very well satisfied; then she took the young man aside and spoke a few
words to him,--in fact, told him what were the conditions of his
becoming her accepted husband. He smiled, and said he would certainly
try to the best of his ability, but this was a very hard thing she
asked.
“I know it is,” said the girl; “that is why I ask it.”
Now, the young man left the house forthwith. The next day he very
quietly went down into the corn-fields belonging to the girl, and over
toward the northern mesa, for that is where her corn-fields were--lucky
being! He dug a great deep pit with a sharp stick and a bone shovel.
Now, when he had dug it--very smooth at the sides and top it was--he
went to the mountain and got some poles, placing them across the hole,
and over these poles he spread earth, and set up corn-stalks just as
though no hole had been dug there; then he put some exceedingly tempting
bait, plenty of it, over the center of these poles, which were so weak
that nobody, however light of foot, could walk over them without
breaking through.
Night came on, and you could hear the Coyotes begin to sing; and the
whole army of pests--Bears, Badgers, Gophers, all sorts of creatures, as
they came down slowly, each one in his own way, from the mountain. The
Coyotes first came into the field, being swift of foot; and one of them,
nosing around and keeping a sharp lookout for watchers, happened to espy
those wonderfully tempting morsels that lay over the hole.
“Ha!” said he (Coyotes don’t think much what they are doing), and he
gave a leap, when in he went--sticks, dirt, bait, and all--to the bottom
of the hole. He picked himself up and rubbed the sand out of his eyes,
then began to jump and jump, trying to get out; but it was of no use,
and he set up a most doleful howl.
He had just stopped for breath, when a Bear came along. “What in the
name of all the devils and witches are you howling so for?” said he.
“Where are you?”
The Coyote swallowed his whimpers immediately, set himself up in a
careless attitude, and cried out: “Broadfoot, lucky, lucky, lucky
fellow! Did you hear me singing? I am the happiest creature on the face
of the earth, or rather under it.”
“What about? I shouldn’t think you were happy, to judge from your
howling.”
“Why! Mercy on me!” cried the Coyote, “I was singing for joy.”
“How’s that?” asked the Bear.
“Why,” said the Coyote, “I came along here this evening and by the
merest accident fell into this hole. And what do you suppose I found
down here? Green-corn, meat, sweet-stuff, and everything a corn-eater
could wish for. The only thing I lacked to complete my happiness was
someone to enjoy the meal with me. Jump in!--it isn’t very deep--and
fall to, friend. We’ll have a jolly good night of it.”
So the old Bear looked down, drew back a minute, hesitated, and then
jumped in. When the Bear got down there, the Coyote laid himself back,
slapped his thighs, and laughed and laughed and laughed. “Now, get out
if you can,” said he to the Bear. “You and I are in a pretty mess. I
fell in here by accident, it is true, but I would give my teeth and eyes
if I could get out again!”
The Bear came very near eating him up, but the Coyote whispered
something in his ear. “Good!” yelled the Bear. “Ha! ha! ha! Excellent
idea! Let us sing together. Let them come!”
So they laughed and sang and feasted until they attracted almost every
corn-pest in the fields to the spot to see what they were doing. “Keep
away, my friends,” cried out the Coyote. “No such luck for you. We got
here first. Our spoils!”
“Can’t I come?” “Can’t I come?” cried out one after another.
“Well, yes,--no,--there may not be enough for you all.” “Come on,
though; come on! who cares?”--cried out the old Bear. And they rushed in
so fast that very soon the pit-hole was almost full of them, scrambling
to get ahead of one another, and before they knew their predicament they
were already in it. The Coyote laughed, shuffled around, and screamed at
the top of his voice; he climbed up over his grandfather the Bear,
scrambled through the others, which were snarling and biting each other,
and, knowing what he was about, skipped over their backs, out of the
hole, and ran away laughing as hard as he could.
Now, the next morning down to the corn-field came the young man. Drawing
near to the pit he heard a tremendous racket, and going to the edge and
peering in he saw that it was half filled with the pests which had been
destroying the corn of the maiden,--every kind of creature that had ever
meddled with the corn-fields of man, there they were in that deep pit;
some of them all tired out, waiting for “the end of their daylight,”
others still jumping and crawling and falling in their efforts to get
out.
