GAmnâ’tck!î killed a seal, skinned it, and threw the skin and meat to his wife to wash. While she was washing them in the sea she saw some killer whales coming landward. By and by the meat she was washing drifted out from her and she waded after it. She went out until the water reached her hips. Then she suddenly felt some one pull her and she disappeared under water. It was the killer-whale people who thus took her into their canoe.

After that GAmnâ’tck!î felt very badly and thought to himself, “How can I get my wife back? How can I look for her under the water?” He could not sleep all night, and early in the morning he thought, “I wonder if I couldn’t raise this water so as to go under it.” In the morning, therefore, before he had eaten he took his red and black paints, went down to the water, raised the edge of it just as if he were raising a blanket, and walked under. He walked on farther and farther. It was just like walking on land.

By and by he came to a village full of very pale people who went about with their heads down. He found out that they were the red cod people. He wanted to make friends of them, so, thinking that they looked very white, he painted them all red–men, women, and children. That is how these fishes got their color. After that he asked them if they had seen his wife, but they said that they had seen no one, so he went on. Presently he came to another village and asked the people there the same question to which he received the very same answer. Those were the halibut people. In each village they gave him something to eat.

After he had ‘left the halibut people GAmnâ’tck!î traveled for several days before he came to another town. By and by, however, he perceived smoke far ahead of him, and, going toward it, he saw that it was from a fort. Inside of this fort was a large house which he immediately entered, but the people there did not seem to care to see strangers and would not talk to him. These were also very pale people, so to please them he took out his black paint and painted all of them with it. Then they felt well disposed toward him and were willing to talk. “Can you tell me what clan has my wife?” he said. At first they said that they did not know, but afterward one replied, “There is a strange woman in that town across there.” Then this person pointed the village out, and GAmnâ’tck!î felt pleased to know where his wife was. The people he had come among were the sharks, and those whose village they showed him were the killer whales.

Then the shark chief said, “Every time we have had a fight we have beaten them.” The shark people also said to him, “The killer-whale chief has a slave. Every morning the slave goes out after water. Go to the creek and tell him what to do when he comes in. Tell him to bring the water in and hand it to the chief over the fire. As he does so he must drop it, and, while the house is full of steam, pick up your wife and run out with her. The chief has married her. Then come over here with her. They will run after you, but, if you can get away, come right across.” The shark people had always been jealous of the killer whales because they had this woman.

While the shark people were telling him what to do, a strange, bony-looking person kept jumping up from behind the boxes. He wondered what made him act so queerly and began to feel uneasy about it, but, when the bony person saw him looking at him in a strange manner, he said, “Why! don’t you know me. I am that halibut hook (nAxu) that the sharks once took away from you. My name is Lgudjî’ (the name of an island).”

Just after that the man started for the killer-whale town and sat down by the creek. When the slave came out after water, he asked him to help him, saying, “I hear that my wife is with this chief.” “Yes,” the slave answered, “if she were a man, they would have kept her for a slave like myself. Since she is a woman, the chief has married her, and she is living very well. I will help you as much as I can. She wants to return to you. Now watch and I will do what you tell me to do. I will spill this water on the fire.”

After that he took GAmnâ’tck!î to the door and showed him where his wife sat. Then the slave walked in with the water while he stood outside watching. He watched his wife through a crack and saw that she appeared very much cast down. As soon as the fire was put out and the house filled with steam he ran in, seized his wife, and started off with her.

Then, when the slave thought that he had gotten a long distance away, he shouted, “Some one has taken the woman away.” The chief looked around, and sure enough his wife was gone. Going outside, they saw that this man had almost reached the shark fort, and they saw him enter it.

As soon as he got there, the shark people began to dress themselves for war. They were noisy and acted as though they were very hungry, so that GAmnâ’tck!î became frightened. The halibut hook came to him, however, and told him not to be frightened, because the killer whales were coming over. All at once the fort began moving up and down. Whenever the killer whales tried to enter, the fort killed them by moving up and down and cutting off their heads. The slaughter was so great that the few survivors were frightened and went back. Two or three days later the killer whales came again with like result.

