But after they had eaten the wolf, they began to feel hungry again. The girl became very unhappy, and one day as she sat crying, with the dog sitting beside her and the boy standing and looking about, he said, “Sister, look at that antelope coming!”
“No,” said the girl, “it’s useless for me to look; looking will do no good.”
“But look even so,” said the boy. “Perhaps it will do as the wolf did.” The girl looked, and as with the wolf, the antelope fell dead. They cut it up and used its skin to make a bed for themselves. They ate the flesh and fed the old dog on the liver. The girl would chew pieces up fine for the toothless animal.
At last the antelope was all eaten, and again they grew hungry. Again the boy saw a strange-looking animal—this time an elk, which fell dead before the girls look. She stretched the elk hide, which they used for a shelter. With the sinews the dog had stolen, they sewed their moccasins and mended their clothing.
When the elk meat ran out, the boy saw a buffalo coming straight to their shelter, and the girl killed it by a look. They cut up the meat and used the hide to make a larger and better shelter, where they stayed until winter came and snow began to fall.
One night when the girl went to bed, she said, “I wish that I might see a lodge over there in that sheltered place in the morning. I could sleep there with my brother and the dog, on a bed in the back of the lodge. I could make a bow and some arrows, so that my brother could kill the buffalo close to the camp when they gather in the underbrush during bad weather.” She also wished that her brother might become a young man, and that they might have meat racks in the camp and meat on them.
In the morning when the boy got up and looked out, he said, “Sister, our lodge is over there now.” It was in the very place the girl had wished. They moved their possessions and their fire over to it, and when the boy entered the lodge, he was a young man. That winter he killed many buffalo and they had plenty of meat.
One night as she was going to bed, the girl made another wish. “Brother,” she said, “our father has treated us very badly. He caused us to eat our mother, and he had us tied up and deserted by the people. I wish we knew how to get word to the camp, and I wish we had two bears that we could tell to eat our father.”
Next morning when the girl got up, two bears were sitting in the lodge on either side of the door. “Hello, my animals,” she said. “Arise and eat.” After giving them food, she went out to one of the meat racks and pulled off a piece of bloody fat. She called to a raven that was sitting in a tree near by: “Come here; I want to send you on an errand.” When the raven had flown to her, she said, “Go and look for the camp of my people. Fly about among the lodges and call them. And when the people come out and ask each other, What’s that raven doing? And what is he carrying?’ drop this piece of fat into the thick of the crowd. Then tell them that the people you came from have great scaffolds of meat.”
The raven took the piece of fat in his bill and flew away. He found the camp and flew about, calling and calling, and a number of men sitting her and there began to say to each other, “What’s that raven carrying?” The raven dropped the meat, and someone who picked it up said, “Why, it’s fresh fat.”
Then the raven said, “Those people whom you threw away are still in the old camp, and they have scaffolds of meat like this.” Then the raven flew back to the girl.
An old man began crying out to the people as he walked through the camp: “Those children whom we threw away have plenty of meat! They are in the old camp, and now we must move back to it as quickly as we can.” The people tore down their lodges, packed up, and started back. Some of the young men went ahead in little groups of threes and fours, and when they reached the children’s camp, the girl fed them and gave them meat to carry back to the others. All the trees about the lodge were covered with meat, and buffalo hides were stacked in great piles.
After a while the whole village arrived and camped not far from the children’s lodge, and everyone began to come to the lodge for food. The girl sent word to her father to hold off until all the rest had been fed, so that he could come and take his time instead of eating in a hurry.
She said to the bears, “I’m going to send for your food last. After that person gets here and has eaten, I’ll say, “There’s your food,” as he goes out of the lodge. Then you may eat him up.”
In the evening when the last of the people was leaving the lodge, she said to her brother, “Tell everyone not to come anymore tonight; it is my father’s turn now.”