“Good! good! my friends,” cried the young man. “You must be cold; I’ll
warm you up a little.” So he gathered a quantity of dry wood and threw
it into the pit. “Be patient! be patient!” said he. “I hope I don’t hurt
any of you. It will be all over in a few minutes.” Then he lighted the
wood and burned the rascals all up. But he noticed the Coyote was not
there. “What does it matter?” said he. “One kind of pest a man can
fight, but not many.”
So he went back to the house of the girl and reported to her what he had
done. She was so pleased she hardly knew how to express her gratitude,
but said to the young man with a smile on her face and a twinkle in her
eye, “Are you quite sure they were all there?”
“Why, they were all there except the Coyote,” said the young man; “but I
must tell you the truth, and somehow he got out or didn’t get in.”
“Who cares for a Coyote!” said the girl. “I would much rather marry a
man with some ingenuity about him than have all the Coyotes in the world
to kill.” Whereupon she accepted this very ugly but ingenious young man;
and it is notable that ever since then pretty girls care very little how
their husbands look, being pretty enough themselves for both. But they
like to have them able to think and guess at a way of getting along
occasionally. Furthermore, what does a rich girl care for a rich young
man? Ever since then, even to this day, as you know, rich girls almost
invariably pick out poor young men for their husbands, and rich young
men are sure to take a fancy to poor girls.
Thus it was in the days of the ancients. The Coyote got out of the trap
that was set for him by the ugly young man. That is the reason why
coyotes are so much more abundant than any other corn-pests in the land
of Zuñi, and do what you will, they are sure to get away with some of
your corn, anyhow.
Thus shortens my story.
[Illustration: {Frog and tadpoles}]
JACK-RABBIT AND COTTONTAIL
Anciently the Jack-rabbit lived in a sage plain, and the Cottontail
rabbit lived in a cliff hard by. They saw the clouds gather, so they
went out to sing. The long-legged Jack-rabbit sang for snow, thus:
“_U pi na wi sho, U pi na wi sho,
U kuk uku u kuk!_”
But the short-legged Cottontail sang for rain, like this:
“_Hatchi ethla ho na an saia._”
That’s what they sung--one asking for snow, the other for rain; hence to
this day the Pók’ia (Jack-rabbit) runs when it snows, the Â′kshiko
(Cottontail) when it rains.
Thus shortens my story.
[Illustration: {Two rabbits}]
THE RABBIT HUNTRESS AND HER ADVENTURES
It was long ago, in the days of the ancients, that a poor maiden lived
at K’yawana Tehua-tsana (“Little Gateway of Zuñi River”). You know there
are black stone walls of houses standing there on the tops of the cliffs
of lava, above the narrow place through which the river runs, to this
day.
In one of these houses there lived this poor maiden alone with her
feeble old father and her aged mother. She was unmarried, and her
brothers had all been killed in wars, or had died gently; so the family
lived there helplessly, so far as many things were concerned, from the
lack of men in their house.
It is true that in making the gardens--the little plantings of beans,
pumpkins, squashes, melons, and corn--the maiden was able to do very
well; and thus mainly on the products of these things the family were
supported. But, as in those days of our ancients we had neither sheep
nor cattle, the hunt was depended upon to supply the meat; or sometimes
it was procured by barter of the products of the fields to those who
hunted mostly. Of these things this little family had barely enough for
their own subsistence; hence, they could not procure their supplies of
meat in this way.
Long before, it had been a great house, for many were the brave and
strong young men who had lived in it; but the rooms were now empty, or
at best contained only the leavings of those who had lived there, much
used and worn out.
One autumn day, near winter-time, snow fell, and it became very cold.
The maiden had gathered brush and firewood in abundance, and it was
piled along the roof of the house and down underneath the ladder which
descended from the top. She saw the young men issue forth the next
morning in great numbers, their feet protected by long stockings of
deerskin, the fur turned inward, and they carried on their shoulders and
stuck in their belts stone axes and rabbit-sticks. As she gazed at them
from the roof, she said to herself: “O that I were a man and could go
forth, as do these young men, hunting rabbits! Then my poor old mother
and father would not lack for flesh with which to duly season their food
and nourish their lean bodies.” Thus ran her thoughts, and before night,
as she saw these same young men coming in, one after another, some of
them bringing long strings of rabbits, others short ones, but none of
them empty-handed, she decided that, woman though she was, she would set
forth on the morrow to try what luck she might find in the killing of
rabbits herself.
