Category: Cree

The son of Aioswe

Jealous of his growing son, Aioswe abandons him on a rocky island, where the boy survives by deceiving a walrus and aided by his mother’s conjuring. Armed with a magical ermine skin and cryptic advice, he dispatches murderous hags and outwits hunting dogs before returning home. Confronting his father with power, he rescues his mother and they transform into birds, leaving the wicked man perished.

Source: 
Notes on the Eastern Cree 
and Northern Saulteaux 
by Alanson Skinner 
The American Museum 
of Natural History
Anthropological Papers
Volume IX, Part 1
New York, 1911

► Themes of the story


Family Dynamics: The story revolves around the fraught relationships between Aioswe, his two wives, and his son, highlighting jealousy and parental betrayal.

Cunning and Deception: The boy survives by lying to the walrus, tricking the witches into killing each other, and using a decoy ermine skin against the hunters.

Quest: At its heart, this is a journey story: the son must overcome supernatural and human obstacles to return safely to his mother’s arms.

► From the same Region or People

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Rupert’s House Cree; also Moose Factory

Once there was an old man named Aioswe who had two wives. When his son by one of these women began to grow up, Aioswe became jealous of him. One day, he went off to hunt and when he came back, found marks on one of the women (the co-wife with his son’s mother) which proved to him that his son had been on terms of intimacy with her.

One day the old man and the boy went to a rocky island to hunt for eggs. Wishing to get rid of his son, the old man persuaded him to gather eggs farther and farther away from the shore. The young man did not suspect anything until he looked up and saw his father paddling off in the canoe.

“Why are you deserting me, father?” he cried. “Because you have played tricks on your stepmother,” answered the old man.

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When the boy found that he was really left behind, he sat there crying hour after hour. At last. Walrus appeared. He came near the island and stuck his head above the water. “What are you crying for, my son?” said Walrus. “My father has deserted me on this island and I want to get home to the mainland. Will you not help me to get ashore?” the boy replied. Walrus said that he would do so willingly. “Get on my back,” said Walrus, “and I will take you to the mainland.” Then Walrus asked Aioswe’s son if the sky was clear. The boy replied that it was, but this was a lie, for he saw many clouds. Aioswe’s son said this because he was afraid that Walrus would desert him if he knew it was cloudy. Walrus said, “If you think I am not going fast enough, strike on my horns (tusks) and let me know when you think it is shallow enough for you to get ashore, then you can jump off my back and walk to the land.”

As they went along, Walrus said to the boy, “Now my son, you must let me know if you hear it thunder, because as soon as it thunders, I must go right under the water.” The boy promised to let Walrus know. They had not gone far, when there came a peal of thunder. Walrus said, “My son, I hear thunder.” “Oh, no, you are mistaken,” said the boy who feared to be drowned, “what you think is thunder is only the noise your body makes going so quickly through the water.” Walrus believed the boy and thought he must have been wrong. Some time later, there came another peal of thunder and this time. Walrus knew he was not mistaken, he was sure it was thunder. He was very angry and said he would drop Aioswe’s son there, whether the water was shallow or not. He did so but the lad had duped Walrus with his lies so that he came where the water was very shallow and the boy escaped, but Walrus was killed by lightning before he could reach water deep enough to dive in. This thunderstorm was sent to destroy Walrus by Aioswe’s father, who conjured for it. Walrus, on the other hand, was the result of conjuring by his mother, who wished to save her son’s life. [One version of this tale says that Walrus dived and escaped, leaving the boy struggling in the water and that a gull pitied him and carried him ashore.]

When Aioswe’s son reached the shore, he started for home, but he had not gone far before he met an old woman, who had been sent as the result of a wish for his safety by his mother (or was a wish for his safety on his mother’s part, personified). The old woman instructed the lad how to conduct himself if he ever expected to reach his home and mother again. “Now you have come ashore there is still a lot of trouble for you to go through before you reach home,” said she, and she gave him the stuffed skin of an ermine (weasel in white winter coat). “This will be one of your weapons to use to protect yourself,” were her words as she tendered him this gift, and she told him what dangers he would encounter and what to do in each case.

Then the son of Aioswe started for his home once more. As he journeyed through the forest he came upon a solitary wigwam inhabited by two old blind hags, who were the result of an adverse conjuration by his father. Both of these old women had sharp bones like daggers protruding from the lower arm at the elbow. They were very savage and used to kill everybody they met. When Aioswe’s son approached the tent, although the witches could not see him, they knew from their magic powers that he was near. They asked him to come in and sit down, but he was suspicious, for he did not like the looks of their elbows.

He thought of a plan by which he might dupe the old women into killing each other. Instead of going himself and sitting between them he got a large parchment and fixing it to the end of a pole, he poked it in between them. The old women heard it rattle and thought it was the boy himself coming to sit between them. Then they both turned their backs to the skin and began to hit away at it with their elbows. Every time they stabbed the skin, they cried out, “I am hitting the son of Aioswe! I’ve hit him! I’ve hit him!” At last, they got so near each other that they began to hit one another, calling out all the time, “I am hitting the son of Aioswe!” They finally stabbed each other to death and the son of Aioswe escaped this danger also.

When the young man had vanquished the two old women he proceeded on his journey. He had not gone very far when he came to a row of dried human bones hung across the path so that no one could pass by without making them rattle. Not far away, there was a tent full of people and big dogs. Whenever they heard anyone disturb the bones, they would set upon him and kill him. The old woman who had advised Aioswe’s sons told him that when he came to this place he could escape by digging a tunnel in the path under the bones. When he arrived at the spot he began to follow her advice and burrow under. He was careless and when he was very nearly done and completely out of sight, he managed to rattle the bones. At once, the dogs heard and they cried out, “That must be Aioswe’s son.” All the people ran out at once, but since Aioswe’s son was under ground in the tunnel they could not see him, so after they had searched for a while they returned. The dogs said, “We are sure this is the son of Aioswe,” and they continued to search.

At length, they found the mouth of the hole Aioswe’s son had dug. The dogs came to the edge and began to bark till all the people ran out again with their weapons. Then Aioswe’s son took the stuffed ermine skin and poked its head up. All the people saw it and thought it was really Ermine. Then they were angry and killed the dogs for lying.

Aioswe’s son escaped again and this time he got home. When he drew near his father’s wigwam, he could hear his mother crying, and as he approached still closer he saw her. She looked up and saw him coming. She cried out to her husband and co-wife, “My son has come home again.” The old man did not believe it. “It is not possible,” he cried. But his wife insisted on it. Then the old man came out and when he saw it was really his son, he was very much frightened for his own safety. He called out to his other wife, “Bring some caribou skins and spread them out for my son to walk on.” But the boy kicked them away. “I have come a long way,” said he, “with only my bare feet to walk on.”

That night, the boy sang a song about the burning of the world and the old man sang against him but he was not strong enough. “I am going to set the world on fire,” said the boy to his father, “I shall make all the lakes and rivers boil.” He took up an arrow and said, “I am going to shoot this arrow into the woods, see if I don’t set them on fire.” He shot his arrow into the bush and a great blaze sprang up and all the woods began to burn.

“The forest is now on fire,” said the old man, “but the water is not yet burning.” “I’ll show you how I can make the water boil also,” said his son. He shot another arrow into the water, and it immediately began to boil. Then the old man who wished to escape said to his son, “How shall we escape?” The old man had been a great bear hunter and had a large quantity of bear’s grease preserved in a bark basket. “Go into your fat basket,” said his son, “you will be perfectly safe there.” Then he drew a circle on the ground and placed his mother there. The ground enclosed by the circle was not even scorched, but the wicked old man who had believed he would be safe in the grease baskets, was burned to death. Aioswe’s son said to his mother, “Let us become birds. What will you be?” “I’ll be a robin,” said she. “I’ll be a whisky jack (Canada jay),” he replied. They flew off together.

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Wemishus

After their family is slaughtered by a cannibal, two young brothers escape by digging underground and unleashing magical obstructions to hinder their pursuer. They enlist a Walrus’s aid to cross a lake, then the elder is captured by the magician Wemishus, who becomes his father-in-law. Through trials of cunning and magical contests, the youth ultimately overpowers Wemishus, reunites with his brother—raised by polar bears—and they journey onward together.

Source: 
Notes on the Eastern Cree 
and Northern Saulteaux 
by Alanson Skinner 
The American Museum 
of Natural History
Anthropological Papers
Volume IX, Part 1
New York, 1911

► Themes of the story


Loss and Renewal: The story begins with the tragic loss of the boys’ entire family and culminates in their eventual reunion and new lives.

Hero’s Journey: The older brother leads a transformative adventure, overcoming death, monstrous foes, and magical trials.

Guardian Figures: The Walrus and two polar bears serve as protective guides, ensuring the boys’ survival.

► From the same Region or People

Learn more about the Cree people

Albany Cree

A whole family was once killed by the devil [a cannibal or Wetigo], excepting two very small boys. The Cannibal kept them, for he intended to fatten and eat them. The oldest boy discovered this and said to his brother, “Do you know where our mother’s awl is?” “Yes,” replied the little one. “Find it as quickly as you can, our parents have been killed and eaten by the Cannibal.” The little fellow found the awl and gave it to his big brother who took it and bored a hole down into the ground. Then the little boys went into the hole and the oldest brother carried with him a piece of wood and a bit of stone, besides the awl. Early in the morning, the Cannibal discovered the boys were gone so he came into the hole to look for them. When the boys heard the Cannibal coming, the oldest brother took the youngest on his back and fled through the hole under the ground. A root projecting from the roof of the hole tore the little one’s cheek very badly as they brushed by.

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Soon the Cannibal began to gain on them. Then the older brother threw away the piece of wood. “Let a forest grow up,” he cried, and up sprang a dense forest which hindered the progress of the Cannibal. At length, the Cannibal began to catch up again. This time the older brother tried throwing away the rag. Thick briars grew up where it fell and the Cannibal was again delayed, this time longer than before, but after a time he got through. When the older brother heard him coming, he threw away the stone, it became a very large boulder and shut up the hole. This time, it took the Cannibal a very long time to get through. Then the fugitives came out by the side of a lake. When the boys got to the shore they were frightened lest they could not escape. They saw some large animal (Walrus) in the lake and they called to him to take them across. Walrus agreed. “Keep a sharp lookout for Thunder,” he told them, “I only come out when it is a fine clear day, otherwise I stay beneath the surface.” The little chaps promised and got on his back. As soon as they started out, it began to cloud up. Walrus saw the clouds and thought he heard it thunder. He was not sure, however, and he trusted the little boys to tell him. The boys were afraid that Walrus would dive under the water with them, so they dared not tell him. At last they reached the shallow water near the other shore, where they knew they would be safe, so they told Walrus.

Walrus said to the boys, “There is an old man named Wemishus who always travels up and down the lake near this place. If you see him coming, hide and never fire your arrows in the water, for if he sees them in the water he will find you. If you should shoot your arrows in the water, don’t try to get them again, let them go.” Then Walrus returned. When Walrus returned, the Cannibal was waiting on the shore. He called to Walrus, to take him across. “Sit on my back then,” said Walrus, “but don’t move, for if you do you will hurt my neck.” The Cannibal promised, but when they were off he did move and hurt Walrus, who dove down and drowned him.