After this the shark people said to GAmnâ’tck!î, “You better not start out I right away. Stay here a while with us. They might be lying in wait for you. Since we have fought for you so much, it is better that you should get to your home safely.” GAmnâ’tck!î did so, and some time later they said, “Go straight along by the way you came, and you will find your way out easily.” He did this and reached his home in safety.

Footnotes:

Evidently a version of the Tsimshian Story of Gunxnaxsîmgyêt

Abstract:

Gamnâ’tck!Î:

The hero obtains the favor of the red-cod people by painting them red and of the shark people by painting them black.

Tlingit Myths and Texts, by John R. Swanton; Smithsonian Institution; Bureau of American Ethnology Bulletin 39; Washington, Government Printing Office; [1909] and is now in the public domain.

While the Tlingit were still living at Klinkwan (Lînqo-ân) a famine broke out. There was an orphan girl there named Djîyî’n who was taking care of herself. Once in a while her father’s sister would help her, but all were starving, her father’s sister also being poor.

One day some women were going off to dig ts!êt roots, and this orphan very much wished to accompany them, but they would not take her. They said she was dirty and would bring them bad luck. When she laid hold of the canoe they struck her fingers to make her let go, but she was very hungry and very persistent, so that her father’s sister finally took her in. When they encamped that night she did not come back, and they did not know what she was living on. The women who were angry with her said, “What is the matter with her? Why doesn’t she come back to eat?” When they got ready to start home the orphan had not returned, and they left her there alone. They also threw water on the fire.

The girl’s aunt, however, procured a coal and threw it into the brush house where they had camped, along with a piece of dried salmon. She was careful not to let the others see what she was doing. Then she went back and said to the girl, “Are you coming?” “No,” she replied, “since they don’t want to take me, I better stay.” Then her aunt said, “I have put a live coal in that brush house along with a piece of dried salmon.”

As soon as the others had gone away the orphan made a big fire and cooked her roots and salmon, but she did not feel like eating. Therefore, instead of doing so, she went away and dug some more roots. In the evening she went back to her brush house, thinking she could eat now, but found that she had no appetite. So she lay down and went to sleep. Early in the morning she was awakened by a great noise which she found on looking out was made by a flock of brants (qên). She felt so tired that she lay down again and went to sleep, and, when she awoke once more, she thought she would set out after more roots. Going down to the flat where these roots grew, she found it covered with brants feeding upon them. When they saw her they flew away. Then she began removing the dead grass from the place where she was going to dig, and to her surprise came upon several big canoes looking as if they had been buried there, which were loaded with eulachon oil, dried eulachon, dried halibut, and dried salmon. She felt very happy. She thought how lucky it was that she had remained there when all of the village people were starving.

Now the orphan thought that she would eat something, so she took some salmon and a bundle of halibut home with her. On roasting a piece of salmon, however, she found that she could not eat it. She did not know what had gotten into her that she could not force herself to eat. She wished that her aunt were with her. Next morning she discovered that the spirits were keeping food away from her because she was becoming a shaman. The brants had become her spirits. The brant spirits always come to Raven people like her.

So she became a great shaman and was possessed by spirits every day, while sea gulls, crows, and all kinds of sea and woodland birds sang for her. This happened every day. Two or three times a day she would go to see the buried canoes, but she could not eat anything, and she gave up digging roots because she had no way of sharpening her sticks. Meanwhile everyone in the village thought that she had starved to death.

After some time had passed, the girl wished that someone would come to her from the village, and the day after a canoe appeared in sight. This made her very happy, especially when it got close and she found it contained some people of her acquaintance from the village. She called them up to her brush house and gave them some food from the canoes, and they remained there two or three days. They were out hunting for food. After a while she told them it was time for them

to go, and, when they were on the point of starting, she said, “Do not take a bit of the food I have given you. Leave it all here. Tell the people of our village that Djîyî’n is still living and is doing well. Tell my aunt that she must try to get here as soon as she can.”

