said the old Demon. So he put on his war-badge and took his bow and
arrows, as though he were going out to hunt, and started down to where
the Coyote was.
“Hello!” said the Coyote, “how did you pass the night?”
“What in the world are you doing here?” asked the Demon.
“Why, don’t you know?” replied the Coyote. “This is the way I train
myself for running, so as to catch the deer; I can run faster than any
deer in the country. With my medicine, here, I take the swiftness out of
these bones.”
“Is it possible?” said the old Demon.
“Of course it is,” said the Coyote. “There is no deer that can run away
from me.”
“Will you show me?” said the Demon, eagerly.
“Why, yes, of course I will; and then we will go hunting together.”
“Good, good!” said the old Demon. “I have a hard time catching deer and
antelope.”
“Well, now, you sit down right over there and watch me,” said the
Coyote, “and I will show you all about it.”
So he laid his left leg over the rock, and then slily took an antelope
bone and laid it by the side of it. Then he picked up a large stone and
struck it as hard as ever he could against the bone. Whack! went the
stone, and it split the bone into splinters; and the Coyote pretended
that it was the bone of his own leg.
“Aye! Ah! Oh!” exclaimed he. “But then it will get well!” Still crying
“Oh! Ah!” he splashed the leg with the medicine-water and rubbed it.
“Didn’t I tell you?” said he, “it is all right now.” And then away he
went and ran like lightning round and round on the plain below, and
rushed back again. “Didn’t I tell you so?” said he.
“Fury! what a runner it makes out of you,” said the old Demon, and his
eyes stuck out more than ever. “Let me try it now.”
“Hold on, hold on,” said the Coyote; “I have not half finished yet.”
So he repeated the experiment with his other leg, and made great ado, as
if it hurt him more than ever. But, pretending to cure himself with the
medicine-water, he ran round and round on the plain below so fast that
he fairly left a streak of dust behind him.
“Why, indeed, you are one of the fastest runners I ever saw!” said the
Demon, rubbing his eyes.
Then the Coyote repeated the experiment first with his left paw and then
with his right; and the last time he ran more swiftly than before.
“Why, do you mean to say that if I do that I can run as fast as you do?”
said the Demon.
“Certainly,” replied the Coyote. “But it will hurt you.”
“Ho! who cares for a little hurt?” said the Demon.
“Oh! but it hurts terribly,” said the Coyote, “and I am afraid you won’t
have the pluck to go through with it.”
“Do you think I am a baby?” said the old Demon, getting up,--“or a
woman, that I should be afraid to pound my legs and arms?”
“Well, I only thought I’d tell you how much it hurts,” said the Coyote;
“but if you want to try it yourself, why, go ahead. There’s one thing
certain: when you make yourself as swift as I am, there’s no deer in all
the country that can get away from us two.”
“What shall I do?” said the Demon.
“You just sit right down there, and I’ll show you how,” said the Coyote.
So the Demon sat down by the rock.
“There, now, you just lay your leg right over that stone and take the
other rock and strike your leg just as hard as you can; and as soon as
you have done, bathe it in the medicine-water. Then do just the same way
to the other.”
“All right,” said the Demon. So he laid his leg over the rock, and
picking up the other stone, brought it down with might and main across
his thigh--so hard, indeed, that he crushed the bone into splinters.
“Oh, my! Oh, my! what shall I do?” shouted the Demon.
“Be patient, be patient; it will get well,” said the Coyote, and he
splashed it with the medicine-fluid.
Then, picking up the stone again, the Demon hit the other thigh even
harder, from pain.
“It will get well, my friend; it will get well,” shouted the Coyote; and
he splashed more of the medicine-water on the two wounded legs.
Then the Demon picked up the stone once more, and, laying his left arm
across the other stone, pounded that also until it was broken.
“Hold on; let me bathe it for you,” said the Coyote. “Does it hurt? Oh,
well, it will get well. Just wait until you have doctored the other arm,
and then in a few minutes you will be all right.”
“Oh, dear! Oh, dear!” groaned the Demon. “How in the world can I doctor
the other arm, for my left arm is broken?”
“Lay it across the rock, my friend,” said the Coyote, “and I’ll doctor
it for you.”
So the Demon did as he was bidden, and the Coyote brought the stone down
with might and main against his arm. “Have patience, my friend, have
patience,” said he, as he bathed the injured limb with more of the
medicine-water. But the Demon only groaned and howled, and rolled over
and over in the dust with pain.
“Ha, ha!” laughed the Coyote, as he keeled a somersault over the rocks
and ran off over the plain. “How do you feel now, old man?”
