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diff --git a/77804-0.txt b/77804-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..89c86c0 --- /dev/null +++ b/77804-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,6226 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 77804 *** + + + + + THE MAN WHO MARRIED + THE MOON + AND OTHER PUEBLO INDIAN FOLK-STORIES + + BY + + CHARLES F. LUMMIS + _AUTHOR OF “SOME STRANGE CORNERS OF OUR COUNTRY” + “A NEW MEXICO DAVID,” ETC._ + + + [Illustration] + + + NEW YORK + THE CENTURY CO. + 1894 + + + + + Copyright, 1891, 1892, 1894, + By The Century Co. + + The De Vinne Press. + + + + + [Illustration: THE BOY IN THE HOUSE OF THE TRUES. (SEE PAGE + 115.)] + + + + + To + the Fairy Tale that came true in + the Home of the Tée-wahn + My Wife and Child + + + + +CONTENTS + + + PAGE + Introduction: The Brown Story-Tellers 1 + + I The Antelope Boy 12 + + II The Coyote and the Crows 22 + + III The War-Dance of the Mice 24 + + IV The Coyote and the Blackbirds 27 + + V The Coyote and the Bear 30 + + VI The First of the Rattlesnakes 34 + + VII The Coyote and the Woodpecker 49 + + VIII The Man who Married the Moon 53 + + IX The Mother Moon 71 + + X The Maker of the Thunder-Knives 74 + + XI The Stone-Moving Song 82 + + XII The Coyote and the Thunder-Knife 84 + + XIII The Magic Hide-and-Seek 87 + + XIV The Race of the Tails 99 + + XV Honest Big-Ears 103 + + XVI The Feathered Barbers 106 + + XVII The Accursed Lake 108 + + XVIII The Moqui Boy and the Eagle 122 + + XIX The North Wind and the South Wind 127 + + XX The Town of the Snake-Girls 130 + + XXI The Drowning of Pecos 137 + + XXII The Ants that Pushed on the Sky 147 + + XXIII The Man who Wouldn’t Keep Sunday 161 + + XXIV The Brave Bobtails 169 + + XXV The Revenge of the Fawns 178 + + XXVI The Sobbing Pine 194 + + XXVII The Quères Diana 200 + + XXVIII A Pueblo Bluebeard 203 + + XXIX The Hero Twins 206 + + XXX The Hungry Grandfathers 215 + + XXXI The Coyote 222 + + XXXII Doctor Field-Mouse 232 + + + + +LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS + + + PAGE + The Boy in the House of the Trues FRONTISPIECE + + “As I come in, kindly old Tata Lorenso is just + beginning a Story” 7 + + The Coyote carries the Baby to the Antelope + Mother 15 + + Rain falls on Pée-k’hoo 18 + + “The two Runners came sweeping down the Home-stretch, + straining every Nerve” 20 + + “As He caught the Hoop He was instantly changed + into a poor Coyote!” 37 + + “Coyote, are you People?” 41 + + “As He seized it He was changed from a tall + young Man into a great Rattlesnake” 45 + + The Coyotes at Supper with the Woodpeckers 50 + + The Isleta Girls grinding Corn with the + “Mano” on the “Metate” 56 + + The Moon-Maiden 57 + + The Yellow-Corn-Maidens throwing Meal at the + pearl “Omate” 59 + + The Grief of Nah-chu-rú-chu 65 + + “The Witch made Herself very small, and went + behind the Foot of a big Crane” 95 + + The Hunter and the Lake-man 111 + + The Cursing of the Lake 119 + + South, East, North, and West in Search of + Kahp-too-óo-yoo 153 + + Kahp-too-óo-yoo calling the Rain 158 + + The Wolf, and the Coyote with the Toothache 183 + + The Wolf meets the Boys Playing with their + Bows and Arrows 187 + + “The Fawns appeared suddenly, and at sight of + Them the Wolf dropped the Spoonful of Soup” 191 + + “There They Stood Side by Side” 225 + + “‘How Shall I Get It?’ said the Coyote” 229 + + These illustrations are from drawings by George Wharton Edwards, + after photographs by the author. + + + + +TÉE-WAHN FOLK-STORIES + + [Illustration: TÉE-WAHN FOLK-STORIES] + + + + +THE BROWN STORY-TELLERS + + +I FANCY that if almost any of us were asked, “When did people begin +to make fairy stories?” our first thought would be, “Why, of course, +after mankind had become civilized, and had invented writing.” But in +truth the making of myths, which is no more than a dignified name for +“fairy stories,” dates back to the childhood of the human race. + +Long before Cadmus invented letters (and I fear Cadmus himself was +as much of a myth as was his dragon’s-teeth harvest), long before +there were true historians or poets, there were fairy stories and +story-tellers. And to-day, if we would seek the place where fairy +stories most flourish, we must go, not to the nations whose countless +educated minds are now devoted to story-telling for the young, but +to peoples who have no books, no magazines, no alphabets--even no +pictures. + +Of all the aboriginal peoples that remain in North America, none +is richer in folk-lore than the Pueblo Indians of New Mexico, who +are, I believe, next to the largest of the native tribes left in +the United States. They number nine thousand souls. They have +nineteen “cities” (called pueblos, also) in this Territory, and +seven in Arizona; and each has its little outlying colonies. They +are not cities in size, it is true, for the largest (Zuñi) has only +fifteen hundred people, and the smallest only about one hundred; but +cities they are, nevertheless. And each city, with its fields, is a +wee republic--twenty-six of the smallest, and perhaps the oldest, +republics in the world; for they were already such when the first +European eyes saw America. Each has its governor, its congress, its +sheriffs, war-captains, and other officials who are elected annually; +its laws, unwritten but unalterable, which are more respected +and better enforced than the laws of any American community; its +permanent and very comfortable houses, and its broad fields, +confirmed first by Spain and later by patents of the United States. + +The architecture of the Pueblo houses is quaint and characteristic. +In the remote pueblos they are as many as six stories in +height--built somewhat in the shape of an enormous terraced pyramid. +The Pueblos along the Rio Grande, however, have felt the influence +of Mexican customs, and their houses have but one and two stories. +All their buildings, including the huge, quaint church which each +pueblo has, are made of stone plastered with adobe mud, or of great, +sun-dried bricks of adobe. They are the most comfortable dwellings in +the Southwest--cool in summer and warm in winter. + +The Pueblos are divided into six tribes, each speaking a distinct +language of its own. Isleta, the quaint village where I lived five +years, in an Indian house, with Indian neighbors, and under Indian +laws, is the southernmost of the pueblos, the next largest of them +all, and the chief city of the Tée-wahn tribe.[1] All the languages +of the Pueblo tribes are exceedingly difficult to learn. + + [1] Spelled Tigua by Spanish authors. + +Besides the cities now inhabited, the ruins of about fifteen hundred +other pueblos--and some of them the noblest ruins in the country--dot +the brown valleys and rocky mesa-tops of New Mexico. All these +ruins are of stone, and are extremely interesting. The implacable +savages by whom they were hemmed in made necessary the abandonment of +hundreds of pueblos; and this great number of ruins does not indicate +a vast ancient population. The Pueblos _never_ counted above 30,000 +souls. + +The Pueblo Indians have for nearly two centuries given no trouble +to the European sharers of their domain; but their wars of defense +against the savage tribes who surrounded them completely--with the +Apaches, Navajos, Comanches, and Utes--lasted until a very few years +ago. They are valiant fighters for their homes, but prefer any +honorable peace. They are not indolent, but industrious--tilling +their farms, tending their stock, and keeping all their affairs in +order. The women own the houses and their contents, and do not work +outside; and the men control the fields and crops. An unhappy home +is almost an unknown thing among them; and the universal affection +of parents for children and respect of children for parents are +extraordinary. I have never seen a child unkindly treated, a parent +saucily addressed, or a playmate abused, in all my long and intimate +acquaintance with the Pueblos. + +Isleta lies on the Atlantic and Pacific Railroad, upon the western +bank of the Rio Grande, on a lava promontory which was once an +island--whence the town takes its Spanish name. Its Tée-wahn title is +Shee-eh-whíb-bak.[2] Its population, according to the census taken in +1891, is a little less than twelve hundred. It is nearly surrounded +by fertile vineyards, orchards of peaches, apricots, apples, +cherries, plums, pears, and quinces, and fields of corn, wheat, +beans, and peppers, all owned by my dusky neighbors. The pueblo owns +over one hundred and ten thousand acres of land, the greater part of +which is reserved for pasturing horses and cattle. + + [2] The name means “Knife-laid-on-the-ground-to-play-_whib_.” + _Whib_ is an aboriginal foot-race in which the runners have to + carry a stick with their toes. The name was perhaps suggested + by the knife-like shape of the lava ridge on which the pueblo + is built. + +The people of Isleta are, as a rule, rather short in stature, but +strongly built. All have a magnificent depth and breadth of chest, +and a beautifully confident poise of the head. Most of the men are +very expert hunters, tireless runners, and fine horsemen. Besides +ordinary hunting they have communal hunts--for rabbits in the spring, +for antelope and deer in the fall--thoroughly organized, in which +great quantities of game are killed. + +Their amusements are many and varied. Aside from the numerous sacred +dances of the year, their most important occasions, they have various +races which call for great skill and endurance, quaint social +enjoyments, and games of many kinds, some of which are quite as +difficult as chess. They are very fair weavers and pottery-makers. +The women are good housewives, and most of them excellent +seamstresses. + +Yet, with all this progress in civilization, despite their mental +and physical acuteness and their excellent moral qualities, the +Tée-wahn are in some things but overgrown children. Their secret +inner religion[3] is one of the most complicated systems on earth. +Besides the highest deities, all the forces of nature, all animals, +as well as many things that are inanimate, are invested by them with +supernatural powers. They do not worship idols, but images and tokens +of unseen powers are revered. They do nothing without some reason, +generally a religious one, and whatever they observe they can explain +in their own superstitious way. Every custom they have and every +belief they own has a reason which to them is all-sufficient; and +for each they have a story. There is no duty to which a Pueblo child +is trained in which he has to be content with the bare command, “Do +thus”; for each he learns a fairy tale designed to explain how people +first came to know that it was right to do thus, and detailing the +sad results which befell those who did otherwise. + + [3] For they are all devout, if not entirely understanding, + members of a Christian church; but keep also much of their + prehistoric faiths. + +It is from this wonderful folk-lore of the Tée-wahn that I have +learned--after long study of the people, their language, customs, +and myths--and taken, unchanged and unembellished, this series of +Indian fairy tales. I have been extremely careful to preserve, in +my translations, the exact Indian _spirit_. An absolutely literal +translation would be almost unintelligible to English readers, but I +have taken no liberties with the real meaning. + +The use of books is not only to tell, but to preserve; not only for +to-day, but for ever. What an Indian wishes to perpetuate must be +saved by tongue and ear, by “telling-down,” as were the world’s first +histories and poems. This oral transmission from father to son is of +sacred importance with the natives. Upon it depends the preservation +of the amusements, the history, the beliefs, the customs, and the +laws of their nation. A people less observant, less accurate of +speech and of memory, would make a sad failure of this sort of +record; but with them it is a wonderful success. The story goes down +from generation to generation, almost without the change of a word. +The fact that it is told in fixed metrical form--a sort of blank +verse--helps the memory. + + [Illustration: “AS I COME IN, KINDLY OLD TATA LORENSO IS JUST + BEGINNING A STORY.”] + +Here in Isleta, the quaint pueblo of the Tée-wahn, I became +deeply interested not only in the folk-stories themselves, but +also in the manner of handing them down. Winter is the season for +story-telling. Then the thirsty fields no longer cry for water, the +irrigating-ditches have ceased to gnaw at their banks, and the men +are often at leisure. Then, of an evening, if I go over to visit +some _vecino_ (neighbor), I am likely to find, in the great adobe +living-room, a group of very old men and very young boys gathered +about the queer little corner fireplace with its blazing upright +sticks. They, too, have come a-visiting. The young men are gathered +in another corner by themselves, eating roasted corn, and talking in +whispers so as not to disturb their elders, for respect to age is the +corner-stone of all Indian training. They are not required to listen +to the stories, being supposed to know them already. + + * * * * * + +If in the far, sweet days when I stood at my grandmother’s knee, and +shivered over “Bluebeard,” or thrilled at “Jack the Giant-killer,” +some one could have shown us a picture of me as I was to be listening +to other fairy tales twenty-five years later, I am sure that her eyes +would have opened wide as mine. Certainly neither of us ever dreamed +that, thousands of miles from the old New England fireplace, when the +dear figures that sat with me before its blazing forestick had long +been dust, I would be sitting where I am to-night and listening to +the strange, dark people who are around me. + +The room is long and low, and overhead are dark, round rafters--the +trunks of straight pine-trees that used to purr on the sides of the +most famous mountain in New Mexico. The walls are white as snow, +and you would never imagine that they are built only of cut sods, +plastered over and whitewashed. The floor is of adobe clay, packed +almost as hard as a rock, and upon it are bright-hued blankets, woven +in strange figures. Along the walls are benches, with wool mattresses +rolled up and laid upon them. By and by these will be spread upon the +floor for beds, but just now they serve as cushioned seats. Over in +a corner are strange earthen jars of water, with little gourd dippers +floating, and here and there upon the wall hang bows and arrows in +sheaths of the tawny hide of the mountain lion; queer woven belts of +red and green, and heavy necklaces of silver and coral, with charms +of turquoise--the stone that stole its color from the sky. + +There is a fireplace, too, and we are gathered all about it, a dozen +or more--for I have become an old friend here. But it is not like +the fireplace where the little sister and I used to roast our apples +and pop our corn. A wee hearth of clay rises a few inches from the +floor; a yard above it hangs the chimney, like a big white hood; and +a little wall, four feet high, runs from it out into the room, that +the wind from the outer door may not blow the ashes. There is no big +front log, but three or four gnarled cedar sticks, standing on one +end, crackle loudly. + +Some of us are seated on benches, and upon the floor. His back +against the wall, squats my host, who is just going to begin +another fairy story. Such a wee, withered, wrinkled old man! It +seems as though the hot winds of the Southwest had dried him as +they dry the forgotten last year’s apples that shrivel here and +there upon lonely boughs. He must be a century old. His children, +grandchildren, great-grandchildren, and great-great-grandchildren +are all represented here to-night. Yet his black eyes are like a +hawk’s, under their heavy brows, and his voice is musical and deep. +I have never heard a more eloquent story-teller, and I have heard +some famous ones. I can tell you the words, but not the impressive +tones, the animation of eye and accent, the eloquent gestures of this +venerable Indian as he tells--what? An Indian telling fairy stories? + +Yes, indeed. He is the very man to tell them. If this dusky old +playground for wrinkles, who never saw the inside of a book, could +write out all the fairy stories he knows, Webster’s Unabridged +Dictionary would hardly hold them. His father and his father’s +father, and so on back for countless centuries, have handed down +these stories by telling, from generation to generation, just as +Tata[4] Lorenso is telling his great-great-grandsons to-night. When +these boys grow up, they will tell these stories to their sons and +grandsons; and so the legends will pass on and on, so long as there +shall be a Tée-wahn Indian left in all New Mexico. + + [4] “Father.” + +But Lorenso is ready with his story. He pauses only to make a +cigarette from the material in my pouch (they call me _Por todos_, +because I have tobacco “for all”), explains for my benefit that this +is a story of the beginning of Isleta, pats the head of the chubby +boy at his knee, and begins again. + + + + +I + +THE ANTELOPE BOY + + +ONCE upon a time there were two towns of the Tée-wahn, called +Nah-bah-tóo-too-ee (white village) and Nah-choo-rée-too-ee (yellow +village). A man of Nah-bah-tóo-too-ee and his wife were attacked by +Apaches while out on the plains one day, and took refuge in a cave, +where they were besieged. And there a boy was born to them. The +father was killed in an attempt to return to his village for help; +and starvation finally forced the mother to crawl forth by night +seeking roots to eat. Chased by the Apaches, she escaped to her own +village, and it was several days before she could return to the +cave--only to find it empty. + +The baby had begun to cry soon after her departure. Just then a +Coyote[5] was passing, and heard. Taking pity on the child, he picked +it up and carried it across the plain until he came to a herd of +antelopes. Among them was a Mother-Antelope that had lost her fawn; +and going to her the Coyote said: + + [5] The small prairie-wolf. + +“Here is an _ah-bóo_ (poor thing) that is left by its people. Will +you take care of it?” + +The Mother-Antelope, remembering her own baby, with tears said +“Yes,” and at once adopted the tiny stranger, while the Coyote +thanked her and went home. + +So the boy became as one of the antelopes, and grew up among them +until he was about twelve years old. Then it happened that a hunter +came out from Nah-bah-tóo-too-ee for antelopes, and found this herd. +Stalking them carefully, he shot one with an arrow. The rest started +off, running like the wind; but ahead of them all, as long as they +were in sight, he saw a boy! The hunter was much surprised, and, +shouldering his game, walked back to the village, deep in thought. +Here he told the Cacique[6] what he had seen. Next day the crier was +sent out to call upon all the people to prepare for a great hunt, in +four days, to capture the Indian boy who lived with the antelopes. + + [6] The highest religious official. + +While preparations were going on in the village, the antelopes +in some way heard of the intended hunt and its purpose. The +Mother-Antelope was very sad when she heard it, and at first would +say nothing. But at last she called her adopted son to her and said: +“Son, you have heard that the people of Nah-bah-tóo-too-ee are coming +to hunt. But they will not kill us; all they wish is to take you. +They will surround us, intending to let all the antelopes escape +from the circle. You must follow me where I break through the line, +and your real mother will be coming on the northeast side in a white +_manta_ (robe). I will pass close to her, and you must stagger and +fall where she can catch you.” + +On the fourth day all the people went out upon the plains. They +found and surrounded the herd of antelopes, which ran about in a +circle when the hunters closed upon them. The circle grew smaller, +and the antelopes began to break through; but the hunters paid no +attention to them, keeping their eyes upon the boy. At last he and +his antelope mother were the only ones left, and when she broke +through the line on the northeast he followed her and fell at the +feet of his own human mother, who sprang forward and clasped him in +her arms. + +Amid great rejoicing he was taken to Nah-bah-tóo-too-ee, and there he +told the _principales_[7] how he had been left in the cave, how the +Coyote had pitied him, and how the Mother-Antelope had reared him as +her own son. + + [7] The old men who are the congress of the pueblo. + +It was not long before all the country round about heard of the +Antelope Boy and of his marvelous fleetness of foot. You must know +that the antelopes never comb their hair, and while among them +the boy’s head had grown very bushy. So the people called him +_Pée-hleh-o-wah-wée-deh_ (big-headed little boy). + + [Illustration: THE COYOTE CARRIES THE BABY TO THE ANTELOPE + MOTHER.] + +Among the other villages that heard of his prowess was +Nah-choo-rée-too-ee, all of whose people “had the bad road.”[8] They +had a wonderful runner named _Pée-k’hoo_ (Deer-foot), and very soon +they sent a challenge to Nah-bah-tóo-too-ee for a championship race. +Four days were to be given for preparation, to make bets, and the +like. The race was to be around the world.[9] Each village was to +stake all its property and the lives of all its people on the result +of the race. So powerful were the witches of Nah-choo-rée-too-ee that +they felt safe in proposing so serious a stake; and the people of +Nah-bah-tóo-too-ee were ashamed to decline the challenge. + + [8] That is, were witches. + + [9] The Pueblos believed it was an immense plain whereon the + racers were to race over a square course--to the extreme + east, then to the extreme north, and so on, back to the + starting-point. + +The day came, and the starting-point was surrounded by all the people +of the two villages, dressed in their best. On each side were huge +piles of ornaments and dresses, stores of grain, and all the other +property of the people. The runner for the yellow village was a tall, +sinewy athlete, strong in his early manhood; and when the Antelope +Boy appeared for the other side, the witches set up a howl of +derision, and began to strike their rivals and jeer at them, saying, +“Pooh! We might as well begin to kill you now! What can that _óo-deh_ +(little thing) do?” + + * * * * * + +At the word “_Hái-ko!_” (“Go!”) the two runners started toward +the east like the wind. The Antelope Boy soon forged ahead; but +Deer-foot, by his witchcraft, changed himself into a hawk and flew +lightly over the lad, saying, “_We_ do this way to each other!”[10] +The Antelope Boy kept running, but his heart was very heavy, for he +knew that no feet could equal the swift flight of the hawk. + + [10] A common Indian taunt, either good-natured or bitter, to + the loser of a game or to a conquered enemy. + +But just as he came half-way to the east, a Mole came up from its +burrow and said: + +“My son, where are you going so fast with a sad face?” + +The lad explained that the race was for the property and lives of all +his people; and that the witch-runner had turned to a hawk and left +him far behind. + + [Illustration: RAIN FALLS ON PÉE-K’HOO.] + +“Then, my son,” said the Mole, “I will be he that shall help you. +Only sit down here a little while, and I will give you something to +carry.” + +The boy sat down, and the Mole dived into the hole, but soon came +back with four cigarettes.[11] + + [11] These are made by putting a certain weed called + _pee-én-hleh_ into hollow reeds. + +Holding them out, the Mole said, “Now, my son, when you have reached +the east and turned north, smoke one; when you have reached the north +and turn west, smoke another; when you turn south, another, and when +you turn east again, another. _Hái-ko!_” + +The boy ran on, and soon reached the east. Turning his face to the +north he smoked the first cigarette. No sooner was it finished than +he became a young antelope; and at the same instant a furious rain +began. Refreshed by the cool drops, he started like an arrow from the +bow. Half-way to the north he came to a large tree; and there sat the +hawk, drenched and chilled, unable to fly, and crying piteously. + +“Now, friend, _we_ too do this to each other,” called the +boy-antelope as he dashed past. But just as he reached the north, +the hawk--which had become dry after the short rain--caught up and +passed him, saying, “We too do this to each other!” The boy-antelope +turned westward, and smoked the second cigarette; and at once another +terrific rain began.[12] Half-way to the west he again passed the +hawk shivering and crying in a tree, and unable to fly; but as +he was about to turn to the south, the hawk passed him with the +customary taunt. The smoking of the third cigarette brought another +storm, and again the antelope passed the wet hawk half-way, and +again the hawk dried its feathers in time to catch up and pass him +as he was turning to the east for the home-stretch. Here again the +boy-antelope stopped and smoked a cigarette--the fourth and last. +Again a short, hard rain came, and again he passed the water-bound +hawk half-way. + + [12] I should state, by the way, that the cigarette plays an + important part in the Pueblo folk-stories,--they never had the + pipe of the Northern Indians,--and all rain-clouds are supposed + to come from its smoke. + + [Illustration: “THE TWO RUNNERS CAME SWEEPING DOWN THE + HOME-STRETCH, STRAINING EVERY NERVE.”] + +Knowing the witchcraft of their neighbors, the people of +Nah-bah-tóo-too-ee had made the condition that, in whatever shape +the racers might run the rest of the course, they must resume human +form upon arrival at a certain hill upon the fourth turn, which was +in sight of the goal. The last wetting of the hawk’s feathers delayed +it so that the antelope reached the hill just ahead; and there, +resuming their natural shapes, the two runners came sweeping down +the home-stretch, straining every nerve. But the Antelope Boy gained +at each stride. When they saw him, the witch-people felt confident +that he was their champion, and again began to push, and taunt, and +jeer at the others. But when the little Antelope Boy sprang lightly +across the line, far ahead of Deer-foot, their joy turned to mourning. + +The people of Nah-bah-tóo-too-ee burned all the witches upon the +spot, in a great pile of corn; but somehow one escaped, and from him +come all the witches that trouble us to this day. + +The property of the witches was taken to Nah-bah-tóo-too-ee; and as +it was more than that village could hold, the surplus was sent to +Shee-eh-whíb-bak (Isleta), where we enjoy it to this day; and later +the people themselves moved here. And even now, when we dig in that +little hill on the other side of the _charco_ (pool), we find charred +corn-cobs, where our forefathers burned the witch-people of the +yellow village. + +During Lorenso’s story the black eyes of the boys have never left +his face; and at every pause they have made the customary response, +“Is that so?” to show their attention; while the old men have nodded +approbation, and smoked in deep silence. + +Now Lorenso turns to Desiderio,[13] who is far more wrinkled even +than he, and says, “You have a tail, brother.” And Desiderio, +clearing his throat and making a new cigarette with great +impressiveness, begins: “My sons, do you know why the Coyote and the +Crows are always at war? No? Then I will tell you.” + + [13] Pronounced Day-see-dáy-ree-oh. + + + + +II + +THE COYOTE AND THE CROWS + + +ONCE on a time many Káh-ahn lived in the edge of some woods. A little +out into the plain stood a very large tree, with much sand under it. +One day a Coyote was passing, and heard the Crows singing and dancing +under this tree, and came up to watch them. They were dancing in a +circle, and each Crow had upon his back a large bag. + +“Crow-friends, what are you doing?” asked the Coyote, who was much +interested. + +“Oh, we are dancing with our mothers,” said the Crows. + +“How pretty! And will you let me dance, too?” asked the Coyote of the +_too-whit-lah-wid-deh_ crow (captain of the dance). + +“Oh, yes,” replied the Crow. “Go and put your mother in a bag and +come to the dance.” + +The Coyote went running home. There his old mother was sitting in +the corner of the fireplace. The stupid Coyote picked up a stick and +struck her on the head, and put her in a bag, and hurried back to the +dance with her. + +The Crows were dancing merrily, and singing: “_Ai nana, que-ée-rah, +que-ée-rah_.” (“Alas, Mama! you are shaking, you are shaking!”) The +Coyote joined the dance, with the bag on his back, and sang as the +Crows did: + +“_Ai nana, que-ée-rah, que-ée-rah_.”[14] + + [14] _Ai nana_ is an exclamation always used by mourners. + +But at last the Crows burst out laughing, and said, “What do you +bring in your bag?” + +“My mother, as you told me,” replied the Coyote, showing them. + +Then the Crows emptied their bags, which were filled with nothing but +sand, and flew up into the tree, laughing. + +The Coyote then saw that they had played him a trick, and started +home, crying “_Ai nana!_” When he got home he took his mother from +the bag and tried to set her up in the chimney-corner, always crying, +“_Ai nana_, why don’t you sit up as before?” But she could not, for +she was dead. When he found that she could not sit up any more, he +vowed to follow the Crows and eat them all the rest of his life; and +from that day to this he has been hunting them, and they are always +at war. + +As Desiderio concludes, the old men hitch their blankets around their +shoulders. “No more stories to-night?” I ask; and Lorenso says: + +“_In-dáh_ (no). Now it is to go to bed. _Tóo-kwai_ (come),” to the +boys. “Good night, friends. Another time, perhaps.” + +And we file out through the low door into the starry night. + + + + +III + +THE WAR-DANCE OF THE MICE + + +TO-NIGHT it is withered Diego[15] who begins with his story, in the +musical but strange Tée-wahn tongue, of “Shée-choon t’o-ah-fuar.” +Serious as that looks, it means only “the war-dance of the Mice.” + + [15] Pronounced Dee-áy-go. + +Once upon a time there was war between the people of Isleta and +the Mice. There was a great battle, in which the Tée-wahn killed +many Mice and took their scalps. Then the Tée-wahn returned to +their village, and the warriors went into the _estufa_ (sacred +council-chamber) to prepare themselves by fasting for the great +scalp-dance in twelve days. While the warriors were sitting inside, +the Mice came secretly by night to attack the town, and their spies +crept up to the _estufa_. When all the Tée-wahn warriors had fallen +asleep, the Mice came stealing down the big ladder into the room, and +creeping from sleeper to sleeper, they gnawed every bowstring and cut +the feathers from the arrows and the strap of every sling. When this +was done, the Mice raised a terrible war-whoop and rushed upon the +warriors, brandishing their spears. The Tée-wahn woke and caught up +their bows and arrows, but only to find them useless. So the warriors +could do nothing but run from their tiny foes, and up the ladder +to the roof they rushed pell-mell and thence fled to their homes, +leaving the Mice victorious. + +The rest of the town made such fun of the warriors that they refused +to return to the fight; and the elated Mice held a public dance +in front of the _estufa_. A brave sight it was, the army of these +little people, singing and dancing and waving their spears. They were +dressed in red blankets, with leather leggings glistening with silver +buttons from top to bottom, and gay moccasins. Each had two eagle +feathers tied to the top of his spear--the token of victory. And as +they danced and marched and counter-marched, they sang exultingly: + + _Shée-oh-pah ch’-ót-im! + Neh-máh-hlee-oh ch’-ot-im! + Hló-tu feé-ny p’-óh-teh!