When these people got back to the village and told what had happened to the orphan, how much food she had and how lucky she had been, all the town people who had been dying of starvation started off immediately for the place where she was living. When they came in sight of her brush house they saw that from the sky right down to it the air was filled with birds. There were so many that one could not see through them. They could also hear men and women singing and the shaman performing, but, when they came close, all of the birds flew away.

As soon as the shaman heard that her people were coming she walked out to meet them and asked, “Which canoe is my aunt in? Let her land here.” All of the food in one of her canoes she gave to her aunt. Then she said, “I want two women to come ashore to help me with my singing.” The high-caste women in the canoes, who were all painted up, would rise one after the other, but she would not have them, and finally called two who were orphans like herself and had been treated very badly by their own people. All the others then started to come ashore, and she told them where to camp. She had room enough in her own house only for the two girls and her aunt.

These high-caste people had brought their slaves with them when they came to her, and she got them herself in exchange for food. She had three brush houses built to hold them. She also dressed up the two little orphans so that they looked very pretty. After a long time the people left her to return to their own village, and, when another long period had elapsed, her spirit made the town chief sick, and they hired her to come and treat him.

This shaman had belonged to a very high-caste family, but they had died off and left her very poor, and nothing remained of her uncle’s house except the posts. Grass grew all about inside of it, and when the shaman was entering the village she saw the posts of her uncle’s house and felt very sad. She told them to land near by. Then she looked up, raised an eagle’s tail in one hand, blew upon it, and waved it back and forth in front of them. The fourth time a fine house stood there. Then they carried all of her things into this, and she had the slaves she had procured work for her, while the two orphans she had taken were now considered high caste.

At that time the sick chief’s daughter also fell sick. Then the spirits turned all the minds of the chief’s people away from her, and they paid other shamans in the village. The sick ones, however, continued to get worse and worse, until they finally remembered that she also was a shaman and sent for her. When the messenger came one of the orphans asked, “How much will they pay the shaman?” “Two slaves,” they said. She thought that this was not enough, and the messenger went back. When he came again, she again asked, “How much are they going to pay the shaman?” “Two slaves and some goods.” Then she agreed, and, as soon as the messenger had left, Djîyî’n said to the two girls, “Come on. Let us go.”

As soon as she had arrived at the house she sat down between the two sick people and worked very hard to cure them. Her spirits could see immediately what the matter was. This house was crowded with people except around the fire where the shaman was performing. Then Djîyî’n walked around and said, “The witch that is killing you two has not come.” They sent to all the houses in the village and assembled those who were there in the house in place of the previous occupants. Djîyî’n examined all of them again, and again said, “The witch is not yet here.” Finally the spirits in her began to say, “The road of the witch is very clear now. The road of the witch is straight for this house.” Again they said, “The witch is coming.” By and by they began to hear a bird whistling in the woods back of the house, and she said, “Yes, hear her. She is coming.” And when the sound came near the door she said, “Open the door and let her come in.” So they opened the door, and there sat a wild canary (s!âs!). Then the shaman told her to sit between the two sick persons, and she did so. She was making a great deal of noise, and the shaman said, “Tie her wings back.” Not long afterward the people heard a great noise like thunder which seemed a great distance off. Then the shaman said, “Here are her children. They are offended and are coming in. Stop up all of the holes so that they may not enter.” The noise grew louder and louder, however, and presently birds began to fly in right through the boards. At last the house became so full of them as to be well nigh suffocating, and very many of the people were injured. Whoever the birds flew against would have a cut or bruise. All at once the house again became empty, not a bird being left inside except the one that was tied.

By this time it was morning, the people having sat in that house all night, and the bird made still more noise. “She is already telling about it,” said the shaman. “She wants to go to the place where she has the food and the pieces of hair with which she is bewitching you.” Finally she left the house, but although they had untied her wings she walked along ahead of four men instead of flying. She went up the way she had come down and began scratching at the roots of some bushes some distance up in the woods. There she came upon the top of a skull in which were some hair, food, and pieces of clothing arranged in a certain manner along with different kinds of leaves. She took these down to the beach and threw them out on the sea in different directions. Afterward she went back to the house with the four men still following her.