Walrus often warned the boys about Wemishus. At last, one day, the old man came around a point all at once and caught the boys unaware. Just then, the older boy’s arrow fell into the water and Wemishus called to the boy to come and get it. For a long time, the lad was afraid. Wemishus said, “Come and take your arrow, I won’t touch you. You can see I am far off in my canoe and could not reach you anyway.

The boy approached. “Come a little closer,” said Wemishus. The boy hesitated although Wemishus spoke to him several times. At last, the boy came so close that Wemishus hooked him up into his canoe with his paddle. Then he took the boy away, crying. The younger brother he left behind on the bank also crying. The older brother begged Wemishus to take the little one too, but he refused. “One is enough. For if I take your little brother there will be two of you against me and you will be able to beat me in conjuring.”

The little brother sat on the bank crying all day, for he thought that he would surely starve to death now that his brother was gone. At last, two polar bears came to him. “Don’t cry any longer,” said they, “we will bring you up.” So they looked after him, and were just like dogs to him until he became a man.

The older brother was taken home by Wemishus. When his daughter saw him, she said, “So you are bringing another one home to kill.” Wemishus had brought the boy to be her husband, for he had already become a man.

So the older brother took the girl to wife and lived with her for a while. He was continually contesting with his father-in-law with the bow and arrow, and he always beat the old man. At last, the boy said one day to Wemishus, “I wonder where we can get some gulls’ eggs?” “Oh,” said Wemishus, “I know where to go.” So off they went. As they walked along, they came to a great rock which was split open, and they had to jump over the crack. “You jump first,” said Wemishus to the youth. Although the crack was very wide the boy jumped over. The old man was to jump next, but he drew back once, for he knew he would not succeed because the young man’s power (medicine) was stronger than his. (It seems the old man had caused the split rock to be where it was by his magic, for he hoped to trap his son-in-law.) At last the old man jumped but he fell into the crack. The rock came together and would have killed him if he had been an ordinary man. Instead, however, it quickly released him. The old man’s head was broken in four pieces but he tied the fragments and his head became whole again. They started off again; this time in their canoe. By and by, they came to the island where they expected to obtain the gulls’ eggs and feathers. As they walked about, the old man kept sending the young man farther and farther away from the shore, until at last he had a chance to run to his canoe and get away. Wemishus did not paddle. He rapped on the bottom of his canoe with his staff and off it went. The young man killed a gull and collected some eggs. He skinned the gull. Then he crawled into the skin and flew off. He flew over Wemishus as he passed by. Wemishus was lying on his back in the canoe. The young man defecated full in his face as he flew by. “Oh, the odor,” cried the old man, “the gulls have finished my son-in-law already.”

The young man flew home. He lit near by and took off the skin and went to his tent before the old man arrived. His wife asked him where her father was. “I’m not taking care of him,” said the young man, “but he is coming along over there.”

Finally, the old man arrived. When he came ashore he saw his two grandsons shooting with their bows and arrows. Their arrows were feathered with gulls’ feathers and they had gulls’ eggs to eat. “Where did you get those?” asked Wemishus of his grandson. “Our father gave them to us,” they replied. “Oh, your father, the gulls have eaten him by this time,” said the old man, “for I found the smell of him as I came along in my canoe.”

When the old man really saw his son-in-law in the tent he was surprised. He sat there feeling very much frightened. He could not take his eyes off the young man. “No wonder you feel sad,” said his daughter, “you always used to be trying to beat someone, but now you have someone to beat you.” The old man had nothing to say, so to divert attention he cried out, “Oh, see that louse running about on my son-in-law’s face.” The old man began to get frightened for he could not vanquish his son-in-law however hard he tried.

It was nearing winter, and the two men were camping alone. They used to hang their leggings and moccasins to dry in the tent every night. The younger man did not trust Wemishus and watched him all the time. He changed moccasins and leggings with the old man. Then the old man got up in the night and made a great fire. The young man lay still and pretended to be asleep but he watched his father-in-law all the time. The young man saw” Wemishus go to where he thought his son-in-law’s moccasins were and threw them in the fire. When he thought they were burned up he cried out, “Your leggings are burning.” Then his son-in-law jumped up. “Mine are safe,” he cried. “Where are yours?” Then Wemishus found that he had been tricked into burning his own moccasins and leggings. They had a long way to go from their camp to their home. It was so cold the next day that the trees fairly cracked. The old man didn’t know what to do, but he blackened his legs with charcoal to look like leggings, and he hoped that would keep out the cold.

They started out. Soon the old man began to freeze. He said to his son-in-law, “The best thing I can do is to turn into a juniper (tamarack) tree. It will be good for my descendants to use for firewood.” When the young man looked back where his father-in-law had stood, there was a juniper tree.

The young man reached home. His sons were grown up now. His wife knew something had gone wrong, so she asked her husband where her father was. “Your father has got what he wanted now,” said he. Then she guessed the old man was dead and began to cry. Then her husband told her the old man had burned all his clothes and turned into a juniper tree.

“Now, I am going away,” he told her, “our grown-up sons will look after you. I may come back again, and I may not.” He really couldn’t tell, for he meant to go and look for his younger brother, who was now a grown man. So he went to the place where Wemishus had left the little fellow and sure enough, there he saw signs of his brother. He saw his tent and approached it. The younger brother knew someone was coming and came out with his bow and arrow drawn. “Don’t shoot, I am your older brother,” said the other. So the young man did not fire, for he heard him. Though he could just remember the time he had lost his older brother, for a long time he would not believe that this stranger was he.

At last when the older brother asked the younger one many questions about his parents, he partly believed. “Did you ever look in the water to see yourself?” said the older brother. “Yes,” replied the younger. “Did you see that scar on your face? Do you remember the root that caught you and scratched you?” “Yes, I remember that now,” said the young man and now he was sure of his brother, and they lived together. The elder brother wanted him to go home with him, but the young man would not go, nor would he let his older brother go home. The young man asked him if he had a wife and family, but he said that he did not. The younger brother continually found the older one crying. “You must have a family if you cry so.” “Yes,” said he, “I have two grown-up sons.”

The two polar bears still lived with the youth, but he told them they must go now, for he had his brother. The bears were very sorry and when he did drive them away they came back two or three times. At last he said to the bears, “The next time you come back, I will be gone, and you will not see me.” The two brothers went away, but in what direction, I did not hear.

Running and expanding this site requires resources: from maintaining our digital platform to sourcing and curating new content. With your help, we can grow our collection, improve accessibility, and bring these incredible narratives to an even wider audience. Your sponsorship enables us to keep the world’s stories alive and thriving. ♦ Visit our Support page

Wisagatcak

Story recounts Wisagatcak’s cunning flood survival: after breaking a beaver dam and drifting on a makeshift raft with animals, he magically conjures new land, assigns animals their diets and anatomical traits, and demonstrates trickster wit in episodes involving wildfowl and a bear. His mischief explains natural features—from subterranean springs to tree growth patterns—before he vanishes, leaving a world shaped by his clever deeds.

Source: 
Notes on the Eastern Cree 
and Northern Saulteaux 
by Alanson Skinner 
The American Museum 
of Natural History
Anthropological Papers
Volume IX, Part 1
New York, 1911

► Themes of the story


Origin of Things: The story explains how the earth, creeks, and animal diets originated through Wisagatcak’s actions.

Trickster: Wisagatcak repeatedly uses cunning schemes—trapping beavers, ensnaring birds, and outwitting others—to achieve his goals.

Cultural Heroes: Wisagatcak is portrayed as the ancestral figure whose deeds shape the world and its creatures.

► From the same Region or People

Learn more about the Cree people

Albany Cree

One winter day, Wisagatcak was chiseling for mythical “big” beaver. He caught the beaver by shutting up the creek with stakes, leaving an opening in the center of the stream. He stood there waiting all day for the beaver to try to swim through the opening and escape. Towards evening, he saw one coming along, but just as he was about to kill it. Muskrat stole up behind and scratched his anus. This startled Wisagatcak so that he failed to slay his quarry. At last, it grew so dark that he could no longer see the game, so he went ashore and built a fire without eating anything. He thought to himself, “Tomorrow, I will try to break the beaver dam and dry up the creek.”

Early the next morning, Wisagatcak arose and made a pointed stick, or spear, from juniper. With this he broke the dam, and when it was broken, the water began to rise, so that at last Wisagatcak could no longer stand on the ground.

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When this happened, he made a raft of logs and got on that. He took aboard a pair of every kind of animal and stayed there with them for two weeks. They drifted about, for there was no chance to anchor anywhere. While all this happened the Big Beaver were conjuring against Wisagatcak to revenge themselves for breaking their dam. After two weeks had passed, Wisagatcak wished to know the depth of the water underneath the raft so he took Muskrat and tied a long string to his feet and told him to dive under the water and bring up some mud.

The rat went down; he was unable to reach the bottom and was drowned before Wisagatcak could pull him up. Wisagatcak waited for three days and then sent the crow to see if he could find any dry land. He told Crow if he found any he was to bring back some moss; but Crow came back empty-billed.

When Wisagatcak learned this, he was frightened. He had a little moss on his raft and he took it and began to conjure. The next day, he told Wolf to take the moss in his mouth and run around the raft with it. Wolf did as he was told and as soon as he ran around the raft, earth began to appear and grow on it. Wolf continued to run around for a week while the land kept on growing larger. It continued to grow for two weeks. At the end of this time. Wolf had made it so big that he never came back. Since the earth is built over water, this accounts for the existence of subterranean springs.

When Wolf had been gone a week and had not yet returned, Wisagatcak said to the other animals, “Well, the ground must now be big enough for us to live on.” Beaver asked Wisagatcak. “How are we going to live? We are now eating willows and poplars and there are as yet no trees on the earth for us to live on.” Wisagatcak replied, “Just wait, you will need a little creek to live in also.” “Yes,” said Beaver. “I’ll do something tonight,” said Wisagatcak.

That night Wisagatcak conjured again. He dug down through the earth over the raft to get a log from it; but the earth was now so great he could not find any trace of his raft. When Wisagatcak failed to get even a stick he said to Beaver, “Well, I’ll make a creek for you, and you may live on the roots of the grass until trees grow up.” That is why Beaver eats certain white roots to this day although his proper diet is bark.

When Wisagatcak had built the creek for Beaver, he dwelt in it. After a while, Wisagatcak came back and found that Beaver had dug trenches everywhere in his search for roots. He saw one beaver swimming about. “Come here brother,” he said, for he was the older brother of all the animals. The beaver refused to go. “Why do you call me,” said Beaver, “when you only wish to kill me?” Then Wisagatcak was angry and said, “I’ll never come again.” He never did.

One time, when Wisagatcak was out hunting, he saw a great number of wild fowl and said to himself, “What can I do to get them?” He was carrying a big bag and he thought he would pull up some moss and fill his bag with that. He did so, and when he had stuffed it full he went away, carrying it on his back. When the wild fowl saw Wisagatcak’s bundle, they approached and asked, “What is that you are carrying on your back?” Wisagatcak stopped and replied, “This is my ‘singing wigwam’ (sic) where I used to sing and dance.” Then he took out the moss and made a lodge of it. When the wild fowl saw the wigwam, they came over and went in. Wisagatcak said to the birds, “When I sing, take care to do everything that I say to do.” Then all the wild fowl began to dance.