_ + +over and over again--which means + + Quick we cut the bowstring! + Quick we cut the sling-strap! + We shaved the arrow-feathers off! + +For four days they danced and sang, and on the night of the fourth +day danced all night around a big bonfire. The next morning they +marched away. That was the time when the Mice conquered men; and that +is the reason why we have never been able to drive the Mice out of +our homes to this day. + +“Is _that_ the reason?” ask all the boys, who have been listening +with big black eyes intent. + +“That is the very reason,” says withered Diego. “Now, _compadre_ +Antonio, there is a tail to you.” + +Antonio, thus called upon, cannot refuse. Indian etiquette is very +strict upon this point--as well as upon all others. So he fishes in +his memory for a story, while the boys turn expectant faces toward +him. He is not nearly so wrinkled as Diego, but he is very, very old, +and his voice is a little tremulous at first. Wrapping his blanket +about him, he begins: + +Then I will tell you why the Coyote and the Blackbirds are +enemies--for once they were very good friends in the old days. + + + + +IV + +THE COYOTE AND THE BLACKBIRDS + + +ONCE upon a time a Coyote lived near an open wood. As he went to +walk one day near the edge of the wood, he heard the Blackbirds (the +Indian name means “seeds of the prairie”) calling excitedly: + +“Bring my bag! Bring my bag! It is going to hail!” + +The Coyote, being very curious, came near and saw that they all had +buckskin bags to which they were tying lassos, the other ends of +which were thrown over the boughs of the trees. Very much surprised, +the Coyote came to them and asked: + +“Blackbird-friends, what are you doing?” + +“Oh, friend Coyote,” they replied, “we are making ourselves ready, +for soon there will be a very hard hail-storm, and we do not wish +to be pelted to death. We are going to get into these bags and pull +ourselves up under the branches, where the hail cannot strike us.” + +“That is very good,” said the Coyote, “and I would like to do so, +too, if you will let me join you.” + +“Oh, yes! Just run home and get a bag and a lasso, and come back here +and we will help you,” said the Pah-táhn, never smiling. + +So the Coyote started running for home, and got a large bag and a +lasso, and came back to the Blackbirds, who were waiting. They fixed +the rope and bag for him, putting the noose around the neck of the +bag so that it would be closed tight when the rope was pulled. Then +they threw the end of the lasso over a strong branch and said: + +“Now, friend Coyote, you get into your bag first, for you are so big +and heavy that you cannot pull yourself up, and we will have to help +you.” + +The Coyote crawled into the bag, and all the Blackbirds taking hold +of the rope, pulled with all their might till the bag was swung clear +up under the branch. Then they tied the end of the lasso around the +tree so the bag could not come down, and ran around picking up all +the pebbles they could find. + +“Mercy! How the hail comes!” they cried excitedly, and began to throw +stones at the swinging bag as hard as ever they could. + +“Mercy!” howled the Coyote, as the pebbles pattered against him. “But +this is a terrible storm, Blackbird-friends! It pelts me dreadfully! +And how are you getting along?” + +“It is truly very bad, friend Coyote,” they answered, “but you are +bigger and stronger than we, and ought to endure it.” And they kept +pelting him, all the time crying and chattering as if they, too, were +suffering greatly from the hail. + +“Ouch!” yelled the Coyote. “That one hit me very near the eye, +friends! I fear this evil storm will kill us all!” + +“But be brave, friend,” called back the Blackbirds. “We keep our +hearts, and so should you, for you are much stronger than we.” And +they pelted him all the harder. + +So they kept it up until they were too tired to throw any more; and +as for the Coyote, he was so bruised and sore that he could hardly +move. Then they untied the rope and let the bag slowly to the ground, +and loosened the noose at the neck and flew up into the trees with +sober faces. + +“Ow!” groaned the Coyote, “I am nearly dead!” And he crawled weeping +and groaning from the bag, and began to lick his bruises. But when +he looked around and saw the sun shining and the ground dry, and not +a hailstone anywhere, he knew that the Blackbirds had given him a +trick, and he limped home in a terrible rage, vowing that as soon as +ever he got well he would follow and eat the Blackbirds as long as he +lived. And ever since, even to this day, he has been following them +to eat them, and that is why the Coyote and the Blackbirds are always +at war. + +“Is that so?” cried all the boys in chorus, their eyes shining like +coals. + +“Oh, yes, that is the cause of the war,” said old Antonio, gravely. +“And now, brother, there is a tail to you,” turning to the tall, +gray-haired Felipe[16]; and clearing his throat, Felipe begins about +the Coyote and the Bear. + + [16] Pronounced Fay-lée-peh. + + + + +V + +THE COYOTE AND THE BEAR[17] + + [17] The Coyote, you must know, is very stupid about some + things; and in almost all Pueblo fairy stories is the victim of + one joke or another. The bear, on the other hand, is one of the + wisest of animals. + + +ONCE upon a time Ko-íd-deh (the Bear) and Too-wháy-deh (the Coyote) +chanced to meet at a certain spot, and sat down to talk. After a +while the Bear said: + +“Friend Coyote, do you see what good land this is here? What do you +say if we farm it together, sharing our labor and the crop?” + +The Coyote thought well of it, and said so; and after talking, they +agreed to plant potatoes in partnership. + +“Now,” said the Bear, “I think of a good way to divide the crop. I +will take all that grows below the ground, and you take all that +grows above it. Then each can take away his share when he is ready, +and there will be no trouble to measure.” + +The Coyote agreed, and when the time came they plowed the place +with a sharp stick and planted their potatoes. All summer they +worked together in the field, hoeing down the weeds with stone hoes +and letting in water now and then from the irrigating-ditch. When +harvest-time came, the Coyote went and cut off all the potato-tops at +the ground and carried them home, and afterward the Bear scratched +out the potatoes from the ground with his big claws and took them to +his house. When the Coyote saw this his eyes were opened, and he said: + +“But this is not fair. You have those round things, which are good to +eat, but what I took home we cannot eat at all, neither my wife nor +I.” + +“But, friend Coyote,” answered the Bear, gravely, “did we not make an +agreement? Then we must stick to it like men.” + +The Coyote could not answer, and went home; but he was not satisfied. + +The next spring, as they met one day, the Bear said: + +“Come, friend Coyote, I think we ought to plant this good land +again, and this time let us plant it in corn. But last year you were +dissatisfied with your share, so this year we will change. You take +what is below the ground for your share, and I will take only what +grows above.” + +This seemed very fair to the Coyote, and he agreed. They plowed +and planted and tended the corn; and when it came harvest-time the +Bear gathered all the stalks and ears and carried them home. When +the Coyote came to dig his share, he found nothing but roots like +threads, which were good for nothing. He was very much dissatisfied; +but the Bear reminded him of their agreement, and he could say +nothing. + +That winter the Coyote was walking one day by the river (the Rio +Grande), when he saw the Bear sitting on the ice and eating a fish. +The Coyote was very fond of fish, and coming up, he said: + +“Friend Bear, where did you get such a fat fish?” + +“Oh, I broke a hole in the ice,” said the Bear, “and fished for them. +There are many here.” And he went on eating, without offering any to +the Coyote. + +“Won’t you show me how, friend?” asked the Coyote, fainting with +hunger at the smell of the fish. + +“Oh, yes,” said the Bear. “It is very easy.” And he broke a hole in +the ice with his paw. “Now, friend Coyote, sit down and let your tail +hang in the water, and very soon you will feel a nibble. But you must +not pull it till I tell you.” + +So the Coyote sat down with his tail in the cold water. Soon the ice +began to form around it, and he called: + +“Friend Bear, I feel a bite! Let me pull him out.” + +“No, no! Not yet!” cried the Bear, “wait till he gets a good hold, +and then you will not lose him.” + +So the Coyote waited. In a few minutes the hole was frozen solid, and +his tail was fast. + +“Now, friend Coyote,” called the Bear, “I think you have him. Pull!” + +The Coyote pulled with all his might, but could not lift his tail +from the ice, and there he was--a prisoner. While he pulled and +howled, the Bear shouted with laughter, and rolled on the ice and +ha-ha’d till his sides were sore. Then he took his fish and went +home, stopping every little to laugh at the thought of the Coyote. + +There on the ice the Coyote had to stay until a thaw liberated him, +and when he got home he was very wet and cold and half starved. And +from that day to this he has never forgiven the Bear, and will not +even speak to him when they meet, and the Bear says, politely, “Good +morning, friend Too-wháy-deh.” + +“Is that so?” cry the boys. + +“That is so,” says Felipe. “But now it is time to go home. +_Tóo-kwai!_” + +The story-telling is over for to-night. Grandmother Reyes is +unrolling the mattresses upon the floor; and with pleasant +“good-nights” we scatter for our homes here and there in the quaint +adobe village. + + + + + [Illustration: THE FIRST OF THE RATTLESNAKES] + +VI + +THE FIRST OF THE RATTLESNAKES + + +“NOW there is a tail to you, _compadre_ [friend],” said old +Desiderio, nodding at Patricio[18] after we had sat awhile in silence +around the crackling fire. + + [18] Pronounced Pah-trée-see-oh. + +Patricio had a broad strip of rawhide across his knee, and was +scraping the hair from it with a dull knife. It was high time to be +thinking of new soles, for already there was a wee hole in the bottom +of each of his moccasins; and as for Benito, his shy little grandson, +_his_ toes were all abroad. + +But shrilly as the cold night-wind outside hinted the wisdom of +speedy cobbling, Patricio had no wish to acquire that burro’s tail, +so, laying the rawhide and knife upon the floor beside him, he +deliberately rolled a modest pinch of the aromatic _koo-ah-rée_ in a +corn-husk, lighted it at the coals, and drew Benito’s tousled head to +his side. + +“You have heard,” he said, with a slow puff, “about Nah-chu-rú-chu, +the mighty medicine-man who lived here in Isleta in the times of the +ancients?” + +“_Ah-h!_” (Yes) cried all the boys. “You have promised to tell us how +he married the moon!” + +“Another time I will do so. But now I shall tell you something that +was before that--for Nah-chu-rú-chu had many strange adventures +before he married Páh-hlee-oh, the Moon-Mother. Do you know why the +rattlesnake--which is the king of all snakes and alone has the power +of death in his mouth--always shakes his _guaje_[19] before he bites?” + + [19] The Pueblo sacred rattle. + +“_Een-dah!_” chorused Ramón and Benito, and Fat Juan, and Tomás,[20] +very eagerly; for they were particularly fond of hearing about the +exploits of the greatest of Tée-wahn medicine-men. + + [20] Pronounced Rah-móhn, Bay-née-toh, Whahn, Toh-máhs. + +“Listen, then, and you shall hear.” + + * * * * * + +In those days Nah-chu-rú-chu had a friend who lived in a pueblo +nearer the foot of the Eagle-Feather Mountain than this, in the Place +of the Red Earth, where still are its ruins; and the two young men +went often to the mountain together to bring wood and to hunt. Now, +Nah-chu-rú-chu had a white heart, and never thought ill; but the +friend had the evil road and became jealous, for Nah-chu-rú-chu was +a better hunter. But he said nothing, and made as if he still loved +Nah-chu-rú-chu truly. + +One day the friend came over from his village and said: + +“Friend Nah-chu-rú-chu, let us go to-morrow for wood and to have a +hunt.” + +“It is well,” replied Nah-chu-rú-chu. Next morning he started very +early and came to the village of his friend; and together they went +to the mountain. When they had gathered much wood, and lashed it in +bundles for carrying, they started off in opposite directions to +hunt. In a short time each returned with a fine fat deer. + +“But why should we hasten to go home, friend Nah-chu-rú-chu?” said +the friend. “It is still early, and we have much time. Come, let us +stop here and amuse ourselves with a game.” + +“It is well, friend,” answered Nah-chu-rú-chu; “but what game shall +we play? For we have neither _pa-toles_, nor hoops, nor any other +game here.” + +“See! we will roll the _mah-khúr_,[21] for while I was waiting for +you I made one that we might play”--and the false friend drew from +beneath his blanket a pretty painted hoop; but really he had made +it at home, and had brought it hidden, on purpose to do harm to +Nah-chu-rú-chu. + + [21] The game of _mah-khúr_, which the Pueblos learned from + the Apaches many centuries ago, is a very simple one, but is + a favorite with all witches as a snare for those whom they + would injure. A small hoop of willow is painted gaily, and has + ornamental buckskin thongs stretched across it from side to + side, spoke-fashion. The challenger to a game rolls the hoop + rapidly past the challenged, who must throw a lance through + between the spokes before it ceases to roll. + + [Illustration: “AS HE CAUGHT THE HOOP HE WAS INSTANTLY CHANGED + INTO A POOR COYOTE!”] + +“Now go down there and catch it when I roll it,” said he; and +Nah-chu-rú-chu did so. But as he caught the hoop when it came +rolling, he was no longer Nah-chu-rú-chu the brave hunter, but a poor +Coyote with great tears rolling down his nose! + +“Hu!” said the false friend, tauntingly, “we do this to each other! +So now you have all the plains to wander over, to the north, and +west, and south; but you can never go to the east. And if you are not +lucky, the dogs will tear you; but if you are lucky, they may have +pity on you. So now good-by, for this is the last I shall ever see of +you.” + +Then the false friend went away, laughing, to his village; and the +poor Coyote wandered aimlessly, weeping to think that he had been +betrayed by the one he had loved and trusted as a brother. For four +days he prowled about the outskirts of Isleta, looking wistfully at +his home. The fierce dogs ran out to tear him; but when they came +near they only sniffed at him, and went away without hurting him. He +could find nothing to eat save dry bones, and old thongs or soles of +moccasins. + +On the fourth day he turned westward, and wandered until he came to +Mesita.[22] There was no town of the Lagunas there then, and only a +shepherd’s hut and corral, in which were an old Quères Indian and his +grandson, tending their goats. + + [22] An outlying colony of Laguna, forty miles from Isleta. + +Next morning when the grandson went out very early to let the goats +from the corral, he saw a Coyote run out from among the goats. It +went off a little way, and then sat down and watched him. The boy +counted the goats, and none were missing, and he thought it strange. +But he said nothing to his grandfather. + +For three more mornings the very same thing happened; and on the +fourth morning the boy told his grandfather. The old man came out, +and set the dogs after the Coyote, which was sitting a little way +off; but when they came near they would not touch him. + +“I suspect there is something wrong here,” said the old shepherd; and +he called: “Coyote, are you coyote-true, or are you people?” + +But the Coyote could not answer; and the old man called again: +“Coyote, are you people?” + +At that the Coyote nodded his head, “Yes.” + +“If that is so, come here and be not afraid of us; for we will be the +ones to help you out of this trouble.” + +So the Coyote came to them and licked their hands, and they gave it +food--for it was dying of hunger. When it was fed, the old man said: + +“Now, son, you are going out with the goats along the creek, and +there you will see some willows. With your mind look at two willows, +and mark them; and to-morrow morning you must go and bring one of +them.” + +The boy went away tending the goats, and the Coyote stayed with the +old man. Next morning, when they awoke very early, they saw all the +earth wrapped in a white _manta_.[23] + + [23] This figure is always used by the Pueblos in speaking of + snow in connection with sacred things. + + [Illustration: “COYOTE, ARE YOU PEOPLE?”] + +“Now, son,” said the old man, “you must wear only your moccasins +and breech-clout, and go like a man to the two willows you marked +yesterday. To one of them you must pray; and then cut the other and +bring it to me.” + +The boy did so and came back with the willow stick. The old man +prayed, and made a _mah-khúr_ hoop; and bidding the Coyote stand a +little way off and stick his head through the hoop before it should +stop rolling, rolled it toward him. The Coyote waited till the hoop +came very close, and gave a great jump and put his head through it +before it could stop. And lo! there stood Nah-chu-rú-chu, young and +handsome as ever; but his beautiful suit of fringed buckskin was all +in rags. For four days he stayed there and was cleansed with the +cleansing of the medicine-man; and then the old shepherd said to him: + +“Now, friend Nah-chu-rú-chu, there is a road.[24] But take with you +this _faja_,[25] for though your power is great, you have submitted +to this evil. When you get home, he who did this to you will be first +to know, and he will come pretending to be your friend, as if he had +done nothing; and he will ask you to go hunting again. So you must +go; and when you come to the mountain, with this _faja_ you shall +repay him.” + + [24] That is, you can go home. + + [25] A fine woven belt, with figures in red and green. + +Nah-chu-rú-chu thanked the kind old shepherd, and started home. But +when he came to the Bad Hill and looked down into the valley of the +Rio Grande, his heart sank. All the grass and fields and trees were +dry and dead--for Nah-chu-rú-chu was the medicine-man who controlled +the clouds, so no rain could fall when he was gone; and the eight +days he had been a Coyote were in truth eight years. The river was +dry, and the springs; and many of the people were dead from thirst, +and the rest were dying. But as Nah-chu-rú-chu came down the hill, it +began to rain again, and all the people were glad. + +When he came into the pueblo, all the famishing people came out to +welcome him. And soon came the false friend, making as if he had +never bewitched him nor had known whither he disappeared. + +In a few days the false friend came again to propose a hunt; and +next morning they went to the mountain together. Nah-chu-rú-chu had +the pretty _faja_ wound around his waist; and when the wind blew his +blanket aside, the other saw it. + +“Ay! What a pretty _faja_!” cried the false friend. “Give it to me, +friend Nah-chu-rú-chu.” + +“_Een-dah!_” (No) said Nah-chu-rú-chu. But the false friend begged so +hard that at last he said: + +“Then I will roll it to you; and if you can catch it before it +unwinds, you may have it.” + +So he wound it up,[26] and holding by one end gave it a push so that +it ran away from him, unrolling as it went. The false friend jumped +for it, but it was unrolled before he caught it. + + [26] Like a roll of tape. + +“_Een-dah!_” said Nah-chu-rú-chu, pulling it back. “If you do not +care enough for it to be spryer than that, you cannot have it.” + + [Illustration: “AS HE SEIZED IT HE WAS CHANGED FROM A TALL + YOUNG MAN INTO A GREAT RATTLESNAKE.”] + +The false friend begged for another trial; so Nah-chu-rú-chu +rolled it again. This time the false friend caught it before it was +unrolled; and lo! instead of a tall young man, there lay a great +rattlesnake with tears rolling from his lidless eyes! + +“We, too, do this to each other!” said Nah-chu-rú-chu. He took from +his medicine-pouch a pinch of the sacred meal and laid it on the +snake’s flat head for its food; and then a pinch of the corn-pollen +to tame it.[27] And the snake ran out its red forked tongue, and +licked them. + + [27] This same spell is still used here by the _Hee-but-hái_, + or snake-charmers. + +“Now,” said Nah-chu-rú-chu, “this mountain and all rocky places shall +be your home. But you can never again do to another harm, without +warning, as you did to me. For see, there is a _guaje_[28] in your +tail, and whenever you would do any one an injury, you must warn them +beforehand with your rattle.” + + [28] Pronounced Gwáh-heh. + +“And is that the reason why Ch’ah-rah-ráh-deh always rattles to give +warning before he bites?” asked Fat Juan, who is now quite as often +called Juan Biscocho (John Biscuit), since I photographed him one day +crawling out of the big adobe bake-oven where he had been hiding. + +“That is the very reason. Then Nah-chu-rú-chu left his false friend, +from whom all the rattlesnakes are descended, and came back to his +village. From that time all went well with Isleta, for Nah-chu-rú-chu +was at home again to attend to the clouds. There was plenty of rain, +and the river began to run again, and the springs flowed. The people +plowed and planted again, as they had not been able to do for several +years, and all their work prospered. As for the people who lived in +the Place of the Red Earth, they all moved down here,[29] because the +Apaches were very bad; and here their descendants live to this day.” + + [29] It is a proved fact that there was such a migration. + +“Is that so?” sighed all the boys in chorus, sorry that the story was +so soon done. + +“That is so,” replied old Patricio. “And now, _compadre_ Antonio, +there is a tail to you.” + +“Well, then, I will tell a story which they showed me in Taos[30] +last year,” said the old man. + + [30] The most northern of the Pueblo cities. Its people are + also Tée-wahn. + +“Ah-h!” said the boys. + +“It is about the Coyote and the Woodpecker.” + + + + +VII + +THE COYOTE AND THE WOODPECKER + + +WELL, once upon a time a Coyote and his family lived near the +edge of a wood. There was a big hollow tree there, and in it +lived an old Woodpecker and his wife and children. One day as the +Coyote-father was strolling along the edge of the forest he met the +Woodpecker-father. + +“_Hin-no-kah-kée-ma_” (Good evening), said the Coyote; “how do you do +to-day, friend Hloo-rée-deh?” + +“Very well, thank you; and how are you, friend Too-wháy-deh?” + +So they stopped and talked together awhile; and when they were about +to go apart the Coyote said: + +“Friend Woodpecker, why do you not come as friends to see us? Come to +our house to supper this evening, and bring your family.” + +“Thank you, friend Coyote,” said the Woodpecker; “we will come with +joy.” + + [Illustration: THE COYOTES AT SUPPER WITH THE WOODPECKERS.] + +So that evening, when the Coyote-mother had made supper ready, there +came the Woodpecker-father and the Woodpecker-mother with their +three children. When they had come in, all five of the Woodpeckers +stretched themselves as they do after flying, and by that showed +their pretty feathers--for the Hloo-rée-deh has yellow and red marks +under its wings. While they were eating supper, too, they sometimes +spread their wings, and displayed their bright under-side. They +praised the supper highly, and said the Coyote-mother was a perfect +housekeeper. When it was time to go, they thanked the Coyotes very +kindly and invited them to come to supper at their house the +following evening. But when they were gone, the Coyote-father could +hold himself no longer, and he said: + +“Did you see what airs those Woodpeckers put on? Always showing off +their bright feathers? But I want them to know that the Coyotes are +equal to them. _I’ll_ show them!” + +Next day, the Coyote-father had all his family at work bringing wood, +and built a great fire in front of his house. When it was time to go +to the house of the Woodpeckers he called his wife and children to +the fire, and lashed a burning stick under each of their arms, with +the burning end pointing forward; and then he fixed himself in the +same way. + +“Now,” said he, “we will show them! When we get there, you must lift +up your arms now and then, to show them that we are as good as the +Woodpeckers.” + +When they came to the house of the Woodpeckers and went in, all the +Coyotes kept lifting their arms often, to show the bright coals +underneath. But as they sat down to supper, one Coyote-girl gave a +shriek and said: + +“Oh, _tata_! My fire is burning me!” + +“Be patient, my daughter,” said the Coyote-father, severely, “and do +not cry about little things.” + +“Ow!” cried the other Coyote-girl in a moment, “my fire has gone out!” + +This was more than the Coyote-father could stand, and he reproved her +angrily. + +“But how is it, friend Coyote,” said the Woodpecker, politely, “that +your colors are so bright at first, but very soon become black?” + +“Oh, that is the beauty of our colors,” replied the Coyote, +smothering his rage; “that they are not always the same--like other +people’s--but turn all shades.” + +But the Coyotes were very uncomfortable, and made an excuse to hurry +home as soon as they could. When they got there, the Coyote-father +whipped them all for exposing him to be laughed at. But the +Woodpecker-father gathered his children around him, and said: + +“Now, my children, you see what the Coyotes have done. Never in your +life try to appear what you are not. Be just what you really are, and +put on no false colors.” + + * * * * * + +“Is that so?” cried the boys. + +“That is so; and it is as true for people as for birds. Now, +_tóo-kwai_--for it is bedtime.” + + + + + [Illustration: THE MAN WHO MARRIED THE MOON] + +VIII + +THE MAN WHO MARRIED THE MOON + + +AMONG the principal heroes of the Tée-wahn folk-lore, I hear of none +more frequently in the winter story-tellings to which my aboriginal +neighbors admit me, than the mighty Nah-chu-rú-chu. To this day his +name, which means “The Bluish Light of Dawn,” is deeply revered by +the quaint people who claim him as one of their forefathers. He had +no parents, for he was created by the Trues themselves, and by them +was given such extraordinary powers as were second only to their own. +His wonderful feats and startling adventures--as still related by +the believing Isleteños--would fill a volume. One of these fanciful +myths has interested me particularly, not only for its important +bearing on certain ethnological matters, but for its intrinsic +qualities as well. It is a thoroughly characteristic leaf from the +legendary lore of the Southwest. + +Long before the first Spaniards came to New Mexico (and _that_ was +three hundred and fifty years ago) Isleta stood where it stands +to-day--on a lava ridge that defies the gnawing current of the Rio +Grande.[31] In those far days, Nah-chu-rú-chu dwelt in Isleta, and +was a leader of his people. A weaver by trade,[32] his rude loom hung +from the dark rafters of his room; and in it he wove the strong black +_mantas_ which are the dress of Pueblo women to this day. + + [31] Bandelier has published a contrary opinion, to which I do + not think he would now cling. The folk-lore and the very name + of the town fully prove to me that its site has not changed in + historic times. + + [32] In the ancient days, weaving was practised only by the + men, among the Pueblos. This old usage is now reversed, and it + is the women who weave, except in the pueblos of Moqui. + +Besides being very wise in medicine, Nah-chu-rú-chu was young, and +tall, and strong, and handsome; and all the girls of the village +thought it a shame that he did not care to take a wife. For him the +shyest dimples played, for him the whitest teeth flashed out, as the +owners passed him in the plaza; but he had no eyes for them. Then, +in the naïve custom of the Tée-wahn, bashful fingers worked wondrous +fringed shirts of buckskin, or gay awl-sheaths, which found their way +to his house by unknown messengers--each as much as to say, “She +who made this is yours, if you will have her.” But Nah-chu-rú-chu +paid no more attention to the gifts than to the smiles, and just kept +weaving and weaving such _mantas_ as were never seen in the land of +the Tée-wahn before or since. + +The most persistent of his admirers were two sisters who were called +_Ee-eh-chóo-ri-ch’áhm-nin_--the Yellow-Corn-Maidens. They were both +young and pretty, but they “had the evil road”--which is the Indian +way of saying that they were possessed of a magic power which they +always used for ill. When all the other girls gave up, discouraged at +Nah-chu-rú-chu’s indifference, the Yellow-Corn-Maidens kept coming +day after day, trying to attract him. At last the matter became +such a nuisance to Nah-chu-rú-chu that he hired the deep-voiced +town-crier to go through all the streets and announce that in four +days Nah-chu-rú-chu would choose a wife. + +For dippers, to take water from the big earthen _tinajas_, the +Tée-wahn used then, as they use to-day, queer little ladle-shaped +_omates_ made of a gourd; but Nah-chu-rú-chu, being a great +medicine-man and very rich, had a dipper of pure pearl, shaped like +the gourds, but wonderfully precious. + +“On the fourth day,” proclaimed the crier, “Nah-chu-rú-chu will hang +his pearl _omate_ at his door, where every girl who will may throw a +handful of corn-meal at it. And she whose meal is so well ground that +it sticks to the _omate_, she shall be the wife of Nah-chu-rú-chu!” + +When this strange news came rolling down the still evening air, there +was a great scampering of little moccasined feet. The girls ran out +from hundreds of gray adobe houses to catch every word; and when the +crier had passed on, they ran back into the store-rooms and began +to ransack the corn-bins for the biggest, evenest, and most perfect +ears. Shelling the choicest, each took her few handfuls of kernels +to the sloping _metate_,[33] and with the _mano_, or hand-stone, +scrubbed the grist up and down, and up and down, till the hard corn +was a soft, blue meal. All the next day, and the next, and the next, +they ground it over and over again, until it grew finer than ever +flour was before; and every girl felt sure that her meal would stick +to the _omate_ of the handsome young weaver. The Yellow-Corn-Maidens +worked hardest of all; day and night for four days they ground and +ground, with all the magic spells they knew. + + [33] The slab of lava which still serves as a hand-mill in + Pueblo houses. + + [Illustration: THE ISLETA GIRLS GRINDING CORN WITH THE “MANO” + ON THE “METATE.”] + +Now, in those far-off days the Moon had not gone up into the sky +to live, but was a maiden of Shee-eh-whíb-bak. And a very beautiful +girl she was, though blind of one eye. She had long admired +Nah-chu-rú-chu, but was always too maidenly to try to attract his +attention as other girls had done; and at the time when the crier +made his proclamation, she happened to be away at her father’s ranch. +It was only upon the fourth day that she returned to town, and in a +few moments the girls were to go with their meal to test it upon the +magic dipper. The two Yellow-Corn-Maidens were just coming from their +house as she passed, and told her of what was to be done. They were +very confident of success, and told the Moon-girl only to pain her; +and laughed derisively as she went running to her home. + + [Illustration: THE MOON-MAIDEN.] + +By this time a long file of girls was coming to Nah-chu-rú-chu’s +house, outside whose door hung the pearl _omate_. Each girl carried +in her left hand a little jar of meal; and as they passed the door +one by one, each took from the jar a handful and threw it against +the magic dipper. But each time the meal dropped to the ground, and +left the pure pearl undimmed and radiant as ever. + +At last came the Yellow-Corn-Maidens, who had waited to watch +the failure of the others. As they came where they could see +Nah-chu-rú-chu sitting at his loom, they called: “Ah! Here we have +the meal that will stick!” and each threw a handful at the _omate_. +But it did not stick at all; and still from his seat Nah-chu-rú-chu +could see, in that mirror-like surface, all that went on outside. + +The Yellow-Corn-Maidens were very angry, and instead of passing on as +the others had done, they stood there and kept throwing and throwing +at the _omate_, which smiled back at them with undiminished luster. + +Just then, last of all, came the Moon, with a single handful of meal +which she had hastily ground. The two sisters were in a fine rage by +this time, and mocked her, saying: + +“Hoh! _P’áh-hlee-oh_,[34] you poor thing, we are very sorry for you! +Here we have been grinding our meal four days and still it will not +stick, and you we did not tell till to-day. How, then, can you ever +hope to win Nah-chu-rú-chu? Pooh, you silly little thing!” + + [34] Tée-wahn name of the moon; literally, “Water-Maiden.” + +But the Moon paid no attention whatever to their taunts. Drawing back +her little dimpled hand, she threw the meal gently against the pearl +_omate_, and so fine was it ground that every tiniest bit of it clung +to the polished shell, and not a particle fell to the ground. + + [Illustration: THE YELLOW-CORN-MAIDENS THROWING MEAL AT THE + PEARL “OMATE.”] + +When Nah-chu-rú-chu saw that, he rose up quickly from his loom and +came and took the Moon by the hand, saying, “You are she who shall be +my wife. You shall never want for anything, since I have very much.” +And he gave her many beautiful _mantas_, and cotton wraps, and fat +boots of buckskin that wrap round and round, that she might dress as +the wife of a rich chief. But the Yellow-Corn-Maidens, who had seen +it all, went away vowing vengeance on the Moon. + +Nah-chu-rú-chu and his sweet Moon-wife were very happy together. +There was no other such housekeeper in all the pueblo as she, and +no other hunter brought home so much buffalo-meat from the vast +plains to the east, nor so many antelopes, and black-tailed deer, +and jack-rabbits from the Manzanos as did Nah-chu-rú-chu. But he +constantly was saying to her: + +“Moon-wife, beware of the Yellow-Corn-Maidens, for they have the evil +road and will try to do you harm, but you must always refuse to do +whatever they propose.” And always the young wife promised. + +One day the Yellow-Corn-Maidens came to the house and said: + +“Friend Nah-chu-rú-chu, we are going to the _llano_[35] to gather +_amole_.[36] Will you not let your wife go with us?” + + [35] Plain. + + [36] The soapy root of the palmilla, used for washing. + +“Oh, yes, she may go,” said Nah-chu-rú-chu; but taking her aside, he +said, “Now be sure that you refuse whatever they may propose.” + +The Moon promised, and started away with the Yellow-Corn-Maidens. + +In those days there was only a thick forest of cottonwoods where are +now the smiling vineyards, and gardens, and orchards of Isleta, and +to reach the _llano_ the three women had to go through this forest. +In the very center of it they came to a deep _pozo_--a square well, +with steps at one side leading down to the water’s edge. + +“Ay!” said the Yellow-Corn-Maidens, “how hot and thirsty is our walk! +Come, let us get a drink of water.” + +But the Moon, remembering her husband’s words, said politely that she +did not wish to drink. They urged in vain, but at last, looking down +into the _pozo_, called: + +“Oh, Moon-friend! Come and look in this still water, and see how +pretty you are!” + +The Moon, you must know, has always been just as fond of looking +at herself in the water as she is to this very day, and forgetting +Nah-chu-rú-chu’s warning, she came to the brink, and looked down upon +her fair reflection. But at that very moment, the two witch-sisters +pushed her head foremost into the _pozo_, and drowned her; and then +filled the well with earth, and went away as happy as wicked hearts +can be. + + * * * * * + +Nah-chu-rú-chu began to look oftener from his loom to the door as +the sun crept along the adobe floor, closer and closer to his seat; +and when the shadows were very long, he sprang suddenly to his feet, +and walked to the house of the Yellow-Corn-Maidens with long, strong +strides. + +“_Ee-eh-chóo-ri-ch’áhm-nin_,” he said, very sternly, “where is my +little wife?” + +“Why, isn’t she at home?” asked the wicked sisters as if in great +surprise. “She got enough _amole_ long before we did, and started +home with it. We supposed she had come long ago.” + +“Ah,” groaned Nah-chu-rú-chu within himself; “it is as I +thought--they have done her ill.” But without a word to them he +turned on his heel and went away. + +From that hour all went ill with Isleta, for Nah-chu-rú-chu held +the well-being of all his people, even unto life and death. Paying +no attention to what was going on about him, he sat motionless upon +the very crosspiece of the _estufa_ ladder--the highest point in +all the town--with his head bowed upon his hands. There he sat for +days, never speaking, never moving. The children that played along +the streets looked up to the motionless figure, and ceased their +boisterous play. The old men shook their heads gravely, and muttered: +“We are in evil times, for Nah-chu-rú-chu is mourning, and will not +be comforted. And there is no more rain, so that our crops are drying +in the fields. What shall we do?” + +At last all the councilors met together, and decided that there must +be another effort made to find the lost wife. It was true that the +great Nah-chu-rú-chu had searched for her in vain, and the people had +helped him; but perhaps some one else might be more fortunate. So +they took some of the sacred smoking-weed wrapped in a corn-husk and +went to Shée-wid-deh, who has the sharpest eyes in all the world. +Giving him the sacred gift they said: + +“Eagle-friend, we see Nah-chu-rú-chu in great trouble, for he has +lost his Moon-wife. Come, search for her, we pray you, if she be +alive or dead.” + +So the Eagle took the offering, and smoked the smoke-prayer; and then +he went winging upward into the very sky. Higher and higher he rose, +in great upward circles, while his keen eyes noted every stick, and +stone, and animal on the face of all the world. But with all his +eyes, he could see nothing of the lost wife; and at last he came back +sadly, and said: + +“People-friends, I went up to where I could see the whole world, but +I could not find her.” + +Then the people went with an offering to the Coyote, whose nose is +sharpest in all the world; and besought him to try to find the Moon. +The Coyote smoked the smoke-prayer, and started off with his nose to +the ground, trying to find her tracks. He trotted all over the earth; +but at last he too came back without finding what he sought. + +Then the troubled people got the Badger to search, for he is best of +all the beasts at digging--and he it was whom the Trues employed to +dig the caves in which the people first dwelt when they came to this +world. The Badger trotted and pawed, and dug everywhere, but he could +not find the Moon; and he came home very sad. + +Then they asked the Osprey, who can see farthest under water, and +he sailed high above all the lakes and rivers in the world, till he +could count the pebbles and the fish in them, but he too failed to +discover the lost Moon. + + [Illustration: THE GRIEF OF NAH-CHU-RÚ-CHU.] + +By now the crops were dead and sere in the fields, and thirsty +animals walked crying along the dry river. Scarcely could the people +themselves dig deep enough to find so much water as would keep them +alive. They were at a loss which way to turn; but at last they +thought: We will go to P’ah-kú-ee-teh-áy-deh,[37] who can find the +dead--for surely she is dead, or the others would have found her. + + [37] Turkey-buzzard; literally, “water-goose-grandfather.” + +So they went to him and besought him. The Turkey-buzzard wept when +he saw Nah-chu-rú-chu still sitting there upon the ladder, and said: +“Truly it is sad for our great friend; but for me, I am afraid to +go, since they who are more mighty than I have already failed; but +I will try.” And spreading his broad wings he went climbing up the +spiral ladder of the sky. Higher he wheeled, and higher, till at last +not even the Eagle could see him. Up and up, till the hot sun began +to singe his head, and not even the Eagle had ever been so high. He +cried with pain, but still he kept mounting--until he was so close to +the sun that all the feathers were burned from his head and neck. But +he could see nothing; and at last, frantic with the burning, he came +wheeling downward. When he got back to the _estufa_ where all the +people were waiting, they saw that his head and neck had been burnt +bare of feathers--and from that day to this the feathers would never +grow out again. + +“And did you see nothing?” they all asked, when they had bathed his +burns. + +“Nothing,” he answered, “except that when I was half-way down I saw +in the middle of yon cottonwood forest a little mound covered with +all the beautiful flowers in the world.” + +“Oh!” cried Nah-chu-rú-chu, speaking for the first time. “Go, friend, +and bring me one flower from the very middle of that mound.” + +Off flew the Buzzard, and in a few minutes returned with a little +white flower. Nah-chu-rú-chu took it, and descending from the ladder +in silence, walked to his house, while all the wondering people +followed. + +When Nah-chu-rú-chu came inside his home once more, he took a new +_manta_ and spread it in the middle of the room; and laying the wee +white flower tenderly in its center, he put another new _manta_ above +it. Then, dressing himself in the splendid buckskin suit the lost +wife had made him, and taking in his right hand the sacred _guaje_ +(rattle), he seated himself at the head of the _mantas_ and sang: + + “_Shú-nah, shú-nah! + Aí-ay-ay, aí-ay-ay, aí-ay-ay!