When the father came and they fed him, he said happily, “Oh, my children, you’re living well here; you have plenty of meat and tongues and back fat.” He did not eat everything his daughter had set before him. “I’ll take all this home for my breakfast,” he said.
After he had left the lodge, the girl said to the bears, “There’s your food; eat him up!” The bears sprang after the father and pulled him down. He called to his daughter to take her animals away, but they killed him and began to drag him back to the lodge. The girl said, “Take him off somewhere else and eat him, and what you don’t eat, throw into the stream.”
What the bears did not eat they threw in the creek, and then they washed their hands, and no one ever knew what had become of the father. Since that time, bears have eaten human flesh when they could.
The boy and the girl returned to the camp, and always afterward lived well there.
—Based on an account by George Bird Grinnell in 1903.
UNCEGILA’S SEVENTH SPOT
[BRULE SIOUX]
Legends in many tribes tell of the awful wickedness and eventual death of Uncegila, the great water monster, also known as Unktehi. Now only her bones are left, strewn across the Badlands of Nebraska and the Dakotas, but they still have power to make strong medicine.
When the earth was young, an evil witch was transformed into the huge snakelike monster Uncegila. She was as long as a hundred horses placed head to tail. Her body was thicker than the biggest tree trunk in the world, and her scales were of glittering mica. She had one curved horn coming out of her head. Along her back ran a crest that sparkled like dancing flames, while her vast side was adorned with a row of round spots in many colors. The only way to kill Uncegila was to shoot a magic medicine arrow through the seventh spot from her head. Behind that one small circle lay her ice-cold heart, made of a flashing red crystal.
Many brave warriors wanted to kill Uncegila, not only to free the people from her evil doings but also to acquire her sparkling heart. Whoever possessed it would have more power than anyone in the world. He could charm any woman he desired into his lodge and under his blanket. He could see deeply into the future. He would always find buffalo and never be hungry.
Although so many wanted to kill Uncegila, there were obstacles. The first sight of her would blind a man, a day later he would go mad, two days later he would foam at the mouth, and on the fourth day he would be dead. And it was not only he who would die, but all the members of his family. So there were not many who dared go to that great fathomless black pool which was Uncegila’s home.
Two brave twin boys discussed their chances of killing this monster. The younger had been blinded by an accident, so that he had only empty sockets instead of eyes. And he said, “Elder brother, who saw the light of the world a second before me, I think I can kill Uncegila. Looking at her can do me no harm, and you can lead me to her home.”
“But brother,” said his twin, “how could you aim at the seventh spot behind Uncegila’s head?”
“Someplace in the Paha Sapa, the Black Hills, lives Old Ugly Woman, who owns arrows which never fail to hit their targets. Maybe she will give them to us.”
So the two boys went off to find Old Ugly Woman. They searched for a long time, the older brother leading his blind twin. High in the mountains they came at last to a wakan, a mysterious place. It was a cave under an overhanging cliff into which strange designs of mystery animals had been scratched. This was the home of Old Ugly Wo
man. She welcomed the two young men: “Come in, twin brothers who wish to fight Uncegila. Come in first of all to rest, eat, drink, and smoke.” She was friendly enough, giving them sweet pemmican and dried meat, berry soup, and all those good things. She had a pipe and sacred tobacco, so they smoked. Then Old Ugly Woman asked what they wanted, even though she already knew.
“Old Ugly Woman,” said the older twin, “we have come to ask for your magic medicine arrows. Without them we can’t kill Uncegila, and that’s what we most want to do.”
“What will you give me, brave young men, for my arrows that never fail to hit?”
“Old Ugly Woman,” they said, “Take pity on us. We are poor and own nothing valuable. We know you have power enough without the arrows, and we hoped that you would have a generous heart.”
“Well, young men, there is something you can give. I am old. It has been a very long time since I was with a young, strong, good-looking boy. Sleep with me, give me a little pleasure once more in my old age, and you may have my magic medicine arrows.
