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One time they had a Brush dance at Datcwindiñ. Two young women sat on the roof watching the dance. Two strange men were noticed about the place where the dance was being held. About midnight one of the two girls who were sitting on the roof said to the other, "Xûnai, let us get a drink of water." "Very well," said the other. They walked along the river-shore toward the spring. The two strange men overtook them and carried them away toward the south. At Nōtañadiñ they stopped and wrapped the girls' faces in double deer-skin blankets. Leaving the river they took them up Kîyaneke creek. When they had crossed Djictañadiñ and Xaslindiñ creeks, the girls began to fear for
their lives. They pulled off the fringes of their dresses and dropped them by the trail that their friends might know which way they had been taken. At Southfork they were taken across the Trinity river and conducted along Southfork creek. They cried as they went along. At the camping places the men showed them where the red obsidians were buried and the dried venison was stored. Finally they came to their journey's end where there were many houses and sweat-houses.
After they had been living there some time they went down to the river shore to make acorn soup. A very old woman came down to see them. Speaking to them in the Hupa language she said, "I too was brought here many years ago when I was young. Now my children are as large as I am. These people are always stealing girls. There are Yurok women living here also. You will get used to it in time." After a while each had a child. Both were boys.
Their husbands showed them where the red obsidians were buried and taught them to kill deer by magic. The deer used to come out to feed on the opposite side of the stream. When they pointed something at them the deer always fell dead. One time they said to each other, "Why wouldn't our husbands die if we did that way with them?" One evening after the children had learned to walk the men went into the sweat-house. The women standing outside did to them as they had been accustomed to do to the deer. They called to them but received no reply. Again they called but still they received no reply. They had already been dead some time. The women packed up their things quickly, taking away only the red obsidians, and started home.
They camped each night at the places they had camped before. They dug up the red obsidians at these places. When they got to their home one of them went into her mother's house. The family were sitting about the fire. They had their hair cut in mourning for the lost daughter. "Mother," she said. "Eh," said the old woman, "who spoke to me in a forbidden manner? I had a daughter some years ago. They hid her away from me." "I am that daughter," the young woman said, "I have got back." She passed her child to her mother who took it. She told her people all that had happened to her since her disappearance.
The boy used to imitate the call of flint's grandmother (a bird) in the wood-room at night. He did not act like a human being and always sat with his back to the fire. They took care of him the best they could. He grew to be quite a large boy. Some of the people did not like him. After a time the two boys went away. For a while they used to come back occasionally. When they became men they ceased coming back.
179:1 Told at Hupa, July 1902, by Mary Marshall.