growing hungry he had naught to eat; and cold on the sides of the mesas
he passed the night, and on the following morning wandered still, until
at last, very hungry, he was fain even to nip the blades of grass and
eat the berries of the juniper. Thus he became ill and worn; and one
night as he was seeking a warm place to lay him down and die, he saw a
little red light glowing from the top of a hillock. Toward this light he
took his way, and when he came near he saw that it was shining up
through the sky-hole of someone’s house. He peered over the edge and saw
an old Badger with his grizzly wife, sitting before a fire, not in the
form of a badger but in the form of a little man, his badger-skin
hanging beside him.
Then the youth said to himself: “I will cast myself down into their
house, thus showing them my miserable condition.” And as he tried to
step down the ladder, he fell, _teng_, on the floor before them.
The Badgers were disgusted. They grabbed the Coyote, and hauling him up
the ladder, threw him into the plain, where, _toonoo_, he fell far away
and swooned from loss of breath. When he recovered his thoughts he again
turned toward the glowing sky-hole, and, crawling feebly back, threw
himself down into the room again. Again he was thrown out, but this time
the Badger said: “It is marvellously strange that this Coyote, the
miserable fellow, should insist on coming back, and coming back.”
“I have heard,” said the little old Badger-woman, “that our glorious
beloved youth of Háwikuh was changed some time ago into a Coyote. It may
be he. Let us see when he comes again if it be he. For the love of
mercy, let us see!”
Ere long the youth again tried to clamber down the ladder, and fell with
a thud on the floor before them. A long time he lay there senseless, but
at last opened his eyes and looked about. The Badgers eagerly asked if
he were the same who had been changed into a Coyote, or condemned to
inhabit the form of one. The youth could only move his head in
acquiescence.
Then the Badgers hastily gathered an emetic and set it to boil, and when
ready they poured the fluid down the throat of the seeming Coyote, and
tenderly held him and pitied him. Then they laid him before the fire to
warm him. Then the old Badger, looking about in some of his burrows,
found a sacred rock crystal, and heating it to glowing heat in the fire,
he seared the palms of the youth’s hands, the soles of his feet, and the
crown of his head, repeating incantations as he performed this last
operation, whereupon the skin burst and fell off, and the youth, haggard
and lean, lay before them. They nourished him as best they could, and,
when well recovered, sent him home to join his people again and render
them happy. Clad in his own fine garments, happy of countenance and
handsome as before, and, according to his regular custom, bearing a Deer
on his back, returned the youth to his people, and there he lived most
happily.
* * * * *
As I have said, this was in the days of the ancients, and it is because
this youth lived so long with the Deer and became acquainted with their
every way and their every word, and taught all that he knew to his
children and to others whom he took into his friendship, that we have
today a class of men--the Sacred Hunters of our tribe,--who surpassingly
understand the ways and the language of the Deer.
Thus shortens my story.
[Illustration: {Carvings}]
THE BOY HUNTER WHO NEVER SACRIFICED TO THE DEER HE HAD SLAIN:
OR THE ORIGIN OF THE SOCIETY OF RATTLESNAKES
In very ancient times, there lived at Tâ′ia,[9] below the Zuñi
Mountains, an old _shíwani_ or priest-chief, who had a young son named
Héasailuhtiwa (“Metal-hand”), famed throughout the land of the Zuñis for
his success in hunting.
[9] The native name of the Zuñi town of Las Nutrias.
When very young, this lad had said to his parents: “My old ones, let me
go away from the home of my fathers and dwell by myself.”
“Why do you, a young boy, wish to go and dwell by yourself, my son? Know
you not that you would fare but badly, for you are careless and
forgetful? No, no! remain with us, that we may care for you.”
But the boy answered: “Why should I fare badly? Can I not hunt my own
game and roast the meat over the fire? It is because you never care to
have me go forth alone that I wish to live by myself, for I long to
travel far and hunt deer in the mountains of many countries: yet
whenever I start forth you call me back, and it is painful to my longing
thoughts thus to be held back when I would go forward.”
It was not until the lad had spoken thus again and again, and once
more, that the parents sadly yielded to his wish. They insisted,
however, much to the boy’s displeasure, that his younger sister,
Waíasialuhtitsa, should go with him, only to look after his house, and
to remind him here and there, at times, of his forgetfulness. So the
brother and sister chose the lofty rooms of a high house in the upper
part of the pueblo and lived there.
