A warrior sang his death song. He was not afraid to die by fire. His soul went on to the Little People. The way was awful. But nothing can harm the brave. The wise men said they would sing the song for him they wrote. And they did sing it. I am in the land of mt enemies. I am a prisoner of war. I am bound to a stake. My foes come around me to see me die. I hate them. I defy them. I chant my song of death. Cowards, look upon me & learn how to die like a WARRIOR!!!

You fear me. I am a real MAN!! I followed the warpath. It led me to your towns. Many did I slay. Your chiefs did I strike down. I gave their bodies to the wolves and to the birds of prey. Nothing do I fear? The fire is my father. I am master of my own soul. Look upon me, you Cowards, See me rejoice, See me die in glory, as a Warrior should die!   I am a dead Warrior. My soul rises from my body. It is Free…I journey…I stand by our Grandmother…She is in the Great city built under ground by Se’sta. She speaks to me of the Land Of The Little People. She directs me. She gives me the torch of Heno…. It is a guide in the darkness. It is a weapon…none can stand before it. She tells me the brave can never fail.

I take the torch. I go in Courage…I step forth on shown afar off the Land of the Little People. Mountains rise before me. I approach them. I ascend them. I see a broad valley of mystery & horror. Beyond that, terrible mountains pierce the sky. They are lifted up and thrown down again to crush him without courage.

By valor do I conquer? I pass over the frightful hills. I stand at the border. At the foot of the tall rock a great black stream rolls. I stand upon a crag…A river is under my feet. There is one more trail of my courage. I look beyond the river of darkness. I see the l Land Of The Little People. It is Beautiful ……… Great streams of light stretch across the sky. They reach to the ends of the heavens, Courage rages in my soul. It rises within me.

The black river thunders between its rocky walls. I come across it. It is the stream of Death…………..

With the torch of Heno I strike the Flying Heads as they come about me with bloody fangs. And the serpent’s do I strike with my might. They utter horrible screams and flee away. I spring from stone to stone in the raging river. The furious waters are about me. They hiss and boil. I leap forward…. I come over upon the far bank of the mad raging river. There I see my mother …I see my father. I see all the Warriors of old. They welcome me to the Land of the Little People. Then I turned to see the terrible way over which I came into the beautiful land. I spread my arms and cry, ” Flee Away, Ye Monsters, and Be Gone Away”…For you can never harm the Brave!!!!!!!

The Long way is nothing. The terrors are forgotten. Upon this shore I am a God. I am in the Land of the Little People. It is mine from the beginning of the ” Lower World”.

