Creation Myths of Primitive America Part 47

The old woman agreed at last. Dari Jowa took the boy and called him Ilhataina. One day Dari Jowa brought Ilhataina to the sweat-house and said, "Talk now."

Ilhataina began to talk, and the sweat-house trembled. He shouted; the whole earth shook. He was thundering.

ILHATAINA

PERSONAGES

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

=Ahalamila=, gray wolf; =Demauna=, pine marten; =Gowila=, lizard; =Ilhataina=, lightning; =Jul Kurula=, woodgrub; =Jupka=, b.u.t.terfly of the wild silkworm; =Tsore Jowa=, a kind of eagle.

Near Jigulmatu lived Tsore Jowa, a very old woman. Once in the spring she went west to dig roots, and found a great clump of them. "I'll come to-morrow and dig these," thought she, and went home.

Next morning she went to get the roots. She dug around the whole clump, but could not pull it up. She dug deeper, pulled and tugged; at last the roots came, and on them a little boy with eyes staring out of his head. She pushed the eyes back, cured him, put him in a rabbit-skin blanket which she wore, and went home. She washed the boy all day, and did not sleep at night. She washed him all the time. When five days old, he had grown a good deal. On the sixth day he crept; on the ninth he walked. When fifteen days old, he was a strong but very small boy.

"I want a bow and arrows," said he.

"You must not go out," said the old woman, "you must not leave my sight."

He teased till at last she gave him a bow and said, "You must stay on the housetop, and not go away."

While he was on the house a bird flew up, perched on a tree-top, and asked, "Why doesn't your mother nurse you?"

The bird repeated this and flew away. The boy cried; came down and told his grandmother.

"Where are our people? Tell me," said he.

"Our people were many," said she, "but Gowila killed them all. We have no people now."

"Who is Gowila?"

"Oh, he is strong and terrible; you must not see Gowila."

The boy walked around the house then, looked at the walls, and asked, "May I have that bow hanging there?"

"You may if you like," said she, "but you are too weak to use it. You are very small, a little fellow."

He started at the east side of the sweat-house and went northward, tried the first bow, broke it; went on, took another, broke that. Then he went around the whole house, breaking every bow that he came to, till on the south side he reached the last bow. It was made of deer sinew. He bent that, tried his best, tried again and again, could not break it. "What kind of a bow is this?" thought he. "It is the ugliest, the oldest, but I cannot break it." He took the bow and a big stone to crush it. The bow flew out of his hand, and the stone fell.

"How did the man die who used this bow?" asked the boy.

"Gowila killed him, and those who had the other bows," answered the old woman.

"I will go for wood now and sweat."

"Do not go far," said Tsore Jowa.

The boy ran off to the east, seized a big pine-tree, tore it up with one pull, and took it home in one hand. He made a big fire and put stones on it.

"Bring water, my grandmother," said he; "then I will tell you what to do." The old woman filled a great basket with water. The stones were dropped in when red-hot, and the water boiled quickly.

"Grandmother, put me into the boiling water."

The old woman was frightened, but did what he told her.

"Cover me closely," said the boy.

She covered him with another tight basket. He lay in the water till the cover flew from the basket, and he was thrown through the opening in the top of the sweat-house and dropped on the roof outside. He ran down, swam in the river close by, and then went back and talked with the old woman.

"You will be very strong," said she. "You will be called Ilhataina."

He ran east a second time; brought sugar-pines. He did not sleep, he sang without stopping. Rocks were made hot as before, and dropped into a bigger basket. The old woman put in Ilhataina, and covered him with four closely woven baskets. He was in the boiling water till the four covers burst off, and he flew up through the opening in the top of the sweat-house. He ran down again to the river, and while swimming talked to himself, saying,--

"I will meet Gowila to-day, I will meet Gowila to-day."

At sunrise he went home. "Grandmother, I am going out a short way,"

said he, taking down his old bow and one arrow.

"Oh, grandson, you must not go far; you must not leave my sight," said the old woman.

He counted twenty otter-skin quivers filled with arrows, and said, "I will take these."

She cooked roots for his breakfast, and brought a small basket full for him to take with him. He went west to a grove of trees, made a fire there, and caused salmon to hang all around on the tree branches.

Crowds of men and women were heard talking and laughing near by. He made it so. There were no people in the place. He made the noise to entice Gowila.

He began to dig roots then. He dug without raising his head, dug and worked on, singing songs as he worked. Soon a big ugly old man from the north came. This was Gowila. He had a great dog, and a deer head was hanging at his back, with long horns on each side of it.

"You sing a nice song," said he.

Ilhataina never looked up.

"Come to the fire," said Gowila.

The boy said nothing; dug all the time.

"Come to the fire; I am hungry," said Gowila.

After a time Ilhataina went to the fire.

"You sing well," said Gowila. "Where did you come from?"

"From Jigulmatu. People sing well at Jigulmatu, and they dance well."