After Wisagatcak had sung for some time, he cried out in the song for all the birds to shut their eyes, and dance in a circle, with their heads and necks inward and close together. When the birds did this, Wisagatcak took a cord and made a running noose of it which he threw over the necks of all the birds at once and so succeeded in strangling a great many of them. When Loon heard the dying beat of the wild fowls’ wings he began to open his eyes and peep. As soon as he saw that the birds were being killed, he cried out, “Wisagatcak is killing us,” and ran to the door. Wisagatcak pursued Loon, and just as he was escaping through the door, Wisagatcak managed to kick him squarely in the rump. This accounts for the peculiar shape of the loon’s rump bone today.

Then thought Wisagatcak to himself, “I wonder how I can cook all these birds.” He dug down under the sand by the fireplace for he intended to roast the fowls by burying them in the hot sand. In order to remember where he had put them, he left one leg of each bird sticking up above the surface. When he had done this, Wisagatcak wished to have a good sleep but before going to bed he said to his rump, “Well, you had better watch while I sleep.”

At last, someone passing by saw the tent. He waited until he was sure Wisagatcak was asleep and then he came and peeped in at the door. The faithful rump gave warning by breaking wind, Wisagatcak roused at once, jumped up, and looked about. The marauder, however, had disappeared and Wisagatcak saw no one and returned to bed. “Don’t you fool me like that again,” he said to his rump.

As soon as the intruder heard Wisagatcak snore again, he came and peeped in the tent once more. Again, Wisagatcak’s rump gave tongue. Wisagatcak leaped up and looked out, but again the culprit escaped him. As Wisagatcak could see no one, he spoke very sharply to his rump for deceiving him. Then he went back to his bed. As soon as he was asleep the man came and looked in again but this time Wisagatcak’s rump was angry because it had been reproved twice, and failed to give warning. Then the man entered Wisagatcak’s wigwam and stole all the geese and other wild fowl. The thief pulled off one foot from each and to deceive Wisagatcak stuck them up in the sand around the fire where the birds had been. At length, Wisagatcak awoke and being very hungry, he commenced to pull up his geese, but all that he could find were the feet, so he knew he had been robbed while he slept.

Wisagatcak was very angry with his rump for not warning him of the thief’s approach. So he put a stone in the fire and heated it red hot. When it was hot enough he took off his leggings and breechclout and sat upon the stone to burn his rump to punish it for its treachery. As he sat on the hot stones he began to break wind and continued to do so. “Look here now,” said Wisagatcak to his anus, “you suffer because you did not warn me.” When he had finished burning it, it was withered and shaped like everyone’s else and there was a deep crease burned in the middle. That is why mankind has the rump shaped in this way. Formerly, a man’s rump was puckered like that of a frog.

When Wisagatcak had done this, he went hurrying off and left his wigwam standing. He took his bow and arrows to hunt game, for he was very hungry since he had lost his dinner. At every step he took he broke wind, “Poop! poop! poop!” and so his rump revenged itself by warning all the game and spoiling his hunting.

At length, Wisagatcak began to starve because he could not approach the game. “Don’t make any more noise,” said he to his rump, “and I’ll give you something to eat.” There was a big scab on his rump where he had burned it, and at last it dropped off. As Wisagatcak was starving, he picked up the scab and began to eat it. He thought it was dried meat. [Some narrators claim he knew it was his scab, but others hold the contrary to be true.] The squirrel saw Wisagatcak eating the scab and he could not help laughing. “That is your own scab you are eating,” said he to Wisagatcak. Then Wisagatcak threw his scab at the birch tree and the punk of rotten birches is of that scab. Then Wisagatcak pounded the tree with a stick as well and thus he marked the bark in the way one sees it today.

After Wisagatcak had done this, he went away from there. He saw a bear eating berries. He approached the bear to shoot it but his rump broke wind and warned the bear that Wisagatcak was coming. When the bear heard and saw Wisagatcak coming he would run off, but Wisagatcak called out, “Hold on, my brother.” The bear answered, “I did not know you were a brother of mine.” Wisagatcak replied, “Don’t you know? Long ago, we were brothers; we will eat berries together. Do you see that thing sticking up out of the water there?” “No,” said the bear. “Don’t you see that thing sticking out of the water?” said Wisagatcak. “No, I see nothing,” said the bear. “Do you know what I have done?” said Wisagatcak, “Formerly, I used to see as poorly as you do, but I mashed berries and put them in my eyes.”

Then the bear thought he would like to see as well as Wisagatcak so he began to mash berries and put them in his eyes. “After I had done that,” said Wisagatcak, “I went to bed and had a short nap. I had a stone for my pillow too.” The bear did likewise. When the bear fell asleep Wisagatcak took up a big stone and mashed the bear’s head with it and killed him. [One version of this tale makes Wisagatcak turn into a bear and live with his intended victim until he got fat in the fall.] Then Wisagatcak skinned the bear. He cut it in pieces and cooked them all. He preserved the grease and intestines. He did not attempt to eat until he had cooked all of it. While he was cooking he looked up and saw Muskrat swimming in the river. As the grease would not harden, he called to the rat to take it and swim through the water with it. When Muskrat returned with the grease, Wisagatcak stripped all the flesh from his tail to reward him for his services. That is why it is so thin and skinny now, whereas formerly it was fat and broad like a beaver’s and too heavy for him. “Try now and see how fast you can go,” said Wisagatcak to Muskrat. Muskrat tried and went so fast that he broke the grease bladder and the grease and oil came out. This accounts for the smooth slick wake the muskrat leaves when swimming. It is the bear’s oil and grease calming the water.

“Now, I will eat my bear,” said Wisagatcak. He began to eat, but he was soon so full that he could hold no more. Then he went over to where two trees were standing close together. He stood between them and said, “Squeeze me until my stomach is stretched so far that I can finish my bear at one meal.” At once, the trees came together and began to squeeze Wisagatcak. When they held Wisagatcak so closely that he could not get away, they called out to all the animals to come and eat his bear.

All the animals came at once and though Wisagatcak begged the trees to let him go, they held him fast until his bear was eaten. When it was all gone, they released him. Of all the animals, Seal got the most grease, and Rabbit the least. That is why Seal is so fat and Rabbit so lean. When the trees finally released Wisagatcak, he was very angry. He started to revenge himself on them by twisting them with his hands. That is the reason some trees are spirally twisted in their growth.

Wisagatcak went away. It was late in the fall and all the birds were flying south. He told them he would like to go with them. “I can fly as well as you,” said he. He started off. The birds said to him, “If you see any people when you are flying, don’t look at them, for if you do so, you will fall down.” They all flew away and soon Wisagatcak saw some people. He looked hard at them and down he fell and was smashed to pieces. Then he resumed his human shape, for he had been a bird when he was flying.

Then the Indians he had looked at came up. He was unable to get up for some time, and whenever they felt like evacuating, they would go over and do it upon Wisagatcak. At last, an old woman came. Wisagatcak saw her approach, jumped up, and seized a stick which he shoved up her anus. He killed the old woman and ran his stick in the ground, leaving her upon it as meat is placed on a spit to roast before the fire. Then he went home.

Once Wisagatcak was traveling. As he went along he met three sisters who had never seen a man before. “Ah,” thought Wisagatcak, “I will show them something.” He had been hunting beaver and had a freshly severed beaver’s head in his hand. “Let us play a new game,” said Wisagatcak to the best looking sister. “You take hold of one jaw and I will take the other and we will sit down, place our feet together, and pull apart.” They did as Wisagatcak suggested and bracing their feet against each other, began to pull. When the woman was exerting her utmost strength, Wisagatcak let go.

Prostratam mulierem, vestibus sublatis genitalibas conspectis, stupravit. Ilia exclamavit, “Wisagatcak me interficiti” Tunc sorores eum detrahere, “minime mihi malum facit.” Cum Wisagatcak earn stuprasset, mulier iterum cum eo coire voluit, sed sorores quare tantam ex novo ludo cepit delectationem nesciebant et ludum euodem disure concupiverunt. [He stripped the woman of her clothes and raped her. She exclaimed, “Wisagatcak, I have been killed.” Then the sisters pulled him away, “He is not doing me any harm.” When Wisagatcak had raped her, the woman wanted to have sex with him again, but the sisters did not know why she took such pleasure in this new game, and they desperately wanted to play the same game.] So she could not keep him to herself. Very soon Wisagatcak was very nearly dead, but they insisted upon his continuing the play. Finally, he escaped, but he was almost dead.

At last, Wisagatcak went to the north. On the other side of Winisk-sibi (Ground Hog or Woodchuck River) he met the north wind who was traveling in the same direction. To escape from the north wind he built a shelter of rocks which may still be seen there to this day. It is just the size of a man. After this happened, nobody knows what became of Wisagatcak.

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Weese-ke-jak

Weese-ke-jak transformed a water-covered void into a living world, bargaining with migratory geese for earth, shaping land and animals, and negotiating sun and wind to regulate seasons. A courageous beaver sacrifices itself to free the sun and is rewarded, while a flood wipes out life, followed by a new creation using mud from a devoted beaver as the planet’s foundation.

Source: 
Myths of the Bungees or 
Swampy Indians of Lake Winnipeg 
by S.C. Simms 
The American Folklore Society
Journal of American Folklore
Vol.19, No.75, pp. 334-340
October-December, 1906

► Themes of the story


Creation: The narrative opens with the making of the world from a water-covered void into land, vegetation, and living creatures.

Origin of Things: It explains natural phenomena (the sun’s path, seasons) and cultural traits (beaver’s fur and teeth, muskrat’s tail).

Loss and Renewal: Life is destroyed by a great flood and then reborn when a new earth is fashioned from mud.

► From the same Region or People

Learn more about the Cree people

Before the creation, the world was a wide waste of water, without any inhabitants, except a few geese, which from some unknown parts paid occasional visits.

Weese-ke-jak found upon questioning them that they came from a country far away in the distant south, where there was plenty of land. Weese-ke-jak lost no time in making a bargain with the geese, that they would bring him a sample of earth on their next visit, which they did.

With the earth thus brought to him, Weese-ke-jak made the world, which he adorned with grass, trees, and herbs. This was followed by the creation of all the animals, reptiles, fowls, and fish. At that time there was a great scarcity of light upon the earth, the sun being only an occasional visitor to this world.

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Anxious to keep the sun from wandering away very far, Weese-ke-jak constructed an enormous trap to catch the sun. This accomplished the desired end, for the very next time the sun came near the earth he was caught in the trap. In vain the sun struggled to get free, for the cords by which he was held were too strong for him. The near proximity of the sun to the earth caused such a heat that everything was in danger of being burned. Therefore Weese-ke-jak concluded to make some sort of a compromise with the sun, before he would consent to give him his liberty.

After a long interview between Weese-ke-jak and the spirit of the sun, whose name was Ane-ne-ke, it was stipulated that the sun was only to come near the outer edges of the earth in the mornings and evenings, and during the day to keep farther away, just near enough to warm the earth without scorching it. On the other hand, Keewa-tin, the spirit of the north wind, was ordered by Weese-ke-jak to keep at a respectful distance from the earth when the days were long, so as not to counteract the effects of the beneficial warmth of the sun; but during the short days of the year Kee-wa-tin was permitted to blow upon the earth and bring snow and ice in its train, so that the bears, frogs, and reptiles might enjoy their winter sleep without molestation.

On these conditions, mutually agreed upon, the sun was to get his liberty.