Indian Myths” by:Edna Clyne in 1928

In the early days, animals and birds of monstrous size preyed upon the people; the giant Elk, the Eagle, and others devoured men, women, and children, until the gods were petitioned for relief. A deliverer was sent to them in the person of Djo-na-aì’-yì-&ibreven, the son of the old woman who lives in the West and the second wife of the Sun. She divided her time between the Sun and the Waterfall, and by the latter bore a second son, named Ko-ba-tcis’-tci-ni, who remained with his mother while his brother went forth to battle with the enemies of mankind. In four days Djo-na-aì’-yì-&ibreven grew to manhood, then he asked his mother where the Elk lived. She told him that the Elk was in a great desert far to the southward. She gave him arrows with which to kill the Elk. In four steps he reached the distant desert where the Elk was lying. Djo- na-aì’-yì-&ibreven cautiously observed the position of the Elk from behind a hill. The Elk was lying on an open plain, where no trees or bushes were to be found that might serve to shelter Djo-na-aì’-yì-în from view while he approached. While he was looking at the Elk, with dried grass before his face, the Lizard, Mai-cu-i-ti-tce-tcê, said to him, “What are you doing, my friend? ” Djo-na-aì’-yì-în explained his mission whereupon the Lizard suggested that he clothe himself in the garments of the Lizard, in which he could approach the Elk in safety. Djo-na-aì’-yì-în tried four times before he succeeded in getting into the coat of the Lizard. Next the Gopher, Mi-i-ni-li, came to him with the question, “What are you doing here, my friend?” When Djo-na-aì’-yì-în told the Gopher of his intention, the latter promised to aid him. The Gopher thought it advisable to reconnoiter by burrowing his way underground to the Elk. Djo-na- aì’-yì-în watched the progress of the Gopher as that animal threw out fresh heaps of earth on his way. At length the Gopher came to the surface underneath the Elk, whose giant heart was beating like a mighty hammer. He then proceeded to gnaw the hair from about the heart of the Elk. “What are you doing?” said the Elk. “I am cutting a few hairs for my little ones, they are now lying on the bare ground,” replied the Gopher, who continued until the magic coat of the Elk was all cut away from about the heart of the Elk. Then he returned to Djo- na-aì’-yì-în, and told the latter to go through the hole which he had made and shoot the Elk. Four times the Son of the Sun tried to enter the hole before he succeeded. When he reached the Elk, he saw the great heart beating above him, and easily pierced it with his arrows; four times his bow was drawn before he turned to escape through the tunnel which the Gopher had been preparing for him. This hole extended far to the eastward, but the Elk soon discovered it, and, thrusting his antler into it, followed in pursuit. The Elk ploughed up the earth with such violence that the present mountains were formed, which extend from east to west. The black spider closed the hole with a strong web, but the Elk broke through it and ran southward, forming the mountain chains which trend north and south. In the south the Elk was checked by the web of the blue spider, in the west by that of the yellow spider, while in the north the web of the many-colored spider resisted his attacks until he fell dying from exhaustion and wounds. Djo-na-aì’-yì-în made a coat from the hide of the Elk, gave the front quarters to the Gopher, the hind quarters to the Lizard, and carried home the antlers. He found that the results of his adventures were not unknown to his mother, who had spent the time during his absence in singing, and watching a roll of cedar bark which sank into the earth or rose in the air as danger approached or receded from Djo-na-aì’-yì-în, her son.

Djo-na-aì’-yì-în next desired to kill the great Eagle, I-tsa. His mother directed him to seek the Eagle in the west. In four strides he reached the home of the Eagle, an inaccessible rock, on which was the nest, containing two young eaglets. His ear told him to stand facing the east when the next morning the Eagle swooped down upon him and tried to carry him off. The talons of the Eagle failed to penetrate the hard elk-skin by which he was covered. “Turn to the south,” said the ear, and again the Eagle came, and was again unsuccessful. Djo- na-aì’-yì-în faced each of the four points in this manner, and again faced toward the east; whereupon the Eagle succeeded in fastening its talons in the lacing on the front of the coat of the supposed man, who was carried to the nest above and thrown down before the young eagles, with the invitation to pick his eyes out. As they were about to do this, Djo-na-aì’-yì-în gave a warning hiss, at which the young ones cried, “He is living yet.” “Oh, no,” replied the old Eagle; “that is only the rush of air from his body through the holes made by my talons.” Without stopping to verify this, the Eagle flew away. Djo-na-aì’- yì-în threw some of the blood of the Elk which he had brought with him to the young ones, and asked them when their mother returned. ” In the afternoon when it rains,” they answered. When the mother Eagle came with the shower of rain in the afternoon, he stood in readiness with one of the Elk antlers in his hand. As the bird alighted with a man in her talons, Djo-na-aì’-yì-în struck her upon the back with the antler, killing her instantly. Going back to the nest, he asked the young eagles when their father returned. “Our father comes home when the wind blows and brings rain just before sunset,” they said. The male Eagle came at the appointed time, carrying a woman with a crying infant upon her back. Mother and babe were dropped from a height upon the rock and killed. With the second antler of the Elk, Djo-na-aì’-yì-în avenged their death, and ended the career of the eagles by striking the Eagle upon the back and killing him. The wing of this eagle was of enormous size; the bones were as large as a man’s arm; fragments of this wing are still preserved at Taos. Djo-na-aì’-yì-în struck the young eagles upon the head, saying, “You shall never grow any larger.” Thus deprived of their strength and power to injure mankind, the eagles relinquished their sovereignty with the parting curse of rheumatism, which they bestowed upon the human race.

