Creation Myths of Primitive America Part 33

"I am here," said Patkilis. "Come, p.a.w.nit, you and I will go in and get the two bags. You, Tsaik, take the acorns."

Tsaik put a big load on his back and started on, while the others were in the house. Patkilis took daylight, and p.a.w.nit took darkness. As soon as they were outside the house, the blind boy stood up and screamed,--

"Who was that? Some one has stolen something!"

He felt for the bags, then ran out and screamed,--

"Some one has stolen Puriwa and Sanihas! Some one has stolen Puriwa and Sanihas! Some one has stolen Puriwa and Sanihas!"

The people who were dancing heard him and said, "Some one is screaming!" Then they heard plainly,--

"Some one has stolen Puriwa and Sanihas! They have run west with them!"

When they heard this, the dancers stopped dancing and ran west. Soon they saw the three men racing off with the bags.

They saw Tsaik far ahead with a pack of acorns on his back. They could see him a long way, for the pack was a big one. p.a.w.nit and Patkilis carried their bags in their hands. The people ran fast and shouted to each other,--

"Catch them! Catch them! Do your best! Head them off! Surround them!"

They could not overtake Tsaik. He went through under the sky before they could come up.

When p.a.w.nit and Patkilis were rising from under the edge of the sky, those behind were ready to seize p.a.w.nit and would have caught him, but he tore open the mouth of his bag, and that instant thick darkness spread everywhere. No one could see; all were as if blind in one moment.

The eastern people had to stop. They could follow no farther. Patkilis knew the country west of the sky, and he and p.a.w.nit stumbled on, came along slowly in the dark, and groped westward a good while. At last Patkilis opened his bag, and that moment daylight went out of it. They could see a great distance; they were very glad now, travelled quickly, and were soon at Norwinte's.

Keriha and Norwanchakus lived for a time with Norwinte (it is unknown how long), and then took their net and went up the river to fish downward. They went up Bohema Mem and Pui Mem as far as Panti Tsarau.

"Let us fish down from this, my brother," said Keriha. "I will hold the end of the net stick that goes out in the river, so that I may take the fish quickly when they are caught. You can go along the bank."

They fished down to Nomlupi, and Keriha named all the places as he and his brother came down. He gave them the names which they have now, the names by which we Wintus call them. The first place below Panti Tsarau was Lorus Pom and Keriha left no place unnamed between Panti Tsarau and Nomlupi. They stopped at Nomlupi, built a brush house there, and lived some time in it.

One day the two brothers went to Norwanbuli to the great sweat-house where the woman Pom Norwanen Pitchen or Norwan lived.

"My brother, you must not make this woman angry," said Norwanchakus, when they were near Norwanbuli. "This is a very powerful woman; she has a great deal of food, a great deal to eat, but you must not take anything; eat nothing except what she gives; don't talk much; do just what I tell you."

"I will do what you tell me," said Keriha.

They went in at the south side of Norwanbuli, and stopped east of the door. Norwanchakus sat down, and held Keriha between his knees. The woman put her hand behind her, took acorn bread, held it toward the brothers, and said,--

"Take this, you two men, eat it, and then go away."

"This woman has a great deal to eat," said Keriha. "Let's stay here a while with her. Let's not go away, my brother."

"Be still," whispered Norwanchakus. "Don't talk."

"My brother, I'm hungry. Tell her to give us more bread. This isn't enough."

Norwanchakus barely tasted the bread, but Keriha ate with great relish. "Now, my brother," said Norwanchakus, "we must go. I will carry you." He put his brother on his back, drew Keriha's arms around his own neck closely, and started. When they were almost out of the house, Keriha began to struggle and kick.

"Let me go, my brother," said he, "let me go!"

Norwanchakus held him firmly. Keriha pulled and pulled till he got his right arm free. At the door was a large basket of acorns. He seized a handful of those and kept them. Norwanchakus went out, and when a short distance from the house he felt the ground swaying, rising, and falling. He stopped and saw the earth open around him and sink slowly.

Then he made one great spring and came down on Bohem Buli. He was barely on that mountain when it began to crack, and he was sinking again. He made a second leap, and came down far away southwest.

Keriha dropped the acorns, and the earth stopped opening that moment.

The brothers stayed some time in the southwest, then went to Tsik Tepji. This was a strong eddy of the river in which it was easy to catch salmon. They made a brush hut at the river bank, and a house not far from the river, on a hill. Norwanchakus caught a great many salmon, and Keriha ate and ate; he ate all the time and never grew larger. Norwanchakus scarcely ate anything. One morning Keriha was in the house while his brother was fis.h.i.+ng. A stranger came, a very small man, no larger than a boy five years old. Keriha looked at him, then jumped up and ran to his brother.

"Oh, my brother," said he, "some one has come to our house."

Norwanchakus said nothing.

"There is some one at our house," repeated Keriha.

"Did he say anything?" asked Norwanchakus.

"No."

"Did you talk to him?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"I don't like him, he is so little."

"Never mind, go back and give him something to eat; call him uncle."

Keriha went back and stared at the stranger. After a while the little man looked up and asked,--

"Why do you look at me so? I left a small bag of roots north of the house. Would you bring it here? The roots are very good to eat."

Keriha went. The bag was small. There were roots in one corner of it, not many. He s.n.a.t.c.hed at the bag, but could not lift it; he tried with both hands, couldn't stir it; tried every way, couldn't move it; scratched his arms and legs in trying, left the bag, and went back without it.

"I cannot lift that bag," said he to the little man. "How did you bring it, you are so small?"

The stranger, who was Nodal Monoko, went out, brought the bag to the house in one hand, and put it down outside. Norwanchakus knew who the stranger was, and he brought up a great sturgeon. Keriha cooked the fish, put it down before their guest, and said, "Eat this."

The little man said nothing, waited till the fish was cool, then raising it to his mouth in one hand, he swallowed all at a mouthful.

Keriha cooked for the little man all the forenoon, while Norwanchakus was fis.h.i.+ng. About midday their wood was nearly all burned.

"My uncle," said Keriha, "we are going to cook a great deal of fish.

Would you help me and bring wood?"

The little man said nothing.

"My uncle, will you bring wood for me?" asked Keriha.

The stranger sat a while, then went out to a mountain, took the largest dry trees, pulled them up by the roots with one hand, put a great many in a pile, and tore up two young green trees; with these he bound the dry ones, and took them on his shoulder to Keriha.