It may seem strange that, although this maiden was beautiful and young,
the youths did not give her some of their rabbits. But their feelings
were not friendly, for no one of them would she accept as a husband,
although one after another of them had offered himself for marriage.
Fully resolved, the girl that evening sat down by the fireplace, and
turning toward her aged parents, said: “O my mother and father, I see
that the snow has fallen, whereby easily rabbits are tracked, and the
young men who went out this morning returned long before evening heavily
laden with strings of this game. Behold, in the other rooms of our house
are many rabbit-sticks, and there hang on the walls stone axes, and with
these I might perchance strike down a rabbit on his trail, or, if he run
into a log, split the log and dig him out. So I have thought during the
day, and have decided to go tomorrow and try my fortunes in the hunt,
woman though I be.”
“_Naiya_, my daughter,” quavered the feeble old mother; “you would
surely be very cold, or you would lose your way, or grow so tired that
you could not return before night, and you must not go out to hunt
rabbits, woman as you are.”
“Why, certainly not,” insisted the old man, rubbing his lean knees and
shaking his head over the days that were gone. “No, no; let us live in
poverty rather than that you should run such risks as these, O my
daughter.”
But, say what they would, the girl was determined. And the old man said
at last: “Very well! You will not be turned from your course. Therefore,
O daughter, I will help you as best I may.” He hobbled into another
room, and found there some old deerskins covered thickly with fur; and
drawing them out, he moistened and carefully softened them, and cut out
for the maiden long stockings, which he sewed up with sinew and the
fiber of the yucca leaf. Then he selected for her from among the old
possessions of his brothers and sons, who had been killed or perished
otherwise, a number of rabbit-sticks and a fine, heavy stone axe.
Meanwhile, the old woman busied herself in preparing a lunch for the
girl, which was composed of little cakes of corn-meal, spiced with
pepper and wild onions, pierced through the middle, and baked in the
ashes. When she had made a long string of these by threading them like
beads on a rope of yucca fiber, she laid them down not far from the
ladder on a little bench, with the rabbit-sticks, the stone axe, and the
deerskin stockings.
That night the maiden planned and planned, and early on the following
morning, even before the young men had gone out from the town, she had
put on a warm, short-skirted dress, knotted a mantle over her shoulder
and thrown another and larger one over her back, drawn on the deerskin
stockings, had thrown the string of corn-cakes over her shoulder, stuck
the rabbit-sticks in her belt, and carrying the stone axe in her hand
sallied forth eastward through the Gateway of Zuñi and into the plain of
the valley beyond, called the Plain of the Burnt River, on account of
the black, roasted-looking rocks along some parts of its sides.
Dazzlingly white the snow stretched out before her,--not deep, but
unbroken,--and when she came near the cliffs with many little cañons in
them, along the northern side of the valley, she saw many a trail of
rabbits running out and in among the rocks and between the bushes.
Warm and excited by her unwonted exercise, she did not heed a coming
snow-storm, but ran about from one place to another, following the
trails of the rabbits, sometimes up into the cañons, where the forests
of piñon and cedar stood, and where here and there she had the good
fortune sometimes to run two, three, or four rabbits into a single
hollow log. It was little work to split these logs, for they were small,
as you know, and to dig out the rabbits and slay them by a blow of the
hand on the nape of the neck, back of the ears; and as she killed each
rabbit she raised it reverently to her lips, and breathed from its
nostrils its expiring breath, and, tying its legs together, placed it on
the string, which after a while began to grow heavy on her shoulders.
Still she kept on, little heeding the snow which was falling fast; nor
did she notice that it was growing darker and darker, so intent was she
on the hunt, and so glad was she to capture so many rabbits. Indeed, she
followed the trails until they were no longer visible, as the snow fell
all around her, thinking all the while: “How happy will be my poor old
father and mother that they shall now have flesh to eat! How strong will
they grow! And when this meat is gone, that which is dried and preserved
of it also, lo! another snow-storm will no doubt come, and I can go out
hunting again.”
At last the twilight came, and, looking around, she found that the snow
had fallen deeply, there was no trail, and that she had lost her way.