Djo-na-aì’-yì-în could discover no way by which he could descend from the rock, until at length he saw an old female Bat, Tca-na’-mi-în, on the plain below. At first she pretended not to hear his calls for help; then she flew up with the inquiry, “How did you get here?” Djo-na-aì’-yì-în told how he had killed the eagles. “I will give you all the feathers you may desire if you will help me to escape,” concluded he. The old Bat carried her basket, ilt-tsai-î-zîs, by a slender spider’s thread. He was afraid to trust himself in such a small basket suspended by a thread, but she reassured him, saying; “I have packed mountain sheep in this basket, and the strap has never broken. Do not look while we are descending ; keep your eyes shut as tight as you can.” He began to open his eyes once during the descent, but she warned him in time to avoid mishap. They went to the foot of the rock where the old Eagles lay. Djo-na-aì’-yì-în filled her basket with feathers, but told her not to go out on the plains, where there are many small birds. Forgetting this admonition, she was soon among the small birds, who robbed the old Bat of all her feathers. This accounts for the plumage of the small bird klo’-kîn, which somewhat resembles the color of the tail and wing feathers of the bald eagle. The Bat returned four times for a supply of feathers, but the fifth time she asked to have her basket filled, Djo- na-aì’-yì-în was vexed. “Yon cannot take care of your feathers, so you shall never have any. This old skin on your basket is good enough for you.” “Very well,” said the Bat, resignedly, “I deserve to lose them, for I never could take care of those feathers.”

Frank Russell, Myths of the Jicarilla Apaches, 1898

Being in the highest prosperity and sovereignty of his life, he fell it of a grave infirmity, and, feeling that he was at the point of death, he sent for all his sons who were then in the city. In their presence he first divided all his jewels and contents of his wardrobe. Next he made them plough furrows in token that they were vassals of their brother, and that they had to eat by the sweat of their hands. He also gave them arms in token that they were to fight for their brother. He then dismissed them.

He next sent for the Incas orejones of Cuzco, his relations, and for Tupac Inca his son to whom he spoke, with a few words, in this manner: “Son! you now see how many great nations I leave to you, and you know what labour they have cost me. Mind that you are the man to keep and augment them. No one must raise his two eyes against you and live, even if he be your own brother. I leave you these our relations that they may be your councillors. Care for them and they shall serve you. When I am dead, take care of my body, and put it in my houses at Patallacta. Have my golden image in the House of the Sun, and make my subjects, in all the provinces, offer up solemn sacrifice, after which keep the feast of purucaya, that I may go to rest with my father the Sun.” Having finished his speech they say that he began to sing in a low and sad voice with words of his own language. They are as follows:

“I was born as a flower of the field,
As a flower I was cherished in my youth,
I came to my full age, I grew old,
Now I am withered and die.”

Having uttered these words, he laid his head upon a pillow and expired, giving his soul to the devil, having lived a hundred and twenty-five years. For he succeeded, or rather he took the Incaship into his hands when he was twenty-two, and he was sovereign one hundred and three years.

Taken from History of the Incas,” by Pedro Sarmiento De Gamboa, translated by Sir Clements Markham, Cambridge: The Hakluyt Society 1907, pages 138-139.

“He is sick, he is very sick. It looks as if he is going to die. Perhaps he will not recover. If four days have elapsed and he has not recovered, you will run to get the medicine-man, and he will suck the sickness out of him. You will offer him as pay perforated white beads. Wear them around your neck. Surely he will get up and start hither, for medicine-men always like perforated white beads.” He who had been sent arrived (at the medicine-man’s house) and put the beads down on the ground. The medicine-man smelled them. “I shall not be able to make him recover. I shall indeed go to see him anyway. The perforated white beads already have an odor.”[1] He ran back and arrived home. He hung up the beads and cried, sitting down on the ground. “Do you put water down on the ground. The medicine-man has already come.” The medicine-man sat down. “Well, I shall try to do what I can.” He doctored him. “He will not recover. I do not understand what to do, I am beaten.”[2] After he had finished doctoring, he said, “He will die.” (The sick man’s father) started in to cry, and they all wept with him. “Do you run to bring them hither!” he said. “They shall all come here. I do not wish them to be ignorant about this.”

On the following day, at daybreak, he had died. They all started in to cry together. “Go and dig the grave! Do you put together the perforated white beads, the dressed buckskin blanket, dentalia, wa’k‘u shell beads, aprons fringed with pine-nut tassels, various pack-baskets, and trinkets. Make a burial net of coarse rope, and wrap him up in it.” Then they washed him and combed his hair. The people all came, came together, dancing and weeping, women, men, and their children, while his mother cried. He was lifted down and put away in the house, while the people and his father and mother wept over him. They did not eat anything. Now they sewed together the deer-hide blanket.