_” + + (Seeking her, seeking her! + There-away, there-away!) + +When he had finished the song, all could see that the flower had +begun to grow, so that it lifted the upper _manta_ a little. Again +he sang, shaking his gourd; and still the flower kept growing. Again +and again he sang; and when he had finished for the fourth time, it +was plain to all that a human form lay between the two _mantas_. And +when he sang his song the fifth time, the form sat up and moved. +Tenderly he lifted away the over-cloth, and there sat his sweet +Moon-wife, fairer than ever, and alive as before![38] + + [38] Nah-chu-rú-chu’s incantation followed the exact form + still used by the Indian conjurors of the Southwest in their + wonderful trick of making corn grow and mature from the kernel + in one day. + +For four days the people danced and sang in the public square. +Nah-chu-rú-chu was happy again; and now the rain began to fall. The +choked earth drank and was glad and green, and the dead crops came to +life. + +When his wife told him how the witch-sisters had done, he was very +angry; and that very day he made a beautiful hoop to play the +_mah-khúr_. He painted it, and put strings across it, decorated with +beaded buckskin. + +“Now,” said he, “the wicked Yellow-Corn-Maidens will come to +congratulate you, and will pretend not to know where you were. You +must not speak of that, but invite them to go out and play a game +with you.” + +In a day or two the witch-sisters did come, with deceitful words; +and the Moon invited them to go out and play a game. They went up to +the edge of the _llano_, and there she let them get a glimpse of the +pretty hoop. + +“Oh, give us that, Moon-friend,” they teased. But she refused. At +last, however, she said: + +“Well, we will play the hoop-game. I will stand here, and you there; +and if, when I roll it to you, you catch it before it falls upon its +side, you may have it.” + +So the witch-sisters stood a little way down the hill, and she +rolled the bright hoop. As it came trundling to them, both grasped +it at the same instant; and lo! instead of the Yellow-Corn-Maidens, +there were two great snakes, with tears rolling down ugly faces. The +Moon came and put upon their heads a little of the pollen of the +corn-blossom (still used by Pueblo snake-charmers) to tame them, and +a pinch of the sacred meal for their food. + +“Now,” said she, “you have the reward of treacherous friends. Here +shall be your home among these rocks and cliffs forever, but you must +never be found upon the prairie; and you must never bite a person. +Remember you are women, and must be gentle.” + +And then the Moon went home to her husband, and they were very happy +together. As for the sister snakes, they still dwell where she bade +them, and never venture away; though sometimes the people bring them +to their houses to catch the mice, for these snakes never hurt a +person. + + + + +IX + +THE MOTHER MOON + + +AND do you know why it is that the Moon has but one eye? It is a +short story, but one of the most poetic and beautiful in all the +pretty folk-lore of the Pueblos. + +P’áh-hlee-oh, the Moon-Maiden, was the Tée-wahn Eve[39]--the first +and loveliest woman in all the world. She had neither father nor +mother, sister nor brother; and in her fair form were the seeds of +all humanity--of all life and love and goodness. The Trues, who are +the unseen spirits that are above all, made T’hoor-íd-deh, the Sun, +who was to be father of all things; and because he was alone, they +made for him a companion, the first to be of maids, the first to be a +wife. From them began the world and all that is in it; and all their +children were strong and good. Very happy were the Father-all and the +Mother-all, as they watched their happy brood. He guarded them by day +and she by night--only there _was_ no night, for then the Moon had +two eyes, and saw as clearly as the Sun, and with glance as bright. +It was all as one long day of golden light. The birds flew always, +the flowers never shut, the young people danced and sang, and none +knew how to rest. + + [39] She is honored in almost every detail of the Pueblo + ceremonials. The most important charm or implement of the + medicine-men, the holiest fetish of all, is typical of her. It + is called Mah-pah-róo, the Mother, and is the most beautiful + article a Pueblo ever fashioned. A flawless ear of pure white + corn (a type of fertility or motherhood) is tricked out with a + downy mass of snow-white feathers, and hung with ornaments of + silver, coral, and the precious turquoise. + +But at last the Trues thought better. For the endless light grew +heavy to the world’s young eyes that knew no tender lids of night. +And the Trues said: + +“It is not well, for so there is no sleep, and the world is very +tired. We must not keep the Sun and Moon seeing alike. Let us put +out one of his eyes, that there may be darkness for half the time, +and then his children can rest.” And they called T’hoor-íd-deh and +P’áh-hlee-oh before them to say what must be done. + +But when she heard that, the Moon-Mother wept for her strong and +handsome husband, and cried: + +“No! No! Take my eyes, for my children, but do not blind the Sun! He +is the father, the provider--and how shall he watch against harm, +or how find us game without his bright eyes? Blind me, and keep him +all-seeing.” + +And the Trues said: “It is well, daughter.” And so they took away one +of her eyes, so that she could never see again so well. Then night +came upon the tired earth, and the flowers and birds and people slept +their first sleep, and it was very good. But she who first had the +love of children, and paid for them with pain as mother’s pay, she +did not grow ugly by her sacrifice. Nay, she is lovelier than ever, +and we all love her to this day. For the Trues are good to her, and +gave her in place of the bloom of girlhood the beauty that is only in +the faces of mothers. + + So mother-pale above us + She bends, her watch to keep, + Who of her sight dear-bought the night + To give her children sleep. + + + + +X + +THE MAKER OF THE THUNDER-KNIVES + + +YOU have perhaps seen the beautiful arrow-heads of moss-agate, +petrified wood, or volcanic glass which were used, until very +recently, by the Indians of the Southwest, and are still treasured +by them. At least you are familiar with the commoner flint ones left +by the aboriginal tribes farther eastward. And seeing them, you must +have wondered how they were ever made from such fearfully stubborn +stone--always the very hardest that was accessible to the maker. I +have tried for six hours, with the finest drills, to make a little +hole in the thinnest part of an agate arrow-head, to put it on a +charm-ring; but when the drill and I were completely worn out, there +was not so much as a mark on the arrow-head to show what we had been +doing. If you will take one to your jeweler, he will have as poor +luck. + +But the _making_ of the arrow-heads is really a very simple matter; +and I have fashioned many very fair ones. The only implements are +part of a peculiarly shaped bone--preferably from the thigh of the +elk--and a stick about the size of a lead-pencil, but of double the +diameter. The maker of _puntas_ takes the bone in his left hand; +in his right is the stick, against which the selected splinter of +stone is firmly pressed by the thumb. With a firm, steady pressure +against the sharp edge of the bone, a tiny flake is nicked from the +splinter. Then the splinter is turned, and a nick is similarly made +on the other side, just a little ahead of the first; and so on. It is +by this alternate nicking from opposite sides that the stone-splinter +grows less by tiny flakes, and is shaped by degrees to a perfect +arrow-head. If you will notice the edge of an arrow-head, you will +see plainly that the work was done in this way, for the edge is not +a straight but a wavy line--sometimes even a zigzag, recalling the +manner in which saw-teeth are “set.” + +Every Indian, and every one who has studied the Indian, knows this. +But if I ask one of my brown old _compadres_ here, where he got the +arrow-head which he wears as a charm about his wrinkled neck, he will +not tell me any such story as that. No, indeed! + +Quáh-le-kee-raí-deh, the Horned Toad, gave it to him. So? Oh, yes! He +talked so nicely to a Horned Toad on the mesa[40] the other day, that +the little creature put a _punta_ where he could find it the next +time he went thither. + + [40] Table-land. + +Whenever a Pueblo sees a Quáh-le-kee-raí-deh, he jumps from his +horse or his big farm-wagon, and makes every effort to capture the +_animalito_ before it can reach a hole. If successful, he pulls from +his blanket or his legging-garters a red thread--no other color will +do--and ties it necklace-fashion around the neck of his little +prisoner. Then he invokes all sorts of blessings on the Horned Toad, +assures it of his sincere respect and friendship, begs it to remember +him with a _punta_, and lets it go. Next time he goes to the mesa, +he fully expects to find an arrow-head, and generally _does_ find +one--doubtless because he then searches more carefully on that broad +reach where so many arrow-heads have been lost in ancient wars and +hunts. Finding one, he prays to the Sun-Father and the Moon-Mother +and all his other deities, and returns profound thanks to the Horned +Toad. Some finders put the arrow-head in the pouch which serves +Indians for a pocket.[41] Some wear it as an amulet on the necklace. +In either case, the belief is that no evil spirit can approach the +wearer while he has that charm about him. In fact, it is a sovereign +spell against witches. + + [41] The “left-hand-bag,” _shur-taí-moo_, because it always + hangs from the right shoulder and under the left arm. + +The common belief of the Pueblos is that the Horned Toad makes these +arrow-heads only during a storm, and deposits them at the very +instant when it thunders. For this reason an arrow-head is always +called _Kóh-un-shée-eh_, or thunder-knife. The strange appearance +of this quaint, spiked lizard--which is really not a “hop-toad” at +all--doubtless suggested the notion; for his whole back is covered +with peculiar points which have very much the shape and color of +Indian arrow-heads. + +Quáh-le-kee-raí-deh is a very important personage in the Pueblo +folk-lore. He not only is the inventor and patentee of the arrow-head +and the scalping-knife,[42] but he also invented irrigation, and +taught it to man; and is a general benefactor of our race. + + [42] Which were formerly about the same thing--a large and + sharp-edged arrow-head or similar stone being the only knife of + the Pueblos in prehistoric times. + +There is one very sacred folk-story which tells why boys must never +smoke until they have proved their manhood. Pueblo etiquette is very +strict on all such points.[43] + + [43] See my “Strange Corners of Our Country” (The Century Co.), + chap. xviii. + +Once upon a time there lived in Isleta two boys who were cousins. One +day their grandfather, who was a True Believer (in all the ancient +rites), caught them in a corner smoking the _weer_. Greatly shocked, +he said to them: + +“Sons, I see you want to be men; but you must prove yourselves before +you are thought to be. Know, then, that nobody is born with the +freedom of the smoke, but every one must earn it. So go now, each of +you, and bring me Quée-hla-kú-ee, the skin of the oak.” + +Now, in the talk of men, Quée-hla-kú-ee is another thing; but +the boys did not know. They got their mothers to give them some +tortillas,[44] and with this lunch they started for the Bosque (a +10,000-foot peak twenty miles east of Isleta). Reaching the mountain, +they went to every kind of tree and cut a little piece of its +bark--for they were not sure which was the oak. Then they came home, +very tired, and carried the bark to their grandfather. But when he +had looked at it all he said: + + [44] A cake of unleavened batter cooked on a hot stone. They + look something like a huge flapjack, but are very tough and + keep a long time. + +“Young men, you have not yet proved yourselves. So now it is for you +to go again and look for the _oak_-bark.” + +At this their hearts were heavy, but they took tortillas and started +again. On the way they met an old Horned Toad, who stopped them and +said: + +“Young-men-friends, I know what trouble you are in. Your _tata_ has +sent you for the skin of the oak, but you do not know the oak he +means. But I will be the one to help you. Take these,” and he gave +them two large thunder-knives, “and with these in hand go up that +cañon yonder. In a little way you will see a great many of your +enemies, the Navajos, camping. On the first hill from which you see +their fire, there stop. In time, while you wait there, you will hear +a Coyote howling across the cañon. Then is the time to give your +enemy-yell [war-whoop] and attack them.” + +The boys thanked the Horned Toad and went. Presently they saw the +camp-fire of the Navajos, and waiting till the Coyote called they +gave the enemy-yell and then attacked. They had no weapons except +their thunder-knives, but with these they killed several Navajos, and +the others ran away. In the dark and their hurry they made a mistake +and scalped a woman (which was never customary with the Pueblos). + +Taking their scalps, they hurried home to their grandfather, and +when he saw that they had brought the real oak-skin (which is an +Indian euphemy for “scalp”), he led them proudly to the Cacique, and +the Cacique ordered the T’u-a-fú-ar (scalp-dance). After the inside +days, when the takers of scalps must stay in the _estufa_, was the +dance. And when it came to the round dance at night the two boys were +dancing side by side. + +Then a young woman who was a stranger came and pushed them apart and +danced between them. She was very handsome, and both fell in love +with her. But as soon as their hearts thought of love, a skeleton was +between them in place of the girl--for they who go to war or take a +scalp have no right to think of love. + +They were very frightened, but kept dancing until they were too +tired, and then went to the singers inside the circle to escape. But +the skeleton followed them and stood beside them, and they could not +hide from it. + +At last they began to run away, and went to the east. Many moons they +kept running, but the skeleton was always at their heels. At last +they came to the Sunrise Lake, wherein dwell the Trues of the East. + +The guards let them in, and they told the Trues all that had +happened, and the skeleton stood beside them. The Trues said: “Young +men, if you are men, sit down and we will protect you.” + +But when the boys looked again at the skeleton they could not stop, +but ran away again. Many moons they ran north till they came to where +the Trues of the North dwell in the Black Lake of Tears. + +The Trues of the North promised to defend them, but again the +skeleton came and scared them away; and they ran for many +moons until they came to the Trues of the West, who dwell in +T’hoor-kím-p’ah-whée-ay, the Yellow Lake Where the Sun Sets. And +there the same things happened; and they ran away again to the south, +till they found the Trues of the South in P’ah-chéer-p’ah-whée-ay, +the Lake of Smooth Pebbles. + +But there again it was the same, and again they ran many moons till +they came to the Trues of the Center, who live here in Isleta. And +here the skeleton said to them: + +“Why do you run from me now? For when you were dancing you looked at +me and loved me, but now you run away.” + +But they could not answer her, and ran into the room of the Trues of +the Center, and told their story. Then the Trues gave power to the +Cum-pa-huit-la-wid-deh[45] to see the skeleton,--which no one else +in the world could see, except the Trues and the two young men,--and +said to him: + + [45] Guard at the door of the gods. + +“Shoot this person who follows these two.” + +So the Cum-pa-huit-la-wid-deh shot the skeleton through with an arrow +from the left side to the right side,[46] and took the scalp. + + [46] The only official method of killing a witch, which is one + of the chief duties of the Cum-pa-huit-la-wen. + +That was the end of the skeleton, and the young men were free. And +when the Trues had given them counsel, they came to their people, and +told the Cacique all. He made a new scalp-dance, because they had not +stayed to finish the first one. + +And when the dance was done, they told all the people what had +happened. Then the principals had a meeting and made a rule which is +to this day, that in the twelve days of the scalp[47] no warrior +shall think thoughts of love. + + [47] The period of fasting and purification before and during + the scalp-dance. + +For it was because they had love-thoughts of the Navajo girl that +her skeleton haunted them. And at the same time it was made the law, +which still is, that no one shall smoke till he has taken a scalp to +prove himself a man. + +For if the boys had not been smoking when they had not freedom to, +their grandfather would not have sent them, and all that trouble +would not have come. And that is why. + + + + +XI + +THE STONE-MOVING SONG + + +THE Horned Toad is also a famous musician--a sort of Pueblo Orpheus, +whose song charms the very stones and trees. A short folk-story of +Isleta refers to this. + +One day Quáh-le-kee-raí-deh was working in his field. There were many +very large rocks, and to move them he sang a strong song as he pulled: + + _Yah éh-ah, héh-ah háy-na, + Yah, éh-ah, heh-ah hay-na, + Wha-naí-kee-ay hee-e-wid-deh + Ah-kwe-ée-hee ai-yén-cheh, + Yahb-k’yáy-queer ah-chóo-hee._ + +When he sang this and touched the heaviest stone, it rose up from the +ground, and went over his head and fell far behind him. + +While he worked so, Too-wháy-deh came along; and seeing what +happened, he wished to meddle, as his way is. So he said: + +“Friend Quáh-le-kee-raí-deh, let _me_ do it.” + +“No, friend,” said the Horned Toad. “It is better for every one to do +what he knows, and not to put himself in the work of others.” + +“Do not think so,” answered the Coyote. “For I can do this also. It +is very easy.” + +“It is well, then--but see that you are not afraid; for so it will be +bad.” + +Too-wháy-deh laid off his blanket and took hold of the largest rock +there was, and sang the song. When he sang, the rock rose up in the +air to go over his head; but he, being scared, ducked his head. Then +at once the rock fell on him, and he had no bones left. Then the +Horned Toad laughed, and gave the enemy-yell (war-whoop), saying: “We +do this to one another!” + + + + +XII + +THE COYOTE AND THE THUNDER-KNIFE + + +ANOTHER Isleta myth tells of an equally sad misadventure of the +Coyote. + +Once upon a time an old Coyote-father took a walk away from home; for +in that season of the year his babies were so peevish they would not +let him sleep. It happened that a Locust was making pottery, under a +tree; and every time she moved the molding-spoon around the soft clay +jar, she sang a song. The Coyote, coming near and hearing, thought: +“Now that is the very song I need to put my _óo-un_ to sleep.” And +following the sound he came to the tree, and found Cheech-wée-deh at +work. But she had stopped singing. + +“Locust-friend,” said he, “come teach me that song, so that I can +soothe my children to sleep.” But the Locust did not move to answer; +and he repeated: + +“Locust-friend, come teach me that song.” + +Still she did not answer, and the Coyote, losing his patience, said: + +“Locust, if you don’t teach me that song, I will eat you up!” + +At that, the Locust showed him the song, and he sang with her until +he knew how. + +“Now I know it, thank you,” he said. “So I will go home and sing it +to my children, and they will sleep.” + +So he went. But as he came to a pool, half-way home, a flock of +Afraids-of-the-Water[48] flew up at his very nose, and drove out his +memory. He went looking around, turning over the stones and peeping +in the grass; but he could not find the song anywhere. So he started +back at last to get the Locust to teach him again. + + [48] The ironical Tée-wahn name for ducks. + +But while he was yet far, the Locust saw him, so she shed her skin, +leaving a dry husk, as snakes do, and filled it with sand. Then she +made it to sit up, and put the molding-spoon in its hands, and the +clay jars in front of it; and she herself flew up into the tree. + +Coming, the Coyote said: “Friend Locust, show that song again; for +I got scared, and the song was driven out of me.” But there was no +answer. + +“Hear, Locust! I will ask just once more; and if you do not show me +the song, I’ll swallow you!” + +Still she did not reply; and the Coyote, being angry, swallowed the +stuffed skin, sand, spoon, and all, and started homeward, saying: +“_Now_ I think I have that song in me!” + +But when he was half-way home he stopped and struck himself, and +said: “What a fool, truly! For now I am going home without a song. +But if I had left the Locust alive, and bothered her long enough, she +would have shown me. I think now I will take her out, to see if she +will not sing for me.” + +So he ran all around, hunting for a black thunder-knife,[49] and +singing: + + [49] One of obsidian, or volcanic glass. + + Where can I find Shée-eh-fóon? + Where can I find Shée-eh-fóon? + +At last he found a large piece of the black-rock, and broke it until +he got a knife. He made a mark on his breast with his finger, saying: +“Here I will cut, and take her out.” + +Then he cut. “Mercy!” said he, “but it bites!” He cut again, harder. +“Goodness! but how it bites!” he cried, very loud. And cutting a +third time, he fell down and died. So he did not learn the song of +the pottery-making. + + * * * * * + +The Quères Pueblos have exactly the same folk-story, except that +they make the Horned Toad, instead of the Locust, the music-teacher. +In their version, the Horned Toad, after being swallowed, kills the +Coyote by lifting its spines. Remembering what I have said of the +maker of the thunder-knives, you will readily see the analogy between +this and the obsidian splinter of the Tée-wahn story. It is, indeed, +one of the most characteristic and instructive examples of the manner +in which a folk-story becomes changed. + + + + + [Illustration: THE MAGIC HIDE-AND-SEEK] + +XIII + +THE MAGIC HIDE-AND-SEEK + + +I FANCY I must have been dozing after that hard ride; for when a +far-away, cracked voice that could be none other than Grandfather +Ysidro’s said, “_Kah-whee-cá-me, Lorenso-kaí-deh!_” I started up +so hastily as to bump my head against the whitewashed wall. That +may seem a queer sentence to rouse one so sharply; and especially +when you know what it means. It meant that old Ysidro[50] had just +finished a story, which I had altogether missed, and was now calling +upon the old man next him to tell one, by using the customary Pueblo +saying: + + [50] Pronounced Ee-seé-droh. + +“There is a tail to you, Father Lorenso!” + +_Kah-whee-cá-me_ is what a Teé-wahn Indian always says in such a +case, instead of “Now _you_ tell a story, friend.” It is not intended +as an impolite remark, but merely refers to the firm belief of these +quaint people that if one were to act like a stubborn donkey, and +refuse to tell a story when called on, a donkey’s tail would grow +upon him! + +With such a fate in prospect, you may be sure that the roundabout +invitation thus conveyed is never declined. + +Grandfather Lorenso bows his head gravely, but seems in no haste. +He is indeed impressively deliberate as he slowly makes a cigarette +from a bit of corn-husk and a pinch of tobacco, lights it upon a coal +raked out of the fireplace by his withered fingers, blows a slow puff +eastward, then one to the north, another to the west, a fourth to the +south, one straight above his head, and one down toward the floor. +There is one part of the United States where the compass has _six_ +cardinal points (those I have just named), and that is among these +Indians, and in fact all the others of the Southwest. The cigarette +plays a really important part in many sacred ceremonies of the +Pueblos; for, as I have explained, its collective smoke is thought to +be what makes the rain-clouds and brings the rain; and it is also a +charm against witches. + +Having thus propitiated the divinities who dwell in the directions +named, Lorenso looks about the circle to see if all are listening. +The glance satisfies him--as well it may. There are no heedless eyes +or ears in the audience, of which I am the only white member--and a +very lucky one, in that I, an “Americano,” am allowed to hear these +jealously guarded stories, and to see the silent smoke-prayer which +would never be made if a stranger were present. There are seven agèd +men here, and nine bright-eyed boys--all _Isleteños_ (inhabitants of +Isleta). We are huddled around the fireplace in the corner of the +big, pleasant room, against whose dark rafters and farther white +walls the shadows dance and waver. + +And now, taking a deep puff, Lorenso exclaims: + +“_Nah-t’ hóo-ai!_” (In a house.) It has nothing to do with the story; +but is the prologue to inform the hearers that the story is about to +open. + +“Ah-h-h!” we all responded, which is as much as to say, “We are +listening--go on”; and Lorenso begins his story. + + * * * * * + +Once upon a time there was a Teé-wahn village on the other side of +the mountain, and there lived a man and his wife who thought more +of the future of their children than did the others. To care better +for the children they moved to a little ranch some distance from the +village, and there taught their two little sons all they could. Both +boys loved the outdoors, and games, and hunting; and the parents were +well pleased, saying to each other: + +“Perhaps some day they will be great hunters!” + +By the time the elder boy was twelve and the younger ten, they +both were very expert with the little bows and arrows their father +carefully made them; and already they began to bring home many +rabbits when they were allowed to go a little way from home. There +was only one command their parents gave about their hunts; and that +was that they must never, never go south. They could hunt to the +east, north, and west, but not south. + +Day after day they went hunting, and more and more rabbits they +killed, growing always more expert. + +One day when they had hunted eastward, the elder boy said: + +“Brother, can you say any reason why we must not go south?” + +“I know nothing,” replied the younger, “except what I overheard our +parents saying one day. They spoke of an old woman who lives in the +south who eats children; and for that they said they would never let +us go south.” + +“Pooh!” said the elder, “I think nothing of _that_. The real reason +must be that they wish to save the rabbits in the south, and are +afraid we would kill them all. There must be many rabbits in that +_bosque_ [forest] away down there. Let’s go and see--_they_ won’t +know!” + +The younger boy being persuaded, they started off together, and after +a long walk came to the _bosque_. It was full of rabbits, and they +were having great sport, when suddenly they heard a motherly voice +calling through the woods. In a moment they saw an old woman coming +from the south, who said to the boys: + +“_Mah-kóo-oon_ [grandchildren], what are you doing here, where no one +ever thinks to come?” + +“We are hunting, Grandmother,” they replied. “Our parents would never +let us come south; but to-day we came to see if the rabbits are more +numerous here than above.” + +“Oh!” said the old woman, “this game you see here is _nothing_. Come, +and I will show you where there is much, and you can carry very large +rabbits home to your parents.” But she was deceiving them. + +She had a big basket upon her back, and stooping for the boys to get +into it, she carried them farther and farther into the woods. At last +they came to an old, battered house; and setting the basket down, she +said: + +“Now we have come all the way here, where no one ever came before, +and there is no way out. You can find no trail, and you will have to +stay here contented, or I will eat you up!” + +The boys were much afraid, and said they would stay and be contented. +But the old woman went into the house and told her husband--who +was as wicked as she--to get wood and build a big fire in the +_horno_.[51] All day long the fire burned, and the oven became hotter +than it had ever been. In the evening the old witch-woman raked out +the coals, and calling the boys seized them and forced them into the +fiery oven. + + [51] An outdoor bake-oven, made of clay, and shaped like a + beehive. + + * * * * * + +“_Tahb-kóon-nahm?_” (Is that so?) we all exclaimed--that being the +proper response whenever the narrator pauses a moment. + +“That is so,” replied Lorenso, and went on. + + * * * * * + +Then the old woman put a flat rock over the little door of the oven, +and another over the smoke-hole, and sealed them both tight with +clay. All that night she and her husband were chuckling to think what +a nice breakfast they would have--for both of them were witch-people, +and ate all the children they could find. + +But in the morning when she unsealed the oven, there were the two +boys, laughing and playing together unhurt--for the Wháy-nin[52] had +come to their aid and protected them from the heat. + + [52] “The Trues,” as the Pueblos call their highest divinities. + +Leaving the boys to crawl out, the old woman ran to the house and +scolded the old man terribly for not having made the oven hot enough. +“Go this minute,” she said, “and put in the oven all the wood that it +will hold, and keep it burning all day!” + +When night came, the old woman cleaned the oven, which was twice as +hot as before; and again she put in the boys and sealed it up. But +the next morning the boys were unhurt and went to playing. + +The witch-woman was very angry then; and giving the boys their bows +and arrows, told them to go and play. She stayed at home and abused +the old witch-man all day for a poor fire-maker. + +When the boys returned in the evening, she said: + +“To-morrow, grandchildren, we will play _Nah-oo-p’ah-chée_ +(hide-and-seek), and the one who is found three times by the other +shall pay his life.” + +The boys agreed,[53] and secretly prayed to the Trues to help +them--for by this time they knew that the old man and the old woman +“had the bad road.” + + [53] For such a challenge, which was once a common one with the + Indians, could not possibly be declined. + + [Illustration] + +The next day came; and very soon the old woman called them to begin +the game. The boys were to hide first; and when the old woman had +turned her eyes and vowed not to look, they went to the door and hid, +one against each of its jambs. There you could look and look, and +see the wood through them--for the Trues, to help them, made them +invisible. When they were safely hidden they whooped, “_Hee-táh!_” +and the old woman began to hunt, singing the hide-and-seek song: + + _Hee-táh yahn + Hee choo-ah-kóo + Mee, mee, mee?_ + + (Now, now, + Which way + Went they, went they, went they?) + +After hunting some time she called: + +“You little fellows are on the door-posts. Come out!” + +So the boys came out and “made blind” (covered their eyes) while the +old woman went to hide. There was a pond close by, with many ducks on +it; and making herself very little, she went and hid under the left +wing of the duck with a blue head.[54] + + [54] I should tell you that, being a witch, she could not + possibly have gone under the right wing. Everything that is to + the left belongs to the witches. + +When they heard her “_Hee-táh!