Creation Myths of Primitive America Part 29

"I come here for you and Patkilis," answered Lutchi. "Waida Dikit sent me to invite you to a flute-playing at his sweat-house. n.o.body else could come to you, so he asked me to come."

"We are glad," answered they. "We will go. You go ahead. But how shall we pa.s.s the sky?"

"I will wait at the edge for you," said Lutchi; and he went on.

When Sedit and Patkilis were ready, Sedit said, "I wish this road on which I must travel to be short, very short."

They started, and found the road so short that Lutchi was waiting at the edge of the sky only a little while when they were with him.

Lutchi pried up the sky a second time, and the three pa.s.sed under to the western side. Again there was an awful noise, and the whole world trembled.

"Now I am going quickly; you can move as you like," said Lutchi. He went west like a flash, and just as the sun was peeping over the mountains he was back at Waida Dikit's.

"Have you heard what is going on in this world that makes such a noise?" asked Waida Dikit. "These people heard an awfully big noise."

"That was my travelling," said Lutchi. "Kinus, whom you sent first, could not go to those three people. I went. They are on the road, and will be here in a few days."

All the people heard this and were glad.

"Now we shall hear great music," said they.

While travelling along together, Patkilis spoke to Sedit and advised him. "When we are in Waida Dikit's house," said he, "don't talk much.

Sit down like a wise man and look on; be silent; don't act like a little boy."

Sedit was talking all the time. He told Patkilis what he was going to do. He would do this and do that, he said.

Two days pa.s.sed, and the two men had not come. On the third day, near the middle of the forenoon, people saw a beautiful little arrow come down just by the door of the sweat-house,--a bright arrow. When it struck the ground, it made a grating noise, and they said,--

"That is a nice arrow. Who sent such an arrow?" And all liked it.

There were crowds of people in the sweat-house. Some of them wanted the arrow. "Let's pull it up!" said they, "and see who made it;" but Waida Dikit would not let them touch it. "Let it stay where it is. Do not touch it," said he, for he knew that it was Patkilis's arrow, and that it meant: "I am coming. I shall be there soon."

While the people were talking about the arrow, two men swept in through the door. No one saw their faces or their heads, just their legs and shadows.

"Give them room, let them in," said Waida Dikit.

"Where can they sit?" asked Tsaroki.

"Give each a place on the east side," said Waida Dikit.

The two, Patkilis and Sedit, went to the east side and sat down.

n.o.body had seen Waida Werris come, but he was in the house.

When leaving home that morning, Waida Werris said to Waiti, his brother,--

"You will stay and keep house, as you do always. You will be here, but you will see me all the time, you will see me night and day. Watch me; they will do other things there besides playing on flutes."

Patkilis and Sedit asked Waida Dikit if Waida Werris had come.

"I do not know where he is," replied the old man. "No one has seen him."

"Oh, he will not come," said many people. "What kind of a person is Waida Werris? He is n.o.body. What do we want of him?"

Waida Werris was sitting there all the time listening. Waida Dikit knew well what kind of person he was, but said nothing. That night after all invited people had come, Waida Dikit said:

"Listen, all you people here present. I have called this gathering to find who is the best flute-player, who can make the best music in this world. Let us begin. Let each play alone."

Tsaroki began the trial. "I will begin," said he to his brother Hawt, "then let the others play. You can play when you like."

"I am satisfied," said Hawt. "I will play last."

"That is well," answered Tsaroki. "I will play first, all will follow, and you may play last."

Tsaroki began. He played a little while, not long; played well.

Kanhlalas played next. All liked his music. Watwut Kiemila played third; played splendidly.

"Go ahead and play, all you people," said Waida Dikit.

Tsileu Herit played best up to his time, played till almost morning, till just before daylight. The inside of the sweat-house had become red, and some asked,--

"Why is it red everywhere inside the sweat-house?"

"We do not know," answered others; "something makes it red."

One man went up to Waida Dikit and asked, "Why is it red inside the sweat-house?"

"I will tell you. Do you see Tsileu Herit there? Well, he has been playing all night, the breath is gone out of him, he is all red, and the whole sweat-house is red from him."

About daylight Tsileu stopped, and then it grew as dark as in a house when a fire is put out in the night. Now Tsaik played all day, and at sundown the sweat-house was blue, for Tsaik had grown blue.

All played to see who could play best. Every kind of people played.

When any one was out of breath, he stopped playing, and received a new color. When Murope lost breath, he was spotted. When Handokmit lost breath, he became striped. Patkilis played three nights and two days, and when he gave out after sundown, he was roan. Wai Hau played five nights, and at sunrise the fifth morning he was red. Kiriu Herit played five nights, and at the middle of the sixth night he was black, and his breath gone.

And so for many days and nights they played, one person after another, till one night all had finished except Hawt. Hawt was the last to play. All were asleep now. All had lost breath, and received new colors. Tsaroki went to his brother on the north side of the house, and said,--

"Begin, my brother; over near the fire there is a place for you; go under the ground, and when you come out, you will play."

Hawt went under the ground, and came out near the fireplace. He lay on his back and began to play. He had two rows of holes in his body, one on each side; he fingered these holes, drew in air through his nostrils, and sent it out through the holes in both sides. Hawt was playing on his own body. At first, all the people were asleep, except one person, Tsudi Herit. Tsudi heard Hawt, and he heard, as in a doze, wonderful sounds. He listened a long time, thinking it a dream. When Tsudi found that he was not sleeping, he shook the man next him, and said,--

"Wake up, wake up! Who is playing? All have played, but I have never heard music like this. Many have played here, but no one played in this way."

The person he roused was Hus. Hus said nothing, he was old and nearly bald, he took a pipe and began to smoke. Tsudi roused other people, one after another.

"Wake up, rise, sit up; listen to the music somebody is playing."

They woke, one after another. "Who is playing?" asked one. "Who is it?" asked another. "We have played many days and nights, but no one played like that. All have their own flutes. Who can this be?"

At last some one said: "I know who is playing. It is Hawt."