WONDER STORIES
Ûntsaiyi′ — The Gambler
A Traditional Cherokee Story
Cultural Introduction
The Cherokee people are one of the Indigenous nations of the southeastern United States. For countless generations, Cherokee families have shared stories to teach courage, wisdom, balance, and respect for the natural world.
In traditional Cherokee belief, Thunder is not only the sound in the sky but a powerful being who brings rain, lightning, and renewal. Many stories describe Thunder and his sons as living in the west, the direction of the setting sun. Water, rivers, animals, and even stones are alive with spirit and meaning in Cherokee tradition.
This story of Ûñtsaiyĭ′, called “Brass,” tells of a powerful gambler who uses trickery to win from others. The tale teaches important lessons about bravery, patience, cleverness, and the dangers of greed. It also explains the origins of certain places and natural features, as many Cherokee stories do.
These stories were traditionally told aloud, often in the evenings, and passed carefully from one generation to the next. What follows is a retelling for young readers, keeping close to the original storytelling style.
ÛÑTSAIYĬ′ — The Gambler
Thunder lives in the west, a little south of where the sun goes down behind the water. Long ago he sometimes traveled to the east. After one of these journeys, a boy was born there, and the people said he was Thunder’s son.
As the boy grew, painful sores covered his body. One day his mother said, “Your father, Thunder, is a great doctor. He lives far in the west. If you can find him, he will cure you.”
So the boy began his journey west. He traveled a long time, asking everyone he met where Thunder lived. At last he was told that he was very near.
On his way he came to Ûñtiguhĭ′, on the Tennessee River. There lived Ûñtsaiyĭ′, called “Brass.” He was a great gambler. He had invented the gatayûstĭ game, played with a stone wheel and stick. On a large flat rock near the river the grooves of the game can still be seen, and the wheel and stick are there, turned to stone.
Ûñtsaiyĭ′ challenged every traveler to play. He usually won, because he was clever and tricky. His house was filled with fine things he had won. Sometimes he would even bet his life—but if he lost, he changed his shape and escaped.
When he saw the boy, he called out, “Stop and play!”
“I cannot,” said the boy. “I am looking for my father, Thunder.”
“He lives just ahead,” said the gambler. “You can hear him grumbling. We have time for a game.”
“I have nothing to bet,” the boy answered.
“We will play for your pretty spots,” said Ûñtsaiyĭ′, hoping to make him angry. But the boy would not stop. He said he would return after he found his father.
When the boy reached Thunder’s house, the old one said, “I have traveled many lands and have many children. Bring this boy to me.”
Thunder showed him a seat. Hidden under the blanket were sharp honey-locust thorns. But when the boy sat down, they did not hurt him. Then Thunder knew he was truly his son.
The boy told him about his sickness. Thunder said, “I am a great doctor. I will cure you.”
A large pot was filled with water and set to boil. Roots were placed inside. Then Thunder put the boy into the pot. It boiled a long time. At last Thunder told his wife to throw the pot into the river.
She did so. Ever since, that place has been called Ûñtiguhĭ′, “Pot-in-the-water.” Steam rose high and marked the bark of the trees nearby.
When the steam cleared, the boy was seen holding to the roots of a tree by the river. His skin was now smooth and clean. Thunder’s wife helped him out and said quietly:
“When your father offers you ornaments, choose them from the bottom of the box. And when your brothers come to play ball against you, strike at the honey-locust tree if you grow tired. Your father will stop the game rather than lose the tree.”
Thunder dressed the boy in fine buckskin clothes. Then he opened a box and said, “Choose your necklace and bracelets.”
The box was full of moving snakes. The boy was not afraid. He reached to the bottom and took out a large rattlesnake for a necklace. Four copperheads he wrapped around his wrists and ankles.
Thunder gave him a war club. “Your two elder brothers will play ball with you,” he said. But this was no game. It was a battle.
The young Thunders came from the Darkening Land. They were strong, but the boy stood bravely. With each blow, thunder rolled and lightning flashed. For they were Thunder, and the boy himself was Lightning.
At last he grew tired and aimed a blow toward the honey-locust tree. Thunder quickly stopped the fight. He saw that his son was brave and strong.
The boy then told his father about Ûñtsaiyĭ′ the gambler.
Thunder gave him a small gourd. Inside was a string of beads that had no end.
“Go back,” said Thunder. “He will want those beads. You will win every game. When he asks for water, strike the rock with your club and water will come out. When he bets his life and loses, send for your brothers quickly, or he will escape.”
The boy returned. Ûñtsaiyĭ′ saw the beads and wished to play. The boy pulled out bead after bead until they formed a circle around the playground.
They played. The boy won.
They played again. The boy won again.
By noon, the gambler had lost almost everything. He was thirsty and asked for water. The boy struck the rock, and water flowed.
At last Ûñtsaiyĭ′ had lost all his goods. He even bet his wife—and lost. In despair he bet his life. The boy won.
“Let me tell my wife,” said Ûñtsaiyĭ′. But his house had two doors. He ran out the back and fled.
The boy called his brothers, and they brought their dog, the Horned Green Beetle. They followed the gambler.
Ûñtsaiyĭ′ changed himself into an old woman, then into an old man. But each time the Beetle struck the stranger’s forehead, and it rang like brass. Then they knew it was him.
He ran east to the great water, north to the edge of the world, and west again. But he grew tired. At last they caught him where the sun goes down.
They tied him with grapevine and drove a stake through him, planting it deep in the water. Two crows were set to watch him. That place is called Kâgûñ′yĭ, “Crow Place.”
But Ûñtsaiyĭ′ did not die. He cannot die until the end of the world. He lies beneath the water still. Sometimes he struggles to break free. Sometimes the beavers try to gnaw through the vine. Then the pole shakes, and the crows cry “Ka! Ka! Ka!” and drive them away.
And so he remains there to this day.