“Now!” said (his father). “Amm!”[3] Don’t think that you will continue to eat. There is no sickness going about, and yet I am the only one going about that has sickness. Since the people were not sick, I thought I had a good medicine-man. Perchance you think you will not go to get wood!”[4] (Thus he spoke to himself). “You will just go ahead and bury him tomorrow! Do you make the grave deep!” (he said to the people). There was a man from the south[5] who said, “I do not intend to cry.” He had flint arrowheads and inspired everyone with fear. “Whence is the poison that is always acting? I have no intention of eating, of eating my food with tears.” It was the brave warrior that spoke thus. “You will bury him at noon. Probably nearly all have come. They say that there are many weeping for him, they say the chief weeps for him, they say that he is greatly angered. My medicine-man forgets, does he not? I shall not be the only one to cry.[6] Do you all start!”

They took him up and carried him, all sorts of belongings being wrapped up with him-arrows, bows, and various blankets, Now they had all moved down to his grave. They brought him down to the grave and put him into it. “Now! Cry!” said he. His brother lay down in the grave, was pulled out back again. “Do not weep, you will soon follow him.”[7] The women all danced and cried, weeping for him, putting down water on the ground to the east of him. “Now it is well, is it not?” he said. “Let me see! Go ahead and fail to find the poison.[8] In former days he said to me, ‘Surely you shall have no cause to weep, and thus it will always be with you.’ That is what he said to me.”

The dead man’s mother stayed there all night near the grave. Now the people all moved off back to his house. “I shall no longer stay in the house. Set the house on fire!” They set on fire his ropes and all his belongings. “Set the food on fire!” They set everything on fire, and moved on to another place. “You all will go to get other food. I did not think that I would ever be without his laughter when eating.” They were all weeping at night, when suddenly the old woman came back. Now at night they started in to eat. “Do you all eat after weeping! Truly we shall all die; we shall not live forever, is it not so? The time of death is near at hand.[9] Do you all procure food for yourselves! Go to the river and catch salmon. No!” he said, “I shall not hurry (to eat). ‘Yes, we shall catch salmon (for you),’ he used to say to me.[10] I shall cry yet a while, if you please. I shall take food soon.”

The chief spoke. “Pray do it now!” he said (to the warrior). “Lie in wait for him on his trail. He will find out! They say he has been talking about me, that is what he has been saying. Yes, he will know! He thinks that he has sense. I have sense. the sense of a chief. I shall soon speak out my mind. Though he was my medicine-man, pray shoot him!” he said. “Take him out into the brush and kill him!”

The people brought wa’k‘u beads, dentalia, and perforated white beads. “Here! Pound these,” they said. He pounded them at the grave. “I did not know about it, that is why I did not come,” (they said). Every summer they burn food (at the grave).

Footnotes:

[1] I.e., they already smell of death.

[2] Le., I can not cope with the disease spirit.

[3] He angrily apostrophizes the medicine-man, whom he suspects of having magically “poisoned” his son.

[4] The implication is that he will murder the medicine-man when he unsuspectingly goes out into the brush for firewood.

[5] This man, named Wa’it‘awasi, was said to be a brave warrior, a yô’?laina.

[6] in other words, the medicine-man’s folks will weep, for he shall not escape with his life.

[7] This sort of consolation seems to be rather Christian than Indian.

[8] He is again angrily apostrophizing the medicine-man. “You will fail to find it, will you?”

[9] He remembers how his son used to say to him, “Don’t bother about getting salmon. I’ll attend to that myself.”

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

When a person dies who has many relatives, much property, and many slaves, his relatives tie [dentalia] to his body. Two young men are selected to prepare the corpse. If [the deceased] had a good canoe, he is placed into it and it is put up. It is painted and two holes are made in its stern. The people go down to the beach and wash and comb themselves. They cut their hair–men, women, and children. After they have cut their hair, they take other names. Women, men, and children change their names. Then the dentalia of the deceased are distributed. His relatives take them as well as his slaves and canoes. If the deceased liked one of his relatives [particularly] he would say. “He shall take my wife after I am dead.” If he had two wives he speaks in this way to two persons. Now the women are taken to his relatives. When a woman loves her husband and she is near her death, she will say to her elder sister: “Your brother-in-law shall marry you;” or she may say so to her younger sister. When an old man dies and his widow is young, she is taken to his younger brother. In the same way [when and old woman dies and her widower is young, he is given his wife's younger sister].