_” the boys went searching and singing; +and at last the elder cried out: + +“Old woman, you are under the left wing of the whitest duck on the +lake--the one with the blue head. Come out!” + +This time the boys made themselves small and crawled into the quivers +beside their bows and arrows. The old woman had to sing her song over +a great many times, as she went hunting all around; but at last she +called: + +“Come out of the quivers where you are!” + +Then the witch made herself very small indeed, and went behind the +foot of a big crane that was standing on one leg near the lake. But +at last the boys found her even there. + + [Illustration: “THE WITCH MADE HERSELF VERY SMALL, AND WENT + BEHIND THE FOOT OF A BIG CRANE.”] + +It was their last turn now, and the old woman felt very triumphant +as she waited for them to hide. But this time they went up and hid +themselves under the right arm of the Sun.[55] The old witch hunted +everywhere, and used all her bad power, but in vain; and when she was +tired out she had to cry, “_Hee-táh-ow!_” And then the boys came +down from under the Sun’s arm rejoicing. + + [55] Who is, in the Pueblo belief, the father of all things. + +The old witch, taking her last turn, went to the lake and entered +into a fish, thinking that there she would be perfectly safe from +discovery. It did take the boys a great while to find her; but at +last they shouted: + +“Old woman, you are in the biggest fish in the lake. Come out!” + +As she came walking toward them in her natural shape again, they +called: “Remember the agreement!” and with their sharp arrows they +killed the old witch-woman and then the old witch-man. Then they took +away the two wicked old hearts, and put in place of each a kernel of +spotless corn; so that if the witches should ever come to life again +they would no longer be witches, but people with pure, good hearts. +They never did come to life, however, which was just as well. + +Taking their bows and arrows, the boys--now young men, for the +four “days” they had been with the witches were really four +years--returned home. At the village they found their anxious +parents, who had come to ask the Cacique to order all the people out +to search. + +When all saw the boys and heard their story, there was great +rejoicing, for those two witch-people had been terrors to the village +for years. On their account no one had dared go hunting to the south. +And to this day the game is thicker there than anywhere else in the +country, because it has not been hunted there for so long as in other +places. The two young men were forgiven for disobedience (which is +a very serious thing at any age, among the Pueblos), and were made +heroes. The Cacique gave them his two daughters for wives, and all +the people did them honor.[56] + + [56] This story seems to be one of the myths about the Hero + Twin Brothers, the children of the Sun. They are, next to + Sun-Father and Moon-Mother, the chief deities of all the + southwestern tribes. In the Quères folk-lore they figure very + prominently; but in the Tée-wahn are more disguised. + + * * * * * + +“Is that so?” we responded; and Lorenso replied, “That is so,” +gathering his blanket and rising to go without “putting a tail” to +any one, for it was already late. + +I may add that the game of hide-and-seek is still played by my dusky +little neighbors, the Pueblo children, and the searching-song is +still sung by them, exactly as the boys and the old witch played and +sang--but of course without their magical talent at hiding. + + + + +XIV + +THE RACE OF THE TAILS + + +NEARLY every people has its own version of the race of the Hare and +the Tortoise. That current among the Pueblos makes the Rabbit the +hero, by a trick rather cleverer than Æsop’s. + +Once the Coyote came where Pee-oo-ée-deh, the little “cotton-tail” +rabbit, sat at the door of his house, thinking. + +“What do you think, friend Pee-oo-ée-deh?” said the Coyote. + +“I am thinking, friend Too-wháy-deh, why some have large tails like +you; but we have no tails. Perhaps if we had tails like yours, we +could run straight; but now we have to hop.” + +“It is true, _ah-bóo_,”[57] said the Coyote, not knowing that the +Rabbit laughed in his heart. “For I can run faster than any one, and +never did any gain from me in the foot-races. But _you_,--you just +hop like a bird.” + + [57] Poor thing. + +The Rabbit made a sad face, and the Coyote said: “But come, friend +Pee-oo-ée-deh, let us run a race. We will run around the world, and +see who will win. And whichever shall come in first, he shall kill +the other and eat him.”[58] + + [58] A challenge of this sort, with life as the stake, was + very common among all Indians; and it was impossible for the + challenged to decline. This story recalls that of the Antelope + Boy. Four days always elapsed between the challenge and the + race. + +“It is well,” answered the Rabbit. “In four days we will run.” + +Then the Coyote went home very glad. But Pee-oo-ée-deh called a +_junta_ of all his tribe, and told them how it was, and the way he +thought to win the race. And when they had heard, they all said: “It +is well. Fear not, for we will be the ones that will help you.” + +When the fourth day came, the Coyote arrived smiling, and threw down +his blanket, and stood ready in only the dark blue _taparabo_,[59] +saying: “But what is the use to run? For I shall win. It is better +that I eat you now, before you are tired.” + + [59] Breech-clout, which is the only thing worn in a foot-race. + +But the Rabbit threw off his blanket, and tightened his _taparabo_, +and said: “Pooh! For the end of the race is far away, and _there_ is +time to talk of eating. Come, we will run around the four sides of +the world.[60] But _I_ shall run underground, for so it is easier for +me.” + + [60] Which the Pueblos believe to be flat and square. + +Then they stood up side by side. And when they were ready, the +Capitan shouted “_Haí-koo!_” and they ran. The Coyote ran with all +his legs; but the Rabbit jumped into his hole and threw out sand, as +those who dig very fast. + +Now for many days the Coyote kept running to the east, and saw +nothing of Pee-oo-ée-deh. But just as he came to the east and was +turning to the north, up jumped a rabbit from under the ground in +front of him, and shouted: “We do this to one another”; and jumped +back in the hole and began to throw out dirt very hard. + +“Ai!” said the Coyote. “I wish I could run under the ground like +that, for it seems very easy. For all these days I have run faster +than ever any one ran; yet Pe-oo-ée-deh comes to the east ahead of +me.” But he did not know it was the brother of Pee-oo-ée-deh, who had +come out to the east to wait for him. + +So Too-wháy-deh ran harder; and after many days he came to the end of +the world, to the north. But just as he was to turn west, up sprang a +rabbit in front of him, and taunted him, and went back in its hole, +digging. + +The Coyote’s heart was heavy, but he ran _very_ hard. “Surely,” he +said, “no one can run so fast as _this_.” + +But when he came to the west, a rabbit sprang up ahead of him, and +mocked him, and went again under the ground. And when he had run to +the south, there was the same thing. At last, very tired and with his +tongue out, he came in sight of the starting-point, and there was +Pee-oo-ée-deh, sitting at the door of his house, smoothing his hair. +And he said: “Pooh! Coyote-friend, we do this to one another. For now +it is clear that big tails are not good to run with, since I have +been waiting here a long time for you. Come here, then, that I may +eat you, though you are tough.” + +But Too-wháy-deh, being a coward, ran away and would not pay his +bet. And all the brothers of Pee-oo-ée-deh laughed for the trick they +had put upon the Coyote. + + * * * * * + +In a case which I knew of, years ago, this folk-story seems to have +given a hint to human racers. A Mexican who owned a large and very +fleet-footed burro, challenged a young Indian of Acoma to a ten-mile +race. The Indian was a very famous runner, and the challenger +depended on the distance alone to wear him out. In accordance with +the conditions the rivals started together from the goal, the Indian +on foot, the Mexican on his burro. For about four miles the Indian +left the galloping donkey far behind; but he could not keep up such +a tremendous pace, and the burro began to gain. About midway of the +course where the trail touches a great lava-flow, the Indian dove +into a cave. Just as the Mexican was passing, out came an Indian, +passed the burro with a magnificent spurt, and after a long run +reached the farther goal about a hundred feet ahead. Unfortunately +for him, however, the trick was detected--he was the twin brother of +the challenged man, and had awaited him in the cave, taking up the +race fresh when the first runner was tired! + + + + +XV + +HONEST BIG-EARS + + +NEARLY all of you have seen pictures of the Burro, the quaint little +donkey of the Southwest. He is very small,--not more than half the +weight of a smallish mule,--but very strong, very sure-footed, +and very reliable. And he is one of the drollest, “cutest,” +wisest-looking creatures on earth. + +T’ah-hlá-a-hloon, or Big-ears, as the Tée-wahn call him, does not +appear very often in their folk-lore--and for a very natural reason. +Most of these myths were made centuries before a white man ever saw +this country; and until Europeans came, there were neither horses, +donkeys, sheep, goats, cats, nor cattle (except the buffalo) in +either America. It was the Spanish pioneers who gave all these +animals to the Pueblos. Nor did the Indians have milk, cheese, wheat, +or metals of any sort. So when we see a story in which any of these +things are mentioned, we may know that it was made within the last +three hundred and fifty years--or that an old story has been modified +to include them. + +There is one of these comparatively modern nursery-tales which is +designed to show the honesty and wisdom of the Burro. + +Once Big-ears was coming alone from the farm of his master to Isleta, +carrying a load of curd cheeses done up in buckskin bags. As he came +through the hills he met a Coyote, who said: + +“Friend Big-ears, what do you carry on your back?” + +“I carry many cheeses for my master, friend Too-wháy-deh,” answered +the Burro. + +“Then give me one, friend, for I am hunger-dying.” + +“No,” said the Burro, “I cannot give you one, for my master would +blame me--since they are not mine but his, and a man of the pueblo +waits for them.” + +Many times the Coyote asked him, with soft words; but Big-ears would +not, and went his way. Then Too-wháy-deh followed him behind, without +noise, and slyly bit the bag and stole a cheese. But Big-ears did not +know it, for he could not see behind. + +When he came to the pueblo, the man who awaited him unloaded the +cheeses and counted them. “There lacks one,” he said; “for thy master +said he would send _so_ many. Where is the other?” + +“Truly, I know not,” answered Big-ears, “but I think Too-wháy-deh +stole it; for he asked me on the way to give him a cheese. But +wait--I will pay him!” + +So Big-ears went back to the hills and looked for the house of +Too-wháy-deh. At last he found it, but the Coyote was nowhere. So he +lay down near the hole, and stretched his legs out as if dead, and +opened his mouth wide, and was very still. + +Time passing so, the Old-Woman-Coyote came out of the house to bring +a jar of water. But when she saw the Burro lying there, she dropped +her _tinaja_, and ran in crying: + +“_Hloo-hli!_[61] come out and see! For a _buffalo_ has died out here, +and we must take in some meat.” + + [61] Old Man. + +So Old-Man-Coyote came out, and was very glad, and began to sharpen +his knife. + +But his wife said: “But before you cut him up, get me the liver, for +I am very hungry”--and the liver is that which all the foxes like +best. + +Then the Old-Man-Coyote, thinking to please her, went into the +Burro’s mouth to get the liver; but Big-ears shut his teeth on +Too-wháy-deh’s head, and jumped up and ran home. The Old-Woman-Coyote +followed running, crying: “_Ay, Nana!_ Let go!” But Big-ears would +not listen to her, and brought the thief to his master. When the +master heard what had been, he killed the Coyote, and thanked +Big-ears, and gave him much grass. And this is why, ever since, +Big-ears strikes with his hind feet if anything comes behind him +slyly; for he remembers how Too-wháy-deh stole the cheese. + + + + +XVI + +THE FEATHERED BARBERS + + +THE coyote, one summer day, having taken a bath in the river, lay +down in the hot sand to dry himself. While he was sleeping there, a +crowd of Quails came along; and seeing that he was asleep, they said: + +“Huh! Here is that foolish Too-wháy-deh. Let us give him a trick!” + +So they cut off all his hair, which makes one to be laughed at, and +ran away. + +When the Coyote woke up he was ashamed, and wished to punish those +who had made him _pelado_; and he ran around to see if he could find +the tracks of an enemy. There were only the tracks of the Quails, so +he knew they had done it. Very angry, he followed the trail until it +went into a large hole. He went all around to see if they had come +out; but there were no other tracks, so he went in. First the hole +was big, but then it grew small, and he had to dig. When he had dug a +long time, he caught a Quail, and he said: + +“Ho, Ch’um-níd-deh! It is you that cut my hair and left me a +laughed-at. But I am going to eat you this very now!” + +“No, friend Too-wháy-deh, it was another who did it. You will find +him farther in, with the scissors[62] still in his hand.” + + [62] This indicates that the tale is comparatively modern. + +So the Coyote let that Quail go, and dug and dug till he caught +another. But that one said the same thing; and Too-wháy-deh let him +go, and dug after the next one. So it was, until he had let them all +go, one by one; and when he came to the very end of the hole, there +were no more. + +With this, the Coyote was very angry, and ran out of the hole, +promising to catch and eat them all. As he came out he met the +Cotton-tail, and cried with a fierce face: + +“Hear, you Pee-oo-ée-deh! If you don’t catch me the Ch’úm-nin that +cut my hair, I’ll eat _you_!” + +“Oh, I can catch them, friend Coyote,” said the Rabbit. “See, here is +their trail!” + +When they had followed the trail a long way, they saw the birds +sitting and laughing under a bush. + +“Now you wait here while I go and catch them,” said Pee-oo-ée-deh. So +the Coyote sat down to rest. As soon as the Rabbit was near them, the +Quails flew a little way, and he kept running after them. But as soon +as they were over a little hill, he turned aside and ran home, and +the Coyote never knew if the Quails were caught or not. + + + + + [Illustration: THE ACCURSED LAKE] + +XVII + +THE ACCURSED LAKE + + +AWAY to the southeast of the Manzano Mountains, two days’ journey +from my pueblo of Isleta, are the shallow salt lakes. For scores of +miles their dazzling sheen is visible--a strange patch of silver on +the vast brown plains. They are near the noblest ruins in our North +America--the wondrous piles of massive masonry of Abó, Cuaray, and +the so-called “Gran Quivira”--the latter the home of the silliest +delusion that ever lured treasure-hunters to their death. The whole +region has a romantic history, and is important to the scientific +student. From that locality came, centuries ago, part of the people +who then founded Isleta, and whose descendants dwell here to this +day. Perhaps you would like to know _why_ those lakes are salt +now--for my Indian neighbors say that once they were fresh and full +of fish, and that the deer and buffalo came from all the country +round to drink there. The story is very important ethnologically, +for it tells much of the strange secret religion of the Pueblos, and +more concerning the method of initiating a young Indian into one of +the orders of medicine-men--both matters which men of science have +found extremely difficult to be learned. Here is the story as it is +believed by the Tée-wahn, and as it was related to me by one of them. + + * * * * * + +Long ago there was still a village east of Shoo-paht-hóo-eh, the +Eagle-Feather (Manzano) Mountains, and in it lived a famous hunter. +One day, going out on the plains to the east, he stalked a herd of +antelopes, and wounded one with his arrows. It fled eastward, while +the herd went south; and the hunter began to trail it by the drops of +blood. Presently he came to the largest lake, into which the trail +led. As he stood on the bank, wondering what to do, a fish thrust its +head from the water and said: + +“Friend Hunter, you are on dangerous ground!” and off it went +swimming. Before the Hunter could recover from his surprise, a +Lake-Man came up out of the water and said: + +“How is it that you are here, where no human ever came?” + +The Hunter told his story, and the Lake-Man invited him to come in. +When he had entered the lake, he came to a house with doors to the +east, north, west, and south, and a trap-door in the roof, with a +ladder; and by the latter door they entered. In their talk together +the Lake-Man learned that the Hunter had a wife and little son at +home. + +“If that is so,” said he, “why do you not come and live with me? I +am here alone, and have plenty of other food, but I am no hunter. We +could live very well here together.” And opening doors on four sides +of the room he showed the Hunter four other huge rooms, all piled +from floor to ceiling with corn and wheat and dried squash and the +like. + +“That is a very good offer,” said the astonished Hunter. “I will come +again in four days; and if my Cacique will let me, I will bring my +family and stay.” + +So the Hunter went home--killing an antelope on the way--and told +his wife all. She thought very well of the offer; and he went to ask +permission of the Cacique. The Cacique demurred, for this was the +best hunter in all the pueblo,[63] but at last consented and gave him +his blessing. + + [63] All hunters give the Cacique a tenth of their game, for + his support. + +So on the fourth day the Hunter and his wife and little boy came to +the lake with all their property. The Lake-Man met them cordially, +and gave the house and all its contents into the charge of the +woman.[64] + + [64] As is the custom among all Pueblo Indians. + + [Illustration: THE HUNTER AND THE LAKE-MAN.] + +Some time passed very pleasantly, the Hunter going out daily and +bringing back great quantities of game. At last the Lake-Man, who +was of an evil heart, pretended to show the Hunter something in the +east room; and pushing him in, locked the great door and left him +there to starve--for the room was full of the bones of men whom he +had already entrapped in the same way. + +The boy was now big enough to use his bow and arrows so well that he +brought home many rabbits; and the witch-hearted Lake-Man began to +plot to get him, too, out of the way. + +So one morning when the boy was about to start for a hunt, he heard +his mother groaning as if about to die; and the Lake-Man said to him: + +“My boy, your mother has a terrible pain, and the only thing that +will cure her is some ice from T’hoor-p’ah-whée-ai [Lake of the +Sun],[65] the water from which the sun rises.” + + [65] Located “somewhere to the east”; perhaps the ocean. + +“Then,” said the boy, straightway, “if that is so, I will take the +heart of a man [that is, be brave] and go and get the ice for my +little mother.” And away he started toward the unknown east. + +Far out over the endless brown plains he trudged bravely; until at +last he came to the house of Shee-chóo-hlee-oh, the Old-Woman-Mole, +who was there all alone--for her husband had gone to hunt. They were +dreadfully poor, and the house was almost falling down, and the poor, +wrinkled Old-Woman-Mole sat huddled in the corner by the fireplace, +trying to keep warm by a few dying coals. But when the boy knocked, +she rose and welcomed him kindly and gave him all there was in the +house to eat--a wee bowl of soup with a patched-up snowbird in it. +The boy was very hungry, and picking up the snowbird bit a big piece +out of it. + +“Oh, my child!” cried the old woman, beginning to weep. “You have +ruined me! For my husband trapped that bird these many years ago, but +we could never get another; and that is all we have had to eat ever +since. So we never bit it, but cooked it over and over and drank the +broth. And now not even that is left.” And she wept bitterly. + +“Nay, Grandmother, do not worry,” said the boy. “Have you any long +hairs?”--for he saw many snowbirds lighting near by. + +“No, my child,” said the old woman sadly. “There is no other living +animal here, and you are the first human that ever came here.” + +But the boy pulled out some of his own long hair and made snares, and +soon caught many birds. Then the Old-Woman-Mole was full of joy; and +having learned his errand, she said: + +“My son, fear not, for I will be the one that shall help you. When +you come into the house of the Trues, they will tempt you with a +seat; but you must sit down only on what you have.[66] Then they will +try you with smoking the _weer_, but I will help you.” + + [66] That is, upon his blanket and moccasins, the unvarying + etiquette of the Medicine House. + +Then she gave him her blessing, and the boy started away to the east. +At last, after a weary, weary way, he came so near the Sun Lake, that +the _Whit-lah-wíd-deh_[67] of the Trues saw him coming, and went in +to report. + + [67] One of an order of medicine-men, who among other duties, + act as guards of the Medicine House. + +“Let him be brought in,” said the Trues; and the Whit-lah-wíd-deh +took the boy in and in through eight rooms, until he stood in the +presence of all the gods, in a vast room. There were all the gods +of the East, whose color is white, and the blue gods of the North, +the yellow gods of the West, the red gods of the South, and the +rainbow-colored gods of the Up, the Down, and the Center, all in +human shape. Beyond their seats were all the sacred animals--the +buffalo, the bear, the eagle, the badger, the mountain lion, the +rattlesnake, and all the others that are powerful in medicine. + +Then the Trues bade the boy sit down, and offered him a white _manta_ +(robe) for a seat; but he declined respectfully, saying that he had +been taught, when in the presence of his elders, to sit on nothing +save what he brought, and he sat upon his blanket and moccasins. When +he had told his story, the Trues tried him, and gave him the sacred +_weer_ to smoke--a hollow reed rammed with _pee-en-hleh_.[68] He +smoked, and held the smoke bravely. But just then the Old-Woman-Mole, +who had followed him underground all this way, dug a hole up to his +very toes; and the smoke went down through his feet into the hole, +and away back to the Old-Woman-Mole’s house, where it poured out in +a great cloud. And not the tiniest particle escaped into the room of +the Trues. He finished the second _weer_[69] without being sick at +all; and the Trues said, “Yes, he is our son. But we will try him +once more.” So they put him into the room of the East with the bear +and the lion; and the savage animals came forward and breathed on +him, but would not hurt him. Then they put him into the room of the +North, with the eagle and the hawk; then into the room of the West, +with the snakes; and lastly, into the room of the South, where were +the Apaches and all the other human enemies of his people. And from +each room he came forth unscratched. + + [68] The smoking of the pungent _weer_ is a very severe ordeal; + and it is a disgrace to let any of the smoke escape from the + mouth or nose. + + [69] Two being the usual number given a candidate for + initiation into a medicine order. + +“Surely,” said the Trues, “this is our son! But once more we will try +him.” + +They had a great pile of logs built up (“cob-house” fashion), and the +space between filled with pine-knots. Then the Whit-lah-wíd-deh set +the boy on the top of the pile and lighted it. + +But in the morning, when the guard went out, there was the boy +unharmed and saying: “Tell the Trues I am cold, and would like more +fire.” + +Then he was brought again before the Trues, who said: “Son, you have +proved yourself a True Believer, and now you shall have what you +seek.” + +So the sacred ice was given him, and he started homeward--stopping on +the way only to thank the Old-Woman-Mole, to whose aid he owed his +success. + +When the wicked Lake-Man saw the boy coming, he was very angry, for +he had never expected him to return from that dangerous mission. But +he deceived the boy and the woman; and in a few days made a similar +excuse to send the boy to the gods of the South after more ice for +his mother. + +The boy started off as bravely as before. When he had traveled a +great way to the south, he came to a drying lake; and there, dying in +the mud, was a little fish. + +“_Ah-bóo_ [poor thing], little fish,” said the boy; and picking it +up, he put it in his gourd canteen of water. After awhile he came +to a good lake; and as he sat down to eat his lunch the fish in his +gourd said: + +“Friend Boy, let me swim while you eat, for I love the water.” + +So he put the fish in the lake; and when he was ready to go on, the +fish came to him, and he put it back in his gourd. At three lakes he +let the fish swim while he ate; and each time the fish came back to +him. But beyond the third lake began a great forest which stretched +clear across the world, and was so dense with thorns and brush that +no man could pass it. But as the boy was wondering what he should +do, the tiny fish changed itself into a great Fish-Animal with a +very hard, strong skin,[70] and bidding the boy mount upon its back, +it went plowing through the forest, breaking down big trees like +stubble, and bringing him through to the other side without a scratch. + + [70] It is quite possible that this “Fish-Animal with a hard, + strong skin,” living far to the south, is the alligator. Of + course, the Pueblos never saw that strange saurian; but they + probably heard of it in the earliest days from nomad tribes, + and as a great scientist has pointed out, we may always + depend upon it that there is a nucleus of truth in all these + folk-myths. Such a strange animal, once heard of, would be very + sure to figure in some story. + +“Now, Friend Boy,” said the Fish-Animal, “you saved my life, and I +will be the one that shall help you. When you come to the house of +the Trues, they will try you as they did in the East. And when you +have proved yourself, the Cacique will bring you his three daughters, +from whom to choose you a wife. The two eldest are very beautiful, +and the youngest is not; but you ought to choose her, for beauty does +not always reach to the heart.” + +The boy thanked his fish-friend and went on, until at last he came +to the house of the Trues of the South. There they tried him with +the _weer_ and the fire, just as the Trues of the East had done, but +he proved himself a man, and they gave him the ice. Then the Cacique +brought his three daughters, and said: + +“Son, you are now old enough to have a wife,[71] and I see that you +are a true man who will dare all for his mother. Choose, therefore, +one of my daughters.” + + [71] For it must be remembered that all these travels had taken + many years. + +The boy looked at the three girls; and truly the eldest were very +lovely. But he remembered the words of his fish friend, and said: + +“Let the youngest be my wife.” + +Then the Cacique was pleased, for he loved this daughter more than +both the others. And the boy and the Cacique’s daughter were married +and started homeward, carrying the ice and many presents. + +When they came to the great forest, there was the Fish-Animal waiting +for them, and taking both on his back he carried them safely through. +At the first lake he bade them good-by and blessed them, and they +trudged on alone. + + [Illustration: THE CURSING OF THE LAKE.] + +At last they came in sight of the big lake, and over it were great +clouds, with the forked lightning leaping forth. While they were yet +far off, they could see the wicked Lake-Man sitting at the top of his +ladder, watching to see if the boy would return, and even while they +looked they saw the lightning of the Trues strike him and tear him to +shreds. + +When they came to the lake the boy found his mother weeping for him +as dead. And taking his wife and his mother,--but none of the things +of the Lake-Man, for those were bewitched,--the boy came out upon the +shore. There he stood and prayed to the Trues that the lake might be +accurst forever; and they heard his prayer, for from that day its +waters turned salt, and no living thing has drunk therefrom. + + + + +XVIII + +THE MOQUI[72] BOY AND THE EAGLE + + [72] Pronounced Móh-kee. + + +SOME of the folk-stories told in Isleta were evidently invented +in other pueblos, whence the Tée-wahn have learned them in their +trading-trips. There is even a story from the far-off towns of Moqui, +three hundred miles west of here and ninety miles from the railroad. +The Moquis live in northeast Arizona, in strange adobe towns,[73] +perched upon impregnable islands of rock, rising far above the bare, +brown plain. They are seldom visited and little known by white men. +All the other Pueblo towns and tribes have changed somewhat in the +present era of American occupation; but the Moquis remain very much +as they were when the first Spaniard found them--three hundred and +fifty years ago. They retain many customs long extinct among their +kindred, and have some of which no trace is to be found elsewhere. +One of the minor differences, but one which would be almost the first +to strike a stranger, is the absence of captive eagles in Moqui; and +this is explained by the following folk-story: + + [73] See “Some Strange Corners of Our Country.” The Century + Co., New York. + +The Eagle is Kah-báy-deh (commander) of all that flies, and his +feathers are strongest in medicine. + +So long ago that no man can tell how long, there lived in Moqui an +old man and an old woman, who had two children--a boy and a girl. The +boy, whose name was Tái-oh, had a pet Eagle, of which he was very +fond; and the Eagle loved its young master. Despite his youth, Tái-oh +was a capital hunter; and every day he brought home not only rabbits +enough for the family, but also to keep the Eagle well fed. + +One day when he was about to start on a hunt, he asked his sister to +look out for the Eagle during his absence. No sooner was he out of +sight than the girl began to upbraid the bird bitterly, saying: “How +I hate you, for my brother loves you so much. If it were not for you, +he would give me many more rabbits, but now you eat them up.” + +The Eagle, feeling the injustice of this, was angry; so when she +brought him a rabbit for breakfast the Eagle turned his head and +looked at it sidewise, and would not touch it. At noon, when she +brought him his dinner, he did the same thing; and at night, when +Tái-oh returned, the Eagle told him all that had happened. + +“Now,” said the Eagle, “I am very tired of staying always here in +Moqui, and I want to go home to visit my people a little. Come and go +along with me, that you may see where the Eagle-people live.” + +“It is well,” replied Tái-oh. “To-morrow morning we will go together.” + +In the morning they all went out into the fields, far down in the +valley, to hoe their corn, leaving Tái-oh at home. + +“Now,” said the Eagle, “untie this thong from my leg, friend, and get +astride my neck, and we will go.” + +The string was soon untied, and Tái-oh got astride the neck of the +great bird, which rose up into the air as though it carried no weight +at all. It circled over the town a long time, and the people cried +out with wonder and fear at seeing an Eagle with a boy on his back. +Then they sailed out over the fields, where Tái-oh’s parents and his +sister were at work; and all the three began to cry, and went home in +great sorrow. + +The Eagle kept soaring up and up until they came to the very sky. +There in the blue was a little door, through which the Eagle flew. +Alighting on the floor of the sky, he let Tái-oh down from his back, +and said: + +“Now, you wait here, friend, while I go and see my people,” and off +he flew. + +Tái-oh waited three days, and still the Eagle did not return; so +he became uneasy and started out to see what he could find. After +wandering a long way, he met an old Spider-woman. + +“Where are you going, my son?” she asked. + +“I am trying to find my friend, the Eagle.” + +“Very well, then, I will help you. Come into my house.” + +“But how can I come into so small a door?” objected Tái-oh. + +“Just put your foot in, and it will open big enough for you to enter.” + +So Tái-oh put his foot in, and, sure enough, the door opened wide, +and he went into the Spider’s house and sat down. + +“Now,” said she, “you will have some trouble in getting to the house +of your friend, the Eagle, for to get there you will have to climb a +dreadful ladder. It is well that you came to me for help, for that +ladder is set with sharp arrow-heads and knives of flint, so that +if you tried to go up it, it would cut your legs off. But I will +give you this sack of sacred herbs to help you. When you come to the +ladder, you must chew some of the herbs and spit the juice on the +ladder, which will at once become smooth for you.”