tribes originally sprung, but the tiny thing had been cherished till, like a serpent, each hissed at the sound of the other's name. The proud chief of the Cussetas was now become an old man, and much was he venerated by all who rallied at his battle-cry. The boldest heart in all his tribe quailed before his angry eye, and the proudest did him reverence. The old man had outlived his own sons; one by one had the Great Spirit called them from their, hunting grounds, and in the flush of their manhood had they gone to the Spirit Land. Yet he was not alone. The youngest of his children, the dark-eyed Mohina, was still sheltered in his bosom, and all his love for the beautiful in life was bestowed upon her-ah, and rightly, too, for the young maiden rivaled in grace the bounding fawn, and the young warriors said of her that the smile of the Great Spirit was not so beautiful. While yet a child she was betrothed to the young Eagle of the Cowetas, the proud scion of their warrior chief. But stern hatred had stifled kindly feelings in the hearts of all save these two young creatures, and the pledged word was broken when the smoke of the calumet was extinguished. Mohina no longer dared to meet the young chief openly, and death faced them when they sat in a lone, wild trysting-place 'neath the starry blazonry of midnight's dark robe. Still they were undaunted, for pure love dwelt in their hearts, and base fear crouched low before it, and went afar from them to hide in grosser souls. Think not the boy-god changes his arrows when he seeks the heart of the Red Man; nay, rather with truer aim, and finer point, does the winged thing speed from his bow, and deeply the subtle poison sinks into the young heart, while the dark cheek glows with love's proper hue. The deer bounded gladly by when the lovers met, and felt he was free, while the bright-eyed maiden leaned upon the bosom of the young Eagle. Their youthful hearts hoped in the future, though all in vain, for the time served but to render more fierce that hostile rivalry, more rank than deadly hatred, which existed between the tribes. Skirmishes were frequent among the hunters, and open hostili. ties seemed inevitable. And now it was told by some one who had peered through the tangled underwood and the matted foliage of those dim woods, that the Coweta had pressed the maiden to his heart in those lone places, and that strange words and passionate were even now breathed by him to her ear. Then the hunters of the Cussetas sprang from their couches, and made earnest haste to the dark glen. With savage yell and impetuous rush they bounded before the lovers. They fled, and love and terror added wings to their flight. For a while they distanced their pursuers. But the strength of Mohina failed her in a perilous moment, and had not the young Eagle snatched her to his fast-beating heart, the raging enemy had made sure their fate. He rushed onward up the narrow defile before him. It led he forgot whither. In a few moments he stood on the verge of a fearful height. Wildly the maiden clung to him, and even then, in that strange moment of life, his heart throbbed proudly beneath his burden. The bold future alone was before him; there was no return. Already the breath of one of the pursuers, a hated rival, came quick upon his cheek, and the gleaming tomahawk shone before him. One moment he gazed on him, and triumph flashed in the eye of the young chief, then without a shudder he sprang into the seething waters below. Still the young maiden clung to him, nor did the death struggle part them. The mad waves dashed fearfully over them, and their loud wail was a fitting requiem to their departing spirits. The horror-stricken warriors gazed wildly into the foaming torrent, then dashed with reckless haste down the declivity to bear the sad tidings to the old chief. He heard their tale in silence, but sorrows were on his spirit, and it was broken. Henceforth his seat was unfilled by the council fire, and its red light gleamed fitfully upon his grave. V THE LEGEND OF SWEETWATER BRANCH Three miles from the quaint old Town of St. Mary's, on the Georgia coast, the public road is crossed by a stream called Sweetwater Branch. It threads the landscape like a skein of liquid silver, winding in and out through the dense foliage, and in spite of the solemn mosses which bend over it on either side, the little stream dances merrily among the ancient live-oaks and sends its laughter rippling through the gloomy depths of the forest. The waters of this tiny streamlet are not only crystal-clear, but pleasant to the taste-whence the name. In the olden time, when the red men still roamed the wilderness in this vicinity it is told that old Withlacoochee, an aged chieftain, was one day seated beside the road vainly trying to extract a thorn from his foot. Pretty Mary Jones, a belle of the white settlement and a maiden whose bright eyes and quick sympathies were well matched, chanced to be coming along the road just at this moment, and seeing the old warrior's predicament, volunteered her assistance, with the result that