It did not rain, but the fog just moved about. “Hū’, hū’!” he kept on saying, while he ran off. The two women cried, but the dog kept on barking, “Hū’, hū’!” up above; he was now heard to bark, running off up to the sky. The dog melted away into the fog, rising up; indeed he was now flying up to the sky. People hear the dog barking in the sky.[9]

Footnotes:

[1] The nine gat‘ā’?i myths here given were obtained in December, 1907, just north of and across the Sacramento river from Redding, Shasta County. The informant was Sam Bat‘wī, one of the four or five Indians still left that have a speaking knowledge of this dialect and probably the only one that is at all acquainted with the mythology. His original dialect was the now extinct Southern Yana, spoken south of Battle creek, but having early in life moved north to the Cow creek country in the neighborhood of the present hamlet of Millville, he learned to use the Central or gat‘ā’?i dialect (called gat‘ā’?a by the Northern Yana of Montgomery creek and Round Mountain) and seems now unable to make fluent use of his former dialect.

The Central and Northern Yana texts not only supplement each other in regard to dialect, but also serve to illustrate the differences between the men’s and women’s forms of the language (except that of course in conversational passages the use of sex forms depends upon the circumstances of the case–women under all circumstances and men in speaking to women use the female, men in speaking to men use the male forms). However, Sam had a tendency to slip into the use of female forms, probably owing to the fact that he had been for a long time accustomed to use his language chiefly in talking to his wife, who had died but a short time before these texts were dictated. When his attention was called to these lapses, he admitted the charge, and jocosely explained them as due to a too frequent dreaming and thinking about women.

[2] This myth corresponds to that of “The Hakas and the Tennas” (i.e., “The Flints and the Grizzly Bears”) in Curtin’s Creation Myths of Primitive America,” pp. 297-310 (notes on p. 521). Curtin’s Haka and Hakaya’mchiwi correspond to ha’ga and hagaya’mtc!iwi; Tenna is t‘en?na (t‘e’nna in garī’?i); Tsuwalkai is djuwa’lk!ai(na); Dari Jowa’, probably incorrectly translated as “eagle,” is doubtless dā’ridjuwa, “gray squirrel,” in this version Thunder’s own name; Teptewi (p. 304) is t‘e’p!diwi. Curtin’s explanation of the myth (p. 521) as a nature allegory representing the struggle of fire or lightning, with which he identifies flint, and the clouds, which for unknown reasons the grizzly bears are supposed to represent, is altogether unwarranted. On the whole the two versions correspond satisfactorily; the latter portion of both, pp. 309-10 of Curtin and pp. 21-22 of this volume, is an apparently quite unconnected account of the origin of thunder, a child dug up from the ground.

[3] A mountain east of Buzzard’s Roost (or Round Mountain) near the headwaters of Montgomery creek, at which Terry’s sawmill is now situated.

[4] This “acorn bread” was really made of ground flint.

[5] It happened to be raining when this story was dictated. Sam Bat‘wī was fond of illustrating his narratives by gestures, references to which are to be found here and there in the texts.

[6] In Curtin’s version (p. 305) the teeth are hung up on a tree near the fire.

[7] Sam Bat‘wī found it at least curious that the newly-dug-up child should have known its own name, though none had been bestowed upon it. He suggested no explanation.

[8] This sort of emphasis on the cardinal points seems characteristic of northern California. The Yana texts give numerous examples of the formulaic rigmarole. In this passage there is the implied conclusion that the incident explains why nowadays dogs are found to bark in every direction.

[9] The reference is to Bally Mountain, about 14 miles west of Redding, where the myth was told. Bally Mountain is in Wintun territory.

[10] As thunder.

Yana Texts, by Edward Sapir. University of California Publications in American Archaeology and Ethnology Vol. 9, No. 1, pp. 1-235 [1910] and is now in the public domain

George Parkes, Mandeville.

Anansi one day went to a river to catch fish, an’ while fishin’ down the stream, he came across a hole. He put his han’ down in the hole an’ something hol’ the han’. He said, “A who hol’ me?” The something said, “No me!”–”Me who?” The thing said, “No me Fling-a-mile!” Anansi said, “Fling me a mile mak I see.” The t’ing wheel Anansi, wheel him, an’ fling him one mile from the spot. When Anansi drop, he nearly knock out his senses.

He said, “I mus’ eat somet’ing out of dat hole!” He went an’ get six iron fork an’ six wooden one an’ stick up at the place where he drop. Nex’ day he was going back down fe fishing. He meet up Hog. He said, “Bredder Hog, mak we go down a river go ketch fish now?” Hog said yes. When they reach the river, both of them started. Anansi, he walk on the side where the hole are not, Hog, he walk on the side where the hole are. Anansi look over to Hog way and said, “What a pretty hole in front of Bredder Hog deh! You mus’ get somet’ing out of de hole deh. I don’ min’ if it befo’ me!” So Anansi tell Hog to put his han’ in the hole see if him feel anyt’ing. Hog put in him han’. Hog said, “Somet’ing hol’ me han’!” Anansi said, “Ax a who hol’ you!” Hog said, “A who hol’ me?” The t’ing say, “A me!” Anansi say, “Ax him, say ‘A me who?’” Hog say, “A me who?” The t’ing say, “No me Fling-a-mile!” Anansi said to Hog, “Tell him fling you a mile mak you see.” Hog say, “Fling me a mile mak I see!” The t’ing wheel Hog, wheel him, wheel him, drop him right on the fork Anansi fix up. Hog drop dead. Anansi tak up Hog put him in a bag and said, “I well wan’ fe eat you long time!” At that time Monkey was on the tree watching Anansi.