But now another difficulty presented itself. The sun had not the power to unloose the band by which he was held, and the heat emanating from it prevented either Weese-ke-jak or any of his creations from approaching the sun to cut the band and set him free. Weese-ke-jak issued a proclamation that any one that would set the sun free would receive particular favor from him. The beaver at that time was rather an insignificant creature, having only a few small teeth in his head, and being covered with bristly hair like a hog, his tail being only a small stump about two or three inches long. He was not much thought of by the rest of the animal world, nevertheless he had a great deal of courage, for he offered his services to release the sun. At first Weese-ke-jak looked upon the beaver with misgivings, but being assured by the beaver that he would perform the task, he was permitted to try. He succeeded in gnawing through the cords that held the sun before being quite roasted alive. The cords being severed, the sun rose from the earth like a vast balloon.

When the beaver presented himself to Weese-ke-jak on his return, he was a pitiful sight, his teeth were burned away so that only two or three blackened stumps remained, his hair was burned off, leaving only his blackened skin. Weese-ke-jak, in gratitude for his deliverance from the burning rays of the sun, rewarded the beaver in a handsome manner. He clothed him with a beautiful soft coat of fur, which was the envy of all the other animals, and to compensate him for the loss of his teeth he furnished him with a new set, long and sharp, admirably fitted to cut down trees for building purposes. In order, however, that it should be kept in remembrance whence he derived these favors, his teeth were made of a brown color, as if they had been scorched by the fire. This is how the beaver came by his hatchet-like teeth and furry coat.

Weese-ke-jak, having thus settled with the sun regarding the general temperature of the earth, now proceeded to make man, and in order that man might be strong he concluded to make him of stone. Having selected a rock that suited his purpose, he spent many days in hewing out the figure he wished to make, the stone being very hard and his tools none of the best. After working a long time, however, he managed to get the figure of a man that suited his taste. Weese-ke-jak was so proud of his workmanship that, after setting his man of stone upon his feet and before putting life into him, he walked back a considerable distance to see how his man would look from a remote point of view. When he had thus reached a goodly distance from the object of his admiration, he stood gazing for a long time in silent contemplation and satisfaction with the complete job he had accomplished. But while thus employed a malicious bear happened to peep out of his hole and espied the figure. Filled with envy he rushed up to the figure, and began to rub viciously against it. The consequence was that before Weese-ke-jak could interfere the bear had knocked his man over, and the figure, falling upon the hard rock, broke in many fragments.

Weese-ke-jak was terribly enraged at this deplorable accident by which his great work was destroyed. For a time he could neither eat nor sleep, being so much grieved at the disaster to the object of his many months of hard labor.

However, he determined to make another attempt to form a man, but concluded not to spend so much time over the work again. He set to work to make one of clay, and in a little time had one nicely made, having it in a secluded place to dry in the sun. This being done satisfactorily, he forthwith endowed the figure with life. But the Indians still lament the accident by which the man of stone was destroyed; as had Weese-ke-jak succeeded in putting life in the man of stone, human beings would have been far stronger than they are now.

In process of time Weese-ke-jak found that he had an unruly family to deal with. All the creatures of his creation began to commit depredations upon each other. Loud complaints were made against the fox because he attacked the birds and killed them, the fish complained against the otter for the same reason, while the bear set up a dismal groaning because the winter was so long that he could get no berries to eat. But the greatest complaints were made against man, because he ate everything that came his way: animals, fowl, fish, and berries were all devoured by this monster of creation. The clamor became so great that Weese-ke-jak determined to call a general council, to see whether he could not in some manner come to an agreement by which all these grievances would be remedied. Accordingly a general proclamation was made summoning all the spirits of the various living creatures before him at a certain date. When the time arrived there was a great mixed multitude assembled, which proved to be very unruly and unmanageable. The noise and confusion was something terrible, and Weese-ke-jak with all his skill could not control it. In vain he tried to get the crowd to keep still and listen to him; there was no end to the continual noise they were making. The noisiest one in the crowd was the frog, who in spite of all that could be done, kept up an incessant chattering and croaking. Weese-ke-jak finally lost his temper, and, becoming enraged at the rudeness of the frog, he seized a lot of glue-like substance and dashed it over the frog’s mouth, in the hope of stopping his croaking forever. But this was of no avail; the frog blew the sticky substance out of his mouth, but a part of it remained about the corner of his mouth, which accounts for the white streak around a frog’s mouth to the present day. Weese-ke-jak could do nothing to allay the tumult of this convention, and therefore dismissed the creatures assembled, vowing vengeance on them all.

The next exploit of Weese-ke-jak was to build an immense canoe, into which he took a pair of every kind of living creature, intending to drown all the rest. Accordingly when he had taken on board those that were to escape destruction, forthwith the whole earth sunk beneath the water, causing the death of all living creatures with the exception of those who were with Weese-ke-jak in the canoe.

Weese-ke-jak with his living freight went cruising about on the waste of waters for a long period, until at last he began to get tired of that kind of life, and determined to make a new earth. He thereupon commissioned the otter to go down into the waters and bring up some mud from the bottom, wherewith to make a new earth. But when the otter got back into his native element, he never returned. After waiting a considerable time, Weese-ke-jak sent the muskrat down for the mud. At that time the tail of the muskrat was very short and insignificant, being only a round knot. The muskrat went down as directed and gathered a goodly amount of mud, and straightway came to the surface again; but when Weese-ke-jak put forth his hand to take the mud, the muskrat made a swift turn and dived under the water. Weese-ke-jak tried to seize hold of the muskrat, but only succeeded in catching his stump of a tail, which stretched through his hand, and the muskrat succeeded in getting away. Since that time the muskrat has had a long, thin tail, which is neither useful nor ornamental. Weese-ke-jak, being thwarted twice, was highly indignant and threatened vengeance against the otter and muskrat.

The beaver was next asked to go and get some mud. Accordingly the beaver went down and brought up a quantity of mud which he tendered Weese-ke-jak, who was quite delighted with the good manners of the beaver. With the mud he straightway made a new earth, nor did he forget the beaver for his services; for instead of the stump of a tail he formerly had, he received a broad, flat tail like a trowel, with which he would be able to plaster his house. Thus the beaver, for his accommodating nature, received teeth sharp as an axe for cutting down trees wherewith to build his house, and a tail with which he could plaster it.

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The Sacred Serpent Challenge

Jealous over the deadly natawa, the rattlesnake challenges his brother by biting two young hunters, killing one. Grief-stricken, the bereaved chief is visited at his son’s grave by a horned serpent spirit who teaches him sacred rites and the construction of the long tent of life. Through divine instruction and ritual, the chief restores his tribe’s spiritual balance, ultimately receiving a newborn son in place of the lost youth.

Source: 
Myths of the Bungees 
or Swampy Indians of Lake Winnipeg 
by S.C. Simms 
The American Folklore Society
Journal of American Folklore
Vol.19, No.75, pp. 334-340
October-December, 1906

► Themes of the story


Origin of Things: The story explains how the rattlesnake came to bear a warning rattle on its tail.

Divine Intervention: Spirits of earth, wind, and waters, and the great snake, guide and teach the chief.

Ritual and Initiation: The old chief is instructed in the mysterious rites of the long tent of life.

► From the same Region or People

Learn more about the Cree people

The chief divinities of the Indians are two: Gitchi Manitou, the good spirit, and Matche Manitou, the evil spirit. It was Gitchi Manitou who revealed the mysterious secrets of the Metawin to man shortly after his creation, about the time that the first pair had grand-children born to them, and before death entered into the world.

At that time there lived two powerful snakes, the rattlesnake and the natawa, which had existed from the beginning of the world. They lived together in harmony for many years, but at length the rattlesnake grew jealous of the powerful and deadly natawa, which jealousy so increased that the rattlesnake finally challenged the natawa to see, by inflicting a bite on mankind, which of them possessed the most deadly poison. The natawa demurred at first to this proposal, being unwilling to disturb the peace and harmony that existed in the world, but from day to day the rattlesnake so taunted the natawa with cowardice, that at last the latter consented to accept the challenge.

At that period there lived two powerful chiefs near to each other, who were on terms of great intimacy. They had each a grown-up son, and the two young men often hunted in the forest together. During one of their excursions, the rattlesnake and the natawa waylaid them for the purpose of inflicting wounds on them to see which of their poisons was the most deadly. The young men, unconscious of danger, passed the thicket where the two snakes were in ambush, when suddenly the reptiles sprang upon them and bit them.

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The young man who was bitten by the natawa instantly dropped dead from the effect of the poison, but the other one was able to reach his father’s tent. Here a noted medicine-man applied a powerful antidote to the wound and the youth recovered in a few days.

After the deed was done the natawa, who was grieved and enraged at the rattlesnake by whose guile and temptation he had been instrumental in bringing death and sorrow to mankind, said: “Brother, you have been the cause of bringing death and misery to mankind by your envious and evil designs, therefore you shall never after this have the power to approach man without a warning. From this time you shall ever have a rattle in your tail to warn every one who approaches you of your presence, and the people of the earth shall pursue you to death.”

The old chief, whose son had died of the poisonous bite, brought the body home, and with his tribe performed the burial ceremony; and every day afterwards repaired to the grave of his beloved son and bitterly mourned his loss.

The friends of the old man endeavored to console him in his grief, but without effect; he would not even speak to them. One day, while visiting the grave, he saw an enormous snake, striped with various colors like a rainbow, arising out of the earth, who thus addressed him: “Old man of the plain, I command you to appear at this spot on the third day following this, and you must implicitly follow my directions and obey my commands. There shall appear to you a snake on this very same spot; he will be sent by the gods. You will elevate the serpent three times by the horns, and at each time you elevate him, you will repeat these words of adoration, ‘ Ne kan, ne kan, kan na ka, ka na, oh! oh! oh!’ Immediately after you have performed this, there shall appear a Manitou of your race, who will teach you the ceremony of the Metawin or tent of life, and reveal to you the mysterious rites which come from the happy hunting-ground, and from the centre of the earth, and from the depths of the waters. The spirits take pity on your sorrow and will help you if you obey them. Adieu, my son; you will point to the centre of the heavens, the centre of the earth, and to the four abodes of the spirits with your pipestem, whilst I glide down the perpendicular rock of our abode.” At that instant the snake disappeared downwards with a tremendous hissing sound, caused by the rapidity of his descent.

According to the instructions of the great snake, the old man repaired to the grave of his son on the third day, and after presenting his pipestem to the centre of the sky, the earth, and the four winds, made the offering of the dead, then sat down facing the body of his son, who was placed on the grave in a sitting posture with his face toward the east. While sitting there, the old chief heard a rumbling noise and an enormous serpent appeared before him having two horns, and two rows of large teeth within his jaws. The serpent twisted itself into a coil around the grave. The old chief arose from his seat and took the serpent by the horns and elevated it three times, and at each time repeating these words: “Ne kan, kan na ka, ka na.” At the third time the serpent changed its shape into that of a venerable old man having long white hair and holding a rod in his hand, together with the bag of life, made of the skin of the deadly natawa and containing the magic bead, who thus addressed the old chief: “I have come to comfort and console you for the death of your son. The spirits of the earth, wind, and waters have seen your sorrow, and I am sent to your race to show you the way of life, which you will teach to your children, and which shall continue to the end of time. Now, therefore, light your pipe, and with its stem point to the sky, the abode of the Great Spirit, who shall give you life; then point to the abode of the spirits of the centre of the earth, who will teach you the virtues of all herbs, then to the four winds, which will protect you and give you power and success.”

