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Myths of the Cherokee

Ganogwioeoñ, a war chief of the Seneca, led a party against the Cherokee. When they came near the first town he left his men outside and went in alone. At the first house he found an old woman and her granddaughter. They did not see him, and he went into the ^as! and hid himself under some wood.

When darkness came on he heard the old woman say, "Maybe Ganogwioeoñ is near; I'll close the door."

After a while he heard them going to bed. When he thought they were asleep he went into the house. The fire had burned down low, but the girl was still awake and saw him.

She was about to scream, when he said, "I am Ganogwioeoñ. If you scream I'll kill you. If you keep quiet I'll not hurt you."

They talked together, and he told her that in the morning she must bring the chief's daughter to him. She promised to do it, and told him where he should wait. Just before daylight he left the house.

In the morning the girl went to the chief's house and said to his daughter, "Let's go out together for wood."

The chief's daughter got ready and went with her, and when they came to the place where Ganogwioeoñ was hiding he sprang out and killed her, but did not hurt the other girl. He pulled off the scalp and gave such a loud scalp yell that all the warriors in the town heard it and came running out after him. He shook the scalp at them and then turned and ran. He killed the first one that came up, but when he tried to shoot the next one the bow broke and the Cherokee got him.

They tied him and carried him to the two women of the tribe who had the power to decide what should be done with him. Each of these women had two snakes tattooed on her lips, with their heads opposite each other, in such a way that when she opened her mouth the two snakes opened their mouths also. They decided to burn the soles of his feet until they were blistered, then to put grains of corn under the skin and to chase him with clubs until they had beaten him to death.

They stripped him and burnt his feet. Then they tied a bark rope around his waist, with an old man to hold the other end, and made him run between two lines of people, and with clubs in their hands. When they gave the word to start Ganogwioeoñ pulled the rope away from the old man and broke through the line and ran until he had left them all out of sight. When night came he crawled into a hollow log. He was naked and unarmed, with his feet in a pitiful condition, and thought he could never get away.

He heard footsteps on the leaves outside and thought his enemies were upon him.

The footsteps came up to the log and some one said to another, "This is our friend."

Then the stranger said to Ganogwioeoñ: "You think you are the same as dead, but it is not so. We will take care of you. Stick out your feet."

He put out his feet from the log and felt something licking them. After awhile the voice said, "I think we have licked his feet enough. Now we must crawl inside the log and lie on each side of him to keep him warm."

They crawled in beside him. In the morning they crawled out and told him to stick out his feet again.

They licked them again and then said to him, "Now we have done all we can do this time. Go on until you come to the place where you made a bark shelter a long time ago, and under the bark you will find something to help you."

Ganogwioeoñ crawled out of the log, but they were gone. His feet were better now and he could walk comfortably. He went on until about noon, when he came to the bark shelter, and under it he found a knife, an awl, and a flint, that his men had hidden there two years before. He took them and started on again.

Toward evening he looked around until he found another hollow tree and crawled into it to sleep. At night he heard the footsteps and voices again. When he put out his feet again, as the strangers told him to do, they licked his feet as before and then crawled in and lay down on each side of him to keep him warm. Still he could not see them.

In the morning after they went out they licked his feet again and said to him, "At noon you will find food." Then they went away.

Ganogwioeoñ crawled out of the tree and went on. At noon he came to a burning log, and near it was a dead bear, which was still warm, as if it had been killed only a short time before. He skinned the bear and found it very fat. He cut up the meat and roasted as much as he could eat or carry. While it was roasting he scraped the skin and rubbed rotten wood dust on it to clean it until he was tired. When night came: he lay down to sleep.

He heard the steps and the voices again and one said, "Well, our friend is lying down. He has plenty to eat, and it does not seem as if he is going to die. Let us lick his feet again."

When they had finished they said to him, "You need not worry anymore now. You will get home all right."

Before it was day they left him.

When morning came he put the bearskin around him like a shirt, with the hair outside, and started on again, taking as much of the meat as he could carry. That night his friends came to him again.

They said, "Your feet are well, but you will be cold," so they lay again on each side of him.

Before daylight they left, saying, "About noon you will find something to wear."

He went on and about midday he came to two young bears just killed. He skinned them and dressed the skins, then roasted as much meat as he wanted and lay down to sleep. In the morning he made leggings of the skins, took some of the meat, and started on.

His friends came again the next night and told him that in the morning he would come upon something else to wear. As they said, about noon he found two fawns just killed. He turned the skins and made himself a pair of moccasins, then cut some of the meat, and traveled on until evening-, when he made a fire and had supper.

That night again he heard the steps and voices, and one said, "My friend, very soon now you will reach home safely and find your friends all well. Now we will tell you why we have helped you. Whenever you went hunting you always gave the best part of the meat to us and kept only the smallest part for yourself. For that we are thankful and help you. In the morning you will see us and know who we are."

In the morning when he woke up they were still there – two men as he thought – but after he had said the last words to them and started on, he turned again to look, and one was a white wolf and the other a black wolf. That day he reached home. – Arranged from Curtin, Seneca manuscript.

