world, sure enough the old Tarantula heard the horn-bells, and,
thrusting his head out of his den, waited. As the young man approached,
he called out to him: “Hold, my young friend; come here!”
“What for?” replied the youth. “I am in a great hurry.”
“Never mind that; come here,” said the old Tarantula.
“What is it? Why do you detain me?” rejoined the youth.
“It is for this reason,” said the old Tarantula. “Wouldn’t you like to
look at yourself today?--for if you would, I can show you how.”
“How?” asked the young man. “Make haste, for I am in a hurry.”
“Well, in this way,” was the reply. “Take off your clothing, all of it;
then I will take off mine. You place yours in a heap before me; I will
place mine in a heap before you. Then I will put on your apparel as you
wear it, and then you will see what a handsome fellow you are.”
The young man thought about it and concluded that it would be a very
good thing to do. So he began drawing off his clothing--his beautiful
painted moccasins, red and green; his fine white leggings, knitted with
cunning stitches and fringed down the front, like the leggings worn by
the Master of the Dances at New Year; his delicately-embroidered skirt,
and mantle, and coat, all of white cotton and marked with figures in
many colors; his heavy anklets of sacred white shell; his blue turquoise
earrings, like the sky in blueness, and so long that they swept his
shoulders; his plaited headband of many-colored fibers, and his bunch of
blue, red, and yellow macaw feathers, which he wore in his hair-knot at
the back of his head,--all these things, one after another, he took off
and laid before the ugly old Tarantula.
Then that woolly, hairy, clammy creature hauled off his
clothing--gray-blue, ugly, and coarse;--gray-blue leggings, gray-blue
skirt and breech-cloth, gray-blue coat and mantle, nothing but
gray-blue, woolly and hairy, ugly and dirty. When the old Tarantula had
done this, he began to put on the handsome garments that the young man
had placed before him, and, after he had dressed himself in these, he
perched himself up on his crooked hindlegs, and said: “Look at me, now.
How do I look?”
“Well, so far as the clothing is concerned, handsome,” said the young
man.
“Just wait till I get a little farther off,” said the old Tarantula, and
he straightened himself up and walked backward toward the door of his
den. Presently he stopped and stood still, and said: “How do I look
now?”
“Handsomer,” said the young man.
“Just wait till I get a little farther”; and again he walked backward,
which is a way Tarantulas have, and stood up straight, and said: “How do
I look now?”
“Handsomer still,” said the young man.
“Ah, ha! Just wait till I get a little farther”;--and now he backed to
the very door of his den, and stood upon the lip of the entrance, and
said: “Now, then, how do I look?”
“Perfectly handsome,” said the young man.
“Ah, ha!” chuckled the old Tarantula, and he turned himself around and
plunged headforemost into his hole.
“Out upon him!” cried the young man, as he stood there with his head
bowed, and thinking. “Out upon the old rascal! That is the trick he
serves me, is it? Fearful!” said he. “What shall I do now? I can’t go
home naked, or half naked. Well, but I suppose I will have to,” said he
to himself. And, bending down, he reached for the hairy gray-blue
breech-cloth that had been left there by the old Tarantula, and the
skirt, and put them on, and took his way swiftly homeward.
When he reached home the sun was high, which never had happened before,
so that the old people had been thinking, “Surely, something must have
happened to our young man that he comes not as early as usual.” And when
he came, they said: “What has happened that has detained you so?”
“Ha!” replied the youth; “the old Tarantula that lives under the
Ak’yapaatch-ella has stripped me of my garments, and with them has run
away into his hole.”
“We thought something of the kind must have happened,” said his old
father.
“Send for your warrior priest,” said the other old ones. “Let us see
what he thinks about this, and what shall be done.”
So the priest-chief sent for his warrior priest, and when the latter had
come, he asked: “Why is it that you have sent for me?”
“True, we have sent for you,” said the father, “because Old Tarantula
has stripped my son of his handsome apparel, which is sacred and
precious, and we therefore hold it a great loss to him and us. How do
you think we can recover what has been stolen?”
The warrior priest thought a moment, and said: “I should think we would
have to dig him out, for it isn’t likely he will show himself far from
his den again.”