[74] + + [74] This recalls a superstition of the Peruvian mountain + Indians, ancient and modern. The latter I have often seen + throwing upon a stone at the crest of a mountain pass the quid + of coca-leaves they had been chewing. They believe such use + of this sacred herb propitiates the spirits and keeps off the + terrible _soroche_, or mountain-sickness; and that it also + makes veins of metal easier to be worked--softening the stone, + even as it did for Tái-oh. + +Tái-oh thanked the Spider-woman and started off with the sack. After +awhile he came to the foot of a great ladder, which went away up out +of sight. Its sides and rungs were bristling with keen arrow-heads, +so that no living thing could climb it; but when Tái-oh chewed some +of the magic herb and spat upon the ladder, all the sharp points fell +off, and it was so smooth that he climbed it without a single scratch. + +After a long, long climb, he came to the top of the ladder, and +stepped upon the roof of the Eagles’ house. But when he came to the +door he found it so bristling with arrow-points that whoever might +try to enter would be cut to pieces. Again he chewed some of the +herb, and spat upon the door; and at once all the points fell off, +and he entered safely, and inside he found his Eagle-friend, and all +the Eagle-people. His friend had fallen in love with an Eagle-girl +and married her, and that was the reason he had not returned sooner. + +Tái-oh stayed there some time, being very nicely entertained, and +enjoyed himself greatly in the strange sky-country. At last one of +the wise old Eagle-men came to him and said: + +“Now, my son, it is well that you go home, for your parents are very +sad, thinking you are dead. After this, whenever you see an Eagle +caught and kept captive, you must let it go; for now you have been +in our country, and know that when we come home we take off our +feather-coats and are people like your own.” + +So Tái-oh went to his Eagle-friend and said he thought he must go +home. + +“Very well,” said the Eagle; “get on my neck and shut your eyes, and +we will go.” + +So he got on, and they went down out of the sky, and down and down +until at last they came to Moqui. There the Eagle let Tái-oh down +among the wondering people, and, bidding him an affectionate good-by, +flew off to his young wife in the sky. + +Tái-oh went to his home loaded down with dried meat and tanned +buckskin, which the Eagle had given him; and there was great +rejoicing, for all had given him up as dead. And this is why, to this +very day, the Moquis will not keep an Eagle captive, though nearly +all the other Pueblo towns have all the Eagle-prisoners they can get. + + + + +XIX + +THE NORTH WIND AND THE SOUTH WIND + + +NEARLY every nation has its folk-lore concerning Jack Frost and his +anti-type. The cold North Wind is always the enemy of man, and the +warm South Wind always his friend. The Quères pueblos of Acoma and +Laguna have an allegorical folk-story, in which the good spirit of +heat defeats his icy-hearted rival. + +Once, long ago, the _ta-pó-pe_ (governor) of Acoma had a beautiful +daughter, for whom many of the young men had asked in vain, for she +would have none of them. One day there came climbing up the stone +ladder to the cliff-built pueblo a tall and handsome stranger. His +dress glistened with white crystals, and his face, though handsome, +was very stern. The fair _kot-chin-á-ka_ (chief’s daughter), bending +at a pool in the great rock to fill her water-jar, saw and admired +him as he came striding proudly to the village; and he did not fail +to notice the dusky beauty. Soon he asked for her in due form; and in +a little while they were to be married. + +But, with the coming of Shó-kee-ah--for that was the name of the +handsome stranger--a sad change befell Acoma. The water froze in the +springs and the corn withered in the fields. Every morning Shó-kee-ah +left the town and went away to his home in the far North; and every +evening he returned, and the air grew chill around. The people could +raise no crops, for the bitter cold killed all that they planted, and +nothing would grow but the thorny cactus. To keep from starving, they +had to eat the cactus-leaves, roasting them first to remove the sharp +thorns. One day, when the _kot-chin-á-ka_ was roasting cactus-leaves, +there came another handsome stranger with a sunny smile and stood +beside her. + +“What dost thou there?” he asked; and she told him. + +“But do not so,” said the young man, giving her an ear of green corn. +“Eat this, and I will bring thee more.” + +So saying, he was gone; but very soon he returned with such a load of +green corn as the strongest man could not lift, and carried it to her +house. + +“Roast this,” he said, “and when the people come to thee, give them +each two ears, for hereafter there shall always be much corn.” + +She roasted the corn and gave it to the people, who took it eagerly, +for they were starving. But soon Shó-kee-ah returned, and the warm, +bright day grew suddenly cold and cloudy. As he put his foot on the +ladder to come down into the house (all Pueblo rooms used to be +entered only from the roof, and thousands are so yet) great flakes +of snow fell around him; but Mí-o-chin, the newcomer, made it very +warm, and the snow melted. + +“Now,” said Shó-kee-ah, “we will see which is more powerful; and +he that is shall have the _kot-chin-á-ka_.” Mí-o-chin accepted +the challenge, and it was agreed that the contest should begin on +the morrow and last three days. Mí-o-chin went to consult an old +Spider-woman as to the best way to conquer his powerful rival, and +she gave him the necessary advice. + +Next day the people all gathered to see the trial of strength between +the two wizards. Shó-kee-ah “made medicine,” and caused a driving +sleet and a bitter wind that froze all waters. But Mí-o-chin built +a fire and heated small stones in it, and with them caused a warm +South Wind, which melted the ice. On the second day, Shó-kee-ah +used more powerful incantations, and made a deep snow to cover the +world; but again Mí-o-chin brought his South Wind and chased away +the snow. On the third day Shó-kee-ah used his strongest spell, and +it rained great icicles, until everything was buried under them. But +when Mí-o-chin built his fire and heated the stones, again the warm +South Wind drove away the ice and dried the earth. So it remained to +Mí-o-chin; and the defeated Shó-kee-ah went away to his frozen home +in the North, leaving Mí-o-chin to live happy ever after with the +_kot-chin-á-ka_, whom he married amid the rejoicing of all the people +of Acoma. + + + + +XX + +THE TOWN OF THE SNAKE-GIRLS + + +IN the times that were farthest back, the forefathers of those who +now dwell in Isleta were scattered about in many small villages. +You have already heard the myths of how the inhabitants of several +villages finally abandoned their homes and came to live in the +one big town of the Tée-wahn. Three miles north of Isleta, amid +the sandy plain of Los Padillas, stands the strange round mesa of +Shee-em-tóo-ai. It is a circular “island” of hard, black lava, cut +off from the long lava cliffs which wall the valley of the Rio Grande +on the west. Its level top, of over fifty acres, is some two hundred +feet above the plain; the last fifty feet being a stern and almost +unbroken cliff. Upon its top are still visible the crumbling ruins of +the pueblo of Poo-reh-tú-ai--a town deserted, as we are historically +sure, over three hundred and fifty years ago. The mound outlines of +the round _estufa_, the houses and the streets, are still easy to be +traced, and bits of pottery, broken arrow-heads, and other relics, +still abound there. In history we know no more of the pueblo than +that it was once there, but had been abandoned already when Coronado +passed in 1540; but my aboriginal friends and fellow-citizens +of Shee-eh-whíb-bahk have an interesting legend of the pueblo of +Poo-reh-tú-ai and the cause which led to its abandonment. + +When the mesa town was inhabited, so was Isleta; and, being but three +miles apart, the intercommunication was constant. At one time, four +hundred years ago or more, there lived in Isleta a very handsome +youth whose name was K’oo-ah-máh-koo-hóo-oo-aí-deh--which means +Young-Man-Who-Embraces-a-Corncob. + +In spite of this serious burden of a title, the young man was greatly +admired, and had many friends. Probably they called him something +else “for short,” or people wouldn’t have had time to associate +with him. There were two sisters, very pretty girls, living in +Poo-reh-tú-ai, and they fell very seriously in love, both with this +same youth. But he had never really found out how handsome he was, +and so thought little about girls anyhow, caring more to run fastest +in the races and to kill the most game in the hunts. The sisters, +finding that he would not notice their shy smiles, began to make it +in their way to pass his house whenever they came to Isleta, and to +say _hin-a-kú-pui-yoo_ (good morning) as they met him on the road. +But he paid no attention to them whatever, except to be polite; and +even when they sent him the modest little gift which means “there is +a young lady who loves you!” he was as provokingly indifferent as +ever. + +After long coquetting in vain, the girls began to hate him as hard +as before they had loved him. They decided, no doubt, that he was +_oó-teh_, the Tée-wahn word for “a mean old thing”; and finally one +proposed that they put him out of the way, for both sisters, young +and pretty as they were, were witches. + +“We will teach him,” said one. + +“Yes,” said the other, “he ought to be punished; but how shall we do +it?” + +“Oh, we will invite him to play a game of _mah-khúr_, and then we’ll +fix him. I’ll go now and make the hoop.” + +The witch-sisters made a very gay hoop, and then sent word to the +youth to meet them at the sacred sand-hill, just west of Isleta, as +they had important business with him. Wondering what it could be, he +met them at the appointed time and place. + +“Now, Brother Young-Man-Who-Embraces-a-Corncob,” said the eldest +sister, “we want to amuse ourselves a little, so let us have a game +of _mah-khúr_. We have a very nice hoop to play it. You go half-way +down the hill and see if you can catch it when we roll it to you. If +you can, you may have the hoop; but if you fail, you come and roll it +to us and we’ll see if we can catch it.” + +So he went down the hill and waited, and the girls sent the bright +wheel rolling toward him. He was very nimble, and caught it “on the +fly”; but that very instant he was no longer the tall, handsome +Young-Man-Who-Embraces-a-Corncob, but a poor little Coyote, with +great tears rolling down his cheeks. The witch-sisters came laughing +and taunting him, and said: + +“You see it would have been better to marry us! But now you will +always be a Coyote and an outcast from home. You may roam to the +north and to the south and to the west, but never to the east” (and +therefore not back to Isleta). + +The Coyote started off, still weeping; and the two wicked sisters +went home rejoicing at their success. The Coyote roamed away to +the west, and at last turned south. After a time he came across a +party of Isleteños[75] returning from a trading-trip to the Apache +country. He sneaked about their camp, snapping up odd scraps--for +he was nearly starved. In the morning the Indians spied this Coyote +sitting and watching them at a little distance, and they set their +dogs on him. But the Coyote did not run; and when the dogs came to +him they merely sniffed and came away without hurting him--though +every one knows that the dog and the Coyote have been enemies almost +ever since the world began. The Indians were greatly astonished; and +one of them, who was a medicine-man, began to suspect that there +was something wrong. So, without saying anything to the others, he +walked over to the Coyote and said: “Coyote, are you Coyote-true, +or somebody bewitched?” But the Coyote made no reply. Again the +medicine-man asked: “Coyote, are you a man?” At this the Coyote +nodded his head affirmatively, while tears rolled from his eyes. + + [75] Pronounced Eez-lay-táyn-yos. + +“Very well, then,” said the medicine-man, “come with me.” So the +Coyote rose and followed him to the camp; and the medicine-man fed +and cared for him as the party journeyed toward Isleta. The last +night they camped at the big barranca, just below the village; +and here the medicine-man told his companions the story of the +bewitchment,--for the Coyote had already told him,--and they were all +greatly astonished, and very sad to learn that this poor Coyote was +their handsome friend, K’oo-ah-máh-koo-hóo-oo-aí-deh. + +“Now,” said the medicine-man, “we will make a nice hoop and try a +game.” He made it, and said to the Coyote: “Friend, go and stand over +there; and when I roll this hoop toward you, you must jump and put +your head through it before it stops rolling or falls over upon its +side.” + +The Coyote stood off, and the medicine-man sent the hoop rolling +toward him very hard. Just as it came near enough the Coyote +made a wonderful jump and put his head squarely through the +middle of it--and there, instead of the gaunt Coyote, stood the +Young-Man-Who-Embraces-a-Corncob, handsome and well and strong as +ever. They all crowded around to congratulate him and to listen to +what had befallen him. + +“Now,” said the medicine-man, “when we get home, the two +witch-sisters will come to congratulate you, and will pretend not to +know anything of the trouble that befell you, and when you see them +you must invite _them_ to a game of _mah-khúr_.” + +It all came about as he said. When the party got back to Isleta all +the people welcomed the young man whose mysterious disappearance had +made all sad. The news of his return spread rapidly, and soon reached +the village of Poo-reh-tú-ai. In a day or two the witch-sisters came +to Isleta, bringing on their heads baskets of the choicest foods and +other gifts, which they presented to him in the most cordial manner. +To see how they welcomed him, one would never fancy that they had +been the wicked causes of his suffering. He played his part equally +well, and gave no sign that he saw through their duplicity. At last, +when they were about to start home, he said: “Sisters, let us come to +the sand-hill to-morrow to play a little game.” + +An invitation--or rather a challenge--of that sort must be accepted +under all Indian etiquette; and the witch-sisters agreed. So at the +appointed hour they met him at the sacred hill. He had made a very +beautiful hoop, and when they saw it they were charmed, and took +their positions at the foot of the declivity. “One, two, three!” +he counted; and at the word “three!” sent the hoop rolling down to +them. They both grabbed it at the same instant, and lo! instead of +the pretty, but evil-minded sisters of Poo-reh-tú-ai, there lay +two huge rattlesnakes, with big tears falling from their eyes. +Young-Man-Who-Embraces-a-Corncob laid upon their ugly, flat heads a +pinch of the sacred meal, and they ran out their tongues and licked +it. + +“Now,” he said, “this is what happens to the treacherous. Here in +these cliffs shall be your home forever. You must never go to the +river, so you will suffer with thirst and drag yourselves in the dust +all the days of your life.” + +The Young-Man-Who-Embraces-a-Corncob went back to Isleta, where he +lived to a ripe old age. As for the snakes, they went to live in the +cliffs of their own mesa. The people of Poo-reh-tú-ai soon learned +of the fate of the witch-sisters, and knew that those two great +snakes, with tears in their eyes, were they. That was the beginning +of the downfall of Poo-reh-tú-ai; for the people grew fearful of +one another, lest there might be many more witches, unbeknown, +among them. The distrust and discontent grew rapidly--for to this +day nothing on earth will disrupt any Indian community so quickly +or so surely as the belief that some of the people are witches. +In a very short time the people decided to abandon Poo-reh-tú-ai +altogether. Most of them migrated to the Northwest, and I have not +as yet found even a legend to tell what became of them. The rest +settled in Isleta, where their descendants dwell to this day. There +are old men here now who claim that their great-grandfathers used to +see the two huge rattlesnakes basking on the cliffs of the mesa of +Shee-em-tóo-ai, and that the snakes always wept when people came near +them. + + + + +XXI + +THE DROWNING OF PECOS + + +TWENTY-FIVE miles southeast of Santa Fé, New Mexico, lie the deserted +ruins of the ancient Pueblo town of Pecos. The village was finally +abandoned by the Indians in 1840; and their neat houses of adobe +bricks and stone, and their quaint adobe church, have sadly fallen +to decay. The history of the abandonment of Pecos is by no means +startling; but the Indian tradition--for they have already added this +to their countless myths--is decidedly so. The story is related by +two aged Pecos Indians who still live in the pueblo of Jemez. + +“Now, this is a true story,” said my informant, an Isleteño, who had +often heard it from them. + +Once Pecos was a large village, and had many people.[76] But it came +that nearly all of them had the evil road, and in the whole town were +but five True Believers (in the Indian religion). These were an old +woman, her two sons, and two other young men. Agostin, her elder son, +was a famous hunter, and very often went to the mountains with a +friend of his who had an evil spirit--though Agostin was not aware of +that. + + [76] It was, indeed, the largest pueblo in New Mexico, having + at one time a population of about 2000. + +One day the friend invited Agostin to go hunting, and next day they +went to the mountains. Just at the foot they found a herd of deer, +one of which Agostin wounded. The deer fled up the mountain, and the +two friends followed by the drops of blood. Half-way to the top they +came to a second herd, which ran off to the right of the trail they +were following, and the evil-spirited friend went in pursuit of them, +while Agostin kept on after the one he had wounded. + +He came at last to the very top of the mountain, and there of a +sudden the trail ceased. Agostin hunted all about, but in vain, and +at last started down the other side of the mountain. + +As he came to a deep cañon he heard singing, and, peering cautiously +through the bushes, he saw a lot of witch-men sitting around a fallen +pine and singing, while their chief was trying to raise the tree. + +Agostin recognized them all, for they were of Pecos, and he was much +grieved when he saw his friend among them. Then he knew that the deer +had all been witches, and that they had led him off on a false trail. + +Greatly alarmed, he crept back to a safe distance, and then hurried +home and told his aged mother all that had happened, asking her if he +should report it to the Cacique. + +“No,” said she, with a sigh, “it is of no use; for he, too, has the +evil road. There are but few True Believers left, and the bad ones +are trying to use us up.” + +Among the five good people was one of the Cum-pah-whit-lah-wen +(guards of the medicine-men); and to him Agostin told his story. But +he also said: “It is of no use. We are too few to do anything.” + +At last the bad people falsely accused the old woman, saying that +her power was more than that of all the medicine-men put together +(which is a very serious charge, even to-day, among the Indians); and +challenged her to come before all the people in the medicine-house +and perform miracles with them, well knowing that she could not. The +challenge was for life or death; whichever side won was to kill the +others without being resisted. + +The poor old woman told her sons, with tears, saying: “Already we are +killed. We know nothing of these things, and we may make ready to +die.” + +“Nay, Nana,” said Agostin.[77] “Despair not yet, but prepare lunch +for Pedro[77] and me, that we go to other villages for advice. +Perhaps there the medicine-men will tell us something.” + + [77] Pronounced Ah-gohs-téen and Páy-droh. + +So the mother, still weeping, made some tortillas, and, strapping +these to their belts, the young men set out. + +Pedro, the younger, went east, and Agostin took the road to the +north. Whatever person they met, or to whatever village they came, +they were to seek advice. + +When Agostin came to the foot of the mountains, he was very +thirsty, but there was no water. As he entered a gorge he saw +Hyo-kwáh-kwah-báy-deh, a little bird which builds its nest with +pebbles and clay in the crannies of the cliffs, and is of exactly the +same color as the sandstones. He thought, “Ah, little bird, if you +could speak I would ask you where there is water, for I am fainting +with thirst, and dare not eat, for that would make it worse!” + +But the little bird, knowing his thought, said: + +“Friend Agostin, I see that you are one of the True Believers, and I +will show you where there is water; or wait, I will go and bring you +some, for it is very far.” And off he flew. + +Agostin waited, and presently the little bird came back, bringing an +acorn-cup full of water. Then Agostin’s heart sank, and he thought: +“Alas! what good will that drop do me?” + +But the little bird replied: “Do not think that way, friend. Here is +enough, and even more; for when you drink all you wish, there will +still be some left.” + +And so it was. Agostin drank and drank, then ate some tortillas and +drank again; and when he was satisfied, the acorn-cup was still +nearly full. + +Then the little bird said: “Now come, and I will lead you. But when +we come to the top of the mountain, and I say, ‘We are at the top,’ +you must say, ‘No, we are down in the mountain--at the bottom of it.’ +Do not forget.” + +Agostin promised, and the little bird flew in front of him. At last +they were at the top, and the little bird said: + +“Here we are, friend, at the top.” + +“No,” answered Agostin, “we are down in the mountain--at the bottom +of it.” + +Three times the little bird repeated his words, and three times +Agostin made the same answer. + +At the third reply they found themselves in a room in the +mountain. There was a door in front of them, and beside it stood a +Cum-pah-whit-lah-wíd-deh (guard), who said to Agostin--for the little +bird had disappeared: + +“Son, how came you here, where none ever think of coming? Do you +think you are a man?” + +Agostin told the whole story of the witches’ challenge, and of how he +had gone out to seek advice, and of how the little bird had brought +him here, and the guard said: + +“You are coming with the thought of a man; so now come in,” and he +opened the door. + +But when Agostin entered the inner room, which was so large that no +end could be seen, he found himself in the presence of the Trues in +human shape. + +There sat the divinities of the East, who are white; and of the +North, who are blue; and beyond them were the sacred animals--the +mountain lion, the eagle, bear, buffalo, badger, hawk, rabbit, +rattlesnake, and all the others that are of the Trues. Agostin was +very much afraid, but the guard said to him: + +“Do not fear, son, but take the heart of a man, and pray to all +sides.” So he faced to the six sides, praying. When he had finished, +one of the Trues spoke to him, and said: + +“What can it be that brought you here? Take the heart of a man and +tell us.” + +Then Agostin told his whole story; after which the Trues said to him: + +“Do not be worried, son. We will help you out of that.” + +The principal True of the East said: + +“Son, I will give you the clothes you must wear when you are in +the medicine-house for the contest of power”; and he gave Agostin +four dark-blue breech-clouts and some moccasins for himself and the +three other good young men, and a black _manta_ (robe) and pair of +moccasins for his mother. + +“Now,” said the True, “the evil-spirited ones will have this +medicine-making contest in the _estufa_,[78] and when you enter, you +five, you must all be dressed in these clothes. The people will all +be there, old and young, and there will hardly be room for you to +stand; and they will all sneer at you and spit upon you. But do not +be sorry. And take this cane to hold between you. Let your mother +take it with one hand at the bottom, then the Whit-lah-wíd-deh’s +hand, then her other hand, and then his other hand; and last your +brother’s hand, your hand, then his other hand, and your other hand +at the top of all. And when you say, ‘We are at the top of the +mountain,’ he must answer, ‘No, we are down in the mountain--at the +bottom of it.’ This you must keep saying. Now go, son, with the heart +of a man.” + + [78] Where it is sacrilegious to make medicine. + +Then the Whit-lah-wíd-deh led Agostin out, and the little bird showed +him the way down the mountain. + +When he reached home it was the afternoon of the appointed day, and +in the evening the medicine-making contest for life or death was to +come. + +In a little while the younger brother arrived, with his new clothes +and moccasins torn to shreds; for he had traveled far in a rough +country, without meeting a soul from whom to ask advice. + +Agostin called together the four other True Believers, and told them +all that had happened and what they must do, giving them the sacred +clothing. + +In the evening they went to the _estufa_, which was crowded with the +witch-people, so that they had barely room to stand. + +Then the evil-spirited ones began to make medicine, and turned +themselves into bears, coyotes, crows, owls, and other animals. When +they were done, they said to the old woman: + +“Now it is your turn. We will see what you can do.” + +“I know nothing about these things,” she said, “but I will do what I +can, and the Trues will help me.” + +Then she and the four young men took hold of the sacred cane as the +Trues had showed Agostin. + +“We are on the top of the mountain,” said he. + +“No,” answered his brother, “we are down in the mountain--at the +bottom of it.” + +This they said three times. At the third saying the people heard +on all sides the _guajes_ of the Trues.[79] At the same moment the +ladder[80] was jerked violently up out of the room, so that no one +could get out. + + [79] The thunder is said by the Tée-wahn to be the sacred + dance-rattle of their gods. + + [80] The only entrance to any _estufa_ is by a ladder let down + through a door in the roof. + +Then the two brothers repeated their words again, and at the +third saying the thunder began to roar outside, and all could hear +plainly the singing and the _guajes_ of the Trues. It began to rain +violently, and the water poured down through the roof-door, and the +lightning stuck its tongue in. The brothers kept repeating their +words, and soon the water was knee-deep. But where the five True +Believers stood, holding the cane, the floor was dusty. Soon the +flood came to the waists of the witch-people, and then to their +necks, and the children were drowning. Then they cried out to the old +woman: + +“Truly, mother, your power is greater than ours. We submit.” + +But she paid no attention to them, and her sons continued their +words, and the water kept pouring in until it touched the very +ceiling. But all around the five it stood back like a wall, and they +were on dry ground. + +At last all the evil-spirited ones were drowned. Then the rain ceased +and the water departed as fast as it had come. The ladder came down +through the roof-door again, and the five True Believers climbed out +and went to their homes. + +But it was very desolate, for they were the only survivors. Their +nearest relatives and dearest friends had perished with the other +witch-people. At last they could no longer bear to live in the lonely +valley, and they decided to live elsewhere. On the way the old mother +and one of the men died. Agostin went to the pueblo of Cochití, and +Pedro and the Whit-lah-wíd-deh settled in the pueblo of Jemez, where +they are still living (or were in the spring of 1891). + +Such is the Indian version of the abandonment of the great pueblo +which Coronado--that wonderful Spanish explorer--found in 1540. As a +matter of fact, the Hyó-qua-hoon, or people of Pecos, had dwindled +away by war, epidemics, and the like, until only five were left; and +in 1840 these lonely survivors moved to other pueblos, and abandoned +their ruined town forever. But the story is very valuable, not only +for the glimpse it affords of some of their most secret beliefs, but +also as showing how folk-stories of the most aboriginal stamp are +still coined. + +Witchcraft is still a serious trouble in all the pueblos, despite +the efforts of the medicine-men, whose special duty it is to keep +down the witches. One little pueblo called Sandia is dying out--as +many others have done before it--because the medicine-men are +quietly killing those whom they suspect of being witches. In 1888 a +very estimable Indian woman of that town was slain by them in the +customary way,--shot through from side to side with an arrow,--and +this form of execution is still practised. + +In Isleta they fear the Americans too much to indulge in +witch-killing, for Albuquerque is only a few miles away. But it is +only a little while ago that a young Isletan who was accused spent +three months in the neck-stocks in our aboriginal prison, and much +of the time had to “ride the horse,” sitting with his legs crossed +upon the adobe floor and the heavy weight of the stocks pressing him +down, a torture worthy of the Inquisition. The case was kept out of +the American courts only by the payment of a large sum to his parents +by his accusers. + +One whose eyes or lids look red is always regarded with suspicion +here, for witch-people are supposed not to sleep at night, but to +change themselves into animals and roam over the world. Eccentric +actions also lay one open to accusation; and when I first came here I +was dangerously near being classed with the witches because, to amuse +my dusky little neighbors, I imitated various animal cries to their +great edification, but to the very serious doubt of their elders. The +fact that they doubt whether Americans know enough to be first-class +witches was largely instrumental in saving me from serious danger. + + + + + [Illustration: The Ants that Pushed on the Sky] + +XXII + +THE ANTS THAT PUSHED ON THE SKY + + +A VERY ancient and characteristic story about the origin of Isleta is +based on the historic fact that part of its founders came from east +of the Manzano Mountains, from one of the prehistoric pueblos whose +ruins are now barely visible in those broad plains. + +Once upon a time there lived in one of those villages (so runs the +story) a young Indian named Kahp-too-óo-yoo, the Corn-stalk Young +Man. He was not only a famous hunter and a brave warrior against +the raiding Comanches, but a great wizard; and to him the Trues +had given the power of the clouds. When Kahp-too-óo-yoo willed it, +the glad rains fell, and made the dry fields laugh in green; and +without him no one could bring water from the sky. His father was +Old-Black-Cane, his mother was Corn-Woman, and his two sisters were +Yellow-Corn-Maiden, and Blue-Corn-Maiden. + +Kahp-too-óo-yoo had a friend, a young man of about the same age. But, +as is often true, the friend was of a false heart, and was really a +witch, though Kahp-too-óo-yoo never dreamed of such a thing. + +The two young men used to go together to the mountains to get wood, +and always carried their bows and arrows, to kill deer and antelopes, +or whatever game they might find. + +One day the false friend came to Kahp-too-óo-yoo, and said: + +“Friend, let us go to-morrow for wood, and to hunt.” + +They agreed that so they would do. Next day they started before +sunrise, and came presently to the spot where they gathered wood. +Just there they started a herd of deer. Kahp-too-óo-yoo followed part +of the herd, which fled to the northwest, and the friend pursued +those that went southwest. After a long, hard chase, Kahp-too-óo-yoo +killed a deer with his swift arrows, and brought it on his strong +back to the place where they had separated. Presently came the +friend, very hot and tired, and with empty hands; and seeing the +deer, he was pinched with jealousy. + +“Come, friend,” said Kahp-too-óo-yoo. “It is well for brothers to +share with brothers. Take of this deer and cook and eat; and carry a +part to your house, as if you had killed it yourself.” + +“Thank you,” answered the other coldly, as one who will not; but he +did not accept. + +When they had gathered each a load of wood, and lashed it with +rawhide thongs in bundles upon their shoulders, they trudged +home--Kahp-too-óo-yoo carrying the deer on top of his wood. His +sisters received him with joy, praising him as a hunter; and the +friend went away to his house, with a heavy face. + +Several different days when they went to the mountain together, the +very same thing came to pass. Kahp-too-óo-yoo killed each time a +deer; and each time the friend came home with nothing, refusing all +offers to share as brothers. And he grew more jealous and more sullen +every day. + +At last he came again to invite Kahp-too-óo-yoo to go; but this time +it was with an evil purpose that he asked. Then again the same things +happened. Again the unsuccessful friend refused to take a share of +Kahp-too-óo-yoo’s deer; and when he had sat long without a word, he +said: + +“Friend Kahp-too-óo-yoo, now I will prove you if you are truly my +friend, for I do not think it.” + +“Surely,” said Kahp-too-óo-yoo, “if there is any way to prove myself, +I will do it gladly, for truly I am your friend.” + +“Then come, and we will play a game together, and with that I will +prove you.” + +“It is well! But what game shall we play, for here we have nothing?” + +Near them stood a broken pine-tree, with one great arm from its +twisted body. And looking at it, the false friend said: + +“I see nothing but to play the _gallo_ race; and because we have no +horses[81] we will ride this arm of the pine-tree--first I will ride, +and then you.” + + [81] This mention of the horse is, of course, modern. I think + it is an interpolation. The rest of the story bears traces of + great antiquity. + +So he climbed the pine-tree, and sat astride the limb as upon a +horse, and rode, reaching over to the ground as if to pick up the +chicken.[82] + + [82] In imitation of one of the most popular and exciting + sports of the Southwestern Indians and Mexicans. + +“Now you,” he said, coming down; and Kahp-too-óo-yoo climbed the +tree and rode on the swinging branch. But the false friend bewitched +the pine, and suddenly it grew in a moment to the very sky, carrying +Kahp-too-óo-yoo. + +“We do this to one another,” taunted the false friend, as the tree +shot up; and taking the wood, and the deer which Kahp-too-óo-yoo had +killed, he went to the village. There the sisters met him, and asked: + +“Where is our brother?” + +“Truly I know not, for he went northwest and I southwest; and though +I waited long at the meeting-place, he did not come. Probably he will +soon return. But take of this deer which I killed, for sisters should +share the labors of brothers.” + +But the girls would take no meat, and went home sorrowful. + +Time went on, and still there was no Kahp-too-óo-yoo. His sisters and +his old parents wept always, and all the village was sad. And soon +the crops grew yellow in the fields, and the springs failed, and the +animals walked like weary shadows; for Kahp-too-óo-yoo, he who had +the power of the clouds, was gone, and there was no rain. And then +perished all that is green; the animals fell in the brown fields; and +the gaunt people who sat to warm themselves in the sun began to die +there where they sat. At last the poor old man said to his daughters: + +“Little daughters, prepare food, for again we will go to look for +your brother.” + +The girls made cakes of the blue corn-meal for the journey; and on +the fourth day they started. Old-Black-Cane hobbled to the south, his +wife to the east, the elder girl to the north, and the younger to the +west. + +For a great distance they traveled; and at last Blue-Corn-Maiden, who +was in the north, heard a far, faint song. It was so little that she +thought it must be imaginary; but she stopped to listen, and softly, +softly it came again: + + _Tó-ai-fóo-ni-hlóo-hlim, + Eng-k’hai k’háhm; + Eé-eh-bóori-kóon-hlee-oh, + Ing-k’hai k’háhm. + Ah-ee-ái, ah-hee-ái, + Aim!_ + + (Old-Black-Cane + My father is called; + Corn-Woman + My mother is called. + _Ah-ee-ái, ah-hee-ái, + Aim!