Creation Myths of Primitive America Part 20

Tulchuherris put down his quiver with his bow and went to the forest.

He pulled up many of the biggest trees by the roots and bound them in a bundle. He brought the bundle to the house, put the trees on the fire, and said,--

"Now you have plenty of firewood, my grandmother, and I am going."

When he had gone a little way the old woman screamed: "My grandson, come back; the fire is dying!"

He put down his quiver and bow near his two dogs, went back, and saw that the fire was dying. The whole great bundle of trees which he had brought was burned out. Tulchuherris went then and pulled up by the roots great trees, larger than the first, and brought two bundles; put these on the fire--a great many trees. He was the strongest person in the world, and could do that.

"Now I am going!" said he. His two dogs stood waiting at the bow and the quiver. He had gone farther than the first time, he had gone about twice as far, when the old woman screamed,--

"My grandson, the fire is out!"

Tulchuherris put down his quiver and bow again, left the dogs with them, and hurried back. He found every tree burned and the fire going out. He stood there and thought and thought. At last he said,--

"I don't know what to do. I can't find wood enough, and I can't leave my grandmother without a fire."

Then Winishuyat said,--

"Tulchuherris, if you don't know how to keep a fire for your grandmother, I will tell you. Go out here anywhere. You will find wild sunflower roots, plenty of them. Put one handful of those roots on the fire, and it will not go out again."

Tulchuherris went and dug the roots; brought two handfuls; put them on the fire so that they would burn slowly, the ends touching the fire.

Then he said,--

"I am going, grandmother. Take good care of yourself."

He went to where his quiver and bow and dogs were; then he looked back. His grandmother said nothing. She did not call to him this time.

He went farther, looked back, listened, no call came. He went still farther, listened, all was silent; went farther yet, stopped, listened, heard nothing, made up his mind that all was right with his grandmother, and went on till he had gone a long distance, listened a fourth time, heard nothing. After this he went quickly till about midday, when he looked ahead and saw a great rock standing straight up in front of him, small at the top and very high. He looked and saw some one standing on the very summit. The rock was higher than a big pine-tree. A very old man was standing on the top of it.

Tulchuherris could go neither to the north nor the south, the rock was straight in his road. He looked everywhere for a pa.s.sage, but could see none. He looked on the left side, all was dark; on the right, all was dark,--dark everywhere. There was light only in the road which went up the rock and over it.

The old man on the rock, when Tulchuherris came near, called out,--

"My grandson, come right up to me; there is no other road where people travel. When you are here, you will pa.s.s down on the other side easily."

"I will go to you," said Tulchuherris.

When he had said "I will go to you," Winishuyat, the little man under his hair, said,--

"My brother, be careful, he is going to kill you."

Tulchuherris stopped.

"Here," said Winishuyat, "is the place where our people came in time past. Many were killed here. They went to the old man; he threw them down and killed them. If you go to that old man, my brother, he will sway this big rock. In one flash he will throw you into a dark place at the side where you cannot see bottom. Run to the rock quickly, kick it. If not, he will kill us. This old man was sent here by Sas, he was sent here to kill us."

Tulchuherris did not climb the rock, did not go to the old man; but he rushed forward and gave the rock one great kick with his shoe of green water-stone. The rock fell, and the old man fell with it,--fell into the dark place. The rock never sprang back. It left a smooth road with a ridge on each side of the place where it had been. Then the two dogs ran forward, and Tulchuherris said to the old man,--

"Hereafter you will not be what you have been; hereafter you will be nothing but a ground squirrel. You will live under rocks in the earth, and the people to come will call you tichelis. You are not like me; I am strong. You will be nothing hereafter but a poor little ground squirrel."

Tulchuherris followed the dogs then. He looked back and listened; he could hear at a great distance, he could hear all over the world. But he heard no sound from his grandmother; so he went on till he came to a large and broad river. There he saw a man standing. Tulchuherris went nearer, looked up and down, but could see no place to cross the river. The man saw him and said,--

"Grandson, you cannot pa.s.s this big river; you must get some one to help you. I am the only one who ever crosses at this point. I can wade right through the water. I carry over all who come here. If you wish, I will take you to the other side; but you could never go alone; you could never cross yourself."