“But it hurts! It hurts!” cried the Demon. “I shall never get well; it
will kill me!”
“Of course it will,” laughed the Coyote. “That’s just what I wanted it
to do, you old fool!”
So the old Demon lay down and died from sheer pain.
Then the Coyote took the Demon’s knife from him, and, cutting open his
breast, tore out his heart, wind-pipe, and all. Then, stealing the
war-badge that the Demon had worn, he cut away as fast as ever he could
for the home of the Prey-gods. Before noon he neared their house, and,
just as he ran up into the plaza in front of it, the youngest sister of
the Prey-gods came out to hang up some meat to dry. Now, her brothers
had all gone hunting; not one of them was at home.
“I say, wife,” said the Coyote. “Wife! Wife!”
“Humph!” said the girl. “Impertinent scoundrel! I wonder where he is and
who he is that has the impudence to call me his wife, when he knows that
I have never been married!”
“Wife! Wife!” shouted the Coyote again.
“Away with you, you shameless rascal!” cried the girl, in indignation.
Then she looked around and spied the Coyote sitting there on the
ash-heap, with his nose in the air, as though he were the biggest fellow
in the world.
“Clear out, you wretch!” cried the girl.
“Softly, softly,” replied the Coyote. “Do you remember what your
brothers said last night?”
“What was that?” said the girl.
“Why, whoever would kill the speckled Demon, they declared, should have
you for his wife.”
“Well, what of that?” said the girl.
“Oh, nothing,” replied the Coyote, “only I’ve killed him!” And, holding
up the Demon’s heart and war-badge, he stuck his nose in the air again.
So the poor girl said not a word, but sat there until the Coyote called
out: “I say, wife, come down and take me up; I can’t climb the ladders.”
So the poor girl went down the ladder, took her foul-smelling husband
in her arms, and climbed up with him.
“Now, take me in with you,” said the Coyote. So she did as she was
bidden. Then she was about to mix some dough, but the Coyote kept
getting in her way.
“Get out of the way a minute, won’t you?” said the girl, “until I cook
something for you.”
“I want you to come and sit down with me,” said the Coyote, “and let me
kiss you, for you know you are my wife, now.” So the poor girl had to
submit to the ill-smelling creature’s embraces.
Presently along came her brother, the Gray Wolf, but he was a very
good-natured sort of fellow; so he received the Coyote pleasantly. Then
along came the Bear, with a big antelope over his shoulder; but he
didn’t say anything, for he was a lazy, good-natured fellow. Then
presently the other brothers came in, one by one; but the Mountain Lion
was so late in returning that they began to look anxiously out for him.
When they saw him coming from the north with more meat and more game
than all the others together had brought, he was evidently not in good
humor, for as he approached the house he exclaimed, with a howl:
“_Hu-hu-ya!_”
“There he goes again,” said the brothers and sisters, all in a chorus.
“Always out of temper with something.”
“_Hu-hu-ya!_” exclaimed the Mountain Lion again, louder than before.
And, as he mounted the ladder, he exclaimed for a third time:
“_Hu-hu-ya!_” and, throwing his meat down, entered swearing and
growling until his brothers were ashamed of him, and told him he had
better behave himself.
“Come and eat,” said the sister, as she brought a bowl of meat and put
it on the floor.
“_Hu-hu-ya!_” again exclaimed the Mountain Lion, as he came nearer and
sat down to eat. “What in the world is the matter with you, sister? You
smell just like a Coyote. _Hu-hu-ya!_”
“Have you no more decency than to come home and scold your sister in
that way?” exclaimed the Wolf. “I’m disgusted with you.”
“_Hu-hu-ya!_” reiterated the Mountain Lion.
Now, when the Coyote had heard the Mountain Lion coming, he had sneaked
off into a corner; but he stuck his sharp nose out, and the Mountain
Lion espied it. “_Hu-hu-ya!_” said he. “Sling that bad-smelling beast
out of the house! Kick him out!” cried the old man, with a growl. So the
sister, fearing that her brother would eat her husband up, took the
Coyote in her arms and carried him into another room.
“Now, stay there and keep still, for brother is very cross; but then he
is always cross if things don’t go right,” she said.
So when evening came her brothers began to discuss where they would go
hunting the next day; and the Coyote, who was listening at the door,
heard them. So he called out: “Wife! Wife!”
“_Shom-me!_” remarked old Long Tail. “Shut up, you dirty whelp.” And as
the sister arose to go to see what her husband wanted, the Mountain
Lion remarked: “You had better sling that foul-smelling cub of yours
over the roof.”