_) + +When she heard this, Blue-Corn-Maiden ran until she came to her +sister, and cried: + +“Sister! Sister! I think I hear our brother somewhere in captivity. +Listen!” + +Trembling, they listened; and again the song came floating to them, +so soft, so sad that they wept--as to this day their people weep when +a white-haired old man, filled with the memories of Kahp-too-óo-yoo, +sings that plaintive melody. + +“Surely it is our brother!” they cried; and off they went running to +find their parents. And when all listened together, again they heard +the song. + +“Oh, my son!” cried the poor old woman, “in what captivity do you +find yourself? True it is that your father is Old-Black-Cane, and I, +your mother, am called Corn-Woman. But why do you sing thus?” + +Then all four of them began to follow the song, and at last they came +to the foot of the sky-reaching pine; but they could see nothing +of Kahp-too-óo-yoo, nor could their cries reach him. There, on the +ground, were his bow and arrows, with strings and feathers eaten away +by time; and there was his pack of wood, tied with the rawhide thong, +ready to be taken home. But after they had searched everywhere, they +could not find Kahp-too-óo-yoo; and finally they went home heavy at +heart. + +At last it happened that P’ah-whá-yoo-óo-deh, the Little Black Ant, +took a journey and went up the bewitched pine, even to its top in the +sky. When he found Kahp-too-óo-yoo there a prisoner, the Little Black +Ant was astonished, and said: + +“Great _Kah-báy-deh_ [Man of Power], how comes it that you are up +here in such a condition, while your people at home are suffering and +dying for rain, and few are left to meet you if you return? Are you +here of your free will?” + + [Illustration: SOUTH, EAST, NORTH, AND WEST IN SEARCH OF + KAHP-TOO-ÓO-YOO.] + +“No,” groaned Kahp-too-óo-yoo; “I am here because of the jealousy +of him who was as my brother, with whom I shared my food and labor, +whose home was my home, and my home his. He is the cause, for he was +jealous and bewitched me hither. And now I am dying of famine.” + +“If that is so,” said the Little Black Ant, “I will be the one to +help you”; and he ran down to the world as fast as he could. When he +got there he sent out the crier to summon all his nation, and also +that of the _In-toon_, the Big Red Ants. Soon all the armies of the +Little Black Ants and the Big Red Ants met at the foot of the pine, +and held a council. They smoked the _weer_ and deliberated what +should be done. + +“You Big Red Ants are stronger than we who are small,” said the +War-Captain of the Little Black Ants, “and for that you ought to take +the top of the tree to work.” + +“_Een-dah!_” (No) said the War-Captain of the Big Red Ants. “If you +think we are the stronger, give us the bottom, where we can work +more, and you go to the top.” + +So it was agreed, and the captains made their armies ready. But +first the Little Black Ants got the cup of an acorn, and mixed in it +corn-meal and water and honey, and carried it up the tree. They were +so many that they covered its trunk all the way to the sky. + + [Illustration] + +When Kahp-too-óo-yoo saw, his heart was heavy, and he thought: “But +what good will that very little do me, for I am dying of hunger and +thirst?” “Nay, friend,” answered the Captain of the Little Black +Ants, who knew his thought. “A person should not think so. This +little is enough, and there will be some left.” + +And it was so; for when Kahp-too-óo-yoo had eaten all he could, the +acorn-cup was still nearly full. Then the ants carried the cup to the +ground and came back to him. + +“Now, friend,” said the Captain, “we will do our best. But now you +must shut your eyes till I say ‘_Ahw!_’” + +Kahp-too-óo-yoo shut his eyes, and the Captain sent signals down to +those at the foot of the tree. And the Little Black Ants above put +their feet against the sky and pushed with all their might on the top +of the pine; and the Big Red Ants below caught the trunk and pulled +as hard as they could; and the very first tug drove the great pine a +quarter of its length into the earth. + +“_Ahw!_” shouted the Captain of the Little Black Ants, and +Kahp-too-óo-yoo opened his eyes; but he could see nothing below. + +“Shut your eyes again,” said the Captain, giving the signal. Again +the Little Black Ants pushed mightily against the sky, and the Big +Red Ants pulled mightily from below; and the pine was driven another +fourth of its length into the earth. + +“_Ahw!_” cried the Captain; and when Kahp-too-óo-yoo opened his eyes +he could just see the big, brown world. + +Again he closed his eyes. There was another great push and pull, +and only a quarter of the pine was left above the ground. Now +Kahp-too-óo-yoo could see, far below, the parched fields strewn with +dead animals, and his own village full of dying people. + +Again the Little Black Ants pushed and the Big Red Ants pulled, and +this time the tree was driven clear out of sight, and Kahp-too-óo-yoo +was left sitting on the ground. He hastily made a bow and arrows and +soon killed a fat deer, which he brought and divided among the Little +Black Ants and the Big Red Ants, thanking them for their kindness. + +Then he made all his clothing to be new, for he had been four years +a prisoner in the bewitched tree, and was all in rags. Making for +himself a flute from the bark of a young tree, he played upon it as +he strode homeward and sang: + + _Kahp-too-óo-yoo tú-mah-quee, + Nah-chóor kwé-shay-tin, + Nah-shúr kwé-shay-tin; + Kahp-too-óo-yoo tú-mah-quee!_ + + (Kahp-too-óo-yoo has come to life again, + Is back to his home coming, + Blowing the yellow and the blue; + Kahp-too-óo-yoo has come to life again!) + + [Illustration: KAHP-TOO-ÓO-YOO CALLING THE RAIN.] + +As he walked and sang, the forgotten clouds came over him, and the +soft rain began to fall, and all was green and good. But only so far +as his voice reached came the rain; and beyond all was still death +and drought. When he came to the end of the wet, he played and sang +again; and again the rain fell as far as his voice was heard. This +time the Fool-Boy, who was wandering outside the dying village, saw +the far storm and heard the singing. He ran to tell Kahp-too-óo-yoo’s +parents; but nobody would believe a Foolish, and they sent him away. + +When the Fool-Boy went out again, the rain fell on him and gave him +strength, and he came running a second time to tell. Then the sisters +came out of the house and saw the rain and heard the song; and they +cried for joy, and told their parents to rise and meet him. But the +poor old people were dying of weakness, and could not rise; and the +sisters went alone. When they met him they fell on their knees, +weeping; but Kahp-too-óo-yoo lifted them up and blessed them, gave an +ear of blue corn to Blue-Corn-Maiden, and to Yellow-Corn-Maiden an +ear of yellow corn, and brought them home. + +As he sang again, the rain fell in the village; and when it touched +the pinched faces of the dead they sat up and opened their mouths to +catch it. And the dying crawled out to drink, and were strong again; +and the withered fields grew green and glad. + +When they came to the house, Kahp-too-óo-yoo blessed his parents, and +then said: + +“Little sisters, give us to eat.” + +But they answered, “How? For you have been gone these four years, and +there was none to give us rain. We planted, but nothing came, and +to-day we ate the last grain.” + +“Nay, little sisters,” he said. “A person should not think so. Look +now in the store-rooms, if there be not something there.” + +“But we have looked and looked, and turned over everything to try to +find one grain.” + +“Yet look once more,” he said; and when they opened the door, lo! +there was the store-room piled to the roof with corn, and another +room was full of wheat. Then they cried for joy, and began to roast +the blue ears, for they were dying of hunger. + +At the sweet smell of the roasting corn came the starving neighbors, +crowding at the door, and crying: + +“O Kahp-too-óo-yoo! Give us to taste one grain of corn, and then we +will go home and die.” + +But Kahp-too-óo-yoo handed to each an ear, and said: + +“Fathers, brothers, go now to your own houses, for there you will +find corn as much as here.” And when they went, it was so. All began +to roast corn and to eat; and the dead in the houses awoke and were +strong again, and all the Village sang and danced. + +From that time there was plenty of rain, for he who had the power +of the clouds was at home again. In the spring the people planted, +and in the fall the crops were so great that all the town could not +hold them; so that which was left they brought to Shee-eh-whíb-bak +(Isleta), where we enjoy it to this day. + +As for the false friend, he died of shame in his house, not daring to +come out; and no one wept for him. + + + + +XXIII + +THE MAN WHO WOULDN’T KEEP SUNDAY + + +AMONG the folk-stories of the Pueblos which show at once that they +are not of such antiquity as the rest, is this. It is plain that the +story is post-Spanish--that it has been invented within the last +three hundred and fifty years. That seems to us a long time to go +back in the history of America, but to the Pueblos it is a trifling +dot on the long line of their antiquity. + +The following tale is an amusing instance of the fashion in which +some of the myth-makers have mixed things. It is an Indian fairy +tale, but with a Christian moral--which was learned from the noble +and effective Spanish missionaries who toiled here. + +Once upon a time, in a pueblo south of Isleta,--one of its old +colonies known as P’ah-que-tóo-ai, the Rainbow Town, but deserted +long ago,--there were two Indians who were great friends. They +started in life with equal prospects, married young, and settled in +the same town. But though friends, their natures were very different. +One was a good man in his heart, and the other was bad. The good man +always observed Sunday, but the other worked every day. The good +man had better luck than the bad; and the latter became jealous. At +last he said: “Friend, tell me, why is it that you always make more +success than I?” + +“Perhaps,” answered Good, “because I keep Sunday, but work hard all +the other days of the week, while you work every day.” + +Time went on, and both the friends accumulated considerable wealth in +servants, stock, and ornaments. The good man let his servants rest on +Sunday, but the bad made his work every day, and did not even give +them time to smoke. Good prospered most, and had more servants, more +stock, and more ornaments than Bad, who grew more jealous daily. +At last Bad said to Good: “Friend, you say that you have good luck +because you keep Sunday, but I’ll bet I am right in _not_ keeping it.” + +“No,” replied Good; “I’ll bet _I_ am right, and that Sunday ought to +be kept.” + +“Then I will bet all my stock against all your stock, and all my +lands against your lands, and everything we have except our wives. +To-morrow, be ready about breakfast-time, and we will go out into the +public road and ask the first three men we meet which of us is right. +And whichever gets the voice of the majority, he shall be the winner, +and shall take all that is of the other.” + +Good agreed--for an Indian cannot back out of a challenge,--and so +the next morning the two friends took the public road. In a little +while they met a man, and said to him: “Friend, we want your voice. +Which of us is right, the one who observes Sunday and lets his +_peons_ rest then, or he who does not?” + +Now it happened that this person was not a man, but an old devil who +was taking a walk in human form; and he promptly answered: “Without +doubt he is right who does not keep Sunday,” and went his road. + +“Aha!” said Bad to Good. “You see I got the first voice.” + +They started on again and soon met another man, to whom they asked +the same. But it was the same old devil, and he gave them the same +answer. + +“Aha!” said Bad. “Now I have the second voice, you see.” + +Presently they met a third man, and asked him the same, and he +answered the same; for it was the same old devil in another body. + +“Aha!” said Bad, “I am the winner! Get down from that burro, and let +me have her and her colt, for now all that was yours is mine, as we +agreed.” + +Good got down from the burro with tears in his eyes, for he was +thinking of his wife, and said: + +“Now, friend, having gained all, you are going back to our home; but +I shall not. Tell my wife that I am going to the next pueblo to seek +work, and that I will not be back until I have earned as much as I +have lost in this bet, or more; but tell her not to be sad.” + +Then they shook hands and parted, Bad riding home full of joy, and +Good trudging off through the sand toward Isleta, which was the +largest and wealthiest pueblo of the tribe. On the road night +overtook him, and seeing an abandoned house in a field, he hastened +to it for shelter from the cold of night. A portion of the roof still +remained, with the _fogon_ (corner fireplace) and chimney, and he +began to brush a place to lie down. Now it happened that this house +was the place where all the devils of that country used to meet at +night; and before Good went to sleep he heard noises of the devils +coming. He was very much frightened, and to hide himself climbed up +into the chimney and stood upon its crosspiece. + +In a moment the devils began to arrive singly or in pairs; and at +last came the old devil--the very one who had played the trick on +Good. He called the meeting to order, and asked them what they had +been doing. A young devil arose and said: + +“The next pueblo is the largest and wealthiest of this nation. For +three weeks now, all its people, and all the people along that river, +have been working at the spring from which the river comes, but have +not been able to undo me. Three weeks ago I came to that spring and +thought how nice it would be to stop up the spring, and how the +people would swear if their gods did not send rain. So I stuck a big +stone in the spring and stopped all the water; and ever since, the +water will not come out, and the people work in vain, and they are +dying of thirst, and all their stock. Now they will either forsake +their gods and serve us, or die like the animals, thinking nothing of +their past or future.” + +“Good!” said the old devil, rubbing his hands. “You have done well! +But tell me--is there no way to open the spring?” + +“There is only one way,” said the young devil, “and one man could do +that--but they will never think of it. If a man took a long stick, +shaped like a sword, and went and stood on top of the stone, and +struck it with the full length of the stick first east and west, and +then north and south, the water would come out so hard that the stone +would be thrown out upon the banks and the spring could never be +stopped again.” + +“Is _that_ the only way?” said the old devil. “You have done very +well, for they certainly will never think to do that. Now for the +next.” + +Then another young devil arose and reported this: + +“I, too, have done something. In the pueblo across the mountain I +have the daughter of the wealthiest man sick in bed, and she will +never get well. All the medicine-men have tried in vain to cure her. +She, too, will be ours.” + +“Good!” said the old devil. “But is there no way in which any one may +cure her?” + +“Yes, there is one way, but they never will think of that. If a +person should carry her to the door just as the sun is rising, and +hold her so that its very first rays would touch the top of her head, +she would be well at once, and never could be made sick again.” + +“You are right,” said the old devil, “they will never think of that. +You have done well.” + +Just then a rooster crowed, and the old devil cried, “You have a +road!”--which means, “an adjournment is in order.” All the devils +hurried away; and when they were gone, poor Good crawled down from +the chimney half dead with fright, and hurried on toward Isleta. When +he got there he found the people in great trouble, for their crops +were withering and their cattle dying for want of water. + +“I see,” thought Good to himself, “that these devils told the truth +about one thing, and so perhaps they did about all. I will try to +undo them, even if I fail.” Going to the Cacique he asked what +they would give him if he would open the spring. The Cacique told +the _principales_, and they held a _junta_, and decided to let the +stranger name his own price. + +“Well,” said he, “I will do this if you will give me half the value +of the whole village.” + +They agreed, and asked how many men he would need to help him, and +when he would begin. + +“I need no men. Lend me only a hard stick the length of my +outstretched arms, and a horse.” + +These were given him, and he went to the spring alone. Leaping upon +the stone he struck it with the full length of the stick east and +west, and then north and south, and sprang nimbly to the bank. At +that very instant the water rushed out harder than it had ever done. +All the people and cattle along the river came to the banks and drank +and revived. They began to irrigate their fields again, and the dying +crops grew green.[83] When Good got back to the pueblo, half of all +the grain and money and dresses and ornaments were piled up in a +huge pile waiting for him, and half the horses and cattle and sheep +were waiting in big herds. It was so that he had to hire a great many +men to help him home with his wealth, which was more than any one +person ever had before. He appointed a mayordomo to take charge of +this caravan, and to meet him at a certain point on the way home. He +himself, taking a horse, rode away at once to the other pueblo, where +the rich man’s daughter was sick. Arriving at nightfall, he stopped +at the house of an old woman. While he ate, she told him how sad was +all the village; for the girl who had been so kind to all was dying. + + [83] Here, as in several other stories in this volume, is a + touch of the arid character of the Southwest. The country is + always so dry that irrigation is necessary in farming, and in + very bad years the streams have not water even for that. The + Rio Grande itself frequently disappears in September between + certain points in its course in sandy New Mexico; and within + ten miles below Isleta I have seen its bed bone-dry. Ignorance + of this fact has caused serious blunders on the part of + historians unfamiliar with the country of which they wrote. + +“But,” said he, “I can cure her.” + +“_In-dah_,” said the crone; “for all the medicine men have tried +vainly, and how shall you?” + +“But I can,” he insisted; and at last the old woman went to the rich +man, and said there was a stranger at her house who was sure he could +cure the girl. + +The _rico_ said: “Go and tell him to come here quickly,” and the old +woman did so. When Good came, the rich man said: “Are you he who says +he can cure my daughter?” + +“I am the one.” + +“For how much will you cure her?” + +“What will you give?” + +“Half of all I have, which is much.” + +“It is well. To-morrow be ready, for I will come just before the sun.” + +In the blue of the morning Good came and waked the girl, and carried +her to the door. In a moment came the sun, and its first ray fell +upon her bent head. In an instant she was perfectly well, and +stronger and prettier than ever. + +That very day her father gladly divided all his wealth into two +equal shares, and gave half to Good, who again had to hire many +cow-boys and men with _carretas_ to help him transport all this. At +the appointed spot he found his mayordomo; and putting all the stock +together, with many herders, and all the wagons full of corn and +dresses and ornaments and money together, started homeward, sending +ahead a messenger on a beautiful horse to apprise his wife. + +When the jealous Bad saw this fine horse going to the house of his +friend, he ran over to see what it meant; and while he was still +there, Good arrived with all his wealth. Filled with envy, Bad asked +him where he had got all this; and Good told the whole story. + +“Well,” said Bad, “I will go there too, and perhaps I will hear +something.” So off he rode on the burro he had won from Good, till he +came to the deserted house, and climbed up in the chimney. + +Soon the devils met, and the two young ones told their chief that the +spring had been opened and the girl cured, and that neither could +ever be bewitched again. + +“Somebody must have listened to us last night,” said the old devil, +greatly troubled. “Search the house.” In a little while they found +the jealous friend in the chimney, and supposing him to be the one +who had undone them, without mercy puffed him to the place where +devils live. + + + + +XXIV + +THE BRAVE BOBTAILS + + +WHEN it came old Anastacio’s turn, one night, to tell a story to +the waiting circle, it was several minutes before he responded to +the quaint summons; and at last Lorenso repeated: “There is a tail +to you, _compadre_ Anastacio!” The words seemed to remind him of +something; for he turned to his fat grandson, and said: + +“Juan! Knowest thou why the Bear and the Badger have short tails? For +once they had them long as Kéem-ee-deh, the Mountain Lion. _In-dah?_ +Then I will tell thee.” + + * * * * * + +Once in the Days of the Old, it was that a young man lived here in +Shee-eh-whíb-bak whom they called T’hoor-hlóh-ah, the Arrow of the +Sun. He was not of the Tée-wahn, but a Ute, who was taken in war +while yet a child. When the warriors brought him here, a Grandmother +who was very poor took him for her son, and reared him, loving him +greatly, and teaching him all the works of men. Coming to be a young +man, he was a mighty hunter; but so good in his heart that he loved +the animals as brothers, and they all loved him. When he went out to +hunt, the first game he killed he always dressed and left there for +his animal-friends to eat. Sometimes it was Kéem-ee-deh, king of the +four-feet, who came to the feast Sun-Arrow had made; and sometimes +Kahr-naí-deh, the Badger, who is best of all to dig, and who showed +Those of Old how to make their caves; and sometimes the smaller ones. +They were all grateful; for no other was so kind to feed them. + +Now the Grandmother would never let Sun-Arrow go to war, fearing +that he would be killed; and all the other young men laughed at +him, because he had never taken the sacred _oak-bark_. And when the +others danced the great round-dance, he had to stand alone. So he +was ashamed, and vowed that he would prove himself a man; and taking +secretly his bow and arrows and his thunder-knife, he went away by +night alone, and crossed the Eagle-Feather Mountains. + +Now in that time there was always great war with the Comanches, +who lived in the plains. They came often across the mountains and +attacked Isleta by night, killing many people. Their chief was +P’ee-kú-ee-fa-yíd-deh, or Red Scalp, the strongest and largest +and bravest of men. For many years all the warriors of Isleta had +tried to kill him, for he was the head of the war; but he slew all +who came against him. He was very brave, and painted his scalp red +with _páh-ree_, so that he might be known from far; and left his +scalp-lock very long, and braided it neatly, so that an enemy might +grasp it well. + +Now Sun-Arrow met this great warrior; and with the help of an old +Spider-woman,[84] slew him and took his scalp. When the people of +Isleta saw Sun-Arrow returning, the young men began to laugh and say: +“Va! T’hoor-hlóh-ah has gone to make war again on the rabbits!” + + [84] About equivalent to our “fairy godmother.” + +But when he came into the plaza, saying nothing, and they saw that +_oak-bark_ which all knew, all cried out: “Come and look! For here is +Sun-Arrow, who was laughed at--and now he has brought the bark of Red +Scalp, whom our bravest have tried in vain to kill.” + +So when he had taken the scalp to the Cacique, and they had had the +round-dance, and the days of purification were over, they called +Sun-Arrow the greatest warrior of the Tée-wahn, and made him second +to the Cacique. Then all who had daughters looked at him with good +eyes, and all the maidens wished for so brave a husband. But he saw +none of them, except the youngest daughter of the Cacique; for he +loved her. When the Grandmother had spoken to the Cacique, and it was +well, they brought the young people together, and gave them to eat of +the betrothal corn--to Sun Arrow an ear of the blue corn, and to her +an ear of the white corn, because the hearts of maidens are whiter +than those of men. When both had eaten the raw corn, every seed of +it, the old folks said: “It is well! For truly they love each other. +And now let them run the marrying-race.” + +Then all the people gathered yonder where are the ashes of the +evil-hearted ones who were burned when Antelope Boy won for his +people. And the elders marked a course, as of three miles, from +there to the sacred sand-hill beside the Kú-mai. When they said +the word, Sun-Arrow and the girl went running like young antelope, +side by side. Up to the Place of the Bell they ran, and turned back +running; and when they came to the people, the girl was a little in +front, and all cried: + +“It is well! For now Eé-eh-chah has won a husband, and she shall +always be honored in her own house.” + +So they were married, and the Cacique blessed them. They made a house +by the plaza,[85] and Sun-Arrow was given of the fields, that he +might plant. + + [85] Public square in the center of the pueblo. + +But of the maidens there was one who did not forgive Sun-Arrow that +he would not look at her; and in her heart she thought to pay him. So +she went to a Spider-woman,[86] and said: “Grandmother, help me! For +this young man despised me, and now I will punish him.” + + [86] Here equivalent to a witch. + +Then the Spider-woman made an accursed prayer-stick of the feathers +of the woodpecker, and spoke to the Ghosts, and said to the girl: + +“It is well, daughter! For I am the one that will help you. Take +only this Toad, and bury it in your floor, _this_ way, and then ask +T’hoor-hlóh-ah to come to your house.” + +The girl made a hole in her floor, and buried P’ah-foo-ée-deh, the +Toad. Then she went to Sun-Arrow and said: “Friend T’hoor-hlóh-ah, +come to my house a little; for I have to talk to you.” + +But when Sun-Arrow sat down in her house, his feet were upon the +floor over the hole; and in a moment the Toad grew very great, and +began to swallow him by the feet. Sun-Arrow kicked and fought, for +he was very strong. But he could do nothing; and in a little, he was +swallowed to the knees. Then he called in a great voice for his wife; +and all the people of the Tée-wahn came running with her. When they +saw him so, they were very sad; and Eé-eh-chah took his hand, and the +Grandmother took his other, and all the people helped them. But all +were not so strong as the great Toad; and fast it was swallowing him, +until he was at the waist. Then he said: + +“Go, my people! Go, my wife! For it is in vain. Go from this place, +that you may not see me. And pray to the Trues if they will help me.” +So they all went, mourning greatly. + +In that time it came that Shee-íd-deh, the House-Mouse, stirred from +his hole; and seeing Sun-Arrow _so_, he came to him, weeping. + +“Oh, Friend Sun-Arrow!” he cried. “You who have been a father to us +all, you who have fed us, and have proved yourself so brave--it is +not deserved that you should be thus. But we for whom you have cared, +we will be the ones to help you!” + +Then Shee-íd-deh ran from the house until he found the Dog, and to +him told it all. And Quee-ah-níd-deh, whose voice was big, ran out +into the plains, up and down, _pregonando_[87] to all the animals; +and they came hurrying from all places. Soon all the birds and all +the four-feet were met in council in the room where Sun-Arrow was; +and the Mountain Lion was captain. When he had listened to them, he +said: + + [87] The technical (Spanish) word for the official heralding by + which all announcements are still made among the Pueblos. + +“Now let each tribe of you choose from it one who is young and +strong, to give help to him who has fed us. For we cannot leave him +to die so.” + +When every kind that walks or flies had chosen its strongest one, the +chosen stood out; Kéem-ee-deh called them by name to take their turns. + +“Kóo-ah-raí-deh!” he called; and the Bluebird of the mountains came +to Sun-Arrow, who was now swallowed up to his armpits. Sun-Arrow +grasped her long tail with both hands, and she flew and flew with all +her might, not caring for the pain, until her tail was pulled off. +But Sun-Arrow was not budged a hair. + +Then the captain called Ku-íd-deh, the Bear, to try. He gave his +long tail to Sun-Arrow to hold; and when he had counted “One, two, +_three_!” he pulled with a great pull, so hard that his whole tail +came off. And still Sun-Arrow was not stirred. + +Then it was to the Coyote. But _he_ said: “My ears are stronger”; for +he was a coward, and would not give to pull on his pretty tail, of +which he is proud. So he gave to Sun-Arrow to hold by his ears, and +began to pull backward. But soon it hurt him, and he stopped when his +ears were pulled forward. + +“Now it is to you, Kahr-naí-deh,” said the Mountain Lion; and the +Badger came out to try. First he dug around Sun-Arrow, and gave him +to hold his tail. Then he counted _three_, and pulled greatly, so +that his tail came off--and Sun-Arrow was moved a very little. But +the Badger did not fear the pain, and said: + +“Let it be to me twice again, Kah-báy-deh.”[88] + + [88] Commander. + +“It is well!” said the Mountain Lion. “So let it be.” + +So the Badger dug again, and gave the stump of his tail, and pulled. +And Sun-Arrow was loosened a little more; but the stump slipped +through his hands, for it was very short. + +“_Around_ me, friend,” said the Badger, when he had dug a third time; +and Sun-Arrow clasped his hands around the Badger’s body, behind the +fore legs. Then for the third time Kahr-naí-deh pulled--so mightily +that he dragged Sun-Arrow clear out from the Toad’s mouth. At that, +all the animals fell upon the wicked Toad, and killed it; and gave +thanks to Those Above for the deliverance of their friend. + +When they had prayed, Sun-Arrow thanked all the animals, one by one; +and to the Bluebird, the Bear, and the Badger, he said: + +“Friends, how shall I thank you who have suffered so much for me? +And how can I pay you for your help, and for the tails that you have +lost?” But to the Coyote he did not say a word. + +Then said the Badger: + +“Friend T’hoor-hlóh-ah, as for me, your hand has always been held out +to me. You have fed me, and have been as a father: I want no pay for +this tail that I have lost.” + +And the Bear and the Bluebird both answered the same thing. + +So Sun-Arrow again gave them many thanks, and they went away to +their homes. As for Sun-Arrow, he hurried to the Medicine House, +where all the Tée-wahn were making medicine[89] that he might be +saved. And when they saw him entering, his wife ran and cried on his +shoulder, and all the people gave thanks to the Trues. + + [89] Not compounding remedies, but going through the magic + dance and incantations to which the Indians always resort in + time of trouble. For a description of a medicine-making, see + “Some Strange Corners of Our Country.” + +Sun-Arrow told them all that was; and when the Father-of-all-Medicine +looked in the sacred _cajete_[90] he saw the evil-hearted girl paying +the Spider-woman. Then the Cum-pah-whít-la-wen[91] went running with +their bows and arrows, and brought the girl; and she was punished as +are they that have the evil road. As for the Spider-woman, she was +already dead of shame; for she knew all that had been. + + [90] A jar of magic water, in which the chief conjuror is + supposed to see all that is going on in the world. + + [91] Armed guards of the Medicine House. + +In a time it came that his father-in-law the Cacique died; and they +made Sun-Arrow Cacique in his place. For many years he was so, +bringing great good to his people; for he was very wise. + +As for the Bear, the Badger, and the Bluebird, they would never +go to the medicine-men of their tribes to have their tails mended +to grow again; for they were proud that they had suffered to help +their friend. And to this very day they go with short tails, and +are honored by all the animals, and by all True Believers. But +Too-wháy-deh, the coward, he who would not hurt himself with +pulling--he is a laughed-at to this day. For his ears cannot lie +back, as is well for beasts, but always point straight forward, as +Sun-Arrow pulled them. + + * * * * * + +Any one who has ever seen the Coyote, or any other of the wolf or +fox tribe, must have noticed the alert forward pricking of the ears. +Among the Pueblos, any such peculiarity of nature--and particularly +of animal life--is very sure to have a folk-story hung to it. It has +always seemed to me that the boy who always wants to know “why?” has +a better time of it among my Indian friends than anywhere else. For +there is always sure to be a why, and an interesting one--which is +much more satisfactory than only learning that “it’s bedtime now,” or +that “I’m busy.” + + + + + [Illustration: THE REVENGE of the FAWNS] + +XXV + +THE REVENGE OF THE FAWNS + + +“DON CARLOS,” said Vitorino, throwing another log upon the fire, +which caught his tall shadow and twisted it and set it dancing +against the rocky walls of the cañon in which we were camped for the +night, “did you ever hear why the Wolf and the Deer are enemies?” And +as he spoke he stretched out near me, looking up into my face to see +if I were going to be interested. + +A few years ago it would have frightened me very seriously to find my +self thus--alone in one of the remotest corners of New Mexico save +for that swarthy face peering up into mine by the weird light of the +camp-fire. A stern, quiet but manly face it seems to me now; but once +I would have thought it a very savage one, with its frame of long, +jet hair, its piercing eyes, and the broad streak of red paint across +its cheeks. By this time, however, having lived long among the kindly +Pueblos, I had shaken off that strange, ignorant prejudice against +all that is unknown--which seems to be inborn in all of us--and +wondered that I could ever have believed in that brutal maxim, worthy +only of worse than savages, that “A good Indian is a dead Indian.” +For Indians are men, after all, and astonishingly like the rest of us +when one really comes to know them. + +I pricked up my ears--very glad at his hint of another of these +folk-stories. + +“No,” I answered. “I have noticed that the Wolf and the Deer are not +on good terms, but never knew the reason.” + +“_Si, señor_,” said he,--for Vitorino knows no English, and most of +our talk was in Spanish, which is easier to me than the Tée-wahn +language,--“that was very long ago, and now all is changed. But once +the Wolf and the Deer were like brothers; and it is only because +the Wolf did very wickedly that they are enemies. _Con su licencia, +señor._”[92] + + [92] “With your permission, sir.” + +“_Bueno; anda!_”[93] + + [93] “All right; go ahead!” + +So Vitorino leaned his shoulders against a convenient rock and began. + + * * * * * + +Once upon a time, when the Wolf and the Deer were friends, there +were two neighbors in the country beyond the Rio Puerco, not far +from where the pueblo of Laguna (a Quères town) now is. One was a +Deer-mother who had two fawns, and the other a Wolf-mother with two +cubs. They had very good houses of adobe, just such as we live in +now, and lived like real people in every way. The two were great +friends, and neither thought of going to the mountain for firewood or +to dig _amole_[94] without calling for the other to accompany her. + + [94] The root of the palmilla, generally used for soap + throughout the Southwest. + +One day the Wolf came to the house of the Deer and said: + +“Friend Peé-hlee-oh [Deer-woman], let us go to-day for wood and +_amole_, for I must wash to-morrow.” + +“It is well, friend Káhr-hlee-oh,” replied the Deer. “I have nothing +to do, and there is food in the house for the children while I am +gone. _Toó-kwai!