So the warrior priest went out on the tops of the houses, and called to
his people:
“I instruct ye this day, oh, my people and children! Listen to my
instruction! Our child, in running to and from his prayers this very
morning was intercepted by Old Tarantula, who, through his skill and
cunning, succeeded in stripping our child of his handsome apparel.
Therefore, I instruct ye, make haste! Gather together digging-sticks and
hoes; let us all go and dig out the old villain; let the whole town turn
out, women as well as men and children. My daughters, ye women of this
town, take with ye basket-bowls and baskets and other things wherewith
ye gather material for plaster, with which to convey away the sand and
earth that is dug up by the men. Thus much I instruct ye! Make haste
all!” Whereupon he descended, and, after eating, led the way toward the
den of Old Tarantula.
When the people had also eaten and followed, they began to work swiftly
at tunnelling into the hole of the Tarantula; and thus they worked and
worked from morning till night, but did not overtake him, until at last
they reached the solid rock foundations of the mountain. They had filled
their baskets and basket-bowls with the sand, and cast it behind them,
and others had cast it behind them, and so on until a large hillock of
earth and sand had been raised, but still they had not overtaken Old
Tarantula. Now, when they had reached the solid rock foundations of the
mountain, they saw that the hole yawned like a cave before them, and
that it was needless to follow farther. They gave up in despair, saying:
“What more can we do? Let us go home. Let us give it up, since we must.”
And they took their ways homeward.
Now, in the evening the old ones of the town were very thoughtful, and
they gathered together and talked the matter over, and finally it was
suggested by someone in answer to the query, “What can we do to recover
our son’s lost garments?” “Suppose that we send for the Great
Kingfisher? He is wise, crafty, swift of flight; he dashes himself from
on high, even into the water, and takes him therefrom whatsoever he
will, swift though it be, without fail. Suppose we send for him, our
grandfather?”
“Ah, ha! that’s it,” replied others. “Send for him straightway.”
So the master warrior priest called to Young Swift-runner, and sent him
to the Hill of the Great Kingfisher.
“What is it?” asked Kingfisher, when he heard someone at the entrance of
his house.
“Come quickly! In council the old ones of our town await you,” said the
young man.
So Great Kingfisher followed, and, arriving at the council, greeted them
and asked: “What is it you would have of me?”
Said they: “Old Tarantula has stripped our young man, Swift-runner, of
his beautiful garments, and how to recover them we know not. We have dug
away the den, even to the foundation of the mountain, but beyond this it
extends. What to do we know not. So we have sent for you, knowing your
power and ability to quickly snatch even from under the waters
whatsoever you will.”
“Ah, ha! I will take a step toward this thing,” said Great Kingfisher,
“but it is a difficult task you place before me. Old Tarantula is
exceedingly cunning and very keen of sight, moreover. I will, however,
take a step, and if I have good luck will be able to bring back to you
something of what he has stolen.” He then made his adieu, and went back
to his house at the Hill of the Kingfisher.
Very early the next morning he took his swift way to the
Ak’yapaatch-ella, and there where the columns of rock fork he lay
himself down between them, like a little finger between two other
fingers, merely thrusting his beak over the edge, and looking at the
opening of Old Tarantula’s hole.
The plumes of sunlight were but barely gleaming on the farther edge of
the world when Old Tarantula cast his eyes just out of the edge of his
hole, and looked all around. Eyes like many eyes had he, wonderfully
sharp and clear. With these he looked all around, as might have been
expected. He discovered Great Kingfisher, little-so-ever of him showing,
and called out: “_Heee! Wóloi weee!_” (“Ho, ho! skulker skulking. Ho,
ho! skulker skulking!”) Instantly Great Kingfisher shook out his wings,
and _thluooo_, descended like a breath of strong wind; and
_thlu-u-u-kwa_, finished his flight like a loosed arrow; but he merely
brushed the tips of the plumes in Old Tarantula’s head-knot, and the
creature doubled himself up and headforemost plunged into his hole. Once
in, “Ha, ha!” said he. “Good for him! Good! Good! Let’s have a dance,
and sing,” said he, talking to himself; and thereupon he pranced up,
jigged about his dark, deep room, singing this song:
“_Ohatchik’ya ti Tákwà,
Ai yaa Tákwà!
Ohatchik’ya lii Tákwà,
Ohatchik’ya lii Tákwà!
Ai yaa Tákwà!