Tulchuherris didn't know what to do, and stood thinking.

"Go on, my brother," said Winishuyat. "Let him carry you, though this is one of the places where they killed many of our people who escaped the old man on the rock. But this man cannot kill us. Let him carry us."

"Very well!" said Tulchuherris to the old man. "Carry me over, take me across this river."

The old man came up and took him on his back. Tulchuherris had a pointed bone in his bosom where he could get at it quickly. He had brought this bone from Eli Tsarauton. The old man started into the river. At first it was not deep, but in the middle of the stream the water was up to his breast, and was growing deeper. Then it reached his neck, and was rising. The dogs made a leap from one side of the river to the other. The water was at the man's eyes now.

"Be careful, my brother," said Winishuyat, "be careful. This man kills people in this way,--he drowns them, he will drown you right away if you let him."

Tulchuherris took out his sharp bone, stabbed the man's breast two or three times with it, wounded him, stopped him. Then he leaped from the man's head to the other bank, where his dogs were. Tulchuherris stood a moment looking at the wounded man. Then he said,--

"Hereafter you will not be what you have been. You will be nothing but an eel. You will be a person no longer. You will be only an eel, the people to come will call you hawt and will eat you."

Tulchuherris walked forward quickly after this. Sas's two daughters heard every step he took, as though he had been near, though he was far, very far away from them. They always heard men coming from the west,--always knew when they were coming.

Tulchuherris walked quickly till almost evening, when he came to a high ridge near Sas's house. Just as he reached the ridge he heard a sort of clinking noise on the other side. He stopped and looked, but saw no one. He was right at the spot where the noise was, but there was no one in sight. The ridge was like a straight wall reaching north and south farther than he could see, and high up out of sight, and down into the ground. No one could go through, or go around, or dig under that wall or climb over it. In the middle of the ridge was an opening in which stood a great sugar pine, and in the pine was a cleft large enough to let a person pa.s.s easily. When any one was pa.s.sing, and half-way through the cleft, the pine closed and crushed him. The noise was made by a person hammering just beyond the wall.

Tulchuherris looked through and saw an arm, and while he was looking his dogs sprang through the opening to the other side.

"What's this?" called the man, and he walked to the opening. "Ah, are you there? Is that you, my son-in-law?"

Tulchuherris said nothing, but looked and saw piles of bones inside.

"Come right in this way, come in, my son-in-law," said the old man.

"Come in; you cannot pa.s.s at another place."

When the old man called out, "Come in, you cannot pa.s.s at another place," Tulchuherris said, "I must pa.s.s here, but I am afraid."

"This is the road that all people take, my son-in-law. Come straight through; have no fear, there is no danger."

The two dogs went up to the old man and smelled him. They growled, did not like him, nor did the old man like the dogs. This old man was Sas himself, he who lived in Saskewil.

"Now, my brother," said Winishuyat, "go ahead, go through as quickly as you can. If you are slow, he will catch us. This is a place where Sas has killed many of our people."

Tulchuherris took his bow and quiver in one hand, stood on one foot, braced himself sidewise, made a spring, and went through in a flash.

That instant the tree closed with a great noise, became solid.

When Tulchuherris shot through, he went far off into the field, and Sas didn't see him, he went past so swiftly. Sas heard the tree close, and thought that Tulchuherris was caught in it. He looked at the tree and began to talk.

"Well, my son-in-law, you are caught, now you are n.o.body. I am Sas.

You were weak, I am strong. You wore your grandmother's ap.r.o.n. You knew nothing; I know everything."

Tulchuherris had come up, and was standing behind while old Sas was talking. He listened, heard every word. After Sas had stopped talking, Tulchuherris asked,--

"My father-in-law, to whom are you talking? What are you saying?"

"Ha!" cried Sas, turning quickly. "Son-in-law, I was talking to myself. I was saying that I had done wrong to my son-in-law. I am old, my heart is weak, my head is half crazy. I am blind, I did not know what I was doing. I was saying that I had done wrong. You are my son-in-law. I am old, I am weak, I am blind. My head is gray. I cannot do much now. You see my house over there; it is a poor house; it is poor because I am old. Go ahead; go in. I will follow as soon as I can."