_ [Let us go].” + +So they went together across the plain and into the hills till they +came to their customary spot. They gathered wood and tied it in +bundles to bring home on their backs, and dug _amole_, which they put +in their shawls to carry. Then the Wolf sat down under a cedar-tree +and said: + +“_Ai!_ But I am tired! Sit down, friend Deer-woman, and lay your head +in my lap, that we may rest.” + +“No, I am not tired,” replied the Deer. + +“But just to rest a little,” urged the Wolf. The Deer good-naturedly +lay down with her head in the lap of her friend. But soon the Wolf +bent down and caught the trusting Deer by the throat, and killed +her. That was the first time in the world that any one betrayed a +friend, and from that deed comes all the treachery that is. + +The false Wolf took off the hide of the Deer, and cut off some of the +meat and carried it home on her load of _amole_ and wood. She stopped +at the house of the Deer, and gave the Fawns some of the accursed +meat, saying: + +“Friends, Deer-babies, do not fear, but eat; your mother met +relatives and went to their house, and she will not come to-night.” + +The Fawns were very hungry, and as soon as the Wolf had gone home +they built a big fire in the fireplace and set the meat to cook. But +at once it began to sputter and to hiss, and the Fawn who was tending +it heard it cry, “Look out! look out! for this is your mother!” + +He was greatly frightened, and called his brother to listen, and +again the same words came from the meat. + +“The wicked old Wolf has killed our _nana_! [mama],” they cried, and, +pulling the meat from the fire, they laid it gently away and sobbed +themselves to sleep. + +Next morning the Wolf went away to the mountain to bring the rest of +the deer-meat; and when she was gone her Cubs came over to play with +the Fawns, as they were used to doing. When they had played awhile, +the Cubs said: + +“_Pee-oo-weé-deh_ [little Deer], why are you so prettily spotted, and +why do you have your eyelids red, while we are so ugly?” + +“Oh,” said the Fawns, “that is because when we were little, like +you, our mother put us in a room and smoked us, and made us spotted.” + +“Oh, Fawn-friends, can’t you spot us, too, so that we may be pretty?” + +So the Fawns, anxious to avenge the death of their mother, built a +big fire of corn-cobs in the fireplace, and threw coyote-grass on it +to make a great smoke. Then, shutting the Cubs into the room, they +plastered up the door and windows with mud, and laid a flat rock on +top of the chimney and sealed it around with mud; and climbing down +from the roof, they took each other’s hands and ran away to the south +as fast as ever they could. + +After they had gone a long way, they came to a Coyote. He was walking +back and forth with one paw to his face, howling dreadfully with the +toothache. The Fawns said to him very politely: + +“_Ah-bóo!_ [poor thing]. Old-man friend, we are sorry your tooth +hurts. But an old Wolf is chasing us, and we cannot stay. If she +comes this way, asking about us, do not tell her, will you?” + +“_Een-dah._ Little-Deer-friends, I will not tell her”--and he began +to howl again with pain, while the Fawns ran on. + +When the Wolf came to her home with the rest of the meat, the Cubs +were not there; and she went over to the house of the Deer. It was +all sealed and still; and when she pushed in the door, there were her +Cubs dead in the smoke! When she saw that, the old Wolf was wild with +rage, and vowed to follow the Fawns and eat them without mercy. She +soon found their tracks leading away to the south, and began to +run very swiftly in pursuit. + + [Illustration: THE WOLF, AND THE COYOTE WITH THE TOOTHACHE.] + +In a little while she came to the Coyote, who was still walking up +and down, howling so that one could hear him a mile away. But not +pitying his pain, she snarled at him roughly: + +“Say, old man! have you seen two Fawns running away?” + +The Coyote paid no attention to her, but kept walking with his hand +to his mouth, groaning, “_Mm-m-páh! Mm-m-páh!_” + +Again she asked him the same question, more snappishly, but he only +howled and groaned. Then she was very angry, and showed her big teeth +as she said: + +“I don’t care about your ‘_Mm-m-páh! Mm-m-páh!_’ Tell me if you saw +those Fawns, or I’ll eat you this very now!” + +“Fawns? _Fawns?_” groaned the Coyote--“I have been wandering with the +toothache ever since the world began. And do you think I have had +nothing to do but to watch for Fawns? Go along, and don’t bother me.” + +So the Wolf, who was growing angrier all the time, went hunting +around till she found the trail, and set to running on it as fast as +she could go. + +By this time the Fawns had come to where two Indian boys were playing +_k’wah-t’hím_[95] with their bows and arrows, and said to them: + + [95] A sort of walking archery. + +“Friends boys, if an old Wolf comes along and asks if you have seen +us, don’t tell her, will you?” + +The boys promised that they would not, and the Fawns hurried on. But +the Wolf could run much faster, and soon she came to the boys, to +whom she cried gruffly: + +“You boys! did you see two Fawns running this way?” + +But the boys paid no attention to her, and went on playing their game +and disputing: “My arrows nearest!” “No; mine is!” “’T ain’t! Mine +is!” She repeated her question again and again, but got no answer +till she cried in a rage: + +“You little rascals! Answer me about those Fawns, or I’ll eat you!” + +At that the boys turned around and said: + +“We have been here all day, playing _k’wah-t’hím_, and not hunting +Fawns. Go on, and do not disturb us.” + +So the Wolf lost much time with her questions and with finding the +trail again; but then she began to run harder than ever. + +In the mean time the Fawns had come to the bank of the Rio Grande, +and there was _P’ah-chah-hlóo-hli_, the Beaver, hard at work cutting +down a tree with his big teeth. And they said to him very politely: + +“Friend Old-Crosser-of-the-Water, will you please pass us over the +river?” + +The Beaver took them on his back and carried them safely across to +the other bank. When they had thanked him, they asked him not to tell +the old Wolf about them. He promised he would not, and swam back to +his work. The Fawns ran and ran, across the plain, till they came to +a big black hill of lava that stands alone in the valley southeast of +Tomé. + + [Illustration: THE WOLF MEETS THE BOYS PLAYING WITH THEIR BOWS + AND ARROWS.] + +“Here!” said one of the Fawns, “I am sure this must be the place +our mother told us about, where the Trues of our people live. Let us +look.” + +And when they came to the top of the hill, they found a trap-door +in the solid rock. When they knocked, the door was opened and a +voice called, “Enter!” They went down the ladder into a great room +underground; and there they found all the Trues of the Deer-people, +who welcomed them and gave them food. + +When they had told their story, the Trues said: + +“Fear not, friends, for we will take care of you.” + +And the War-captain picked out fifty strong young bucks for a guard. + +By this time the Wolf had come to the river, and there she found the +Beaver hard at work and grunting as he cut the tree. + +“Old man!” she snarled, “did you see two Fawns here?” + +But the Beaver did not notice her, and kept on walking around the +tree, cutting it and grunting, “_Ah-oó-mah! Ah-oó-mah!_” + +She was in a terrible rage now, and roared: + +“I am not talking ‘_Ah-oó-mah!_’ to you. I’m asking if you saw two +Fawns.” + +“Well,” said the Beaver, “I have been cutting trees here by the river +ever since I was born, and I have no time to think about Fawns.” + +The Wolf, crazy with rage, ran up and down the bank, and at last came +back and said: + +“Old man, if you will carry me over the river I will pay you; but if +you don’t, I’ll eat you up.” + +“Well, wait then till I cut around the tree three times more,” said +the Beaver; and he made her wait. Then he jumped down in the water +and took her on his neck, and began to swim across. But as soon as +he came where the water was deep, he dived to the bottom and stayed +there as long as he could. + +“Ah-h-h!” sputtered the Wolf when he came to the surface. As soon as +the Beaver got a breath, down he went again; and so he kept doing all +the way across, until the Wolf was nearly drowned--but she clung to +his neck desperately, and he could not shake her off. + +When they came to the shore the old Wolf was choking, coughing, and +crying, and so mad that she would not pay the Beaver as she had +promised--and from that day to this the Beaver will never again ferry +a Wolf across the river. + +Presently she found the trail, and came running to the hill. When she +knocked on the trap-door a voice from within called, “Who?” + +“Wolf-woman,” she answered as politely as she could, restraining her +anger. + +“Come down,” said the voice, and hearing her name the fifty young +Deer-warriors--who had carefully whetted their horns--stood ready. +The door flew open, and she started down the ladder. But as soon as +she set her foot on the first rung, all the Deer-people shouted: + +“Look what feet!” For, though the Deer is so much larger than the +Wolf, it has smaller feet. + +At this she was very much ashamed, and pulled back her foot; but soon +her anger was stronger, and she started down again. But each time +the Deer-people laughed and shouted, and she drew back. + + [Illustration: “THE FAWNS APPEARED SUDDENLY, AND AT SIGHT OF + THEM THE WOLF DROPPED THE SPOONFUL OF SOUP.”] + +At last they were quiet, and she came down the ladder. When she had +told her story the old men of the Deer-people said: + +“This is a serious case, and we must not judge it lightly. Come, +we will make an agreement. Let soup be brought, and we will eat +together. And if you eat all your soup without spilling a drop, you +shall have the Fawns.” + +“Ho!” thought the Wolf. “_That_ is easy enough, for I will be very +careful.” And aloud she said: “It is well. Let us eat.” + +So a big bowl of soup was brought, and each took a _guayave_[96] and +rolled it like a spoon to dip up the soup. The old Wolf was very +careful, and had almost finished her soup without spilling a drop. +But just as she was lifting the last sup to her mouth the Fawns +appeared suddenly in the door of the next room, and at sight of them +she dropped the soup in her lap. + + [96] An Indian bread made by spreading successive films of + blue corn-meal batter on a flat hot stone. It looks more like + a piece of wasp’s nest than anything else, but is very good to + eat. + +“She spilled!” shouted all the Deer-people, and the fifty chosen +warriors rushed upon her and tore her to pieces with their sharp +horns. + +That was the end of the treacherous Wolf; and from that day the Wolf +and the Deer have been enemies, and the Wolf is a little afraid of +the Deer. And the two Fawns? Oh, they still live with the Deer-people +in that black hill below Tomé. + + + + +XXVI + +THE SOBBING PINE + + +ANOTHER folk-story told by the Quères colony in Isleta also relates +to Acoma, perched upon the great round cliff in its far, fair valley. + +Among the folk-lore heroes of whom every Quères lad has heard is +Ees-tée-ah Muts, the Arrow Boy. He was a great hunter and did many +remarkable things, but there was once a time when all his courage +and strength were of no avail,--when but for the help of a little +squirrel he would have perished miserably. + +On reaching manhood Ees-tée-ah Muts married the daughter of +the Kot-chin (chief). She was a very beautiful girl and her +hunter-husband was very fond of her. But, alas! she was secretly a +witch and every night when Ees-tée-ah Muts was asleep she used to fly +away to the mountains, where the witches held their uncanny meetings. +You must know that these witches have dreadful appetites, and that +there is nothing in the world of which they are so fond as boiled +baby. + +Ees-tée-ah Muts, who was a very good man, had no suspicion that his +wife was guilty of such practices, and she was very careful to keep +him in ignorance of it. + +One day, when the witch-wife was planning to go to a meeting, she +stole a fat young baby and put it to cook in a great _olla_ (earthen +jar) in the dark inner room. But before night she found she must go +for water, and as the strange stone reservoir at Acoma is a laborious +half-mile from the houses, she would be gone some time. So, as she +departed with a bright-painted _tinaja_ upon her head, she charged +her husband on no account to enter the inner room. + +When she was gone Ees-tée-ah Muts began to ponder what she had said, +and he feared that all was not well. He went to the inner room and +looked around, and when he found the baby cooking he was grieved, +as any good husband would be, for then he knew that his wife was a +witch. But when his wife returned with water, he said not a word, +keeping only a sharp lookout to see what would come. + +Very early that night Ees-tée-ah Muts pretended to go to sleep, but +he was really very wide awake. His wife was quiet, but he could feel +that she was watching him. Presently a cat came sneaking into the +room and whispered to the witch-wife: + +“Why do you not come to the meeting, for we await you?” + +“Wait me yet a little,” she whispered, “until the man is sound +asleep.” + +The cat crept away, and Ees-tée-ah Muts kept very still. By and by +an owl came in and bade the woman hurry. And at last, thinking her +husband asleep, the witch-wife rose noiselessly and went out. As +soon as she was gone, Ees-tée-ah Muts got up and followed her at a +distance, for it was a night of the full moon. + +The witch-wife walked a long way till she came to the foot of the +Black Mesa, where was a great dark hole with a rainbow in its mouth. +As she passed under the rainbow she turned herself into a cat and +disappeared within the cave. Ees-tée-ah Muts crept softly up and +peered in. He saw a great firelit room full of witches in the shapes +of ravens and vultures, wolves and other animals of ill omen. They +were gathered about their feast and were enjoying themselves greatly, +eating and dancing and singing and planning evil to mankind. + +For a long time Ees-tée-ah Muts watched them, but at last one caught +sight of his face peering in at the hole. + +“Bring him in!” shouted the chief witch, and many of them rushed out +and surrounded him and dragged him into the cave. + +“Now,” said the chief witch, who was very angry, “we have caught you +as a spy and we ought to kill you. But if you will save your life +and be one of us, go home and bring me the hearts of your mother and +sister, and I will teach you all our ways, so that you shall be a +mighty wizard.” + +Ees-tée-ah Muts hurried home to Acoma and killed two sheep; for he +knew, as every Indian knows, that it was useless to try to escape +from the witches. Taking the hearts of the sheep, he quickly returned +to the chief witch, to whom he gave them. But when the chief witch +pricked the hearts with a sharp stick they swelled themselves out +like a frog. Then he knew that he had been deceived, and was very +angry, but pretending not to care he ordered Ees-tée-ah Muts to go +home, which the frightened hunter was very glad to do. + +But next morning when Ees-tée-ah Muts awoke he was not in his own +home at all, but lying on a tiny shelf far up a dizzy cliff. To jump +was certain death, for it was a thousand feet to the ground; and +climb he could not, for the smooth rock rose a thousand feet above +his head. Then he knew that he had been bewitched by the chief of +those that have the evil road, and that he must die. He could hardly +move without falling from the narrow shelf, and there he lay with +bitter thoughts until the sun was high overhead. + +At last a young Squirrel came running along the ledge, and, seeing +him, ran back to its mother, crying: + +“_Nana! Nana!_ Here is a dead man lying on our ledge!” + +“No, he is not dead,” said the Squirrel-mother when she had looked, +“but I think he is very hungry. Here, take this acorn-cup and carry +him some corn-meal and water.” + +The young Squirrel brought the acorn-cup full of wet corn-meal, but +Ees-tée-ah Muts would not take it, for he thought: + +“Pah! What is so little when I am fainting for food?” + +But the Squirrel-mother, knowing what was in his heart, said: + +“Not so, _Sau-kée-ne_ [friend]. It looks to be little, but there will +be more than enough. Eat and be strong.” + +Still doubting, Ees-tée-ah Muts took the cup and ate of the blue +corn-meal until he could eat no longer, and yet the acorn-cup was not +empty. Then the young Squirrel took the cup and brought it full of +water, and though he was very thirsty he could not drain it. + +“Now, friend,” said the Squirrel-mother, when he was refreshed by his +meal, “you cannot yet get down from here, where the witches put you; +but wait, for I am the one that will help you.” + +She went to her store-room and brought out a pine-cone, which she +dropped over the great cliff. Ees-tée-ah Muts lay on the narrow ledge +as patiently as he could, sleeping sometimes and sometimes thinking +of his strange plight. Next morning he could see a stout young +pine-tree growing at the bottom of the cliff, where he was very sure +there had been no tree at all the day before. Before night it was a +large tree, and the second morning it was twice as tall. The young +Squirrel brought him meal and water in the acorn-cup twice a day, and +now he began to be confident that he would escape. + +By the evening of the fourth day the magic pine towered far above his +head, and it was so close to the cliff that he could touch it from +his shelf. + +“Now, Friend Man,” said the Squirrel-mother, “follow me!” and she +leaped lightly into the tree. Ees-tée-ah Muts seized a branch and +swung over into the tree, and letting himself down from bough to +bough, at last reached the ground in safety. + +The Squirrel-mother came with him to the ground, and he thanked her +for her kindness. + +“But now I must go back to my home,” she said. “Take these seeds +of the pine-tree and these piñon-nuts which I have brought for you, +and be very careful of them. When you get home, give your wife the +pine-seeds, but you must eat the piñons. So now, good-by,” and off +she went up the tree. + +When Ees-tée-ah Muts had come to Acoma and climbed the dizzy stone +ladder and stood in the adobe town, he was very much surprised. +For the four days of his absence had really been four years, and +the people looked strange. All had given him up for dead, and his +witch-wife had married another man, but still lived in the same +house, which was hers[97]. When Ees-tée-ah Muts entered she seemed +very glad to see him, and pretended to know nothing of what had +befallen him. He said nothing about it, but talked pleasantly while +he munched the piñon-nuts, giving her the pine-seeds to eat. Her new +husband made a bed for Ees-tée-ah Muts, and in the morning very early +the two men went away together on a hunt. + + [97] It is one of the fundamental customs of the Pueblos that + the house and its general contents belong to the wife; the + fields and other outside property to the husband. + +That afternoon the mother of the witch-wife went to visit her +daughter, but when she came near the house she stopped in terror, for +far up through the roof grew a great pine-tree, whose furry arms came +out at doors and windows. That was the end of the witch-wife, for +the magic seed had sprouted in her stomach, and she was turned into +a great, sad Pine that swayed above her home, and moaned and sobbed +forever, as all her Pine-children do to this day. + + + + +XXVII + +THE QUÈRES DIANA + + +THERE is a fragmentary Quères folk-story which bears internal +evidence that its heroine was the mother of the Hero Twins--that is, +the Moon. The adventure described here is one of those which befell +the Moon-Mother, as related in several myths; though it has been +varied, evidently by some later story-teller, and the identity of the +heroine does not appear at first sight. It is a story common to all +the Quères, and is undoubtedly ancient; but as I heard it first in +Isleta its scene is laid in Laguna, a pueblo only two hundred years +old. + +Once upon a time the Tah-póh-pee[98] of Laguna had a daughter, who +was the belle of the village. She was very fond of hunting, and +killed as much game as any of the young men. Several miles south of +Laguna is a very large sandstone dome rising in the plain, and in the +heart of this rock the Governor’s daughter had hollowed out a room in +which she used to camp when on her hunting-expeditions. + + [98] Governor. + +One day there came a snow that covered the ground so that one could +easily track rabbits, and taking her bow and arrows she started off +to hunt. + +She had unusual luck, and by the time she reached the hunting-lodge +she was loaded down with rabbits. The evening was very cold, and she +was hungry; so, going into the rock-house, she built a fire on the +hearth and began to roast a rabbit. Just as it was cooking a strong +west wind came up and carried the savory smell from her chimney far +to the east, till it reached a dark cavern in the Sandia Mountains, +fifty miles away. There lived an old giantess, the terror of all the +world, and when she caught a whiff of that sweet meat she started up +and rubbed her big red eye. + +“Um!” she cried, “that is good! I am going to see where it is, for I +have had nothing to eat to-day.” + +In two steps she was at the rock-house, and, stooping down, she +called at the door: “Quáh-tzee? [How are you?] What are you cooking +in there?” + +“Rabbits,” said the girl, dreadfully scared at that great voice. + +“Then give me one,” shouted the old giantess. The girl threw one out +at the door, and the giantess swallowed it at a gulp and demanded +more. The girl kept throwing them out until all were gone. Then +the giantess called for her _manta_ (dress), and her shawl and her +buckskin leggings, and ate them all, and at last said: + +“Little girl, now you come out, and let me eat you.” + +The girl began to cry bitterly when she saw that great savage eye +at the door, which was so small that the giantess could not get +her huge hand in. She repeated her commands thrice, and when the +girl still refused to come out, picked up a great boulder and began +to hammer the rock-house to pieces. But just as she had broken off +the roof and stooped to pick out the girl, two hunters chanced to +pass and hear the noise. They crept up and shot the giantess through +the neck with their strong arrows and killed her, and, bringing new +clothes for the girl, took her home safely to Kó-iks (the native name +for Laguna), where she lived for many years. + + + + +XXVIII + +A PUEBLO BLUEBEARD + + +ANOTHER fragmentary story of the Quères seems to refer to this same +remarkable woman. You will see the connection when you remember +that the Moon disappears every month; and I should judge that the +following myth means that the Storm-King steals her. + +Once upon a time a chief of Acoma had a lovely daughter. One day a +handsome stranger stole her and took her away to his home, which +was in the heart of the Snow Mountain (Mt. San Mateo). He was none +other than Mast-Truan, one of the Storm-Gods. Bringing his captive +home, the powerful stranger gave her the finest clothing and treated +her very nicely. But most of the time he had to be away from home, +attending to the storms, and she became very lonesome, for there was +no one to keep her company but Mast-Truan’s wrinkled old mother. + +One day when she could stand the loneliness no longer, she decided to +take a walk through the enormous house and look at the rooms which +she had not seen. Opening a door she came into a very large room +toward the east; and there were a lot of women crying and shivering +with cold, for they had nothing to wear. Going through this room +she came to another, which was full of gaunt, starving women, and +here and there one lay dead upon the floor; and in the next room +were scores of bleached and ghastly skeletons. And this was what +Mast-Truan did with his wives when he was tired of them. The girl saw +her fate, and, returning to her room, sat down and wept--but there +was no escape, for Mast-Truan’s old hag of a mother forever guarded +the outer door. + +When Mast-Truan came home again, his wife said: “It is now long that +I have not seen my fathers. Let me go home for a little while.” + +“Well,” said he, “here is some corn which must be shelled. When you +have shelled it and ground it, I will let you out”; and he showed her +four great rooms piled from floor to ceiling with ears of corn. It +was more than one could shell in a year; and when her husband went +out, she sat down again to cry and bemoan her fate. + +Just then a queer little old woman appeared before her, with a kindly +smile. It was a _cumúsh-quio_ (fairy-woman). + +“What is the matter, my daughter?” asked the old fairy, gently, “and +why do you weep?” + +The captive told her all, and the fairy said: “Do not fear, daughter, +for I will help you, and we will have all the corn shelled and ground +in four days.” + +So they fell to work. For two days the girl kept shelling; and though +she could not see the old fairy at all, she could always hear at her +side the click of the ears together. Then for two days she kept +grinding on her _metate_, apparently alone, but hearing the constant +grind of another _metate_ close beside her. At the end of the fourth +day the last kernel had been scrubbed into blue meal, and she was +very happy. Then the old fairy-woman appeared again, bringing a large +basket and a rope. She opened the doors to all the rooms where the +poor women were prisoners, and bade them all get into the basket one +by one. Mast-Truan had taken away the ladder from the house when he +left, that no one might be able to get out; but with her basket and +rope the good old fairy-woman let them all down to the ground, and +told them to hurry home--which they did as fast as ever their poor, +starved legs could carry them. Then the fairy-woman and the girl +escaped, and made their way to Acoma. So there was a Moon again--and +that it _was_ the Moon, we may be very sure; since this same girl +became the mother of the Hero Twins, who were assuredly Children of +the Moon. + + + + +XXIX + +THE HERO TWINS + + +THAT the heroes of “The Magic Hide-and-Seek” were really the Pueblo +Castor and Pollux, the twin offspring of the Sun-Father and the +Moon-Mother, is more than probable. For some reason which I do not +know, these demigods do not figure as clearly in the Tée-wahn myths +as among the other Pueblos, the Navajos and the Apaches; but that +they are believed in, even in Isleta, there can be no doubt. They +were the ones who led mankind forth from its first home in the dark +center of the earth.[99] The rainbow is their bow, the lightnings +are their arrows. Among the other Pueblos there are countless +folk-stories about these Hero Twins; and the following example myth +will quickly remind you of the boys who played hide-and-seek. It +is told in Isleta, though I have never heard it from the Tée-wahn +people there. Ever since the great drouth of a generation ago, about +one hundred and fifty Quères, starved out from the pueblos of Acoma +and Laguna, have dwelt in Isleta, and they are now a permanent +part of the Village, recognized by representation in the civil +and religious government, though speaking an altogether different +language. Tée-wahn and Quères cannot understand each other in their +own tongues, so they have to communicate in Spanish. + + [99] They are represented in the sacred dances by the + Káh-pee-óo-nin, “the Dying-of-Cold” (because they are always + naked except for the breech-clout). + +Máw-Sahv and Oó-yah-wee, as the Hero Twins are named in Quères, had +the Sun for a father. Their mother died when they were born, and lay +lifeless upon the hot plain. But the two wonderful boys, as soon as +they were a minute old, were big and strong, and began playing. + +There chanced to be in a cliff to the southward a nest of white +crows; and presently the young crows said: “_Nana_, what is that over +there? Isn’t it two babies?” + +“Yes,” replied the Mother-Crow, when she had taken a look. “Wait and +I will bring them.” So she brought the boys safely, and then their +dead mother; and, rubbing a magic herb on the body of the latter, +soon brought her to life. + +By this time Máw-Sahv and Oó-yah-wee were sizable boys, and the +mother started homeward with them. + +“Now,” said she when they reached the edge of the valley and could +look across to that wondrous rock whereon stands Acoma, “go to yonder +town, my sons, for that is Ah-ko, where live your grandfather and +grandmother, my parents; and I will wait here. Go ye in at the west +end of the town and stand at the south end of the council-grounds +until some one speaks to you; and ask them to take you to the +Cacique, for he is your grandfather. You will know his house, for +the ladder to it has three uprights instead of two. When you go in +and tell your story, he will ask you a question to see if you are +really his grandchildren, and will give you four chances to answer +what he has in a bag in the corner. No one has ever been able to +guess what is in it, but there are birds.” + +The Twins did as they were bidden, and presently came to Acoma and +found the house of the old Cacique. When they entered and told their +story, he said: “Now I will try you. What is in yonder bag?” + +“A rattlesnake,” said the boys. + +“No,” said the Cacique, “it is not a rattlesnake. Try again.” + +“Birds,” said the boys. + +“Yes, they are birds. Now I know that you are truly my grandchildren, +for no one else could ever guess.” And he welcomed them gladly, and +sent them back with new dresses and jewelry to bring their mother. + +When she was about to arrive, the Twins ran ahead to the house and +told her father, mother, and sister to leave the house until she +should enter; but not knowing what was to come, they would not go +out. When she had climbed the big ladder to the roof and started down +through the trap-door by the room-ladder, her sister cried out with +joy at seeing her, and she was so startled that she fell from the +ladder and broke her neck, and never could be brought to life again. + +Máw-Sahv and Oó-yah-wee grew up to astounding adventures and +achievements. While still very young in years, they did very +remarkable things; for they had a miraculously rapid growth, and at +an age when other boys were toddling about home, these Hero Twins +had already become very famous hunters and warriors. They were very +fond of stories of adventure, like less precocious lads; and after +the death of their mother they kept their grandmother busy telling +them strange tales. She had a great many anecdotes of a certain +ogre-giantess who lived in the dark gorges of the mountains to the +South, and so much did Máw-Sahv and Oó-yah-wee hear of this wonderful +personage--who was the terror of all that country--that their boyish +ambition was fired. + +One day when their grandmother was busy they stole away from home +with their bows and arrows, and walked miles and miles, till they +came to a great forest at the foot of the mountain. In the edge of it +sat the old Giant-woman, dozing in the sun, with a huge basket beside +her. She was so enormous and looked so fierce that the boys’ hearts +stood still, and they would have hidden, but just then she caught +sight of them, and called: “Come, little boys, and get into this +basket of mine, and I will take you to my house.” + +“Very well,” said Máw-Sahv, bravely hiding his alarm. “If you will +take us through this big forest, which we would like to see, we will +go with you.” + +The Giant-woman promised, and the lads clambered into her basket, +which she took upon her back and started off. As she passed through +the woods, the boys grabbed lumps of pitch from the tall pines and +smeared it all over her head and back so softly that she did not +notice it. Once she sat down to rest, and the boys slyly put a lot of +big stones in the basket, set fire to her pitched hair, and hurriedly +climbed a tall pine. + +Presently the Giant-woman got up and started on toward home; but in +a minute or two her head and _manta_ were all of a blaze. With a +howl that shook the earth, she dropped the basket and rolled on the +ground, grinding her great head into the sand until she at last got +the fire extinguished. But she was badly scorched and very angry, and +still angrier when she looked in the basket and found only a lot of +stones. She retraced her steps until she found the boys hidden in the +pine-tree, and said to them: “Come down, children, and get into my +basket, that I may take you to my house, for now we are almost there.” + +The boys, knowing that she could easily break down the tree if they +refused, came down. They got into the basket, and soon she brought +them to her home in the mountain. She set them down upon the ground +and said: “Now, boys, go and bring me a lot of wood, that I may make +a fire in the oven and bake you some sweet cakes.” + +The boys gathered a big pile of wood, with which she built a roaring +fire in the adobe oven outside the house. Then she took them and +washed them very carefully, and taking them by the necks, thrust them +into the glowing oven and sealed the door with a great, flat rock, +and left them there to be roasted. + +But the Trues were friends of the Hero Twins, and did not let the +heat harm them at all. When the old Giant-woman had gone into the +house, Máw-Sahv and Oó-yah-wee broke the smaller stone that closed +the smoke-hole of the oven, and crawled out from their fiery prison +unsinged. They ran around and caught snakes and toads and gathered up +dirt and dropped them down into the oven through the smoke-hole; and +then, watching when the Giant-woman’s back was turned, they sneaked +into the house and hid in a huge _olla_ on the shelf. + +Very early in the morning the Giant-woman’s baby began to cry for +some boy-meat. “Wait till it is well cooked,” said the mother; and +hushed the child till the sun was well up. Then she went out and +unsealed the oven, and brought in the sad mess the boys had put +there. “They have cooked away to almost nothing,” she said; and she +and the Giant-baby sat down to eat. “Isn’t this nice?” said the baby; +and Máw-Sahv could not help saying, “You nasty things, to like that!” + +“Eh? Who is that?” cried the Giant-woman, looking around till she +found the boys hidden in the _olla_. So she told them to come down, +and gave them some sweet cakes, and then sent them out to bring her +some more wood. + +It was evening when they returned with a big load of wood, which +Máw-Sahv had taken pains to get green. He had also picked up in the +mountains a long, sharp splinter of quartz.