True, she turned about and started in the direction of her home, as she
supposed, walking as fast as she could through the soft, deep snow. Yet
she reckoned not rightly, for instead of going eastward along the
valley, she went southward across it, and entering the mouth of the
Descending Plain of the Pines, she went on and on, thinking she was
going homeward, until at last it grew dark and she knew not which way to
turn.
“What harm,” thought she, “if I find a sheltered place among the rocks?
What harm if I remain all night, and go home in the morning when the
snow has ceased falling, and by the light I shall know my way?”
So she turned about to some rocks which appeared, black and dim, a short
distance away. Fortunately, among these rocks is the cave which is known
as Taiuma’s Cave. This she came to, and peering into that black hole,
she saw in it, back some distance, a little glowing light. “Ha, ha!”
thought she; “perhaps some rabbit-hunters like myself, belated
yesterday, passed the night here and left the fire burning. If so, this
is greater good fortune than I could have looked for.” So, lowering the
string of rabbits which she carried on her shoulder, and throwing off
her mantle, she crawled in, peering well into the darkness, for fear of
wild beasts; then, returning, she drew in the string of rabbits and the
mantle.
Behold! there was a bed of hot coals buried in the ashes in the very
middle of the cave, and piled up on one side were fragments of broken
wood. The girl, happy in her good fortune, issued forth and gathered
more sticks from the cliff-side, where dead piñons are found in great
numbers, and bringing them in little armfuls one after another, she
finally succeeded in gathering a store sufficient to keep the fire
burning brightly all the night through. Then she drew off her
snow-covered stockings of deerskin and the bedraggled mantles, and,
building a fire, hung them up to dry and sat down to rest herself. The
fire burned up and glowed brightly, so that the whole cave was as light
as a room at night when a dance is being celebrated. By-and-by, after
her clothing had dried, she spread a mantle on the floor of the cave by
the side of the fire, and, sitting down, dressed one of her rabbits and
roasted it, and, untying the string of corn-cakes her mother had made
for her, feasted on the roasted meat and cakes.
She had just finished her evening meal, and was about to recline and
watch the fire for awhile, when she heard away off in the distance a
long, low cry of distress--“_Ho-o-o-o thlaia-a!_”
“Ah!” thought the girl, “someone, more belated than myself, is lost;
doubtless one of the rabbit-hunters.” She got up, and went nearer to the
entrance of the cavern.
“_Ho-o-o-o thlaia-a!_” sounded the cry, nearer this time. She ran out,
and, as it was repeated again, she placed her hand to her mouth, and
cried, woman though she was, as loudly as possible: “_Li-i thlaia-a!_”
(“Here!”)
The cry was repeated near at hand, and presently the maiden, listening
first, and then shouting, and listening again, heard the clatter of an
enormous rattle. In dismay and terror she threw her hands into the air,
and, crouching down, rushed into the cave and retreated to its farthest
limits, where she sat shuddering with fear, for she knew that one of the
Cannibal Demons of those days, perhaps the renowned Átahsaia of the
east, had seen the light of her fire through the cave entrance, with his
terrible staring eyes, and assuming it to be a lost wanderer, had cried
out, and so led her to guide him to her place of concealment.
On came the Demon, snapping the twigs under his feet and shouting in a
hoarse, loud voice: “_Ho lithlsh tâ ime!_” (“Ho, there! So you are in
here, are you?”) _Kothl!_ clanged his rattle, while, almost fainting
with terror, closer to the rock crouched the maiden.
The old Demon came to the entrance of the cave and bawled out: “I am
cold, I am hungry! Let me in!” Without further ado, he stooped and tried
to get in; but, behold! the entrance was too small for his giant
shoulders to pass. Then he pretended to be wonderfully civil, and said:
“Come out, and bring me something to eat.”
“I have nothing for you,” cried the maiden. “I have eaten my food.”
“Have you no rabbits?”
“Yes.”
“Come out and bring me some of them.”
But the maiden was so terrified that she dared not move toward the
entrance.
“Throw me a rabbit!” shouted the old Demon.
The maiden threw him one of her precious rabbits at last, when she
could rise and go to it. He clutched it with his long, horny hand, gave
one gulp and swallowed it. Then he cried out: “Throw me another!” She
threw him another, which he also immediately swallowed; and so on until
the poor maiden had thrown all the rabbits to the voracious old monster.
