The Mythology of Cherokee, Iroquois, Navajo, Siouan and Zuñi. James MooneyЧитать онлайн книгу.
nothing, they assented to his proposal, and he was followed by the flower of the Illinois tribe, all unaware that five hundred Senecas awaited them in the valley. The youth led his men right into the heart of the ambush; then, pretending to miss his footing, he fell. This was the signal for the Senecas to rise on every side. Yelling their war-cry, they rushed from their shelter and fell on the dismayed Illinois, who gave way on every side. The slaughter was immense. Vengeance nerved the arms of the Seneca braves, and of three hundred Illinois but two escaped. The leader of the expedition was borne in triumph to the Seneca village, where to listening hundreds he told the story of his capture and long-meditated revenge. He became a great chief among his people, and even to this day his name is uttered by them with honour and reverence.
The Boy Magician
In the heart of the wilderness there lived an old woman and her little grandson. The two found no lack of occupation from day to day, the woman busying herself with cooking and cleaning and the boy with shooting and hunting. The grandmother frequently spoke of the time when the child would grow up and go out into the world.
"Always go to the east," she would say. "Never go to the west, for there lies danger."
But what the danger was she would not tell him, in spite of his importunate questioning. Other boys went west, he thought to himself, and why should not he? Nevertheless his grandmother made him promise that he would not go west.
Years passed by, and the child grew to be a man, though he still retained the curiosity and high spirits of his boyhood. His persistent inquiries drew from the old grandmother a reluctant explanation of her warning.
"In the west," said she, "there dwells a being who is anxious to do us harm. If he sees you it will mean death for both of us."
This statement, instead of frightening the young Indian, only strengthened in him a secret resolution he had formed to go west on the first opportunity. Not that he wished to bring any misfortune on his poor old grandmother, any more than on himself, but he trusted to his strong arm and clear head to deliver them from their enemy. So with a laugh on his lips he set off to the west.
Toward evening he came to a lake, where he rested. He had not been there long when he heard a voice saying: "Aha, my fine fellow, I see you!"
The youth looked all round him, and up into the sky above, but he saw no one.
"I am going to send a hurricane," the mysterious voice continued, "to break your grandmother's hut to pieces. How will you like that?"
"Oh, very well," answered the young man gaily. "We are always in need of firewood, and now we shall have plenty."
"Go home and see," the voice said mockingly. "I daresay you will not like it so well."
Nothing daunted, the young adventurer retraced his steps. As he neared home a great wind sprang up, seeming to tear the very trees out by the roots.
"Make haste!" cried the grandmother from the doorway. "We shall both be killed!"
When she had drawn him inside and shut the door she scolded him heartily for his disobedience, and bewailed the fate before them. The young man soothed her fears, saying: "Don't cry, grandmother. We shall turn the lodge into a rock, and so we shall be saved."
Having some skill in magic, he did as he had said, and the hurricane passed harmlessly over their heads. When it had ceased they emerged from their retreat, and found an abundance of firewood all round them.
The Hailstorm
Next day the youth was on the point of setting off toward the west once more, but the urgent entreaties of his grandmother moved him to proceed eastward—for a time. Directly he was out of sight of the lodge he turned his face once more to the west. Arrived at the lake, he heard the voice once more, though its owner was still invisible.
"I am going to send a great hailstorm on your grandmother's hut," it said. "What do you think of that?"
"Oh," was the response, "I think I should like it. I have always wanted a bundle of spears."
"Go home and see," said the voice.
Away the youth went through the woods. The sky became darker and darker as he neared his home, and just as he was within a bowshot of the little hut a fierce hailstorm broke, and he thought he would be killed before he reached shelter.
"Alas!" cried the old woman when he was safely indoors, "we shall be destroyed this time. How can we save ourselves?"
Again the young man exercised his magic powers, and transformed the frail hut into a hollow rock, upon which the shafts of the hailstorm spent themselves in vain. At last the sky cleared, the lodge resumed its former shape, and the young man saw a multitude of sharp, beautiful spear-heads on the ground.
"I will get poles," said he, "to fit to them for fishing."
When he returned in a few minutes with the poles he found that the spears had vanished.
"Where are my beautiful spears?" he asked his grandmother.
"They were only ice-spears," she replied. "They have all melted away."
The young Indian was greatly disappointed, and wondered how he could avenge himself on the being who had played him this malicious trick.
"Be warned in time," said the aged grandmother, shaking her head at him. "Take my advice and leave him alone."
The Charmed Stone
But the youth's adventurous spirit impelled him to see the end of the matter, so he took a stone and tied it round his neck for a charm, and sought the lake once again. Carefully observing the direction from which the voice proceeded, he saw in the middle of the lake a huge head with a face on every side of it.
"Aha! uncle," he exclaimed, "I see you! How would you like it if the lake dried up?"
"Nonsense!" said the voice angrily, "that will never happen."
"Go home and see," shouted the youth, mimicking the mocking tone the other had adopted on the previous occasions. As he spoke he swung his charmed stone round his head and threw it into the air. As it descended it grew larger and larger, and the moment it entered the lake the water began to boil.
The lad returned home and told his grandmother what he had done.
"It is of no use," said she. "Many have tried to slay him, but all have perished in the attempt."
Next morning our hero went westward again, and found the lake quite dry, and the animals in it dead, with the exception of a large green frog, who was in reality the malicious being who had tormented the Indian and his grandmother. A quick blow with a stick put an end to the creature, and the triumphant youth bore the good news to his old grandmother, who from that time was left in peace and quietness.
The Friendly Skeleton
A little boy living in the woods with his old uncle was warned by him not to go eastward, but to play close to the lodge or walk toward the west. The child felt a natural curiosity to know what lay in the forbidden direction, and one day took advantage of his uncle's absence on a hunting expedition to wander away to the east. At length he came to a large lake, on the shores of which he stopped to rest. Here he was accosted by a man, who asked him his name and where he lived.
"Come," said the stranger, when he had finished questioning the boy, "let us see who can shoot an arrow the highest."
This they did, and the boy's arrow went much higher than that of his companion.
The stranger then suggested a swimming match.
"Let us see," he said, "who can swim farthest under water without taking a breath."
Again the boy beat his rival, who next proposed that they should sail out to an island in the middle of the lake, to see the beautiful birds that were to be