[100] The evening was +cool, and they built a big fire in the fireplace. But immediately, as +the boys had planned, the green wood began to smoke at a dreadful +rate, and soon the room was so dense with it that they all began to +cough and strangle. The Giant-woman got up and opened the window and +put her head out for a breath of fresh air; and Máw-Sahv, pulling out +the white-hot splinter of quartz from the fire, stabbed her in the +back so that she died. Then they killed the Giant-baby, and at last +felt that they were safe. + + [100] A thunder-knife. + +Now the Giant-woman’s house was a very large one, and ran far back +into the very heart of the mountain. Having got rid of their enemies, +the Hero Twins decided to explore the house; and, taking their bows +and arrows, started boldly down into the deep, dark rooms. After +traveling a long way in the dark, they came to a huge room in which +corn and melons and pumpkins were growing abundantly. On and on they +went, till at last they heard the growl of distant thunder. Following +the sound, they came presently to a room in the solid rock, wherein +the lightning was stored. Going in, they took the lightning and +played with it awhile, throwing it from one to the other, and at last +started home, carrying their strange toy with them. + +When they reached Acoma and told their grandmother of their wonderful +adventures, she held up her withered old hands in amazement. And +she was nearly scared to death when they began to play with the +lightning, throwing it around the house as though it had been a +harmless ball, while the thunder rumbled till it shook the great rock +of Acoma. They had the blue lightning which belongs in the West; and +the yellow lightning of the North; and the red lightning of the +East; and the white lightning of the South; and with all these they +played merrily. + +But it was not very long till Shée-wo-nah, the Storm-King, had +occasion to use the lightning; and when he looked in the room +where he was wont to keep it, and found it gone, his wrath knew no +bounds. He started out to find who had stolen it; and passing by +Acoma he heard the thunder as the Hero Twins were playing ball with +the lightning. He pounded on the door and ordered them to give him +his lightning, but the boys refused. Then he summoned the storm, +and it began to rain and blow fearfully outside; while within the +boys rattled their thunder in loud defiance, regardless of their +grandmother’s entreaties to give the Storm-King his lightning. + +It kept raining violently, however, and the water came pouring down +the chimney until the room was nearly full, and they were in great +danger of drowning. But luckily for them, the Trues were still +mindful of them; and just in the nick of time sent their servant, +Teé-oh-pee, the Badger, who is the best of diggers, to dig a hole up +through the floor; all the water ran out, and they were saved. And so +the Hero Twins outwitted the Storm-King. + + * * * * * + +South of Acoma, in the pine-clad gorges and mesas, the world was +full of Bears. There was one old She-Bear in particular, so huge and +fierce that all men feared her; and not even the boldest hunter dared +go to the south--for there she had her home with her two sons. + +Máw-sahv and Oó-yah-wee were famous hunters, and always wished to go +south; but their grandmother always forbade them. One day, however, +they stole away from the house, and got into the cañon. At last +they came to the She-Bear’s house; and there was old Quée-ah asleep +in front of the door. Máw-sahv crept up very carefully and threw in +her face a lot of ground _chile_,[101] and ran. At that the She-Bear +began to sneeze, _ah-hútch! ah-hútch!_ She could not stop, and kept +making _ah-hútch_ until she sneezed herself to death. + + [101] The fiery red-pepper of the Southwest. + +Then the Twins took their thunder-knives and skinned her. They +stuffed the great hide with grass, so that it looked like a Bear +again, and tied a buckskin rope around its neck. + +“Now,” said Máw-sahv, “We will give our grandma a trick!” + +So, taking hold of the rope, they ran toward Acoma, and the Bear came +behind them as if leaping. Their grandmother was going for water; and +from the top of the cliff she saw them running so in the valley, and +the Bear jumping behind them. She ran to her house and painted one +side of her face black with charcoal, and the other side red with the +blood of an animal;[102] and, taking a bag of ashes, ran down the +cliff and out at the Bear, to make it leave the boys and come after +her. + + [102] Ancient tokens of mourning. + +But when she saw the trick, she reproved the boys for their +rashness--but in her heart she was very proud of them. + + + + +XXX + +THE HUNGRY GRANDFATHERS + + +A DISOBEDIENT child is something I have never seen among the Pueblos, +in all the years I have lived with them. The parents are very kind, +too. My little _amigos_ in Isleta and the other Pueblo towns--for +they are my friends in all--are never spoiled; but neither are they +punished much.[103] Personal acquaintance with a spanking is what +very few of them have. The idea of obedience is inborn and inbred. +A word is generally enough; and for extreme cases it only needs the +threat: “Look out, or I will send for the Grandfathers!” + + [103] I must qualify this now. In the last two years I have + seen one spoiled child--just one, in ten years’ acquaintance + with 9000 Pueblos! + +Now, perhaps you do not know who the Grandfathers are; but every +Pueblo youngster does. It has nothing to do with the “truly” grandpa, +who is as lovely an institution among the Tée-wahn as anywhere else. +No, the _Abuelos_ were of an altogether different sort. That name is +Spanish, and has three applications in Isleta: real grandparents; +the remarkable masked officials of a certain dance; and the bad Old +Ones. These last are called in the Tée-wahn tongue _T’ai-kár-nin_ +(Those-Who-Eat-People). They were, in fact, aboriginal Ogres, who +once sadly ravaged Isleta. + +The _T’ai-kár-nin_ had no town, but dwelt in caves of the lava +mountain a couple of miles west of this village--the _Kú-mai_ hill. +It is a bad place at best: bleak, black, rough, and forbidding--just +the place that a properly constituted Ogre would choose for his +habitation. In the first place, it is to the west of the town, +which is “bad medicine” in itself to any Indian, for that point +of the compass belongs to the dead and to bad spirits. Then its +color is against it; and, still worse, it is to this day the common +stamping-ground of all the witches in this part of the country, +where they gather at night for their diabolical caucuses. Of its +serious disrepute I can convey no better idea to the enlightened and +superstitionless American mind than by saying that it is a sort of +aboriginal “haunted house.” + +So the hill of _Kú-mai_ was a peculiarly fit place for the Ogres to +dwell in. Deep in its gloomy bowels they huddled on the white sand +which floors all the caves there; and crannies overhead carried away +the smoke from their fires, which curled from crevices at the top of +the peak far above them. Ignorant Americans would probably have taken +it for a volcanic emission; but the good people of Shee-eh-whíb-bak +knew better. + +These Ogres were larger than ordinary men, but otherwise carried no +outward sign of their odious calling. Their teeth were just like +anybody’s good teeth, and they had neither “tushes” nor horns nor +hoofs. Indeed, except for their unusual size, they would have been +easily mistaken for Indians of some distant tribe. But, _ay de mi_! +How strong they were! One could easily whip five common men in a +bunch--“men even as strong as my son, Francisco,” says Desiderio; and +Francisco is as stout as a horse. + +They were people of very fastidious palates, these Ogres. Nothing +was good enough for them except human flesh--and young at that. +Their fare was entirely baby--baby young, baby brown, and baby very +fat. They never molested the adults; but as often as they found an +appetite they descended upon the village, scooped up what children +they could lay their hands upon, and carried them off to their caves. +There they had enormous _ollas_, into which half a dozen children +could be thrown at once. + +There seemed to be some spell about these Ogres--besides their +frequent hungry spells--for the Pueblos, who were so brave in the +face of other foes, never dared fight these terrible cave-dwellers. +They continued to devastate the village, until babies were at a +premium, and few to be had at any price; and the only way the people +dared to try to circumvent them was by strategy. In time it came +about that every house where there were children, or a reasonable +hope of them, had secret cubby-holes back of the thick adobe walls; +with little doors which shut flush with the wall and were also +plastered with adobe, so that when they were shut a stranger--even if +he were a sharp-eyed Indian--would never dream of their existence. +And whenever arose the dreaded cry, “Here come the _T’ai-kár-nin_!” +the children were hustled, shivering and noiseless, into the secret +recesses, and the doors were shut. Then Mr. Ogre could come in +and peer and sniff about as he liked, but no chance to fill his +market-basket could he find. And when parents were forced to go away +and leave the babies behind, the poor young ones were inclosed in +their safe but gloomy prisons, and there in darkness and silence had +to await the parental home-coming. These inconveniences were gladly +borne, however, since they preserved the children--and we all know +that preserved baby is better than baby-stew. It was, of course, +rather rough on the Ogres, who began to find all their belts most +distressfully loose; but no one seemed to consider their feelings. +They were pretty well starved when the Spaniards came and delivered +the suffering Isleteños by driving off these savage neighbors. This +looks suspiciously as if the whole myth of the Ogres had sprung from +the attacks of the cruel Apaches and Navajos in the old days. + +There was one queer thing about these Ogres--on their forages they +always wore buckskin masks, just like those of the _Abuelos_ of the +sacred dance. Their bare faces were seen sometimes by hunters who +encountered them on the _llano_, but never here in town. It was +in connection with these masks that Isleta had a great sensation +recently. The Hungry Grandfathers had been almost forgotten, except +as a word to change the minds of children who had about quarter of a +mind to be naughty; but interest was revived by a discovery of which +my venerable friend Desiderio Peralta was the hero. + +This dear old man--news of his death has come to me as I write this +very chapter--was a remarkable character. He was one of “the oldest +inhabitants” of New Mexico--older than any other Indian among the +twelve hundred of Isleta, except tottering Diego; and that is saying +a great deal. His hair was very gray, and his kindly old face such +an incredible mass of wrinkles that I used to fancy Father Time +himself must have said: “No, no! You apprentices never do a thing +right! Here, _this_ is the way to put on wrinkles!” and that he then +and there took old Desiderio for a model, and showed the journeymen +wrinkle-makers a trick they never dreamed of. Certainly the job was +never so well done before. From chin to hair-roots, from ear to +ear, was such a crowded, tangled, inextricable maze of furrows and +cross-harrow lines as I firmly believe never dwelt together on any +other one human face. Why, Desiderio could have furnished an army of +old men with wrinkles! I never saw him smile without fearing that +some of those wrinkles were going to fall off the edge, so crowded +were they at best! + +But if his face was _arrugada_, his brain was not. He was bright +and chipper as a young blackbird, and it was only of late that a +touch of rheumatism took the youth out of his legs. Until recently +he held the important position of Captain of War for the pueblo; +and only two years ago I had the pleasure of going with two hundred +_other_ Indians on a huge rabbit-hunt which was under his personal +supervision, and in which he was as active as any one, both on his +feet and with the unerring boomerang. His eyes were good to find +about as much through the sights of a rifle as anybody’s; and on the +whole he was worth a good deal more than I expect to be some seventy +years from now. He was a good neighbor, too; and I had few pleasanter +hours than those spent in talking with this genial old shrivel, who +was _muy sabio_ in all the folk-lore and wisdom of his unfathomable +race; and very close-mouthed about it, too--as they all are. Still, +there were some things which he seemed willing to confide to me; and +he always had an attentive listener. + +Desiderio was not yet too old to herd his own cattle during the +season when they roam abroad; and, while thus engaged, he made a +discovery which set the whole quiet village agog, though no other +outsider ever heard of it. + +One day in 1889 Desiderio started out from the village, driving +his cattle. Having steered them across the _acequia_ and up the +sand-hills to the beginning of the plain, he climbed to the top of +the _Kú-mai_ to watch them through the day--as has been the custom +of Isleta herders from time immemorial. In wandering over the rocky +top of the peak, he came to a ledge of rocks on the southeast spur of +the hill; and there found a fissure, at one end of which was a hole +as large as a man’s head. Desiderio put his face and his wrinkles +down to the hole to see what he could see; and all was dark inside. +But if his eyes strained in vain, his ears did not. From far down in +the bowels of the mountain came a strange roaring, as of a heavy +wind. Desiderio was somewhat dismayed at this; for he knew at once +that he had found one of the chimneys of the Ogres; but he did not +run away. Hunting around awhile, he found in the fissures of the +rocks some ancient buckskin masks--the very ones worn by the Ogres, +of course. He put them back, and coming to town straightway told the +medicine-men of the Black Eyes--one of the two parties here. They +held a _junta_; and after mature deliberation decided to go and get +the masks. This was done, and the masks are now treasured in the +Black Eye medicine-house. + +I have several times carefully explored the _Kú-mai_--a difficult and +tiresome task, thanks to the knife-like lava fragments which cover it +everywhere, and which will cut a pair of new strong shoes to pieces +in an afternoon. It is true that in this hill of bad repute there +are several lava-caves, with floors of white sand blown in from the +_llano_; and that in these caves there are a few human bones. No +doubt some of the savage nomads camped or lived there. None of those +famous _ollas_ are visible; nor have I ever been able to find any +other relics of the Hungry Grandfathers. + + + + + [Illustration: THE COYOTE.] + +XXXI + +THE COYOTE + + +ALL the animals with which the Tée-wahn are familiar--the buffalo +(which they used to hunt on the vast plains to the eastward), the +bear, deer, antelope, mountain lion, badger, wild turkey, fox, +eagle, crow, buzzard, rabbit, and so on--appear in their legends and +fairy tales, as well as in their religious ceremonials and beliefs. +Too-wháy-deh, the Coyote,[104] or little prairie wolf, figures in +countless stories, and always to his own disadvantage. Smart as he +is in some things, he believes whatever is told him; and by his +credulity becomes the butt of all the other animals, who never tire +of “April-fooling” him. He is also a great coward. To call an Indian +here “_Too-wháy-deh_” is one of the bitterest insults that can be +offered him. + + [104] Pronounced Coy-óh-ty. + +You have already heard how the Coyote fared at the hands of the +fun-loving Bear, and of the Crows and the Blackbirds. A very popular +tale is that of his adventure with a bright cousin of his. + +Once upon a time Too-wháy-shur-wée-deh, the Little-Blue-Fox,[105] was +wandering near a pueblo, and chanced to come to the threshing-floors, +where a great many crows were hopping. Just then the Coyote passed, +very hungry; and while yet far off, said: “Ai! how the stomach cries! +I will just eat Little-Blue-Fox.” And coming, he said: + + [105] He is always a hero, and as smart as the Coyote is + stupid. His beautiful pelt is an important part of the costume + worn in many of the sacred dances of the Tée-wahn. + +“Now, Little-Blue-Fox, you have troubled me enough! You are the cause +of my being chased by the dogs and people, and now I will pay you. I +am going to eat you up this very now!” + +“No, Coyote-friend,” answered the Little-Blue-Fox, “_don’t_ eat me +up! I am here guarding these chickens, for there is a wedding in +yonder house, which is my master’s, and these chickens are for the +wedding-dinner. Soon they will come for the chickens, and will invite +me to the dinner--and you can come also.” + +“Well,” said the Coyote, “if _that_ is so, I will not eat you, but +will help you watch the chickens.” So he lay down beside him. + +At this, Little-Blue-Fox was troubled, thinking how to get away; and +at last he said: + +“Friend Too-wháy-deh, I make strange that they have not before now +come for the chickens. Perhaps they have forgotten. The best way is +for me to go to the house and see what the servants are doing.” + +“It is well,” said the Coyote. “Go, then, and I will guard the +chickens for you.” + +So the Little-Blue-Fox started toward the house; but getting behind +a small hill, he ran away with fast feet. When it was a good while, +and he did not come back, the Coyote thought: “While he is gone, I +will give myself some of the chickens.” Crawling up on his belly to +the threshing-floor, he gave a great leap. But the chickens were +only crows, and they flew away. Then he began to say evil of the +Little-Blue-Fox for giving him a trick, and started on the trail, +vowing: “I will eat him up wherever I catch him.” + +After many miles he overtook the Little-Blue-Fox, and with a bad face +said: “Here! Now I am going to eat you up!” + +The other made as if greatly excited, and answered: “No, friend +Coyote! Do you not hear that _tombé_[106]?” + + [106] Pronounced tom-báy. The sacred drum used in Pueblo dances. + +The Coyote listened, and heard a drum in the pueblo. + +“Well,” said the Little-Blue-Fox, “I am called for that dance,[107] +and very soon they will come for me. Won’t you go too?” + + [107] In all such Indian dances the participants are named by + the officials. + +“If that is so, I will not eat you, but we will go to the dance.” And +the Coyote sat down and began to comb his hair and to make himself +pretty with face-paint. When no one came, the Little-Blue-Fox said: + + [Illustration: “THERE THEY STOOD SIDE BY SIDE.”] + +“Friend Coyote, I make strange that the _alguazil_ does not come. +It is best for me to go up on this hill, whence I can see into the +village. You wait here.” + +“He will not dare to give me another trick,” thought the Coyote. So +he replied: “It is well. But do not forget to call me.” + +So the Little-Blue-Fox went up the hill; and as soon as he was out of +sight, he began to run for his life. + +Very long the Coyote waited; and at last, being tired, went up on the +hill--but there was no one there. Then he was very angry, and said: +“I will follow him, and eat him surely! _Nothing_ shall save him!” +And finding the trail, he began to follow as fast as a bird. + +Just as the Little-Blue-Fox came to some high cliffs, he looked +back and saw the Coyote coming over a hill. So he stood up on his +hind feet and put his fore paws up against the cliff, and made many +groans, and was as if much excited. In a moment came the Coyote, very +angry, crying: “Now you shall not escape me! I am going to eat you up +now--now!” + +“Oh, no, friend Too-wháy-deh!” said the other; “for I saw this cliff +falling down, and ran to hold it up. If I let go, it will fall and +kill us both. But come, help me to hold it.” + +Then the Coyote stood up and pushed against the cliff with his fore +paws, very hard; and there they stood side by side. + +Time passing so, the Little-Blue-Fox said: + +“Friend Too-wháy-deh, it is long that I am holding up the cliff, +and I am very tired and thirsty. You are fresher. So you hold up +the cliff while I go and hunt water for us both; for soon you too +will be thirsty. There is a lake somewhere on the other side of this +mountain; I will find it and get a drink, and then come back and hold +up the cliff while you go.” + +The Coyote agreed, and the Little-Blue-Fox ran away over the mountain +till he came to the lake, just as the moon was rising. + +But soon the Coyote was very tired and thirsty, for he held up the +cliff with all his might. At last he said: “Ai! how hard it is! I am +so thirsty that I will go to the lake, even if I die!” + +So he began to let go of the cliff, slowly, slowly--until he held +it only with his finger-nails; and then he made a great jump away +backward, and ran as hard as he could to a hill. But when he looked +around and saw that the cliff did not fall, he was very angry, and +swore to eat Too-wháy-shur-wée-deh the very minute he should catch +him. + +Running on the trail, he came to the lake; and there the +Little-Blue-Fox was lying on the bank, whining as if greatly excited. +“Now I _will_ eat you up, this minute!” cried the Coyote. But the +other said: “No, Friend Too-wháy-deh! Don’t eat _me_ up! I am waiting +for some one who can swim as well as you can. I just bought a big +cheese[108] from a shepherd to share with you; but when I went to +drink, it slipped out of my hands into the water. Come here, and I +will show you.” He took the Coyote to the edge of the high bank, and +pointed to the moon in the water. + + [108] Of course chickens and cheeses were not known to the + Pueblos before the Spanish conquest; and the cheese is so + vital a part of the story that I hardly think it can be an + interpolation. So this tale, though very old, is probably not + ancient--that is, it has been invented since 1600. + + [Illustration: “‘HOW SHALL I GET IT?’ SAID THE COYOTE.”] + +“M--m!” said the Coyote, who was fainting with hunger. “But how shall +I get it? It is very deep in the water, and I shall float up before I +can dive to it.” + +“That is true, friend,” said the other. “There is but one way. We +must tie some stones to your neck, to make you heavy so you can go +down to it.” + +So they hunted about until they found a buckskin thong and some large +stones; and the Little-Blue-Fox tied the stones to the Coyote’s neck, +the Coyote holding his chin up, to help. + +“Now, friend Too-wháy-deh, come here to the edge of the bank and +stand ready. I will take you by the back and count _weem_, _wée-si_, +_p’áh-chu_! And when I say _three_, you must jump and I will +push--for now you are very heavy.” + +So he took the Coyote by the back of the neck, swaying him back and +forth as he counted. And at “_p’áh-chu!_” he pushed hard, and the +Coyote jumped, and went into the deep water, and--never came out +again! + + + + +XXXII + +DOCTOR FIELD-MOUSE + + +IT was the evening of the 14th of March. In the valley of the Rio +Grande, that stands at the end of the winter. Now it is to open the +big mother-canal that comes from the river to all the fields, giving +them to drink after their long thirst; and now to plow the _milpas_, +and to uncover the buried grape-vines, and make ready for the +farmer’s work. + +As the door opened to admit stalwart Francisco to the big flickering +room where we were all sitting in silence, the long, shrill wail +of a Coyote, away up on the Accursed Hill, blew in after him on +the boisterous March wind. The boys pricked up their ears; and +bright-faced Manuelito[109] turned to his white-headed grandfather, +and said: + + [109] Pronounced Mahn-way-lée-to. + +“_Tata_, why is it that Too-wháy-deh always howls so? Perhaps he +has a pain; for he has been crying ever since the beginning of the +world--as they told us in the story of the Fawns and the She-Wolf.” + +“What, Unknowing!” answered the old man, kindly. “Hast thou never +heard of the Coyote’s toothache, and who was the first medicine-man +in all the world? It is not well not to know that; for from that +comes all that we know to cure the sick. And for that, I will +tell--but it is the last story of the year. For to-morrow is +_Tu-shée-wim_, the Spring Medicine-Dance; and the snakes are coming +out from their winter houses. After that, we must not tell of the +Things of Old. For it is very long ago; and if one made a mistake in +telling, and said that which was not all true, _Ch’áh-rah-ráh-deh_ +would bite him, and he would die.[110] But this one I will tell thee.” + + [110] A fixed belief among the Pueblos, who will tell none of + their myths between the Spring Medicine-Making, in March, and + the Fall Medicine-Making, in October, lest the rattlesnake + punish them for some slip from the truth. + + * * * * * + +In the First Days, when the people had broken through the crust of +the earth, and had come up out of their dark prison, underground, and +crossed Shee-p’ah-póon, the great Black Lake of Tears, they came to +the shore on this side. Then it came that all the animals were made; +and very soon the Coyote was sent by the Trues to carry a buckskin +bag far south, and not to open it until he should come to the Peak +of the White Clouds. For many days he ran south, with the bag on his +back. But there was nothing to eat, and he grew very hungry. At last +he thought: “Perhaps in this bag there is to eat.” So he took it from +his back, and untied the thongs, and looked in. But there was nothing +in it except the stars; and as soon as the bag was opened they all +flew up into the sky, where they are to this day. + +When the Trues saw that Too-wháy-deh had disobeyed, they were angry, +and made it that his punishment should be to wander up and down +forever, howling with the toothache and finding no rest. + +So Too-wháy-deh went out with his toothache, running all over the +world groaning and crying; and when the other four-feet slept he +could only sit and howl. Because he came to talk with the other +animals, if they could not cure him, they caught the toothache too; +and that is the reason why they sometimes cry. But none have it like +the Coyote, who can find no rest. + +In those times there were no medicine-men in the world,--not even of +the people,--and the animals found no cure. + +Time passing so, it came one day that T’hoo-chée-deh, the smallest of +Mice, who lives in the little mounds around the chapparo-bush, was +making his road underground, when he came to a kind of root with a +sweet smell. T’hoo-chée-deh was very wise; and he took the root, and +put it with others in a buckskin pouch he carried under his left arm. + +In a few days Kee-oo-ée-deh, the Prairie-Dog, came with his head all +fat with toothache, and said: + +“Friend Field-Mouse, can you not cure me of this pain? For all say +you are very wise with herbs.” + +“I do not know,” answered T’hoo-chée-deh. “But we will try. For I +have found a new root, and perhaps it is good.” + +So he mixed it with other roots, all pounded, and put it on the cheek +of Kee-oo-ée-deh; and in a little, the toothache was gone. + +In that time it was that there was so much toothache among the +animals that the Mountain Lion, Commander of Beasts, called a council +to see what should be done. When every kind that walks on the ground +had met, he asked each of them if they had found no cure; but none of +them knew any. The Coyote was there, howling with pain; but all the +other sick were at home. + +At last it was to the Field-Mouse, who is the smallest of +all animals, and who did not wish to seem wise until all the +greater ones had spoken. When the Mountain Lion said, “And thou, +T’hoo-chée-deh--hast thou a cure?” he rose in his place and came +forward modestly, saying: “If the others will allow me, and with the +help of the Trues, I will try what I found last.” + +Then he drew from his left-hand bag the roots one by one; and last +of all, the root of the _chee-ma-hár_, explaining what it had done +for Kee-oo-ée-deh. He pounded it to powder with a stone, and mixed +it with fat; and spreading it on flat leaves, put it to the Coyote’s +jaw. And in a little the pain was gone.[111] + + [111] This cure is still practised among the Tée-wahn. The + sovereign remedy for toothache, however, is to go to the + _estufa_ after dark, carrying food in the left hand, march + round inside the big circular room three times, leave the food + under the secret recess in the wall where the scalps taken in + old wars are kept, and then come out. The toothache is always + left behind! + +At that the Mountain Lion, the Bear, the Buffalo, and all +the other Captains of Four-feet, declared T’hoo-chée-deh the +Father-of-All-Medicine. They made a strong law that from that time +the body of the Field-Mouse should be held sacred, so that no animal +dares to kill him or even to touch him dead. And so it remains to +this day. But only the birds and the snakes, who were not at the +Council of the Four feet, they do not respect T’hoo-chée-deh. + +So the Field-Mouse was the first medicine-man. He chose one of each +kind of four-feet to be his assistants, and taught them the use of +all herbs, and how to cure pain, so that each might practise among +his own people--a Bear-doctor for the Bears, and a Wolf-doctor for +the Wolves, and so to all the tribes of the animals. + +Of those he taught, there was one who was not a True Believer--the +Badger. But he listened also, and made as if he believed all. +With time, the teaching was done; and T’hoo-chée-deh sent all his +assistant doctors home to their own peoples to heal. But whenever one +of them was asked with the sacred corn-meal[112] to come and cure a +sick one, he always came first to get the Father, the Field-Mouse, to +accompany and help him. + + [112] The necessary accompaniment, among the Pueblos, of a call + for the doctor. In some cases, the sacred smoking-herb was + used. Either article was wrapped in corn-husk. See, also, “Some + Strange Corners of Our Country,” chapters xviii and xx. + +But all this time Kahr-naí-deh, the Badger, was not believing; and at +last he said to his wife: + +“Now I will _see_ if Old T’hoo-chée-deh is really a medicine-man. If +he finds me, I will believe him.” + +So from that day for four days the Badger touched no food, until he +was almost dead. And on the fifth day he said: + +“_In-hlee-oo wáy-ee_, wife of me, go now and call T’hoo-chée-deh, to +see if he will cure me.” + +So the Badger-wife went with meal to the house of the Field-Mouse, +making to be very sad; and brought him back with her. When they came, +the Badger was as if very sick and in great pain. + +T’hoo-chée-deh asked nothing; but took off the little pouch of roots +and laid it beside him. And then rubbing a little wood-ashes on his +hands, he put them on the stomach and breast of the Badger, rubbing +and feeling. When he had felt the Badger’s stomach, he began to sing: + + _Káhr-nah-hlóo-hlee wee-end-t’hú + Beh-hú hoo-báhn, + Ah-náh káh-chah-him-aí + T’hóo-chée-hlóo-hlee t’oh-ah-yin-áhb + Wee-end-t’hú beh-hú hoo-báhn._ + + (Badger-Old-Man four days + Has the hunger-killing, + To know, to know surely + If Field-Mouse-Old-Man + Has the Medicine Power. + Four days, four days, + He has the hunger-killing.) + +When he had finished rubbing and singing, he said to the Badger: + +“There is no need of a remedy. In my teaching I found you +attentive--now be true. You have wasted, in trying my power. Now get +up and eat, to make up for the lost. And do not think that way again.” + +With that, he took his pouch of roots and went home. As soon as he +was out of the house, the Badger said to his wife: + +“My wife, now I believe that Mouse-Old-Man _has_ the Power; and never +again will I think _that_ way.” + +Then the Badger-wife brought food, and he ate--for he was dying of +hunger. When he had eaten, the animals came in to see him, for they +had heard that he was very sick. He told them all that had been, and +how T’hoo-chée-deh had known his trick. At that, all the animals were +afraid of the Field-Mouse, and respected him more than ever--for it +was plain that he indeed had the Power. + +Time passing so, it came that one day the Men of the Old made +_nah-kú-ah-shu_, the great round-hunt. When they had made a great +circle on the _llano_, and killed many rabbits, some of them found +T’hoo-chée-deh, and made him prisoner. They brought him before the +_principales_, who questioned him, saying: + +“How do you gain your life?” + +“I gain it,” he answered, “by going about among the animals who are +sick, and curing them.” + +Then the elders said: “If that is so, teach us your Power, and we +will set you free; but if not, you shall die.” + +T’hoo-chée-deh agreed, and they brought him to town with honor. +For twelve days and twelve nights he and the men stayed shut up +in the _estufa_, for two days fasting, and one day making the +medicine-dance, and then fasting and then dancing again, as our +medicine-men do to this day. + +On the last night, when he had taught the men all the herbs and +how to use them, and they had become wise with practice, they sent +T’hoo-chée-deh out with a strong guard, that nothing should harm him. +They set him down at the door of his own house under the chapparo. +A law was made, giving him full liberty of all that is grown in the +fields. To this day, all True Believers honor him, so that he is not +called small any more. When they sing of him in the sacred places, +they make his house great, calling it _koor-óo-hlee naht-hóo_, the +Mountain of the Chapparo. And him they call not T’hoo-chée-deh, the +Field-Mouse, but _Pee-íd-deh p’ah-hláh-queer_, the Deer-by-the-River, +that he may not seem of little honor.[113] For he was the Father of +Medicine, and taught us how to cure the sick. + + [113] This is not an exception. Nearly all the animals known to + the Tée-wahn have not only their common name, but a ceremonial + and sacred one, which is used exclusively in the songs and + rites. + + * * * * * + +“_Tahb-kóon-ahm?_” cried the boys. “Is _that_ why the Coyote always +cries? And is that why we must never hurt the Field-Mouse, but show +him respect, as to elders?” + +“That is the very why,” said Manuelito’s grandfather, gravely; and +all the old men nodded. + +“And why--” began ’Tonio. But his father shook his head. + +“_Tah!_ It is enough. _Tóo-kwai!_” + +So we stepped out into the night to our homes. And from the _Kú-mai_, +black against the starry sky, the howl of Too-wháy-deh, wandering +with his toothache, swelled across the sleeping village of the +Tée-wahn. + + [Illustration: Is that so? + + Yes; that is so. + + The End] + + + + +Transcriber’s Note + +All inconsistencies in hyphenation and accent use are preserved as +printed. + +Minor punctuation errors have been repaired. + +The following typographic errors have been fixed: + + Page 79--stanger amended to stranger--Then a young woman who + was a stranger ... + + Page 126--seen amended to see--After this, whenever you see an + Eagle ... + +The frontispiece has been moved to follow the title page. Other +illustrations have been moved where necessary so that they are not +in the middle of a paragraph. + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 77804 *** |