Comments:

The meaning of the Seneca name can not be given.

Animal Protectors – The leading incident of this tale is closely paralleled by a Kiowa story, told by the old men as an actual occurrence of some fifty years ago, concerning a warrior who, having been desperately wounded in an engagement with Mexican troops in southern Texas, was abandoned to die by his retreating comrades. At night, while lying upon the ground awaiting death, and unable to move, he heard a long howl in the distance, which was repeated nearer and nearer, until at last he heard the patter of feet in the sand, and a wolf came up and licked the festering wounds of the warrior with such soothing effect that he fell asleep. This was repeated several times until the man was able to sit up, when the wolf left him, after telling him – not in the vision of a dream, but as a companion face to face – that he must keep up his courage, and that he would get back in safety to his tribe. Soon afterward the wounded warrior was found by a party of Comanche, who restored him to his people. At the next Sun dance he made public thanksgiving for his rescue (see the author’s Calendar History of the Kiowa Indians, in Seventeenth Annual Report Bureau of American Ethnology, part 1, 1901). The story is not impossible. A wolf may easily have licked the wounded man’s sores, as a dog might do, and through the relief thus afforded, if not by sympathy of companionship, have enabled him to hold out until rescued by friends. The rest is easy to the imagination of an Indian, who believes that there is no essential difference between himself and other animals.

The War Woman – The women described as having power to decide the fate of captives, mentioned also in the next story (number 94), are evidently the female dignitaries among the ancient Cherokee known to early writers as “War Women” or “Pretty Women.” Owing to the decay of Cherokee tradition and custom it is now impossible to gather anything positive on the subject from Indian informants, but from documentary references it is apparent that there existed among the Cherokee a custom analogous to that found among the Iroquois and probably other Eastern tribes, by which the decision of important questions relating to peace and war was left to a vote of the women. Among the Iroquois this privilege was exercised by a council of matrons, the mothers of the tribes. It may have been the same among the Cherokee, with the “Pretty Woman” to voice the decision of the council, or the final rendering may have been according to the will of the “Pretty Woman” herself. The institution served in a measure to mitigate the evils of war and had its origin in the clan system. Under this system a captive enemy was still an enemy until he had been adopted into the tribe, which could only be done through adoption into a clan and family. As clan descent was reckoned through the women it rested with them to decide the question of adoption. If they were favorable all was well, and the captive became at once a member of a family and clan and of the tribe at large. Otherwise, as a public enemy, only death remained to him, unless he was ransomed by friends. The proper Cherokee title of this female arbiter of life and death is unknown. The clan of the Ani′-Gilâ′hĭ, or “Long-hairs,” is sometimes spoken of as the Pretty-woman clan, and the office may have been hereditary in that clan. The Seneca stories imply that there were two of these female officers, but from Haywood’s account there would seem to have been but one. An upper tributary of Savannah river in Georgia bears the name War-woman creek.

Timberlake says in 1765 (Memoirs, p. 70): “These chiefs or headmen likewise compose the assemblies of the nation, into which the war women are admitted, many of the Indian women being as famous in war as powerful in the council.”

At the Hopewell treaty conference in 1785 the principal chief of Echota, after an opening speech, said: “I have no more to say, but one of our beloved women has, who has borne and raised up warriors.” After delivering a string of wampum to emphasize the importance of the occasion, “the war woman of Chota then addressed the commissioners.” Having expressed her pleasure at the peace, she continued: “I have a pipe and a little tobacco to give to the commissioners to smoke in friendship. I look on you and the red people as my children. Your having determined on peace is most pleasing to me, for I have seen much trouble during the late war. I am old, but I hope yet to bear children, who will grow up and people our nation, as we are now to be under the protection of Congress and shall have no more disturbance. The talk I have given is from the young warriors I have raised in my town, as well as myself. They rejoice that we have peace, and we hope the chain of friendship will never more be broken.” Two strings of wampum, a pipe, and some tobacco accompanied her words (American State Papers; Indian Affairs, I, p. 41, 1832).

Haywood says in 1823: “The Cherokees had the law or custom of assigning to a certain woman the office of declaring what punishment should be inflicted on great offenders; whether, for instance, burning or other death, or whether they should be pardoned. This woman they called the pretty woman. Mrs Ward exercised this office when Mrs Bean, about the year 1776, was taken from the white settlements on the upper parts of Holston. Being bound and about to be burned on one of the mounds, the pretty woman interfered and pronounced her pardon” (Nat. and Aborig. Hist. Tenn., p. 278). See also historical note 20, “Peace Towns and Towns of Refuge.”

Between two lines of people – This custom, known to colonial writers as “running the gauntlet,” was very common among the eastern tribes, and was intended not so much to punish the captive as to test his courage and endurance, with a view to adoption if he proved worthy. It was practiced only upon warriors, never upon women or children, and although the blows were severe they were not intended to be fatal. The prisoner was usually unbound and made to run along a cleared space in the center of the village toward a certain goal, and was safe for the time being if he succeeded in reaching it.

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