it from a Washoe squaw. The story was told with strange gestures and
weird pathos:

The ong was a big bird, bigger than the houses of the white
man. Its body was like the eagle's, and its wings were longer
than the tallest pines. Its face was that of an Indian, but
covered with hard scales, and its feet were webbed. Its nest
was deep down in the bottom of the Lake, out in the center,
and out of the nest rushed all the waters which fill the Lake.
There are no rivers to feed the Lake, only the waters from the
ong's nest. All the waters flow back near the bottom, in great
under-currents, and after passing through the meshes of the
nest are sent forth again. Every plant and bird and animal
that gets into these under-currents, and sometimes the great
trout that are swept into the net-like
nest are there held fast to furnish food for the ong.

He ate everything, he liked everything, but best of all he
liked the taste of human flesh. No one ever heard or saw
anything of such poor mortals as were drowned in these waters,
for their bodies were carried to the ong's nest and no morsel
ever escaped him. Sometimes he would fly about the shores in
quest of some child or woman or hunter, yet he was a great
coward and was never known to attack any one in camp, or when
two or more were together. No arrow could pierce his feathers,
nor could the strongest spear do more than glance from the
scales on his face and legs, yet his coward's heart made him
afraid for his toes had no claws, and his mouth no beak.

Late one fall, the Washoes were making their final hunt before
going to the valleys and leaving the Lake locked in its winter
snows. The chief's daughter was sixteen years old, and before
leaving the Lake he must select the greatest hero in the tribe
for her husband, for such had been the custom of the Washoe
chiefs ever since the tribe came out of the Northland.
Fairer than ever maiden had been was this daughter, and every
unmarried brave and warrior in the tribe wished that he had
performed deeds of greater prowess, that he might be certain
of winning the prize. That last night at the Lake, around the
big council fire, each was to recount to the chief the noblest
achievement of his life, and when all were heard the chief
would choose, and the women join the circle and the wedding