The boy each day went out hunting and failed not each time to bring in
slain animals, while the sister cooked for him and looked after the
house. Yet, although the boy was a great hunter, he never sacrificed to
the Deer he had slain, nor to the Gods of Prey who delight in aiding the
hunter who renews them; for the lad was forgetful and careless of all
things.
One day he went forth over the mountain toward the north, until he came
to the Waters of the Bear.[10] There he started up a huge Buck, and,
finding the trail, followed it far toward the northward. Yet, although
swift of foot, the youth could not overtake the running Deer, and thus
it happened that he went on and on, past mesas, valleys, and mountains,
until he came to the brink of a great river which flows westwardly from
the north.[11] On the banks of this great river grew forests of
cottonwood, and into the thickets of these forests led the trail,
straight toward the river bank. Just as the young man was about to
follow the track to the bank, he thought he saw under a large tree in
the midst of the thickets the form of the Deer, so, bending very low, he
ran around close to the bank, and came up between the river and the
thicket.
[10] Aínshik’yanakwin, or Bear Spring, where Fort Wingate now
stands.
[11] Probably Green River, or some important tributary of the
Colorado Grande.
As he guardedly approached the tree, his eyes now following the track,
now glancing up, he discovered a richly dressed, handsome young man, who
called out to him: “How art thou these days, and whither art thou
going?”
The young man straightened up, and quickly drawing his breath, replied:
“I am hunting a Deer whose tracks I have followed all the way from the
Waters of the Bear.”
“Indeed!” exclaimed the stranger, “and where has thy Deer gone?”
“I know not,” replied the youth, “for here are his tracks.” Then he
observed that they led to the place where the stranger was sitting, and
the latter at the same time remarked:
“I am the Deer, and it was as I would have it that I enticed thee
hither.”
“_Hai-í!_” exclaimed the young man.
“Aye,” continued the stranger. “Alas! alas! thou forgetful one! Thou
hast day after day chased my children over the plains and slain them;
thou hast made thyself happy of their flesh, and of their flesh added
unto thine own meat and that of thy kindred; but, alas! thou hast been
forgetful and careless, and not once hast thou given unto their souls
the comfort of that which they yearn for and need. Yet hast thou had
good fortune in the chase. At last the Sun-father has listened to the
supplications of my children and commanded that I bring thee here, and
here have I brought thee. Listen! The Sun-father commands that thou
shalt visit him in his house at the western end of the world, and these
are his instructions.”
“Indeed! Well, I suppose it must be, and it is well!” exclaimed the
young man.
“And,” continued the Deer-being, “thou must hasten home and call thy
father. Tell him to summon his _Pithlan Shíwani_ (Priest of the Bow, or
Warrior) and command him that he shall instruct his children to repair
to the rooms of sacred things and prepare plumed prayer-sticks for the
Sun-father, the Moon-mother, and the Great Ocean, and red plumes of
sacrifice for the Beings of Prey; that fully they must prepare
everything, for thou, their child and father, shalt visit the home of
the Sun-father, and in payment for thy forgetfulness and carelessness
shalt render him, and the Moon-mother, and the Beings of the Great
Ocean, plumes of sacrifice. Hasten home, and tell thy father these
things. Then tell thy sister to prepare sweetened meal of parched corn
to serve as the food of thy journey, and pollen of the flowers of corn;
and ask thy mother to prepare great quantities of new cotton, and,
making all these things into bundles, thou must summon some of thy
relatives, and come to this tree on the fourth day from this day. Make
haste, for thou art swift of foot, and tell all these things to thy
father; he will understand thee, for is he not a priest-chief? Hast
thou knives of flint?”
“Yes,” said the young man, “my father has many.”