the ugly thorn was soon extracted. Full of gratitude, the old Indian told the girl that if she ever needed help she must be sure to let him know. Shortly after this pleasant interview, a United States recruiting vessel appeared in the harbor and began to solicit young men to enlist in the navy. She bore the somewhat jocular name of the Smashing Nancy, but the trim uniforms of the marines and the splendid appointments of the vessel constituted an appeal which the young men of the town could not resist. Among the number who felt the magic spell and who hastened to enlist in the crew of the vessel was Ben Johnson, a youth to whom Mary Jones was betrothed. When poor Mary learned the sad news her heart was broken. She dreaded the uncertainties of the long cruise and expected never to see her lover again. Half-distracted she was walking along the same road, loudly weeping and bewailing her fate, when she was espied by Withlacoochee, who quickly approached her and, in kind tones, inquired the cause of her distress. Between violent sobs, the poor girl told her story. The old chief smiled, but there was no derision in the playful gleam of the warrior's eye. "You were good to Withlacoochee," said the old chief, “and now Withlacoochee will be good to you;" and so saying he gathered a * John H. Martin's "History of Columbus," with slight alterations in the first paragraph to make it conform to the historical facts. handful of red berries and green leaves and scattered them on the water of Sweetwater Branch. "Now see," he resumed, "Withlacoochee has cast a spell on these waters, and whoever shall drink of them shall surely return. Bring your lover here and make him drink." Inspired with new hope, Mary brought Ben to the stream and he drank. He went away on the cruise, but the spell brought him back; and he and faithful Mary were happily wedded.* . VI YAHULA Years ago, before the Revolution, Yahula was a prosperous stock trader among the Cherokees, and the tinkling of the bells, hung around the necks of his ponies, could be heard on every mountain trail. Once there was a great hunt, and all the warriors were out, but when it was over and they were ready to return to the settlement, Yahula was not with them. They waited and searched, but he could not be found, and at last they went back without him, and his friends grieved for him as for one dead. Some time after, his people were surprised and delighted to have him walk in among them and sit down as they were at supper in the evening. To the questions which were asked him, Yahula replied that he had been lost in the mountains, and that the Nunnehi or Immortals, had taken him to the town in which they dwelt, and here he had been. kept ever since, with the kindest care and treatment, until the longing to see his old friends had brought him back. Importuned to join them at supper, he said that it was now too late-he had tasted the fairy food and could never again eat with human kind, and for the same reason he could not stay with his family, but must go back to the Nunnehi. His wife and children and brother begged him to stay, but he said that he could not; it was either life with the Immortals or death with his own people, and he thereupon arose to go. They saw him as he sat talking to them and as he stood up, but the moment he stepped from the doorway he vanished as if he had never been. After this strange occurrence, he came back often to visit his people. They would see him first as he entered the door, and as he sat and talked he was quite himself in every way, but the instant he stepped across the threshold he was gone, though a hundred eyes might be watching. He came often, but at last the entreaties for him to remain at home became so urgent that the Nunnehi must have been offended, for he came no more. On the mountain at the head of the creek, about ten miles above the present Town of Dahlonega, is a small square enclosure of uncut stone, without roof or entrance. Here it was said that he lived, so the Cherokees called it the Place of Yahula, and they also gave his name. to the stream. Often at night a belated traveler, coming along the trail * Mr. J. T. Vocele, of St. Mary's, Georgia, furnished the substance of this legend in a letter to the author. by the creek, would hear the voice of Yahula, singing certain favorite old songs which he used to sing as he drove his pack of horses across the mountains, the sound of a voice urging them on, and the crack of a whip and the tinkling of bells went with the song, but neither driver nor horses could be seen, although the sounds passed close by. The songs and the bells were heard only at night. There was one man, a friend of Yahula's, who sang the same songs for a time after Yahula had disappeared, but he died suddenly, and then the Cherokees were afraid to sing these songs any more until it was so long since any one heard the sounds on the mountain that they thought Yahula must have gone away, perhaps to the West, where others of the tribe had already gone. It is so long ago now that even the stone house may have been destroyed by this time, but more than one old man's father saw it and heard the songs and the bells a hundred years ago. When the Cherokees went from Georgia to Indian Territory in 1838 some of them said, "Maybe Yahula has gone there and we shall hear him," but they have never heard him again.