No sooner had the girl entered than the Coyote began to brag what a
runner he was, and to cut around at a great rate.
“_Shom-me!_” exclaimed the Mountain Lion again. “A Coyote always will
make a Coyote of himself, foul-smelling wretch! _Hu-hu-ya!_”
“Shut up, and behave yourself!” cried the Wolf. “Don’t you know any
better than to talk about your brother-in-law in that way?” But neither
the Coyote nor the girl could sleep that night for the growlings and
roarings of their big brother, the Long Tail.
When the brothers began to prepare for the hunt the next morning, out
came the Coyote all ready to accompany them. “You, you?” said the
Mountain Lion. “You going to hunt with us? You conceited sneak!”
“Let him go if he wants to,” said the Wolf.
“_Hu-hu-ya!_ Fine company!” remarked the Mountain Lion. “If you fellows
want to walk with him, you may. There’s one thing certain, I’ll not be
seen in his company,” and away strode the old fellow, lashing his tail
and growling as he went. So the Coyote, taking a luncheon of dried meat
that his wife put up for him, sneaked along behind with his tail
dragging in the dust. Finally they all reached the mountain where they
intended to hunt, and soon the Mountain Lion and the Bear started out to
drive in a herd of antelope that they had scented in the distance.
Presently along rushed the leaders of the herd.
“Now, then, I’ll show your cross old brother whether I can hunt or
not,” cried the Coyote, and away he rushed right into the herd of
antelope and deer before anyone could restrain him. Of course he made a
Coyote of himself, and away went the deer in all directions.
Nevertheless, the brothers, who were great hunters, succeeded in
catching a few of them; and, just as they sat down to lunch, the
Mountain Lion returned with a big elk on his shoulders.
“Where is our sweet-scented brother-in-law?” he asked.
“Nobody knows,” replied they. “He rushed off after the deer and
antelope, and that was the last of him.”
“Of course the beast will make a Coyote of himself. But he can go till
he can go no longer, for all I care,” added the Mountain Lion, as he sat
down to eat.
Presently along came the Coyote.
“Where’s your game, my fine hunter?” asked the Mountain Lion.
“They all got away from me,” whined the Coyote.
“Of course they did, you fool!” sneered the Mountain Lion. “The best
thing that you can do is to go home and see your wife. Here, take this
meat to sister,” said he, slinging him a haunch of venison.
“Where’s the road?” asked the Coyote.
“Well,” said the Wolf, “follow that path right over there until you come
to where it forks; then be sure to take the right-hand trail, for if
you follow the left-hand trail it will lead you away from home and into
trouble.”
“Which trail did you say?” cried the Coyote.
“_Shom-me!_” again exclaimed the Mountain Lion.
“Oh, yes,” hastily added the Coyote; “the right-hand trail. No, the
left-hand trail.”
“Just what you might expect,” growled the Mountain Lion. “Already the
fool has forgotten what you told him. Well, as for me, he can go on the
left-hand trail if he wants to, and the farther he goes the better.”
“Now, be sure and take the right-hand trail,” called the Wolf, as the
Coyote started.
“I know, I know,” cried the Coyote; and away he went with his heavy
haunch of venison slung over his shoulder. After a while he came to the
fork in the trail. “Let me see,” said he, “it’s the left-hand trail, it
seems to me. No, the right-hand trail. Well, I declare, I’ve forgotten!
Perhaps it is the right-hand trail, and maybe it is the left-hand trail.
Yes, it is the left-hand trail. Now I’m certain.” And, picking up his
haunch of venison, away he trotted along the left-hand trail. Presently
he came to a steep cliff and began to climb it. But he had no sooner
reached the middle than a lot of Chimney-swallows began to fly around
his head and pick at his eyes, and slap him on the nose with their
wings.
“Oh, dear! oh, dear!” exclaimed the Coyote. “Aye! aye!” and he bobbed
his head from side to side to dodge the Swallows, until he missed his
footing, and down he tumbled, heels over head,--meat, Coyote, and
all,--until he struck a great pile of rocks below, and was dashed to
pieces.
That was the end of the Coyote; but not of my story.
Now, the brothers went on hunting again. Then, one by one, they returned
home. As before, the Mountain Lion came in last of all. He smelt all
about the room. “Whew!” exclaimed he. “It still smells here as if twenty
Coyotes had been around. But it seems to me that our fine brother-in-law
isn’t anywhere about.”
“No,” responded the rest, with troubled looks on their faces. “Nobody
has seen anything of him yet.”