After the old chief had completed these ceremonies with his pipestem, he offered his visitor the pipe, but the old man raised his rod and touched the mouthpiece, when immediately was heard the tapping of a drum. After the mysterious sound had been repeated three times the old man said: “Ne kanis, ne kanis, kan nah, nah kan nah.” He then chanted the following:

I come from the East
Where the long tent does rest.
The Great Spirit does say –
Perform these rites always.

After chanting this song for some time the old man sat down near the old chief and taught him the ceremonies and rites of the long tent of life, which occupied some days. It is said by the Indians that the moon changed once during the time that the old chief was being told all the secrets of the tent of life.

After the old chief had been fully instructed, his preceptor said: “I will bless you with long life and you shall have more sons, but forget not my instructions. I leave you this bag of natawa skin with the magic bead and this rod. Beware, pollute not my tent of life. Adieu, my son, I go home, but I shall hear you when you chant the mysteries I have taught you.” Saying this, the white-haired spirit visitor vanished from the gaze of the old chief, who saw him no more.

After some months, when the mourning for his son was over, and after celebrating a feast with his tribe, the old chief commanded that all the males should purify themselves and assist in building the long tent of life. During the evenings he employed himself in teaching the males of his tribe to sing the mysteries imparted to him by his spiritual teacher; and after having succeeded in giving them sufficient knowledge in all the rites and ceremonies pertaining to the tent of life, he appointed the various officers of the tent, but reserved to himself the position of “Grand Master.” During this work, which took several years to accomplish, the old chief was gladdened by having a son born to him, the very image of the one who had died from the sting of the natawa.

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The History of the Che-che-puy-ew-tis

After his mother’s death at the hands of a devil, an unborn child is saved by a helpful mouse and later reunited with his brother. Together they avenge their parents and survive harrowing adventures, including underwater explorations and repeated attacks by lynxes. Seeking a wife, the younger brother tests various animal partners before settling with a beaver, only to be transformed into one himself—becoming the ancestral spirit and protector of his new tribe.

Source: 
The History of the Che-che-puy-ew-tis 
A legend of the Northern Crees 
by Robert Bell 
The American Folklore Society
Journal of American Folklore
Vol.10, No.36, pp. 1-8
January-March, 1897

► Themes of the story


Origin of Things: Explains how the beaver tribe and the Canada jay acquired their distinctive traits.

Cultural Heroes: Che-che-puy-ew-tis emerges as a wise founder and counselor of the beaver people.

Journey to the Otherworld: The hero dives into an underwater wigwam at the lake’s bottom.

► From the same Region or People

Learn more about the Cree people

The following is the most complete account of the hero which I have obtained. It was compiled by Mr. C.H.M. Gordon, at Rupert’s House, near the southeastern extremity of James Bay, from several versions of the narrative, as told by different Indians living in that part of the country, and I give it mostly in his own words.

Once upon a time there lived an Indian, his wife, and their only son. The period had nearly arrived for the woman to be delivered of her second child. The husband had a presentiment that something was going to happen to his wife, for he repeatedly warned her when he went off hunting to take care of herself, and that if any sign of danger arose she was to hide their son under the brush flooring of the wigwam.

One day, while the man was away from the wigwam hunting, a Toosh, or devil, came, and finding only the woman in the tent, cruelly killed and disembowelled her, throwing aside the womb containing the unborn child.

The Indian returned from his hunt and found the mutilated corpse of his wife, but he was in time to catch the Toosh, which he put to an ignominious death. His son he found alive, as his wife had taken the precaution to hide him under the brush of the wigwam floor, as she had been told.

For a number of days the man remained in his tent, mourning the death of his wife.

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It happened that just after the womb had been thrown aside, an A-pook-a-shish (mouse) chanced to hunt in that direction, and saw what she thought to be food, but on nibbling at it she was surprised to find it quivering, and on further examination she saw what proved to be a living child. Being of a kind disposition, she took it home and nursed it tenderly, and called it Che-che-puy-ew-tis (the little one that moves or quivers). The Indian and his son now moved their wigwam (which is an universal custom among these people when a death has occurred).

When the son had almost arrived at manhood he became a keen hunter, but was very unfortunate in losing his arrows. So frequently did this happen that at last he told his father of it. “Come now,” said the old man, “shoot an arrow a short distance from where we stand, and we cannot fail to see what will become of it.” The boy did as he was told, and was surprised to see an A-pook-a-shish run away with it. “This is how my arrows are lost,” he said. “I will follow and see where she takes them.” He did so, and came to the wigwam of the A-pook-a-shish. On entering he saw all the arrows he had lost, but they were in possession of a young boy, who was amusing himself with them. The A-pook-a-shish now told the young man that this child was his brother, and related exactly the manner in which she had saved him, but cautioned him not to tell his father when he returned, as the old man might not be pleased. The lad did as the A-pook-a-shish told him, and after that he often went and visited his brother. Occasionally, when they thought the father was absent, they returned home together.

The father at last noticed that there were footprints of two sizes about the tent, and questioned his son regarding them. But the boy, still wishing to keep secret the identity of his brother, gave a misleading answer. The A-pook-a-shish having heard about it, said it would be much better for them to go to the wigwam together, for sooner or later their father would be certain to find them out: So Che-che-puy-ew-tis took his little brother home to their father’s wigwam.

When the Indian returned in the evening with his hunt, he noticed the boy in the tent, and asked his son who the little stranger was, and where he had found him. The lad told him it was his young brother, and related how the A-pook-a-shish had discovered him after the murder of his mother, and gave him full particulars, which satisfied the man that this was really his child. He pretended to be very glad, and told his sons to go at once to the A-pook-a-shish’s wigwam with the meat of a whole beaver, and thank her for having rescued his son. But all the time he was meditating on a scheme to get rid of both the boys, as he intended taking a second wife. Still, for some time after this they all lived together in harmony with one another.

Whilst the father was off hunting, the sons always used to remain about the wigwam, but they noticed that he always went to hunt in one direction, and wondered why he did this. So they made up their minds to follow his path when an opportunity should occur, and find out the reason for his strange behavior.

The next day the old man did not go hunting as usual, so the boys took advantage of this chance to investigate, and they followed up his tracks until they stopped at the margin of a deep lake, and further pursuit seemed impossible. But Che-che-puy-ew-tis was equal to the occasion. He said to his brother: “Pull up some strong spruce-roots [”watap”] fasten them around my waist, then take hold of the other end and I will go under the water. When you feel the roots shake, be sure and pull me out again.” Che-che-puy-ew-tis then went into the water and found, as he expected, a large wigwam in the bottom of the lake. At the door were two Pishews (lynxes). He took hold of both of them, shook the roots, and his brother pulled him to the surface again. They killed the Pishews, and returning presented them to their father; but the old man, instead of being pleased, wept bitterly, and told his sons that hereafter it would be better for them to live separate; so going out of the tent, he left them together.

Che-che-puy-ew-tis, knowing their father was angry, said to his brother: “Our father will certainly come again in the morning, so let us make a number of arrows and be prepared. They did so, and, as the elder brother said, their father appeared in the morning, in company with a number of Pishews, who began to attack the boys; but the arrows they had made the night before played havoc among the Pishews, so that not one of them escaped. The following morning the attack was repeated with a fresh lot of Pishews, but Che-che-puy-ew-tis this time, after the animals were all slaughtered, shot an arrow at his father and slew him also.

The two boys now lived together and were very happy, hunting in company and killing all kinds of game.

Years had passed when one night Che-che-puy-ew-tis was awakened by his brother talking to some person, as he thought, and wondered who it could be. In the morning, when his brother went out, Che-che-puy-ew-tis looked into his robe, but found only some rotten wood. He threw it out of the wigwam, saying, “Why do you soil my brother’s robe?” The next night he again heard his brother in conversation with some unknown person, and in the morning, on looking into his robe, found this time an Atik (frog), which he threw outside with the same exclamation.

Then Che-che-puy-ew-tis said to himself, “I will find wives for my brother,” and he did find them, bringing home two young squaws, whom he presented to him. Thus they lived for some time, the younger brother having two wives and the elder not even one. At length one of the wives became discontented and said to the other: “I will remove to the left side of the wigwam, where our brother-in-law sits. He has no mate, and besides I find it inconvenient for both of us to be staying with one man.” The other wife consented, and the next time the young men returned they found only the oldest of the wives sitting in her usual place on the right side of the wigwam, the youngest having gone over to the left side, where Che-che-puy-ew-tis generally sat

When the men laid down their day’s hunt at the door, as is customary, the youngest of the women pulled Che-che-puy-ew-tis’s share to the side she had taken possession of, which clearly showed that she wanted this hunter for herself. But Che-che-puy-ew-tis did not agree with the arrangement which had been made by the women, and he also knew that his brother would be displeased with it. Besides, he wanted a wife of his own choosing. He therefore left the tent secretly.

After Che-che-puy-ew-tis had walked a considerable distance, he met with an Atik (deer). They conversed together for some time, and then he told her to find a suitable spot on which to erect a wigwam whilst he went hunting for some food for their supper. He returned in the evening and stayed with Atik one night, but would not remain another, as he thought Atik’s legs were too long. So he departed in the morning.

He next met a Muskwa (black bear), but only remained with her one night as he had done with the Atik, her claws being too long and sharp to suit him.

Then he fell in with Kak (porcupine), but again one night was sufficient for him to remain with her. She could not look him straight in the face, her neck being too short and her sharp quills were also very disagreeable. So he left her, as he had done the others, and went on his journey, still determined to find a suitable mate.

The next creature Che-che-puy-ew-tis fell in with was a Wes-ku-chan (“whiskey-jack,” the Canada jay). They made a wigwam for the night, as usual, and Che-che-puy-ew-tis provided a beaver for their supper, leaving it, Indian fashion, at the door. But it proved too heavy for poor Wes-ku-chan to manage, and she broke both her legs in trying to haul the carcass into the tent. Che-che-puy-ew-tis was equal to the occasion, and, taking the string off his bow, he bound the legs up nicely and the little bones soon grew together again, but to this day the marks of the bowstring can be seen on the legs of all Wes-ku-chan’s descendants. Che-che-puy-ew-tis did not remain more than one night with her, she being altogether too inquisitive. So he proceeded on his way again.

All at once an Amisk (beaver) met him, and without waiting to be asked she said to him: “If you want a mate, I will go and live with you.” She appeared more to his taste than the others, so he answered: “Yes, but you must not be lazy. You will always require to work hard; and one thing which I shall insist upon is, that whenever we come upon a creek you must lay brush or sticks for me to walk upon. If you fail once in doing this, the creek will turn into a river and we will be lost to each other.” So the Amisk agreed to the terms and they lived happily together. One day, unfortunately, Amisk (who was supposed to know a creek when she came to one) made a mistake. She was not certain that what she saw was a creek or not, and did not lay sticks or brush for her husband as usual.

Che-che-puy-ew-tis, when he returned to his mate in the evening, was horrified to find that the water at which he had left her had now turned into a large river. He only now found out that Amisk had made a mistake, and he bewailed the loss of his mate for a long time.

Walking one day along the bank of this large river, he saw to his surprise his wife swimming and diving about in the water, evidently enjoying herself. Che-che-puy-ew-tis called out: “Come ashore; you must not leave me.” But Amisk said: “I cannot live ashore any longer; I find this water more to my liking; you had better come to me instead; see how easy it is to swim and dive. Throw me one of your mittens and I will show you that the water is not even wet.” This she said in order to entice Che-che-puy-ew-tis to go to her. He threw one of his mittens to her as she had requested, and Amisk, diving down, brought it to the surface quite dry, having secretly anointed it with her oil. She threw it to Che-che-puy-ew-tis, saying: “Have I not told you that the water will not even wet you, just as it does not wet your mitten?” Che-che-puy-ew-tis was now convinced, so he jumped into the water and was astonished to find that he was quite at home therein, and he stayed with his mate and lived as the beavers live.