* VII THE USTUTLI There was once a great serpent called the Ustutli, that made its haunt upon Cohutta Mountain. It did not glide like other snakes but had feet at each end of its body, and moved by strides or jerks, like a great measuring worm; hence the name, which means "foot snake." The feet were three-cornered, and flat and could hold on to the ground like suckers. It had no legs, but would raise itself up on its hind feet, with its snaky head waving high in the air until it found a good place to take a fresh hold; then it would bend down and grip its front feet to the ground while it drew its body up from behind. It could cross rivers and deep ravines by throwing its head across and getting a grip with its front feet and then swinging its body over. Wherever its footprints were found there was danger. It used to bleat like a young fawn, and when the hunter heard a fawn bleat in the woods he never looked for it, but hurried away in the other direction. Up the mountain or down, nothing could escape the Ustutli's pursuit, but along the side of the ridge it could not go, because the great weight of its swinging head broke its hold on the ground when it moved sideways. Finally it came to pass that not a hunter about Cohutta would venture near the mountain for dread of Ustutli. At last a man from one of the northern settlements came down to visit some relatives in the neighborhood. When he arrived they made a feast for him, but had only corn and beans, and excused themselves for having no meat because the hunters were afraid to go into the mountains. He asked the reason, and when they told him he said he would go himself tomorrow and either * Yahoola Creek, which flows by Dahlonega, in Lumpkin County, was called Yahulai, by the Cherokees, or "Place of Yahula." James Mooney in "Myths of the Cherokees, House Documents, Vol. 118. bring home a deer or find the Ustutli. They tried to dissuade him from it, but as he insisted upon going they warned him that if he heard a fawn bleat in the thicket he must run at once, and if the snake ran after him he must not try to run down the mountain, but along the side of the ridge. In the morning he started out and went directly toward the mountain. Working his way through the bushes at the base, he suddenly heard a fawn bleat in front. He guessed at once that it was the Ustutli, but he had made up his mind to see it, so he did not turn back, but went straight forward, and there, sure enough, was the monster, with its great head in the air, as high as the pine branches, looking in every direction to discover a deer, or maybe a man, for breakfast. It saw him and made for him at once, moving in jerky strides, every one the length of a tree trunk, holding its head high above the bushes and bleating as it came. The hunter was so badly frightened that he lost his wits entirely and started to run directly up the mountain. The great snake came after him, gaining half its length on him every time it took a fresh grip with its fore feet, and would have caught the hunter before he reached the top of the ridge, but that he suddenly remembered the warning and changed his course to run along the side of the mountain. At once the snake began to lose ground, for every time it raised itself up the weight of its body threw it out of a straight line and made it fall a little lower down the side of the ridge. It tried to recover itself, but now the hunter gained and kept on until he turned the end of the ridge and left the snake out of sight. Then he cautiously climbed to the top and looked over and saw the Ustutli still slowly working its way toward the summit. He went down to the base of the mountain, opened his fire pouch, and set fire to the grass and leaves. Soon the fire ran all around the mountain and began to climb upward. When the great snake smelled the smoke and saw the flames coming it forgot all about the hunter and turned in full speed toward a high cliff near the summit. It reached the rock and stood upon it, but the fire followed and caught the dead pines above the base of the cliff until the heat made the Ustutli's scales crack. Taking a close grip of the rock with its hind feet it raised its body and put forth all its strength in an effort to spring across the wall of fire that surrounded it, but the smoke choked it and its hold loosened and it fell among the blazing pine trunks and lay there until it was burned to ashes.* VIII AGAN-UNITSI'S SEARCH FOR THE UKTENA Once upon a time, the Cherokees, in battle with the Shawano Indians, who were famous for magic, captured a great medicine man whose name was Agan-unitsi. On being tied ready for the torture, he begged for his life, and engaged, if spared, to find for them the famous wonder * James Mooney, in "Myths of the Cherokee,'' House Documents, Vol. 118. |