“Select from them two,” said the Deer-being--“a large one and a smaller
one; and when thou hast returned to this place, cut down with the larger
knife yonder great tree, and with the smaller knife hollow it out. Leave
the large end entire, and for the smaller end thou must make a round
door, and around the inside of the smaller end cut a notch that shall be
like a terrace toward the outside, but shall slope from within that thou
mayest close it from the inside with the round door; then pad the inside
with cotton, and make in the bottom a padding thicker than the rest; but
leave space that thou mayest lie thy length, or sit up and eat. And in
the top cut a hole larger inside than out, that thou mayest close it
from the inside with a plug of wood. Then when thou hast placed the
sweetened meal of parched corn inside, and the plumed prayer-sticks and
the sacred pollen of corn-flowers, then enter thyself and close the door
in the end and the hole in the top that thy people may roll thee into
the river. Thou wilt meet strange beings on thy way. Choose from amongst
them whom thou shalt have as a companion, and proceed, as thy companion
shall direct, to the great mountain where the Sun enters. Haste and tell
thy father these things.” And ere the youth could say, “Be it well,”
and, “I will,” the Deer-being had vanished, and he lifted up his face
and started swiftly for the home of his fathers.
At sunset the sister looked forth from her high house-top, but nowhere
could she see her brother coming. She turned at last to enter, thinking
and saying to her breast: “Alas! what did we not think and guess of his
carelessness.” But just as the country was growing dim in the darkness,
the young man ran breathlessly in, and, greeting his sister, sat down in
the doorway.
The sister wondered that he had no deer or other game, but placed a meal
before him, and, when he had done, herself ate. But the young man
remained silent until she had finished, then he said: “Younger sister, I
am weary and would sit here; do you go and call father, for I would
speak to him of many things.”
So the sister cleared away the food and ran to summon the father. Soon
she returned with the old man, who, sighing, “_Ha hua!_” from the effort
of climbing, greeted his son and sat down, looking all about the room
for the fresh deer-meat; but, seeing none, he asked: “What and wherefore
hast thou summoned me, my son?”
“It is this,” replied the son, and he related all that had been told him
by the Deer-being, describing the magnificent dress, the turquoise and
shell earrings, necklaces, and wristlets of the handsome stranger.
“Certainly,” replied the father. “It is well; for as the Sun-father hath
directed the Deer-being, thus must it be done.”
Then he forthwith went away and commanded his Priest of the Bow, who,
mounting to the topmost house, directed the elders and priests of the
tribe, saying:
“Ye, our children, listen!
Ye I will this day inform,
Our child, our father,
He of the strong hand,
He who so hunts the Deer,
Goes unto the Sunset world,
Goes, our Sun-father to greet;
Gather at the sacred houses,
Bring thy prayer-sticks, twines, and feathers,
And prepare for him,--
For the Sun-father,
For the Moon-mother,
For the Great Ocean,
For the Prey-beings, plumes and treasures.
Hasten, hasten, ye our children, in the morning!”
So the people gathered in the _kiwetsiwe_ and sacred houses next morning
and began to make prayer-plumes, while the sister of the young man and
her relatives made sweet parched corn-meal and gathered pollen. Toward
evening all was completed. The young man summoned his relatives, and
chose his four uncles to accompany him. Then he spread enough
cotton-wool out to cover the floor, and, gathering it up, made it into a
small bundle. The sweet meal filled a large sack of buckskin, and he
took also a little sack of sacred red paint and the black warrior paint
with little shining particles in it. Then he bade farewell to his
lamenting people and rested for the evening journey.
Next morning, escorted by priests, the young man, arrayed in garments
of embroidered white cotton and carrying his plumes in his arms, started
out of the town, and, accompanied only by his four uncles, set out over
the mountains. On the third day they reached the forest on the bank of
the great river and encamped.
Then the young man left the camp of his uncles and went alone into the
forest, and, choosing the greatest tree he could find, hacked midway
through it with his great flint knife. The next day he cut the other
half and felled it, when he found it partly hollow. So with his little
knife he began to cut it as he had been directed, and made the round
door for it and the hole through the top. With his bundle of cotton he
padded it everywhere inside until it was thickly coated and soft, and he
made a bed on the bottom as thick as himself.
When all was ready and he had placed his food and plumes inside, he
called his uncles and showed them the hollow log. “In this,” said he, “I
am to journey to the western home of our Sun-father. When I have entered
and closed the round door tightly and put the plug into the upper hole
securely, do ye, never thinking of me, roll the log over and over to the
high brink of the river, and, never regarding consequences, push it into
the water.”
Then it was that the uncles all lamented and tried to dissuade him; but
he persisted, and they bade him “Go,” as forever, “for,” said they,
“could one think of journeying even to the end of the earth and across
the waters that embrace the world without perishing?”