Ai yaa Tákwà!
Tákwà, Tákwà!_”
Thus singing, he danced,--surely a song that nobody but he could dance
to, if it be a song, but he danced to it. And when he had finished
jigging about, he looked at his fluttering garments, and said: “Ha, ha!
Just look at my fine dress! Now am I not handsome? I tell you I am
handsome! Now, let’s have another dance!” And again he sang at the top
of his wheezing voice, and pranced round on his crooked hind legs, with
his fine garments fluttering.
But Great Kingfisher, with wings drooping and beak gaped down at the
corners,--as though being hungry he had tried to catch a fish and hadn’t
caught him,--took his way back to the council; and he said to the people
there: “No use! I failed utterly. As I said before, he is a crafty,
keen-sighted old fellow. What more have I to say?” He made his adieus,
and took his way back to the Hill of the Kingfisher.
Again the people talked with one another and considered; and at last
said some: “Inasmuch as he has failed, let us send for our grandfather,
Great Eagle. He, of all living creatures with wings, is swiftest and
keenest of sight, strong of grasp, hooked of beak, whatever getting
holding, and getting whatever he will.”
They sent for the Eagle. He came, and when made acquainted with their
wishes turned quickly, and said, in bidding them adieu: “I think that
possibly I can succeed, though surely, as my brother has said, Old
Tarantula is a crafty, keen-sighted creature. I will do my best.”
Early the next morning he took his way, before sunrise, to the peak of
the Mountain of the Badgers, a long distance away from Ak’yapaatch-ella,
but still as no distance to the Eagle. There he stood, with his head
raised to the winds, turning first one eye, then the other, on the
entrance of Old Tarantula’s den, until Old Tarantula again thrust out
his woolly nose, as might have been expected. He discovered the Eagle,
and was just shouting “Ho, skulker, skulking!” when the Eagle swept like
a singing stone loosed from the sling straight at the head of Old
Tarantula. But his wings hissed and buzzed past the hole harmlessly, and
his crooked talons reached down into the dark, clutching nothing save
one of the plumes in Old Tarantula’s head-dress. Even this he failed to
bring away.
The Old Tarantula tumbled headlong into his lower room, and exclaimed:
“Ha, ha! Goodness save us! What a startling he gave me! But he didn’t
get me! No, he didn’t get me! Let’s have a dance! Jig it down! What a
fine fellow I am!” And he began to prance about, and jig and sing as he
had sung before:
“_Ohatchik’ya ti Tákwà,
Ai yaa Tákwà!
Ohatchik’ya lii Tákwà,
Ohatchik’ya lii Tákwà!
Ai yaa Tákwà!
Ai yaa Tákwà!
Tákwà, Tákwà!_”
As soon as he paused for breath, he glanced askance at his fluttering
bright garments and cried out: “Ho! what a handsome fellow I am! How
finely dressed I am! Let’s have another dance!” And again he danced and
sang, all by himself, admiring himself, answering his own questions, and
watching his own movements. But Great Eagle, crestfallen and
shame-smitten, took his way to the place of the council, reported his
failure, and made his adieu.
Then again the people considered, and the old ones decided to send for
Hatchutsanona (the Lesser Falcon), whose plumage is hard and smooth and
speckled, gray and brown, like the rocks and sagebrush, and who, being
swift as the Kingfisher, and strong as the Eagle, and small, is not only
able to fly where other birds fly, but can penetrate the closest thicket
when seeking his prey, for trimmed he is like a well-feathered arrow.
They sent for him; he came and, being made acquainted with the facts of
the case, said he could but try, though he modestly affirmed that when
his elder brothers, Great Kingfisher and Great Eagle, had made such
efforts, it were well-nigh needless for him to try, and repeated what
they had said of the cunning and keenness of sight of Old Tarantula.
But he went early the next morning, and placed himself on the very edge
of the high cliff overhanging the columns of rock and looking into the
den of Old Tarantula. There, when the sun rose, you could scarcely have
seen him, even though near you might have been, for his coat of gray and
brown was like the rocks and dry grass around him, and he lay very close
to the ground, like an autumn leaf beaten down by the rain. By-and-by
Old Tarantula thrust out his rugged face, and turned his eyes in every
direction, up and down; then twisted his head from side to side. He saw
nothing. He had even poked his head entirely out of his hole, and his
shoulders were just visible, when Lesser Falcon bestirred himself, and
Old Tarantula, alas! saw him; not in time to wholly save himself,
however, for Lesser Falcon, with a sweep of his wings like the swirl of
a snowdrift, shot into the mouth of Old Tarantula’s den, grasped at his
head, and brought away with him the macaw plumes of the youth’s
head-dress.