The older twin, the one who could see, whispered to the younger: “This woman is old and wrinkled and bald, without a tooth left in her mouth. She is indeed very, very ugly. I don’t think I could do it, but you, you’re blind; what does it matter to you how she looks?”
“You’re right; “I’ll sacrifice myself,” the blind one whispered back.
So the one who could see went out, while the blind one prepared to make love to Old Ugly Woman. And as he embraced her, Old Ugly Woman turned into a beautiful young, hot girl. She told the young man: “Hokshila, my boy, it’s a great thing you’ve done for me—freed me from this wrinkled outer shell that a bad witch forced me to wear. Pilamaya, thank you, very much.”
When the other twin came back and saw the beautiful young woman, he wanted to sleep with her too. But she told him: “Koshkalaka, young man, you wouldn’t touch me when I was old and ugly; you shan’t touch me now when I am young and pretty.”
For four days and nights Old Ugly Woman, newly turned Young Pretty Woman, purified these boys and also purified the arrows, burning sweet grass and powdered cedar leaves and fanning them. Then she said: “Young men, take these arrows and free the people from the evil monster. But be careful when you cut out Uncegila’s heart; it’s so cold that it will burn your hands right off. Make yourselves gauntlets of thick hide in order to carry it. Also, the heart will speak, asking you for four things. You must refuse four times; but after that, you must do as the heart wishes. In addition, you must share the power it will give you.” And to the younger twin she said: “Hokshila, one day you will see again. Then come back to me.”
The twins, with the elder leading the way, set out to look for Uncegila. They walked for many days, almost to the end of the world. Then the one who could see found a slimy trail winding in big curves toward a huge, dark lake.
“That must be the home of Ungelica,” he said to the blind one. “The trail leads right into the water. Now we’ll sit and wait. Keep your bow and medicine arrows ready, and as soon as I see the very tip of Uncegila’s horn coming out of the water, I’ll tell you and turn away as fast as I can. Then count slowly to four times four, to allow time for the horn, the head, and the neck up to to seventh spot to rise above the surface. Then shoot.”
They waited. At last from the bottomless lake came a swirling, bubbling, and foaming, and the tiniest tip of Uncegila’s horn broke the water.
“She’s coming up; count and shoot well!” said the elder, quickly averting his head. The blind twin counted to four times four, then let fly a magic medicine arrow, and another, and another. He shot all four of the mystery arrows, and one after the other they pierced the monster’s side at the seventh spot.
Now Uncegila writhed in her death throes. The water of the lake turned to blood and boiled, overflowing and drenching the twins as they cowered on a little hill above. There was a long thrashing and rumbling and fearful noises and mighty groans, until at last all was still.
“Uncegila must be dead!” said the older twin. “I’ll go and see. Old Ugly Woman turned into Young Pretty Woman said that looking at the monster can’t hurt people once she is dead.” He looked, he marveled, he could hardly believe his eyes when he stood before Uncegila’s huge, glittering, flaming body. Then with his knife he exposed the still-beating heart of red crystal. Feeling the icy blast emanating from it, he put on his thick hide gauntlets and seized it. He had the sensation of strange powers streaming from the crystal into his body. Even through the thick gloves he could feel its coldness, so he wrapped it in his robe before taking it to his blind brother.
Then they heard a muffled sound as the heart spoke through the blanket. It said sternly: “Don’t cut the horn off my head.” Remembering the warning that Old Ugly Woman had given them, the elder brother at once began cutting, and with great labor managed to sever the horn at its base. If he had not, Uncegila would have come to life again.
“So you cut off my horn after all,” said the monster’s heart. “At least be so kind as to stick the tip of it into my wound, the one your arrows made in my side, at the seventh spot.” The twins would not do this, and if they had, Uncegila would have come back to life.
“Go and cut a piece from my body. Roast and eat it,” the heart said. If they had obeyed, of course, the poison would have killed them instantly.