Then, hastily embracing each of them, the young man entered his log,
and, securely fastening the door from the inside, and the plug, called
out (they heard but faintly), “_Kesi!_” which means “All is ready.”
Sorrowfully and gently they rolled the log over and over to the high
river bank, and, hesitating a moment, pushed it off with anxious eyes
and closed mouths into the river. Eagerly they watched it as it tumbled
end-over-end and down into the water with a great splash, and
disappeared under the waves, which rolled one after another across to
the opposite banks of the river. But for a long time they saw nothing of
it. After a while, far off, speeding on toward the Western Waters of the
World, they saw the log rocking along on the rushing waters until it
passed out of sight, and they sadly turned toward their homes under the
Mountains of the South.
When the log had ceased rocking and plunging, the young man cautiously
drew out the plug, and, finding that no water flowed in, peered out. A
ray of sunlight slanted in, and by that he knew it was not yet midday,
and he could see a round piece of sky and clouds through the hole.
By-and-by the ray of sunlight came straight down, and then after a while
slanted the other way, and finally toward evening it ceased to shine in,
and then the youth took out some of his meal and ate his supper. When
after a while he could see the stars, and later the Hanging Lines [the
sword-belt of Orion], he knew it was time to rest, so he lay down to
sleep.
Thus, day after day, he travelled until he knew he was out on the Great
Waters of the World, for no longer did his log strike against anything
or whirl around, nor could he see, through the chink, leaves of
overhanging trees, nor rocks and banks of earth. On the tenth morning,
when he looked up through the hole, he saw that the clouds did not move,
and wondering at this, kicked at his log, but it would not move. Then he
peered out as far as he could and saw rocks and trees. When he tried to
rock his log, it remained firm, so he determined to open the door at the
end.
Now, in reality, his log had been cast high up on the shore of a great
mountain that rose out of the waters; and this mountain was the home of
the Rattlesnakes. A Rattlesnake maiden was roaming along the shore just
as the young man was about to open the door of his log. She espied the
curious vessel, and said to herself in thought: “What may this be? Ah,
yes, and who? Ah, yes, the mortal who was to come; it must be he!”
Whereupon she hastened to the shore and tapped on the log.
“Art thou come?” she asked.
“Aye,” replied the youth. “Who may you be, and where am I?”
“You are landed on the Island of the Rattlesnakes, and I am one of them.
The other side of the mountain here is where our village is. Come out
and go with me, for my old ones have expected you long.”
“Is it dry, surely?” asked the young man.
“Why, yes! Here you are high above the waters.”
Thereupon the young man opened from the inside his door, and peered out.
Surely enough, there he was high among the rocks and sands. Then he
looked at the Rattlesnake maiden, and scarcely believed she was what she
called herself, for she was a most beautiful young woman, and like a
daughter of men. Yet around her waist--she was dressed in cotton
mantles--was girt a rattlesnake-skin which was open at the breast and on
the crown of the head.
“Come with me,” said the maiden; and she led the way over the mountain
and across to a deep valley, where terrible Serpents writhed and gleamed
in the sunlight so thickly that they seemed, with their hissing and
rattling, like a dry mat shaken by the wind. The youth drew back in
horror, but the maiden said: “Fear not; they will neither harm you nor
frighten you more, for they are my people.” Whereupon she commanded them
to fall back and make a pathway for the young man and herself; and they
tamely obeyed her commands. Through the opening thus made they passed
down to a cavern, on entering which they found a great room. There were
great numbers of Rattlesnake people, old and young, gathered in council,
for they knew of the coming of the young man. Around the walls of their
houses were many pegs and racks with serpent skins hanging on
them--skins like the one the young girl wore as a girdle. The elders
arose and greeted the youth, saying: “Our child and our father, comest
thou, comest thou happily these many days?”
“Aye, happily,” replied the youth.
And after a feast of strange food had been placed before the young man,
and he had eaten a little, the elders said to him: “Knowest thou whither
thou goest, that the way is long and fearful, and to mortals unknown,
and that it will be but to meet with poverty that thou journeyest alone?
Therefore have we assembled to await thy coming and in order that thou
shouldst journey preciously, we have decided to ask thee to choose from
amongst us whom thou shalt have for a companion.”