Down into his den tumbled Old Tarantula, and he sat down and bent
himself double with fright and chagrin. He wagged his head to and fro,
and sighed: “Alas! alas! my beautiful head-dress; the skulking wretch!
My beautiful head-dress; he has taken it from me. What is the use of
bothering about a miserable bunch of macaw feathers, anyway? They get
dirty, they get bent and broken, moths eat them, they change their
color; what is the use of troubling myself about a worthless thing like
that? Haven’t I still the finest costume in the valley?--handsome
leggings and embroidered skirt and mantle, sleeves as pretty as flowers
in summer, necklaces worth fifty head-plumes, and earrings worth a
handful of such necklaces? Ha, ha! let him away with the old
head-plumes! Let’s have a dance, and dance her down, old fellow!” said
he, talking to himself. And again he skipped about, and sang his
tuneless song:
“_Ohatchik’ya ti Tákwà,
Ai yaa Tákwà!
Ohatchik’ya lii Tákwà,
Ohatchik’ya lii Tákwà!
Ai yaa Tákwà,
Ai yaa Tákwà.
Tákwà, Tákwà!_”
He admired himself as much as before. “Forsooth,” said he; “I could not
have seen the head-plume for I would have worn it in the back of my
head.”
The Lesser Falcon, cursing at his half-luck, took his way back to the
council, and, casting the head-plume at the feet of the old men, said:
“Alas! my fathers; this is the best I could do, for before I had fairly
taken my flight, Old Tarantula discovered me and made into his den. But
this I got, and I bring it to you. May others succeed better!”
“Thou hast succeeded exceeding well, for most precious are these plumes
from Summerland,” said the old priest. “Thanks be to you, this day, my
grandfather!” And the Lesser Falcon took his way to the thickets and
hillsides.
Then the people said to one another: “What more is there to be done? We
must even have recourse to the Gods, it seems.” And they called
Swift-runner and said to him: “Of the feathered creatures we have chosen
the wisest and swiftest and strongest to aid us; yet they have failed
mainly. Therefore, we would even send you to the Gods, for your
performance of duty to them has been faithful from morning to morning.”
So they instructed him to climb to the top of Thunder Mountain and visit
the home of the two War-gods, Áhaiyúta and Mátsailéma, for in those days
they still dwelt on the top of Thunder Mountain with their old
grandmother, at the Middle Place of Sacrifice.
The priests in the town prepared sacrificial plumes and divided their
treasures for the Gods, and again calling the young man, presented them
to him as their messenger, bidding him bear to the Gods their greetings.
On the morning following, he climbed the steep path and soon neared the
dwelling of the Gods and their grandmother. She was on the roof of the
house, while the two bad boys--always out of the way when wanted, and
never ceasing to play their pranks, as was their little way, you
know--were down in the lower rooms. The old grandmother bade the youth
to enter, and called out to her grandchildren, the two Gods: “My
children, come up, both of you, quickly. A young man has arrived to see
you, bringing greetings.” So they cast off their playful behavior, and
with great gravity came into the room, and looking up to the tall youth,
said: “Thou hast come. May it be happily. Sit down. What is it that thou
wouldst have? because for nothing no stranger comes to the house of
another.”
“It is true, this which you say,” said the youth reverently, breathing
on his hands. “O ye, my fathers! I bring greetings from the fathers of
my town below the mountain, and offerings from them.”
“It is well thus, my child,” replied the Gods.
“And I bring also my burden of trouble, that I may listen to your
counsel, and perchance implore your aid,” said the youth.
“What is it?” said the Two; and they listened.
Then the youth related his misfortune, telling how he had been stripped
of his clothing by Old Tarantula; how the old ones, gathered in council,
had sought the aid, one after another, of the wisest and swiftest of
feathered beings, but with little success; how they had at last
counselled his coming to them, the fathers of the people in times of
difficulty and strife.