“Take sacred tobacco and make a thin trail around the lake. You can at least do that for me,” the heart said next. Had they been foolish enough to do this, all of Uncegila’s many children, the smaller water monsters, would have come out of their streams and pools to kill the twins.
“We have refused four times to do what the monster’s heart asked. From now on, we must fulfill its requests,” said the younger brother.
And the heart spoke again, saying: “Blind one, put some of my blood on your eyelids.”
The older twin went down to the monster’s body and scooped up a little of Uncegila’s blood with his horn spoon. He smeared some of the blood on his brother’s eyelids, and at once new eyes formed, and the brother could see.
The twins took the crystal heart back to their camp. Following the heart’s instructions, they dug a deep shaft to keep it in, and over the shaft they built a special twenty-skin lodge painted with a likeness of Uncegila. Daily the heart was fed with the blood of deer and other animals, and daily it was turned to face in another direction. The heart kept inventing more ceremonies for the brothers to perform. “If you ever refuse to do what I tell you,” the heart said, “not only will I deprive you of my power, but I will become a blazing ball of fire and burn you up.”
“It’s good to have power,” the younger twin said to his brother, “but too much power can become burdensome.”
Yet the heart made the twins powerful indeed. They could foretell the future. Their lodges were always full of meat. No woman could resist them. They were generous, feeding their people with the game that was easy for them to catch. They were made chiefs. The older married; in fact he took four wives, who gave him strong sons. “Younger brother,” he asked his twin, “why haven’t you taken a woman, or two or three, into your lodge, as a great chief should? It’s not good to be alone, not to have a woman sharing one’s blanket.”
The younger twin answered: “I haven’t taken wives because, I think, I’ve always been in love with Old Ugly Woman turned Young Pretty Woman. I don’t really want anyone but her. I think I’ll go back to the cave where she lives and ask her to be my wife. I was blind when she gave us the magic arrows, but you know the way. Lead me.”
The twins went alone to find the medicine woman. When they came to the wakan place where she had lived, they could feel her power, but Old Ugly Woman turned Young Pretty Woman was no longer there. She had disappeared without a trace. Where the cave had been, there was now only the smooth face of the cliff. Sadly the brothers returned home. “There are plenty of other women you can have,” said the elder, but this did not cheer his brother up.
S
ometime after they had returned home, the younger twin said to the elder: “I’m tired of these great powers the monster’s heart is giving us. I’m bored always finding buffalo. I’m bored always hitting the target with my arrows, unfailingly killing all the game that this power puts in my way. The thrill of the hunt is missing. I’m tired of all the good-looking girls, and women, and even other men’s wives who try to creep into my lodge. The pleasure of wooing is gone. Besides, my mind is still on that medicine women, the ugly one who turned beautiful. I’m tired of having the power to see into the future. I might learn the time and manner of my death, of our deaths, and I don’t want to brood over these thnigs. I’m just tired of power; I want to be like other men.”
“I’m tired of it, too,” said the older. “I’m tired of feeding the monster’s heart and carrying out its endless wishes. But there’s a simple way to rid ourselves of this unwanted power. Remember, the woman also told us never to let anybody else set eyes on the heart, or the power would be taken away from us.”
At once the brothers called out to all the people around them: “Ho, haven’t you always wondered what we keep in this special tipi—the tipi we never allowed you to go in? Come on, we’ll show you the big secret.” They invited the whole crowd inside and let them look into the deep shaft at Uncegila’s cold, red crystal heart. And when all eyes were on it, this heart screamed loudly and burst into a blinding ball of fire, consuming itself so that only ashes remained, while from the bottom of the hole came the noise of some big animal thrashing in water. And that was the end of it.
“I feel much better now,” said the younger to the older twin.
“And I feel as if a heavy load had been taken off me,” his brother said. So these two lived happily, taking good and bad as it came, as most men do.
—Told by George Eagle Elk in 1968 at Parmelee, South Dakota, and recorded by Richard Erdoes.
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