The nex’ day Anansi start back to the river, meet up Bredder Goat. He say, “Bredder Goat, mak we go down a river, go ketch fish?” Goat say yes. Anansi tol’ Goat to walk on the hand where the hole is an’ he walk on the opposite side. While going along Anansi said, `What a pretty hole in front of Br’er Goat deh! You mus’ fin’ somet’ing in a hole like dat. I wish it were me de hole we’ deh befo’!” Anansi said to Goat, “Put yo’ han’ in deh see if you can fin’ anyt’ing.” Goat put the han’ in the hole. Somet’ing hol’ him. He said, “Somet’ing hol’ me!” Anansi said, “Ax a who hol’ you!” Goat said, “A who hol’ me?” The t’ing said, “No me!” Anansi said, “Ax ‘A me who?’” Goat say, “A me who?” The t’ing say, “No me Fling-a-mile.” Anansi said, “Tell him fling you a mile mak you see!” Goat say, “Fling me a mile mak I see!” He wheel Goat, whee’ whee’ wheel, an’ drop him right on the fork one mile. Goat drop dead. Anansi took up Goat an’ put him in his bag, said, “I well wan’ you fe eat a long time!” At that time Monkey was still watching him.

The nex’ day he start to go out again; he met up Br’er Dog. Anansi said to Dog, “Mak we go down a river go ketch fish!” Dog say yes. On reaching to the river, Anansi tell Dog to walk on the side where the hole is an’ he walk on the opposite side. On reaching to the hole Anansi said, “What a pretty hole in front of Br’er Dog! You mus’ fin’ somet’ing in dat hole. I wish it we’ deh befo’ me!” Anansi say to Dog, “Put yo’ ban’ in deh if you feel anyt’ing.” Dog put the han’ in the hole. Something hol’ him. He said to Anansi, “Somet’ing hol’ me!” Anansi said, “Ax ‘A who hol’ me?”‘ Dog said, “A who hol’ me?” The somet’ing say, “No me!” Anansi say, “Ax him ‘me who?”‘ Dog say, “Me who?” The somet’ing say, “No me Fling-a-mile!” Anansi say, “Tell him fling you a mile mak you see!” Dog said, “Fling me a mile mak me see!” The t’ing fling Dog whee’-a, whee’-a, whee’, an’ dash him one mile on the stake. Dog drop on the stake dead. Anansi tak up Dog, put him in his bag an’ said, “A well wan’ you fe eat long time!”

Now Monkey couldn’t bear it no longer, come off the tree. The nex’ day while Anansi was going down, Monkey put himself in the way where Anansi was to meet him. Anansi said, “Br’er Monkey, mak we go down a river go ketch fish.” Monkey say, “Yes, a well wan’ company fe go down too!” On reaching to the river, Monkey walk on the side where the hole is an’ Anansi on the opposite side. On reaching to the hole Anansi said, “What a pretty hole in front of Br’er Monkey! You mus’ fin’ somet’ing in a hole like a dat. I wish a we’ me i’ deh befo’!” Anansi said to Monkey, “Put yo’ han’ in deh, see if you fin’ anyt’ing.” Monkey say, “No, Br’er, me go put me han’ in deh, somet’ing go hol’ me!” Anansi said, “No, man, me no t’ink not’ing wi’ hol’ you!” Monkey said, “You come put yo’ han’ in deah.” Anansi said, “No, as you de closee, you put fe you han’ in deah.” Monkey said, “No! somet’ing wi’ hol’ me!”–”No! not’ing no in deah fe hol’ you!” So Anansi go near to the hole now and tell Monkey mus’ put down him han’, an’ Monkey refuse. Anansi now make attempt to put his han’,–like that–in the hole, an’ Monkey push it down, an’ the somet’ing hol’ Anansi han’ now. Monkey said to Anansi, “Tak out de han’!” Anansi say, “Me han’ kyan’ come out; somet’ing hol’ it!” Monkey says, “Ask a who hol’ you.” Anansi speak in a very feeble v’ice, say, “A who hol’ me?” The t’ing say, “No me!” Monkey say to Anansi, “Ax’ A me who.’” Anansi said in a feeble tone of v’ice all ‘e time, “A me who?” The t’ing say, “A me Fling-a-mile.” Monkey say, “Tell him fe fling you a mile mak you see.” Anansi now said in a feeble tone of v’ice, “Fling me a mile mak I see!” So tak Anansi an’ wheel him, whee’, whee’! An’ while it was wheeling him he said to Monkey, “Br’er Monkey, run one mile from heah, whe’ you see some iron an’ wooden fork,–jus’ haul dem out fe me!” Monkey tak off him hat an’ run half way an’ stop where he could see when Anansi drop. Anansi drop on de fork an’ belly burst ‘tiff dead! An’ Monkey take him an’ put him in his bag, take him go eat him.

NOTE:

Fling-a-mile

Jekyll, 152-155, has a good version of this very popular Jamaica story.

Compare the Bulu tales, Schwab, JAFL 27:284-285; 32:434.

In JAFL 27, Turtle sets a trap and by pretending to teach other animals who come along one by one how to use it, he catches one victim after another until he is himself caught.

In JAFL 32, Pangolin offers to initiate the animals one by one and makes them climb a tree and jump upon a concealed rock, which kills them. Turtle finally circumvents the trick.

In a Jamaica version collected in Mandeville, Anansi holds a butchering at a place where there is a tree which seizes any person who leans against it and flings him upon a lance which Anansi has set up.

Jamaica Anansi Stories ,Martha Warren Beckwith, New York, Published By The American Folk-Lore Society, G. E. Stechert & Co., Agents. [1924] and is now in the public domain.