By and by the bird began making noises again, and the shaman, who alone could understand her, said that she wanted to leave the place. She hated to go back to her own place among the other birds because she knew that they would be ashamed of her, so she asked them to take her to a town called Close-along-the-beach (Yênq!asê’sîtciyî-ân). When they took down a canoe to carry her off she flew right into it. Then the shaman said, “When you get her to the place whither she wants to go, go ashore and put her there, and turn right back.” Then they started on with her, and after a time she made so much noise that they said, “Let us put her ashore here. This must be the place.” They did so; and, as soon as they got close in, the bird flew out upon the beach and started up it very fast. One man followed her to see where she would go and saw her pass under a tree with protruding roots. This was the town she had been talking about.

As soon as the witch put the skull and other things into the water the chief and his daughter recovered. Before the events narrated in this story people did not know anything about witchcraft, and the ancients used to say that it was from this bird that they learned it years ago.

Footnotes:

Or better Djûn. Haida versions of the same will be found in Memoirs Amer. Mus. Nat. Hist., VIII, 226, 247. Aqâ’nîq!ês is said to be in all probability Kayâ’nîq!ês (For-the-leaves).

Abstract:

DJÎYÎ’N

An orphan girl named Djîyî’n was very badly treated. One time she determined to stay on an island by herself, and while there she became a shaman and discovered a great quantity of food which made her rich. By and by the town chief’s daughter fell sick and all kinds of shamans were summoned to no purpose. Finally they called Djîyî’n, who found that the wild canary (s!âs!) had bewitched her. She made this bird find the charm and throw it into the sea. Then the bird was taken at its own request to a place some distance from the village, where it disappeared.

Tlingit Myths and Texts, by John R. Swanton; Smithsonian Institution; Bureau of American Ethnology Bulletin 39; Washington, Government Printing Office; [1909] and is now in the public domain.

A porcupine and a beaver were once very close friends.[b] They traveled about everywhere and reported to each other all that happened. The bear is very much afraid of the porcupine, but he hates the beaver. Wherever the beaver has a dam the bear breaks it up so as to let the water down, catches the beaver and eats him. But he is afraid of the porcupine’s sharp quills, so the porcupine sometimes stayed in the beaver’s house, which is always dry inside.

When the lake began falling, they knew it was caused by the bear, and the porcupine would go out to reconnoiter. Then he would come back and say to his friend, “Do not go out. I will go out first.” Then the bear would be afraid of the porcupine’s sharp quills and go away, after which all the beavers began repairing their dam while the porcupine acted as guard.

By and by the porcupine said to the beaver, “I am hungry. I want to go to my own place.” Porcupine got his food from the bark and sap of trees, so he told the beaver to go up a tree with him, but the beaver could not climb. Then the porcupine told him to stay below while he went up to eat. Soon they saw the bear coming, and the beaver said, “Partner (xô’ne), what shall I do? The bear is getting near.” Then the porcupine slid down quickly and said, “Lay your head close to my back.” In that way he got the beaver to the top of the tree. But, after a while, the porcupine left him, and the beaver did not know how to climb down. He began to beg the porcupine in every way to let him down, but in vain. After quite a while, however, the squirrel, another friend of the beaver, came to him and helped him down, while the porcupine was off in a hole in the rocks with a number of other porcupines.

By and by the porcupine went back and saw his friend swimming in the lake. The beaver asked him down to the lake and then said, “Partner, let us go out to the middle of the lake. Just put your head on the back of my head and you will not get wet at all.” Because these two friends fell out, people now become friends, and, after they have loved each other for a while, fall out. Then the porcupine did as he was directed, the beaver told him to hold on tight, and they started. The beaver would flap his tail on the water and dive down for some distance, come to the surface, flap his tail, and go down again; and he repeated the performance until he came to an island in the center of the lake. Then he put the porcupine ashore and went flapping away from him in the same manner.