Towards the autumn they started to build a house, but Che-che-puy-ew-tis was not at all satisfied with the way Amisk set about it, which was after the manner of the old-time beavers. He knew that, if they did not make it better than that, the Indian hunters would surely be able to kill them, as they had killed so many beavers already, if they should find their house. So he showed Amisk how to fasten the large sticks, knit together the smaller ones, and mix them with stones, and how to plaster it with mud which would freeze solid, till at length they had made quite a secure abode. They lived happily together there for a time, but after a while something happened which broke the harmony, and one day Che-che-puy-ew-tis said to Amisk: “As I left my brother’s wigwam without his knowledge, and as I know he has a great regard for me, I am certain, it being now winter, that he will look everywhere till he finds me, and if he discovers us here he will be sure to kill you. Come, let us make holes along the bank, so that, should the house be broken into, you will be able to escape.”

Several months had passed, and the elder brother (Mejigwis) was very much annoyed at Che-che-puy-ew-tis for having left him without giving any warning, and was displeased with his youngest wife, who had been the cause of his departure. Whilst hunting this winter it had seemed to him that the character of the Westa (beaver houses) had changed,—that the Amisks had constructed them differently from those of former years. In consequence of this he now found it difficult enough to keep his family in beaver meat. At last it dawned upon him that there must be some one wiser than the Amisks themselves guiding and directing them, and who could this person be but his brother Che-che-puy-ew-tis. He therefore redoubled his efforts to find him, and, acting on the idea he had formed, he directed his attention to the beaver-houses. One day, while out hunting, a larger Westa than he had been accustomed to see attracted his attention, and cautiously approaching he broke into it and was rewarded by finding his long-lost brother; but the Amisk escaped to the holes they had made in the bank.

Che-che-puy-ew-tis was brought back to his brother’s wigwam, and the best of everything was given to him, but one thing he stipulated was, that when any of the party brought home a Pay-uko Amisk (a solitary beaver), he was to be sure and mention it, as he was afraid that some day his brother might kill his mate, and he did not wish to eat her, as he knew that something would happen to himself if he did so.

His brother obeyed his wish as long as there were plenty of Amisks to kill, but frequently he was able to bring home only barely sufficient meat to feed the party, and one day he came back to the wigwam with only one beaver, and it was a Pay-uko Amisk. But he did not let Che-che-puy-ew-tis know about it, as they did not like to see him take no part in the meal. So they cooked the Amisk, and first offered Che-che-puy-ew-tis some of the liquid it had been boiled in; but he refused it, saying he feared that, as his brother had killed only one, it might be a Pay-uko Amisk. “Oh, no,” said his brother; “there were quite a number of Amisks along with this one, only all the rest escaped.” So Che-che-puy-ew-tis, believing his brother, drank of the liquor and ate of the flesh; but immediately after he had done so, he was transformed into a real Amisk, and jumping into the creek, on the bank of which the wigwam stood, he dived under the water and was lost forever to his brother. But he still lives as a Kitche-kisai-misk (a great old beaver), and it is his wisdom to this day that prevents the Indians from entirely exterminating the Amisk tribe, of which he is the great chief and counsellor.

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The adventures of Hyas

Hyas, the neglected son of an evil spirit-dealer, is stranded by his deceitful father on a desert island. Guided by magical animal spirits, he overcomes a gauntlet of enchanted foes—giants, sorcerous hosts, and bone-singing plains—and returns home to rescue his enslaved mother. In a final act of vengeance, he destroys his enemies and, as peace is restored, transforms into a beautiful red-breasted bird.

Source: 
History and Folklore of 
the Cowichan Indians 
by Martha Douglas Harris 
The Colonist 
Printing and Publishing Company 
Victoria, British Columbia, 1901 
(Chapter: “Folklore of the Cree Indians”)

► Themes of the story


Hero’s Journey: Hyas embarks on a perilous journey of growth and self-discovery after being betrayed by his father.

Supernatural Beings: Spirit-animals and enchanted helpers (squirrel, fox, eagle, etc.) guide and empower Hyas against his father’s evil magic.

Revenge and Justice: Upon returning home, Hyas enacts retribution on those who wronged his mother and himself, restoring balance.

► From the same Region or People

Learn more about the Cree people

Once upon a time, in days when much magic was the fashion, there lived a man who dealt in evil spirits, but he was a very plausible, smooth-speaking old person. He had two wives. The first wife was now old, and had to do slave’s work for the second, who had everything her own way. The first wife had an only son; Hyas was his name, and she had prayed the good spirits of her tribe to bless and care for her darling. When the lad was about twelve years old, he was out in the woods one day and spied a partridge nest full of young birds; he took it home with him for his small step-brothers and sisters to play with. When he reached home, he happened to meet his father’s second wife at the door, who said:

► Continue reading…

“What have you got there, Hyas?”

“Oh, nothing,” said he.

“Let me see,” and she snatched the nest and birds out of his hands, and the little things flew in her face and scratched her. Then she began to call Hyas names.

“Well, you would see the partridges, and I brought them home for the children to play with.”

“Never mind; I’ll tell your father what you have done to me.”

At evening the father came back from his hunting, so tired, and the young wife showed her face and said: “See how your son, that hateful Hyas, has scratched my face.”

The old man was very angry, and said: “Stop! Stop! Tomorrow I’ll pay him for this; keep quiet and you’ll see what will happen.”

Early next morning the old man called Hyas and said: “My dear son, yesterday I found a nest with red eggs in it, and I left them there, thinking you would like to get them yourself.”

“Where? Where?” cried Hyas, much excited. “I have always wished to find red eggs. How glad I am that I shall at last see them. “Well,” said his father, come with me and I’ll show you.”

So into the canoe they got and off they went, Hyas first kissing his mother, but she wept, she was so sad, for she feared some evil would befall her son. For Hyas was her only stand-by, and he would never let the young wife ill-treat her. However, he would be home in the evening.

Now, the canoe was a magic one, and all one had to do was to strike it and off it would shoot along the water, and when it slackened—whack! give it another blow, and that was all that was needed. At last, near evening, they came to an island, right in the centre of the wide river. “Now, my son,” said the father, “jump ashore; this is the island where I found the red eggs.”

“Thank you, my father; I will not be long,” and Hyas bounded off, so anxious to secure this great prize. Just as soon as Hyas had disappeared, the old man turned his canoe homeward, and left his voice behind to speak to Hyas and lure him further into the woods. Whack! and the canoe sped away, leaving poor Hyas. Hyas hunted, hunted everywhere, then cried to his father: “I can’t find the red ones.”

“Go into the middle of the island; there you will find them,” answered the voice.

So at it again, up and down through the little island, searched Hyas; but how could he find the eggs, as there were none there to find? So, in despair, he at last came back to the water’s edge. Ah! but where was the canoe? Hyas looked and saw it far out on the stream, going ever further away from the shore. “Father! Father! Come back and take me home.”

“No, indeed, not after you scratched my wife’s face.”

“No, no; I did not. She would play with the young partridges, and they scratched her.”

“Well, stay where you are and die; I am tired of supporting you,” and swiftly the canoe carried the evil old man far away—far away home.

Hyas threw himself down, crying. He could not swim that swift river. He had not tools to make a canoe with, so he gave himself up to despair.

Hist! A voice! “Hyas, get up; don’t cry, and shoot one of the gulls that are flying about.”

At first Hyas would not move, but the voice kept calling: “Hyas, Hyas, take the gull’s skin, and you can fly across the river.” So at last he was persuaded, and, taking his small bow and arrow’s, he got up and started to shoot at the gulls. At last he killed one— a young bird—-and skinned it, put it on and began to fly. He circled near the shore, but alas! it burst, and down fell poor Hyas. How he cried, but the voice urged him again. “Hyas! Hyas! Shoot an old bird— a white one.” So again the poor lad tried and managed to shoot a very large one. So with great haste he skinned it and put it round his body and began to fly—this time across the river. When near the opposite shore the skin burst and he fell into the water, but was just able to swim to shore. He thanked the spirit for helping him, and off he went. “Chee! Chee!” he heard a voice calling, and, looking up, he saw an old squirrel, who said: “Is that you, my grandson? I heard that your father had left you on the island to die. How bitterly I have cried. You see my eyes are quite red with weeping.”

“Yes, grandmother, my father is a wicked man. Now, tell me how I may get home.”

“Come first and eat,” said the squirrel, and she laid a large store of nuts and roots before poor Hyas. “The way is very long and full of your father’s evil spirits, my grandson. You must try and kill these, and then you will get home. Take these shoes with you, and when in danger put them on, and you will be able to escape.”

She gave him a beautiful little pair of squirrel magic shoes, so that if he wished to escape from danger all he had to do was to put them on and he would turn to a squirrel. He thanked her and went off.

The next day he met a huge toad, who was waiting for him. This was one of his father’s evil spirits.

“Good day, my grandson; where are you going?” she croaked.

“I am going home,” said he.

“The way is very dangerous, and I would help you; so take these shoes, and when you are in danger put them on, and you can become like me.” If he had once put on her shoes, he would have remained a toad.

“Tish!” said Hyas, scornfully, and stamped on the toad and crushed her flat. Walking on he came to a wide river. Now, how was he to get over? He did not know, so he must get some one to tell him. Just then a little green frog appeared and said: “Hie! Is that you, Hyas?”

“Yes, I am Hyas.”

“I have been looking for you, for I heard that your father had left you on the island, and that you had got off. How, I will help you. When you are in danger, use these little shoes I give you, and you will become like me.”

“Thank you, grandmother; but how am I to cross this river?”

“Well, we must ask your grandfather, the great snake, what he can do; he is very old now. Come, let us find him.” So they went down to the edge of the river, and there, on the beach, they found a monster snake lying; and, after much calling and poking with a stick to make him awake, he raised his head and asked why they disturbed him.

“It is Hyas, who wishes to cross,” said the little frog.

“If it is Hyas, then, I will help him. See first, Hyas, if there are any clouds in the sky.”

When Hyas said that the sky was clear, he said: “Now, put my head in the water and get on my back and tell me how to go, for I am very blind; and if I slacken speed, strike my horns.”

So Hyas put the snake in the water and jumped on his back, and struck the snake’s horns. It sounded just like thunder. Now, Hyas had noticed a tiny black cloud in the sky when the snake asked if there were any; but, thinking that so small a cloud was of no importance, he had said nothing about it. While the two were half across, the tiny cloud increased till it tilled the sky, and then the thunder and lightning began to dance the storm dance. “What is that, my son? Is it thunder I hear? I am so deaf.”

“No, no, grandfather; it is just the sound that I make when I strike your horns.”

When near the shore, suddenly the lightning and thunder struck the poor old snake and killed him. Hyas jumped ashore, weeping, because it was his fault the poor grandfather was killed. Weeping, Hyas gathered in some cedar bark the blood of the poor old snake and lay down beside it to sleep. By and by he heard scratching inside the bark, and when he moved it, there lay a young snake. He was so pleased, and put the snake in the water and it swam away. So on Hyas went till he met a little white fox.