“_Shom--m-m!_” remarked the Mountain Lion again. “Didn’t I tell you,
brothers, that he was a fool and would forget your directions? I say I
told you that before he started. Well, for my part, I hope the beast has
gone so far that he will never return,” and with that he ate his supper.
When supper was over, the sister said: “Come, brothers, let’s go and
hunt for my husband.”
At first the Mountain Lion growled and swore a great deal; but at last
he consented to go. When they came to where the trails forked, there
were the tracks of the Coyote on the left-hand trail.
“The idiot!” exclaimed the Mountain Lion. “I hope he has fallen off the
cliff and broken every bone in his body!”
When at last the party reached the mountain, sure enough, there lay the
body of the Coyote, with not a whole bone in him except his head.
“Good enough for you,” growled the Mountain Lion, as he picked up a
great stone and, _tu-um!_ threw it down with all his strength upon the
head of the Coyote.
That’s what happened a great while ago. And for that reason whenever a
Coyote sees a bait of meat inside of a stone deadfall he is sure to
stick his nose in and get his head mashed for his pains.
Thus shortens my story.
[Illustration: A DANCE OF THE KÂKÂ
Photo by A. C. Vroman]
HOW THE COYOTES TRIED TO STEAL THE CHILDREN OF THE SACRED DANCE
In the times of the ancients, when our people lived in various places
about the valley of Zuñi where ruins now stand, it is said that an old
Coyote lived in Cedar Cañon with his family, which included a fine
litter of pups. It is also said that at this time there lived on the
crest of Thunder Mountain, back of the broad rock column or pinnacle
which guards its western portion, one of the gods of the Sacred Drama
Dance (_Kâkâ_)[13], named K’yámakwe, with his children, many in number
and altogether like himself.
[13] The _Kâkâ_, or Sacred Drama Dance, is represented by a
great variety of masks and costumes worn by Zuñi dancers during
the performance of this remarkable dramatic ceremony.
Undoubtedly many of the traditional characters of the Sacred
Drama thus represented are conventionalizations of the mythic
conceptions or personifications of animal attributes. Therefore
many of these characters partake at once of the characteristics,
in appearance as well as in other ways, of animals and men. The
example in point is a good illustration of this. The K’yámakwe
are supposed to have been a most wonderful and powerful tribe of
demi-gods, inhabiting a great valley and range of mesas some
forty miles south of Zuñi. Their powers over the atmospheric
phenomena of nature and over all the herbivorous animals are
supposed to have been absolute. Their attitude toward man was at
times inimical, at times friendly or beneficent. Such a
relationship, controlled simply by either laudatory or
propitiatory worship, was supposed to hold spiritually, still,
between these and other beings represented in the Sacred Drama
and men. It is believed that through the power of breath
communicated by these ancient gods to men, from one man to
another man, and thus from generation to generation, an actual
connection has been kept up between initiated members of the
_Kâkâ_ drama and these original demi-god characters which it
represents; so that when a member is properly dressed in the
costume of any one of these characters, a ceremony (the
description of which is too long for insertion here)
accompanying the putting on of the mask is supposed not only to
place him _en rapport_ spiritually with the character he
represents, but even to possess him with the spirit of that
character or demi-god. He is, therefore, so long as he remains
disguised as one of these demi-gods, treated as if he were
actually that being which he personates. One of the K’yámakwe is
represented by means of a mask, round and smooth-headed, with
little black eyes turned up at the corners so as to represent a
segment of a diminishing spiral; the color of the face is green,
and it is separated from the rest of the head by a line composed
of alternate blocks of black and yellow; the crown and back of
the head are snow-white; and the ears are pendent and conical in
shape, being composed of husks or other paper-like material; the
mouth is round, and furnished with a four-pointed beak of husks,
which extends two or three inches outward and spreads at the end
like the petals of a half-closed lily; round the neck is a
collar of fox fur, and covering the body are flowing robes of
sacred embroidered mantles, which (notwithstanding the gay
ornaments and other appurtenances of the costume) have, in
connection with the expression of the mask, a spectral effect;
the feet are encased in brilliantly painted moccasins, of
archaic form, and the wrists laden with shell bracelets and
bow-guards. When the long file of these strange figures making
up the K’yámakwe Drama Dance comes in from the southward to the
dance plazas of the pueblo, each member of it bears on his back
freshly slain deer, antelope, rabbits, and other game animals or
portions of them in abundance, made up in packages, highly
decorated with tufts of evergreen, and painted toys for
presentation to the children. In one hand are carried bows and
arrows, and in the other a peculiar rattle or clanger made of
the shoulder-blades of deer. The wonder expressed by the coyote
as the story goes on, and his excessive admiration of the
children of the K’yámakwe may therefore be understood.