When there is a chief, he takes the [deceased chief's name a long time, after the death of the latter]. His relative takes his name. Two people are told to name him. Now two people give him the name. They are given much property [for performing this service]. This is done when a man, a woman, or a child is named. After a year the corpse is cleaned. Two young men are hired, who also rearrange the canoe and paint it.

When a man dies who has a guardian spirit, his baton is placed next to the canoe. When a shaman dies, his baton is placed next to the canoe. His rattle of bear claws is hung on to the stern of the canoe. When he had a rattle made of shell, it is hung in the same place. When a shaman has many children, his baton is carried far into the woods. His rattle is carried there also. When a brave dies, his headdress is placed on top of a pole near his canoe burial. When he had a shell rattle, it is hung on to the canoe. When a woman dies, only her coat is hung on the canoe burial.

When anybody takes the dentalia away from a corpse, the person who took them is killed. When anybody makes fun of a canoe burial, and [the relatives of the deceased] learn about it, he must give away many dentalia, else he is killed. If he gives away many dentalia he is not killed.

When the child of a chief dies, he becomes very sad. He says to his relatives: “Let us go to the chief of that town.” The chief tries to please him. Now the people go to another town. Then he is given three slaves, canoes, and dentalia by the chief whom he visits. He receives many dentalia. He distributes all these dentalia and canoes among his relatives. He keeps only two slaves. If [the chief of] that town does not give him any dentalia they fight. Many people are killed, and now a feud originates. When a relative [of the chief] who has given dentalia dies, he assembles all his relatives and goes to the man whom he had given dentalia. Now the same is done [as before]. They give him slaves, dentalia, and canoes. His heart becomes glad.

When a chief dies, his relatives are sad. They speak to each other and go to war. They kill the chief of another town.

When a person has been killed, an old man who has a guardian spirit is asked to work over the murderer. The old man takes coal and mixes it with grease. He puts it onto the face [of the murderer]. He gives him a head ring of cedar bark. Cedar bark is also tied around his ankles and knees and around his wrists. For five days he does not drink water. He does not sleep, and does not lie down. He always, stands. At, night he walks about and whistles on bone whistles. He always says ä ä ä. For five days he does not wash his face. Then on the next morning the old man washes his face. He takes off that coal. He removes the black paint from his face. He puts red paint on his face. A little coal is mixed with the red paint. The old man puts this again on to his face. Sometimes this is done by an old man, sometimes by an old woman. The cedar bark which was tied to his legs and arms is taken off and buckskin straps are tied around his arms and his legs. Now, after five days he is given water. He is given a bucket, out of which he drinks. Now food is roasted for him, until it is burned. When it is burned black it is given to him. He eats standing. He takes five mouthsful, and no more. After thirty days he is painted with new red paint. Good red paint is taken. Now he carries his head ring and his bucket to a spruce tree and hangs it on top of the tree. [Then the tree will dry up.] People never eat in company of a murderer. He never eats sitting, but always standing. When he sits down [to rest] he kneels on one leg. The murderer never looks at a child and must not see people while they are eating.

When a woman’s husband dies she becomes a widow. Then she goes up the river. [There she stays] sometimes one day, sometimes two days. She bathes. For thirty days she does not eat fresh food. She also does not look at a child or at a sick person. She bathes every day. She rubs her body with sweet-smelling herbs. She never wears a good blanket. Her blanket is always bad. For one year she must not laugh. Then her dead husband’s relatives tell her: “Now be glad; your brother-in-law will marry you;” then she puts on a good blanket. When she laughs shortly after becoming a widow, her husband’s relatives are not pleased. When she marries again quickly, they ask a shaman to send disease to her and she dies. When a widow has a child which is small, her dead husband’s relatives say to her soon: “Now be glad,” and, indeed, she gets glad.

Chinook Texts, by Franz Boas; U.S. Bureau of American Ethnology, Bulletin no. 20; US Government Printing Office; [1894] and is now in the public domain.