“Well, Hyas, so you have escaped. I am glad to see you. I am one of the spirits sent to show you your way.”

“I thank you, fox.”

“Now, you must do all I tell you. Not far from here lives one of your father’s bad spirits; he is a fair-speaking man, but will try to kill you. Before we reach his lodge, you must hide me in your coat, and don’t eat anything he gives you, and don’t sleep.” So by and by they came near the place, and Hyas hid the little fox in his coat and went on; and, sure enough, there was a man sitting outside the lodge, who seemed so glad to see Hyas. “Come in, my dear child, come in, you must be so tired and hungry. Come in, and I will shelter you for tonight.”

So the man and Hyas went into the lodge, where a fire was burning in the middle. Now, this man had a very sore leg—how nasty it; was I may not tell. He, however, was very pleasant to Hyas, and when all was ready he said: Now, Hyas, come and eat.” But first of all he had squeezed his leg and put the poison in the food. The fox whispered: “Make believe that you are eating, and just drop the food down the inside of your coat, and I will eat it.” The man was very lame, but also very pleasant. So Hyas pretended to eat, and said how delicious the food was, while all the time giving it to the fox.

“Now, my son, you must be tired; go yonder and lie down on those skins, and I will tell you stories till you go to sleep.”

“Very well; I am tired, and I know I shall soon sleep,” said Hyas, and he lay down on the skins on his side of the fire. Then the man commenced to tell him his stories. Every now and then he would cry, “Hyas, do you sleep?” and Hyas would say, “Nay, Hum!” and the man, finding Hyas did not sleep, would continue his story. At last the fox said: “Don’t answer him, but keep wide awake.” The usual question, “Do you sleep, Hyas?” met with no response; but the man, to make sure, kept on with the story till Hyas begun to snore. Then he jumped up, and, unbuckling his bad leg, was just going to throw it on poor Hyas, when out bounded the fox, who seized the leg and shook it violently. Hyas, too, jumped up, and together they killed the man. How grateful Hyas was to the white fox. “Now go, my son, and be careful, for the next danger will be greater. You will hear women laughing and singing, and they will ask you to play with them, but you must kill them, as they are your enemies.” So saying he bid Hyas good speed and disappeared into the woods. Hyas trudged on, and the next day he heard great laughing. “Ha! Ha! Ha!” Peeping through the bushes he saw two women sitting in a high swing, and they laughed to think Hyas was coming, and how they should kill him. They had killed many people on this swing. Just below it was a large flat stone, and here they upset their victims. Then, with much fuss and noise, when Hyas showed himself they rushed to him and desired to kiss him; but no, Hyas would not be kissed.

“Come, Hyas, just get into the swing and let us swing you.”

“No, no,” said he. “Let me swing you first. Both of you get in and I’ll try.”

So, laughing greatly, they both got in, and Hyas pushed and pushed, and pretended they were heavy. “Hu-uh! You are so heavy.” All at once he put forth all his strength, and gave the swing a mighty push, and the two women went flying out and fell, crushing their heads on the flat stone below, on the place where many other victims had died. So those enemies were destroyed.

By the next day Hyas reached the place where the giants lived. They had a large dog, who took care of their hearts. He saw Hyas coming, and barked away like mad. “Hyas is coming—make ready for Hyas.” Hyas then put on the shoes that his grandmother squirrel had given him, and when the giants came running out they saw nothing. So they scolded the dog, who still insisted Hyas was there. “Well,” said one giant, “it you have seen him, tomorrow your eyes will be red.” So back they went to the lodge, and Hyas showed himself again to the dog, who was barking furiously. Now, the giants kept their hearts in an eagle’s nest on the top of a tall pine tree, which the dog guarded. So the next day, when the giants came out there, truly, the dog had seen Hyas, for his eyes were very red. So they hunted and called for Hyas, up and down; but he had turned himself into an eagle’s down, and floated up, up to the top of the pine tree where the giants’ hearts were kept. Up, up, floated the down, then swiftly came down on one of the hearts and pierced it. Down fell one of the giants with a loud groan, dead. Then there was great trouble amongst them, but again Hyas flew up and came down with the sharp end of the feather on another heart, and another giant fell dead. At last he had killed them all. Then he took their store of good things and went on.

Now, the fox had told him of the dangers he would meet with, and how he should overcome all his enemies, so Hyas was well prepared. The next trial now came. Towards evening he saw a lodge, and, coming softly up, he perceived two blind old women sitting on either side of the door. They were talking about him and wondering when he would come. “It is about time for him to arrive,” said one sister. So Hyas quietly slipped in between them and sat down inside. Now, round the lodge they had bags and bags of marrow fat. Hyas, going in, sat down by some of these bags. “Now,” said one sister, “I’ll go in and put the kettle on to boil, and if he comes the water will taste of marrow, and perhaps he will be here soon.” So she went to work, and soon the water boiled, and Hyas stepped up and dropped in a sack of marrow. The old woman said: “Let me see if Hyas has come.” She tasted the water and it tasted of marrow. “Hyas, arc you here?” No answer. “Hyas, are you here?” Still no answer. Then she took a stick and began to poke about and count the bags; at last the stick struck Hyas. “Well, Hyas, so you have come. Welcome, welcome.” And the two old wretches pretended to be so glad to see him, and gave him nice things to eat, and talked sweetly. At last he said he must go. Instantly they bared their arms, and out of their elbows were long bones, sharp as knives, and rushed to the door, to be ready to kill Hyas as he went out. He quick as thought took a bundle and put it on a stick and placed it between them. Then the fight began. Thinking they were hitting Hyas, the old wretches were striking each other, and soon they fell over, dead. How Hyas laughed. “Ho-o-ho!” He went on his way rejoicing. Not long after he heard a great noise, and as he came out of the woods he saw a great plain. Stretched across the plain was a string, held up at the ends of the world, and on it were hung bones — oh, how many millions! Deer bones, moose horns, elk, bison, goat — jaw bones, thigh bones — too many to count. The bows would come down and strike the earth —crash! — and then would bound up into the air, and while the bones were in the air the earth would open her mouth, and no one could possibly cross. Oh, the din! The horrid bones would drop down —crash! — all the time singing a wild song, “We have come to eat you, Hyas! Hyas, we have come to eat you!” and the earth would rumble and howl frightfully. “Hyas, Hyas, we will eat you!” Poor Hyas, what could he do? Suddenly he spied an eagle flying towards him. “Hey, grandfather,” he cried, “can you help me?”

“What can I do, grandson?”

“Oh, grandfather, if you could hold up the string till the earth closes her mouth, I could jump across.”

So Eagle swooped down and caught up the string of bones till the earth closed, and Hyas jumped across. After some days’ travelling he came near his old home, and all the birds began singing, “Hyas tucksin! Hyas tucksin!” and making a great noise. The poor old mother of Hyas came out of the lodge and she heard them. “Alas!” said she, “where is my poor son to come from? He is dead this long while.” But still the birds sang, “Hyas tucksin! Hyas tucksin!” Then Hyas looked, and there stood his mother, in rags and with scars of burns on her face. He ran forward and took her in his arms, crying: “Mother, I am here; look up. I have come back to you.”

“My son, my son!” she cried for joy.

“Tell me how my father has treated you since I have been gone.”

“Oh, I am a slave now, and they push me into the fire, and are very cruel to me.”

“Now, I will be avenged,” said Hyas. “Have they a young child?”

“Yes,” said she.

“Well, you must go in and ask my father for some bear’s grease for me, so that I may dress my hair, and if he refuses, ask to nurse the child, and make the fire red hot, and then throw the child in and run out to me, I am going to punish them all.”

Now, by this time all the people heard how Hyas came back, and his father came rushing out to see if it were true. Then, calling the people to bring beaver and marten skins for Hyas to walk on.

“Tush!” said he, kicking the skins aside. “I have walked so far without them. Do I need them now?”

The father knew now that Hyas was greater than he, and that his bad spirits had been killed, and he was afraid. The mother asked for the bear’s grease.

“Tish! No, indeed, I’ll not give him any, so go and tell your son that he can do without.”

So the poor old woman went to the child and took it to nurse it, as it was crying.

“Don’t let her have the child,” screamed the husband. “She means mischief.”

“Let her have it,” said the young mother, so the child was hushed by the old woman, who kept piling on the wood till the lodge was like a furnace. Then all at once she threw the child into the fire, and ran screaming to her son. He was waiting for her, and his father rushed out, but the fire had caught the lodge and burnt the inmates up. Then the village took fire and the people ran to their canoes. Hyas shot an arrow into the water and it began to boil, and their canoes were destroyed and they were drowned. Only Hyas and his mother were left alive. So he asked her what bird she would like to be, and she chose the lark, and die then became one; and Hyas turned into a beautiful red-breasted bird. So that was the end of all his travels and adventures.

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The two sisters

Two squabbling sisters call upon the stars as husbands and are whisked to the sky—one to a gentle young star, the other to a cruel red-eyed giant. Fleeing back to earth with the help of a wise woman, they face further trials as the shape-changing wolverine (carcajou) and drake demand marriage through trickery. With cunning and courage—and a few sleeping roots—they finally outwit their supernatural pursuers and return home.

Source: 
History and Folklore of 
the Cowichan Indians 
by Martha Douglas Harris 
The Colonist 
Printing and Publishing Company 
Victoria, British Columbia, 1901 
(Chapter: “Folklore of the Cree Indians”)

► Themes of the story


Transformation: The stars become human husbands and the carcajou and drake repeatedly shape-shift to trick the sisters.

Forbidden Knowledge: The elder sister’s curiosity leads her to look during descent, dooming them to the carcajou’s grasp.

Illusion vs. Reality: They’re fooled by a false baby, and later by logs dressed as women to escape the drake.

► From the same Region or People

Learn more about the Cree people

In the days of old, when the stars came down on earth and talked with men, two young girls lived. The eldest was a silly girl and a regular torment to her younger sister, who was her opposite in everything.

One summer evening they went down to the riverside, and, after bathing, lay down under a large tree and talked about many things. At last they spoke about the stars, and the elder began to say how she would like to marry that big shining star, and in fun the younger one chose the smallest star. Well, they fell asleep, and by and by awoke to find that the stars had come down as their husbands. The big star was a very old red-eyed man, but the small star was young and handsome.

► Continue reading…

So they were carried up to the sky, and the younger sister was very happy. The elder sister, however, was very miserable, and kept teasing her sister to find a way to escape. At last, after a great deal of trouble, the younger sister consented to leave her star husband; so off they went to find some way of getting back to earth. They found a wise woman, who gave them a large basket, and, after tying them in and cautioning them not to open their eyes when she let them down to earth, she bound their eyes, and, taking a long rope, opened a door in the sky and let them down. Now, the eldest sister, whose great fault was curiosity, wished to know why they were not to look as they were going down. Her sister begged her to keep quiet, or they might get into trouble. She, however, insisted on seeing where they were going. As she looked they struck a tall tree, and there the basket stuck.

“Now, just see what you have done, you stupid girl. How are we going to get down?”

They could not move. They called to the animals that passed below, “Come and help us get down.” They all refused but the carcajou. Before he came up he wanted them to promise that they would marry him. After a long time they consented to the proposition. He clambered up the tree and wished to take the younger sister down first.

“Oh, no; you must take my eldest sister, or I won’t marry you.” So he was forced to take the elder down first. Then the young sister took her hair-string and wound it round and round the tree, and knotted it many times. Then the carcajou came to take her down. So they went on to his lodge, but before they reached the place the younger sister exclaimed that she had lost her hair-string, and that she must have it.