“Grandmother!” shouted the younger brother War-god. “Make haste! Make
haste, grandmother! Bestir yourself! Grind flour for us. Let it be rock
flour!”
The old grandmother gathered some white calcareous sandstone called
_kétchïpawe_. She broke those rocks into fragments and ground them into
meal; then reduced them on a finer stone to soft, impalpable powder. She
made dough of this with water, and the two Gods, with wonderful skill,
molded this dough, as it hardened, into figures of elk-kind,--two deer
and two antelope images they made. When they had finished these, they
placed them before the youth, and said: “Take these and stand them on
the sacrificial rock-shelf or terrace on the southern side of our
mountain, with prayer to the gods over them. Return to your home, and
tell the old ones what we have directed you to do. Tell them also where
we said you should place these beings, for such they will become upon
the rock-shelf; and you should go to greet them in the morning and guide
them with you toward the den of Old Tarantula,--Old Tarantula is very
fond of hunting; nothing is so pleasing to him as to kill
anything,--that thereby he may be tempted forth from his hiding-place in
his den.”
The youth did as he was directed, and when he had placed the figures of
the deer and the antelope in a row on the shelf, and reached home, he
informed the old ones of the word that had been sent to them.
His father, the old priest-chief, called the warrior priest, and said to
him: “It may be possible that Old Tarantula will be tempted forth from
his den tomorrow. Would it not be well for us to take the war-path
against him?”
“It would, indeed, be well,” said the warrior priest. And the
priest-chief went to the house-top and called to the people, saying:
“O, ye, my people and children, I instruct ye today! Let the young men
and the warriors gather and prepare as for war. By means of the sacred
images which have been made by the Two Beloved for our son,
Swift-runner, it may be that we shall succeed in tempting Old Tarantula
forth from his den tomorrow. Let us be prepared to capture him. Make
haste! Make ready! Thus much I instruct ye.”
In great haste, as if under the influence of joyful tidings indeed, the
people prepared for war, gathered together in great numbers, testing the
strength of their bows, and with much racket issued forth from the town
under Thunder Mountain, spreading over all the foot-hills. And toward
daylight the youth alone took his way toward the sacrificial rock-shelf
on the side of the mountain. When he arrived there, behold! the two
Antelopes and the two Deer were tamely walking about, cropping the grass
and tender leaves, and as he approached, they said: “So, here you are.”
“Now, this day, behold, my children!” said he in his prayer. “Even for
the reason that we have made ye beings, follow my instructions, oh, do!
Most wickedly and shamefully has Old Tarantula, living below
Ak’yapaatch-ella, robbed me of my sacred fine apparel. I therefore call
ye to aid me. Go ye now toward his home, that he may be tempted forth by
the sight of ye.”
Obediently the Deer and Antelope took their way down the sloping sides
of the foot-hills toward Old Tarantula’s den. As they neared the den the
youth called out from one of the valleys below, “_Hu-u-u-u-u-u!_ Hasten!
There go some deer and antelope! Whoever may be near them, understand,
there go some deer and antelope!”
Old Tarantula was talking to himself, as usual, down in his inner room.
He heard the faint sound. “Ha!” cried he, “what is this humming?
Somebody calling, no doubt.” He skipped out toward the doorway just as
the young man called the second time. “Ah, ha!” said he. “He says deer
are coming, doesn’t he? Let us see.” And presently, when the young man
called the third time, he exclaimed: “That’s it! that is what he is
calling out. Now for a hunt! I might as well get them as anyone else.”
He caught up his bow, slipped the noose over the head of it, twanged
the string, and started. But just as he was going out of his hole, he
said to himself: “Good daylight! this never will do; they will be after
me if I go out. Oh, pshaw! Nonsense! they will do nothing of the kind.
What does it matter? Haven’t I bow and arrows with me?” He leaped out of
his hole and started off toward the Deer. As he gained an eminence, he
cried: “Ah, ha! sure enough, there they come!” Indeed, he was telling
the truth. The Deer still approached, and when the first one came near
he drew an arrow strongly and let fly. One of them dropped at once. “Ah,
ha!” cried he, “who says I am not a good hunter?” He whipped out another
arrow, and fired at the second Deer, which dropped where it had stood.
With more exclamations of delight, he shot at the Antelope following,
which fell; and then at the last one, which fell as the others had.