One day the old Coyote of Cedar Cañon went out hunting, and as he was
prowling around among the sage-bushes below Thunder Mountain, he heard
the clang and rattle and the shrill cries of the K’yámakwe. He pricked
up his ears, stuck his nose into the air, sniffed about and looked all
around, and presently discovered the K’yámakwe children running rapidly
back and forth on the very edge of the mountain.
“Delight of my senses, what pretty creatures they are! Good for me!” he
piped, in a jovial voice. “I am the finder of children. I must capture
the little fellows tomorrow, and bring them up as Coyotes ought to be
brought up. Aren’t they handsome, though?”
All this he said to himself, in a fit of conceit, with his nose in the
air (presumptuous cur!), planning to steal the children of a god! He
hunted no more that day, but ran home as fast as he could, and, arriving
there, he said: “Wife! Wife! O wife! I have discovered a number of the
prettiest waifs one ever saw. They are children of the _Kâkâ_, but what
matters that? They are there, running back and forth and clanging their
rattles along the very edge of Thunder Mountain. I mean to steal them
tomorrow, every one of them, and bring them here!”
“Mercy on us!” exclaimed the old Coyote’s wife. “There are children
enough and to spare already. What in the world can we do with all of
them, you fool?”
“But they are pretty,” said the Coyote. “Immensely fine! Every Coyote in
the country would envy us the possession of them!”
“But you say they are many,” continued the wife.
“Well, yes, a good many,” said the Coyote.
“Well, why not divide them among our associated clans?” suggested the
old woman. “You never can capture them alone; it is rare enough that you
capture _anything_ alone, leave out the children of the K’yámakwe. Get
your relatives to help you, and divide the children amongst them.”
“Well, now, come to think of it, it is a good plan,” said the Coyote,
with his nose on his neck. “If I get up this expedition I’ll be a big
chief, won’t I? Hurrah! Here’s for it!” he shouted; and, switching his
tail in the face of his wife, he shot out of the hole and ran away to a
high rock, where, squatting down with a most important air and his nose
lifted high, he cried out:
“_Au hii lâ-â-â-â!
Su Homaya-kwe!
Su Kemaya-kwe!
Su Ayalla-kwe!
Su Kutsuku-kwe!_
[Listen ye all!
Coyotes of the Cedar-cañon tribe!
Coyotes of the Sunflower-stalk-plain tribe!
Coyotes of the Lifted-stone-mountain tribe!
Coyotes of the Place-of-rock-gullies tribe!]
I have instructions for you this day. I have found waif children
many--of the K’yámakwe, the young. I would steal the waif-children many,
of the K’yámakwe, the young. I would steal them tomorrow, that they may
be adopted of us. I would have your aid in the stealing of the K’yámakwe
young. Listen ye all, and tomorrow gather in council. Thus much I
instruct ye:
“Coyotes of the Cedar-cañon tribe!
Coyotes of the Sunflower-stalk-plain tribe!
Coyotes of the Lifted-stone-mountain tribe!
Coyotes of the Place-of-rock-gullies tribe!”
It was growing dark, and immediately from all quarters, in dark places
under the cañons and arroyos, issued answering howls and howls. You
should have seen that crowd of Coyotes the next morning, large and
small, old and young,--all four tribes gathered together in the plain
below Thunder Mountain!
When they had all assembled, the Coyote who had made the discovery
mounted an ant-hill, sat down, and, lifting his paw, was about to give
directions with the air of a chief when an ant bit him. He lost his
dignity, but resumed it again on the top of a neighboring rock. Again he
stuck his nose into the air and his paw out, and with ridiculous
assumption informed the Coyotes that he was chief of them all and that
they would do well to pay attention to his directions. He then showed
himself much more skilful than you might have expected. As you know, the
cliff of Thunder Mountain is very steep, especially that part back of
the two standing rocks. Well, this was the direction of the Coyote:
“One of you shall place himself at the base of the mountain; another
shall climb over him, and the first one shall grasp his tail; and
another over them, and his tail shall be grasped by the second, and so
on until the top is reached. Hang tight, my friends, every one of you,
and every one fall in line. Eructate thoroughly before you do so. If you
do not, we may be in a pretty mess; for, supposing that any one along
the line should hiccough, he would lose his hold, and down we would all
fall!”