Every one she threw him he caught in his huge, yellow-tusked mouth, and
swallowed, hair and all, at one gulp.
“Throw me another!” cried he, when the last had already been thrown to
him.
So the poor maiden was forced to say: “I have no more.”
“Throw me your overshoes!” cried he.
She threw the overshoes of deerskin, and these like the rabbits he
speedily devoured. Then he called for her moccasins, and she threw them;
for her belt, and she threw it; and finally, wonderful to tell, she
threw even her mantle, and blanket, and her overdress, until, behold,
she had nothing left!
Now, with all he had eaten, the old Demon was swollen hugely at the
stomach, and, though he tried and tried to squeeze himself through the
mouth of the cave, he could not by any means succeed. Finally, lifting
his great flint axe, he began to shatter the rock about the entrance to
the cave, and slowly but surely he enlarged the hole and the maiden now
knew that as soon as he could get in he would devour her also, and she
almost fainted at the sickening thought. Pound, pound, pound, pound,
went the great axe of the Demon as he struck the rocks.
In the distance the two War-gods were sitting in their home at
Thla-uthla (the Shrine amid the Bushes) beyond Thunder Mountain, and
though far off, they heard thus in the middle of the night the pounding
of the Demon’s hammer-axe against the rocks. And of course they knew at
once that a poor maiden, for the sake of her father and mother, had been
out hunting,--that she had lost her way and, finding a cave where there
was a little fire, entered it, rebuilt the fire, and rested herself;
that, attracted by the light of her fire, the Cannibal Demon had come
and besieged her retreat, and only a little time hence would he so
enlarge the entrance to the cave that he could squeeze even his great
over-filled paunch through it and come at the maiden to destroy her. So,
catching up their wonderful weapons, these two War-gods flew away into
the darkness and in no time they were approaching the Descending Plain
of the Pines.
Just as the Demon was about to enter the cavern, and the maiden had
fainted at seeing his huge face and gray shock of hair and staring eyes,
his yellow, protruding tusks, and his horny, taloned hand, they came
upon the old beast, and, each one hitting him a welt with his war-club,
they “ended his daylight,” and then hauled him forth into the open
space. They opened his huge paunch and withdrew from it the maiden’s
garments, and even the rabbits which had been slain. The rabbits they
cast away amongst the soap-weed plants that grew on the slope at the
foot of the cliff. The garments they spread out on the snow, and by
their knowledge cleansed and made them perfect, even more perfect than
they had been before. Then, flinging the huge body of the giant Demon
down into the depths of the cañon, they turned them about and, calling
out gentle words to the maiden, entered and restored her; and she,
seeing in them not their usual ugly persons, but handsome youths (as
like to one another as are two deer born of the same mother), was
greatly comforted; and bending low, and breathing upon their hands,
thanked them over and over for the rescue they had brought her. But she
crouched herself low with shame that her garments were but few, when,
behold! the youths went out and brought in to her the garments they had
cleaned by their knowledge, restoring them to her.
Then, spreading their mantles by the door of the cave, they slept there
that night, in order to protect the maiden, and on the morrow wakened
her. They told her many things, and showed her many things which she had
not known before, and counselled her thus: “It is not fearful that a
maiden should marry; therefore, O maiden, return unto thy people in the
Village of the Gateway of the River of Zuñi. This morning we will slay
rabbits unnumbered for you, and start you on your way, guarding you down
the snow-covered valley, and when you are in sight of your home we will
leave you, telling you our names.”
So, early in the morning the two gods went forth; and flinging their
sticks among the soap-weed plants, behold! as though the soap-weed
plants were rabbits, so many lay killed on the snow before these mighty
hunters. And they gathered together great numbers of these rabbits, a
string for each one of the party; and when the Sun had risen clearer in
the sky, and his light sparkled on the snow around them, they took the
rabbits to the maiden and presented them, saying: “We will carry each
one of us a string of these rabbits.” Then taking her hand, they led her
out of the cave and down the valley, until, beyond on the high black
mesas at the Gateway of the River of Zuñi, she saw the smoke rise from
the houses of her village. Then turned the two War-gods to her, and they
told her their names. And again she bent low, and breathed on their
hands. Then, dropping the strings of rabbits which they had carried
close beside the maiden, they swiftly disappeared.