“It is well, my fathers,” said the young man, and, casting his eyes
about the council to find which face should be kindest to him, he chose
the maiden, and said: “Let it be this one, for she found me and loved me
in that she gently and without fear brought me into your presence.”
And the girl said: “It is well, and I will go.”
Instantly the grave and dignified elders, the happy-faced youths and
maidens, the kind-eyed matrons, all reached up for their serpent skins,
and, passing them over their persons,--lo! in the time of the telling of
it, the whole place was filled with writhing and hissing Serpents and
the din of their rattles. In horror the young man stood against the wall
like a hollow stalk, and the Serpent maiden, going to each of the
members of the council, extracted from each a single fang, which she
wrapped together in a piece of fabric, until she had a great bundle.
Then she passed her hand over her person, and lo! she became a beautiful
human maiden again, holding in her hand a rattlesnake skin. Then taking
up the bundle of fangs, she said to the young man: “Come, for I know the
way and will guide you!”--and the young man followed her to the shore
where his log lay.
“Now,” said she, “wait while I fix this log anew, that it may be well,”
and she bored many little holes all over the log, and into these holes
she inserted the crooked fangs, so that they all stood slanting toward
the rear, like the spines on the back of a porcupine.
When she had done this, she said: “First I will enter, for there may not
be room for two, and in order that I may make myself like the space I
enter, I will lay on my dress again. Do you, when I have entered, enter
also, and with your feet kick the log down to the shore waters, when you
must quickly close the door and the waters will take us abroad upon
themselves.”
In an instant she had passed into her serpent form again and crawled
into the log. The young man did as he was bidden, and as he closed the
door a wave bore them gently out upon the waters. Then, as the young man
turned to look upon his companion coiled so near him, he drew back in
horror.
“Why do you fear?” asked the Rattlesnake.
“I know not, but I fear you; perhaps, though you speak gently, you will,
when I sleep, bite me and devour my flesh, and it is with thoughts of
this that I have fear.”
“Ah, no!” replied the maiden, “but, that you may not fear, I will
change myself.” And so saying, she took off her skin, and, opening the
upper part of the door, hung the skin on the fangs outside.
Finally, toward noon-time, the youth prepared his meal food, and placing
some before the maiden, asked her to eat.
“Ah, no! alas, I know not the food of mortals. Have you not with you the
yellow dust of the corn-flower?”
“Aye, that I have,” said the young man, and producing a bag, opened it
and asked the girl: “How shall I feed it to you?”
“Scatter it upon the cotton, and by my knowledge I will gather it.”
Then the young man scattered a great quantity on the cotton, wondering
how the girl would gather it up. But the maiden opened the door, and
taking down the skin changed herself to a serpent, and passing to and
fro over the pollen, received it all within her scales. Then she resumed
her human form again and hung the skin up as before.
Thus they floated until they came to the great forks of the Mighty
Waters of the World, and their floating log was guided into the southern
branch. And on they floated toward the westward for four months from the
time when the uncles had thrown him into the river.
One day the maiden said to the youth: “We are nearing our journey’s end,
and, as I know the way, I will guide you. Hold yourself hard and ready,
for the waters will cast our house high upon the shores of the mountain
wherein the Sun enters, and these shores are inaccessible because so
smooth.”
Then the log was cast high above the slippery bank, and when the waters
receded there it remained, for the fangs grappled it fast.
Then said the maiden: “Let us now go out. Fear not for your craft, for
the fangs will hold it fast; it matters little how high the waves may
roll, or how steep and slippery the bank.”
Then, taking in his arms the sacred plumes which his people had prepared
for him, he followed the girl far up to the doorway in the Mountain of
the Sea. Out of it grew a great ladder of giant rushes, by the side of
which stood an enormous basket-tray. Very fast approached the Sun, and
soon the Sun-father descended the ladder, and the two voyagers followed
down. They were gently greeted by a kind old woman, the grandmother of
the Sun, and were given seats at one side of a great and wonderfully
beautiful room.
Then the Sun-father approached some pegs in the wall and from them
suspended his bow and quiver, and his bright sun-shield, and his
wonderful travelling dress. Behold! there stood, kindly smiling before
the youth and maiden, the most magnificent and gentle of beings in the
world--the Sun-father.