“Where did you lose it?”

“How do I know? Please go and look for it.”

Carcajou went to look for it, and after a long hunt he found it tied at the top of the tree. In the meantime the two sisters ran as quickly as they could, so as to escape from the carcajou, or wolverine. Towards evening they sat down to rest, and they heard a baby crying in the woods.

“Hist! There is a child crying,” said the elder. “I must go and find it.”

“No, no, please don’t go; perhaps it is only a trick of Carcajou.”

But this silly girl went off to look for the child. In a little while she came back with a child tied in a beautiful cradle, and she sang to it and kissed it, and made a great to do over it, when all at once she saw it change to Carcajou, who laughed heartily at them for trying to run away from him.

“So you thought you could deceive me, but I tell you that I can turn myself into anything, and you can’t escape me. Here, take your hair-string, and get my supper ready.”

The sisters went to work cooking the supper, and the younger one put in some roots that caused sleep. The carcajou liked his supper, and then rolled off into a deep sleep.

“Come, sister, let us be quick, for he will sleep for a very long time, and let us run away.”

How fast they ran, scarcely stopping to take breath. At last they came to a large river. Now, how could they cross? They called to the fish to come and help them, but they all refused. Just then a large drake flew down and swam towards them, and asked them what they wanted.

“Oh, brother, would you be so kind as to take us across the river?”

“Well, I don’t know; what will you give me? Will you marry me?”

They promised to be his wives. Then he crossed first one and then the other—he carried them on his back. He took them to his favourite swamp, and there gave them roots to eat.

“Now, this evening I am going to a big dance, but I won’t be away long, so keep up the fire and go to sleep.”

They promised faithfully. Then he bathed himself and plumed each feather till he shone, and put his song on his back, and off he flew.

Then the young sister hunted for two rotten logs, so she might dress them as women. At last she found what she wanted, and dressed them, and lay them down, and off they ran. By and by the drake came home and snuggled down between his wives. First one would pinch him, and then the other, and so on, till he woke. “Stop pinching me, I say!” Then he would sleep, but at last the pinching became so hard that he awoke, and found that instead of women he was lying between logs, just full of ants. The women escaped and got home safely.

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Chis-Tapistaquhn, or the Rolling Head

A father provides for winter, but his lazy wife wastes meat and meets serpent companions at a tree stump. Discovering her secret, he destroys the snakes, provoking her wrath. After a fierce battle, he decapitates her, but her head pursues their children. They thwart it with enchanted objects and escape by a pelican. One child is later taken as a husband, the other transformed into a wolf.

Source: 
History and Folklore of 
the Cowichan Indians 
by Martha Douglas Harris 
The Colonist 
Printing and Publishing Company 
Victoria, British Columbia, 1901 
(Chapter: “Folklore of the Cree Indians”)

► Themes of the story


Transformation: The story features multiple physical metamorphoses, notably the wife’s serpent companions, her decapitated head becoming a sturgeon, and the younger son turning into a wolf.

Trials and Tribulations: The children endure a harrowing escape, overcoming successive obstacles thrown up by their vengeful mother’s head.

Mythical Creatures: The narrative abounds with creatures of legend: serpents, a sturgeon-born head, a talking crow, eagle, and pelican.

► From the same Region or People

Learn more about the Cree people

A man, his wife and two little sons went into the forest to hunt and fish, so as to get sufficient food for the winter, the winter being very long and cold. The father was very fortunate in his hunting. Many moose had he killed, also ducks and geese in plenty; he had trapped plenty of beaver, otter and marten; their furs were for clothing. His wife, however, was a very lazy woman, and let much of the meat spoil. One day he asked his little children: “What does your mother do when I am away?”

“Oh, father, she leaves us and will not let us follow her. She goes far away, and does not come back till it is nearly time for yon to come home.”

► Continue reading…

The father was very sad, and could not rest till he found out what his wife did during his absence. So the next morning he went off to see his traps, etc., but only went a little way, and then waited for his wife.

Presently she came out, dressed in her best, and went towards the river. He followed her, and saw her stop at a very large stump and knock at it and say: “I am here my friends; come out now and let us play.”

Then the stump became alive with snakes, large and small. Then she laid down and let them crawl all over her, and kept singing and playing with them. The poor man was almost overcome with terror, but tore himself away and made his plan how he was going to destroy this monster of a woman. So he shot many deer and left them and marked the places where they were hid, and went home. He had killed some heaver and had taken their teeth with him, but left them in the swamps. In the evening he told his wife that she must get up early next day and go into the woods and bring back the meat and beaver. How cross she was! She scolded her children and behaved quite rudely. Next day she went off, and not long afterwards he went to find the stump, and when he found it he took a stick and beat on it and said: “Come out, my friends; I am here now; come and play.”

Then the snakes all came out, and he began cutting them to pieces. He killed all of them except one little snake that managed to escape into its hole. He gathered all the blood of the snakes and took it home. At dusk the wife returned, very tired and cross. He had cooked the beavers’ tails, which are most delicious and a great dainty, and afterwards gave her to drink, but it was blood. She did not know it. He had told his children that he had killed their mother’s friends, and that when she found out she would kill them all. “Now, listen, my children. You must run away from here as quickly as you can; and if you see your mother coming after you, you must throw this comb behind you.” Then he gave them a wooden comb, flint and beaver’s teeth. “Always remember and throw these things behind you and never in front,” Then he lifted up the flap of the skin tent at the back, and told them to go that way. The poor little fellows went off crying bitterly.

Now, the mother, after eating and feeling hotter, asked where the children were.

Oh, they are watching for the stars, and will be in soon, so go to sleep. The next day he left early, but went only a little war, when he saw his wife go out. Presently she came back, raging. She had gone to the stump and found all her friends dead, and only one little one left alive, who told her that her husband had killed all his relations. When he heard her raging he returned and prepared for the death struggle. Words cannot describe the awful conflict. At last he cut off her head and fled, with the body after him and the head rolling about looking for the children, and calling for them. At last she saw a crow, and asked the bird if he had seen which way the children had gone.

“Oh, yes,” said he; “lift up the tent at the back and you will find their trail.”

So he flew down and picked up the tent, and out the head rolled. It went on and on till it nearly reached the children, who were terribly frightened. They threw the comb behind, and an immense forest sprang up. Now the head was in despair, and asked everybody she met to help her. At last the fire helped her and made a path for her through the forest. She then rolled on and nearly came up to the children, when they threw the flint, and a great mountain rose up. Again she asked the birds and animals to help her. An eagle picked her up and carried her over and dropped her, and she went rolling on.

At last the poor children saw her coming, and in their haste they threw the beaver’s teeth before them, and a broad river appeared. Poor children, how could they cross this wide river? They cried so bitterly that at last a pelican that was fishing near by, said: “Come, my poor little children; get on my back and I will cross you.”

“Oh, grandfather, how kind you are.”

On the broad back of the pelican they mounted, and he took them across the river. The head saw the children get on the pelican’s back, but was too late to catch them. So when the pelican came back, she begged him to cross her too. At first he would not, but at last consented, and after a good deal of trouble she got on the pelican’s back. Just when they were in the middle of the river he made a dive after a fish, and the poor Chis-tapistaquhn rolled into the water, where she became a sturgeon. The Indians won’t eat the flesh of the sturgeon just where the head joins the body, for that is, they say, Chis-tapistaquhn’s flesh. The poor children remained on the river bank, living as best they could, when one day a temanhous man came and carried away the eldest boy for his daughter’s husband. The poor little boy was heartbroken at parting with his brother, but the temanhous man turned the younger into a wolf.

Running and expanding this site requires resources: from maintaining our digital platform to sourcing and curating new content. With your help, we can grow our collection, improve accessibility, and bring these incredible narratives to an even wider audience. Your sponsorship enables us to keep the world’s stories alive and thriving. ♦ Visit our Support page

The enchanted bear

After their parents’ death, a twelve-year-old girl cares for her baby sister. Forbidden from playing the “Bear!” game, the younger accidentally compels her sister to transform into an enchanted bear. Mocked by villagers, the bear destroys them in anger. When forced to reveal where her heart is hidden, the sisters’ secret leads hunters to fatally trap her on poisoned stakes, leaving the child sister bereft.

Source: 
History and Folklore of 
the Cowichan Indians 
by Martha Douglas Harris 
The Colonist 
Printing and Publishing Company 
Victoria, British Columbia, 1901 
(Chapter: “Folklore of the Cree Indians”)

► Themes of the story


Transformation: The elder sister is magically changed into a bear, driving the entire narrative through this metamorphosis.

Forbidden Knowledge: The villagers coerce the younger sister into revealing the enchanted bear’s hidden heart, a secret meant to protect her.

Revenge and Justice: The bear avenges her unjust treatment of both sisters by attacking the mockers, and the villagers’ plotted revenge leads to her tragic end.

► From the same Region or People

Learn more about the Cree people

In a very large village there lived two sisters. They had lost their parents when the younger child was but a babe and the eldest a child of about twelve years of age. This good girl took entire charge of her little sister, and also worked for the women of the village, and they gave her food in return for her help. When the little girl was old enough to play with the other children, her sister begged her never to play the game that the children were fondest of, and that was calling out, “Bear! Bear!” and frightening themselves with pretending that they were being chased. So the little girl was very careful to obey her sister, as she loved her greatly; and when the game was to be played, she would run back to her sister. At length the children noticed it, and said: “Now, it is your turn to be bear.” She begged them not to ask her to play it.

► Continue reading…

Children are sometimes cruel, and they insisted on her taking her turn, so she had to submit or be cruelly used. Well, she went into the hiding place, and when the children shouted “Bear! Bear!” out she came, growling at them, and chased them and then ran home to tell her sister what she had been compelled to do. There, owing to this unfortunate game, when she reached home she found that her poor sister had been transformed into a bear. The poor bear was crying at this horrid change, and asked her sister to go with her to the river side and live in a cave in the bank. They both wept together, and then they went to find this cave and make it their home. Then the people heard of the sister being changed into a bear, and came and mocked the little sister, and out rushed the bear and destroyed many of the people. The rest got very much alarmed, and tried in many ways to kill the bear, but all their efforts were in vain. At last they tried making a fire before the cave’s mouth, but she only rushed out and attacked them. They could not kill this enchanted bear. They waylaid the poor sister and asked her where the bear kept her heart.

“Oh, I don’t know; indeed I don’t,” she would say. At last they insisted on her asking the bear where her heart was. So one evening she began asking questions, and at last came to ask where the bear’s heart was kept. “Now, my sister, the people have told you to ask me.”

“No, sister, they have not.”

At last she told where her heart was. It was in her forepaw, in the little toe of it. So the next day when the little sister went to draw water, she was waylaid and compelled to tell where the bear’s heart was.

For many days the men were very busy making little sticks, pointed at both ends, and when they had finished they went towards the bear’s cave, and stuck these sharp points into the ground, as closely together as they could. Then they shouted to the bear to come out, and roused the bear at once, who came rushing out, right on these sharp sticks. One pricked her little toe, and she fell dead, to the bitter grief of her younger sister.

Running and expanding this site requires resources: from maintaining our digital platform to sourcing and curating new content. With your help, we can grow our collection, improve accessibility, and bring these incredible narratives to an even wider audience. Your sponsorship enables us to keep the world’s stories alive and thriving. ♦ Visit our Support page