Now the little porcupine wandered around the whole island, not knowing how to get off. He climbed a tree, came down again, and climbed another, and so on. But the wolverine lived on the mainland near by, so after a while he began to sing for the wolverine (nûsk)”Nû-u-sguê-e’, Nû-u-sguê-e’, Nû-u-sguê-e”.” He called all the animals on the mainland, but he called the wolverine especially, because he wanted the north wind to blow so that it would freeze.[a]

Then the wolverine called out, “What is the matter with you?” So he at last sang a song about himself, saying that he wanted to go home badly. After he had sung this the whole sea froze over, and the porcupine ran across it to his home. This is why they were going to be friends no longer.

Then the porcupine made friends with the ground hog and they stayed up between the mountains where they could see people whenever they started up hunting. One day a man started out, and when they saw him, the porcupine began singing, “Up to the land of ground hog. Up to the land of ground hog.” The man heard him. That is why people know that the porcupine sings about the ground hog.

After this the man began trapping ground hogs for food and caught a small ground hog. He took it home and skinned it. Then he took off the head and heated some stones in order to cook it. When he was just about to put it into the steaming box the head sang plainly, “Poor little head, my poor little head, how am I going to fill him?” The man was frightened, and, instead of eating, he went to his traps in the morning, took them up (lit. “threw them off”) and came home.

Next morning he reported everything to his friends, saying, “I killed a ground hog, skinned it and started to cook the head. Then it said to me, ‘Poor little head.’” After that he went out to see his bear traps. While he was endeavoring to tighten the release of one of these, the dead fall came down and struck him in the neck, making his head fly off. When he had been absent for two days they searched for him and found him in his own trap. This was what the ground hog had predicted when it said, “My poor little head.’” They took his body down to the beach, beat the drums for him, and had a feast on the ground hogs and other animals he had trapped.

Footnotes

[b] WutcyAqâ’wu, signifying friendship between people regardless of relationship.

[a] See Twenty-sixth Annual Report of the Bureau of American Ethnology,

Abstract:

Beaver And Porcupine

Porcupine stayed with Beaver to protect him from Bear. By and by Porcupine went home and Beaver with him, and when Bear approached, Porcupine carried Beaver up to the very top of the tree and left him. Finally Squirrel came and helped Beaver down. Then Beaver carried Porcupine out to an island, from which he escaped only by calling on Wolverine, who caused the surface of the lake to freeze over. After that happened, Porcupine went to live with Ground hog. A man caught a ground hog, but, as he was about to cook its head, the head spoke. He was seared, stopped trapping ground hogs, and went up to see his bear dead falls, when one of these fell upon him and killed him.

Tlingit Myths and Texts, by John R. Swanton; Smithsonian Institution; Bureau of American Ethnology Bulletin 39; Washington, Government Printing Office; [1909] and is now in the public domain.

The beaver and the porcupine were great friends and went about everywhere together. The porcupine often visited the beaver’s house, but the latter did not like to have him come because he left quills there. One time, when the porcupine said that he wanted to go out to the beaver’s house, the beaver said, “All right, I will take you out on my back.” He started, but instead of going to his house he took him to a stump in the very middle of the lake. Then he said to him, “This is my house,” left him there, and went ashore.

While the porcupine was upon this stump he began singing a song, “Let it become frozen. Let it become frozen so that I can cross to Wolverine-man’s place.” He meant that he wanted to walk ashore on the ice. So the surface of the lake froze, and he walked home.

Some time after this, when the two friends were again playing together, the porcupine said, “You come now. It is my turn to carry yon on my back.” Then the beaver got on the porcupine’s back, and the porcupine took him to the top of a very high tree, after which he came down and left him. For a long time the beaver did not know how to get down, but finally he climbed down, and they say that this is what gives the broken appearance to tree bark.

(TLINGIT: Swanton, Bulletin of the Bureau of American Ethnology, xxxix, 220, No. 63)

Tales of the North American Indians, by Stith Thompson [1929] and is now in the public domain