“Ah!” said the girl, “I wonder what that is!” So she put her blanket of

flowers down as soon as possible and started to hunt. As she approached

the vine where the skull had been wont to lie, lo! there was a handsome

young man!

“What are you doing?” asked the young man.

“Gathering flowers,” said she.

“If you will promise to take me home with you, I will help you,” said

the young man.

“Very well,” replied the girl.

“Will you surely do it?” inquired the young man.

“Yes,” said she, and lo! the young man reached out his hand and there

was a great heap of flowers already plucked before him! And while they

were yet talking, the Sun rose; and as its first rays touched him he

began to sink, until there before the girl was nothing but a hideous old

skull.

“Oh, dear!” cried she; “but I promised to take it, and I suppose I

must.” So she took the skull up with the tips of her fingers and put it

into the blanket among the flowers, and started for home. Then she

entered an inner room of the house, and taking the skull carefully out

of the blanket, placed some cotton in a large new water-jar, and laid

the skull upon it. Then she covered the jar with a flat stone and went

to work grinding meal.

When the Sun was setting, a voice came from the jar.

“Take me down, quick!” And the girl took the skull down and placed it on

the floor, and as it grew dark there stood the same handsome young man

as before, magnificently clothed, with precious stones and shells all

about him, just as the Sun-father had dressed him. And the girl was very

happy, and told him she would marry him.

Next morning, just as the Sun rose, the young man vanished, and nothing

but the old white skull lay on the floor. So the girl placed it in the

jar again, and taking up another water-jar went out toward the spring.

Now, her younger sister went into the room and espied the jar. “I wonder

what sister has covered this jar up so carefully for,” said she to

herself; and she stepped up to the jar and took the lid off.

“_Ati!_” cried she. “O dear! O dear!” she screamed. For when she looked

down into the jar there was a great rattlesnake coiled up over the

smooth white skull.

So she ran and called her father and told him in great fright what she

had seen.

“Ah!” said the father, for he was a very wise priest-chief, “thou

shouldst not meddle with things. Thou shouldst keep quiet,” said he. He

then arose and went into the room. Then he approached the jar, and,

looking down into it, said: “Have mercy upon us, my child, my father.

Become as thou art. Disguise not thyself in hideous forms, but as thou

hast been, be thou.” And the skull rattled against the sides of the jar

in assent.

“It is well that thou shouldst marry my daughter. And we will close this

room that thou shalt never come forth”; and again the skull clattered

and nodded in glad assent.

So when the young girl returned, the voice came forth from the jar

again, and said: “Close all the windows and doors, and bring me raw

cotton if thy father have it, for he has consented that I marry you and

throw off my disguise.”

Then the girl gladly assented, and ran to get the cotton, and brought a

great quantity in the room. Then when the night came the voice called

once more: “Take me down!” The girl did as she was bidden, and the young

man again stood before her, more handsome than ever. So he married the

girl and both were very happy.

And the next morning when the Sun rose the young man did not again

change his form, but remained as he was, and began to spin cotton

marvellously fine and to weave blankets and mantles of the most

beautiful texture, for in nothing could he fail, being a child of the

Sun-father and a god himself.

So the days and weeks passed by, and the Sun-father looked down through

the windows in sorrow and said: “Alas! my son; I have delivered thee and

yet thou comest not to speak with thy father. But thou shalt yet come;

yea, verily, thou shalt yet come.”

So in time the beautiful daughter of the priest-chief gave birth to two

boys, like the children of the deer. As day succeeded day, they grew

larger and wiser and their limbs strengthened until they could run

about, and thus it happened that one day in their play they climbed up

and played upon the house-top and on the ground below. Thus it was that

the people of K’yátik’ia saw for the first time the two little children;

and when they saw them they wondered greatly. Of course they wondered

greatly. Our grandfathers were fools.

“Who in the world has married the priest-chief’s daughter?” everybody

asked of one another. Nobody knew; so they called a council and made all

the young men go to it, and they asked each one if he had secretly

married the priest-chief’s daughter; and every one of them said “No,”

and looked at every other one in great wonder.

“Who in the world can it be? It may be that some stranger has come and

married her, and it may be that he stays there.” So the council decided

that it would be well for him and the girl and their two little ones to

die, because they had deceived their people. Forthwith two war-priests

mounted the house-tops and commanded the people to make haste and to

prepare their weapons. “Straighten your arrows, strengthen the backs of

your bows, put new points on your lances, harden your shields, and get

ready for battle, for in four days the daughter and grandchildren of the

priest-chief and the unknown husband must die!”

And when the priest-chief’s daughter heard the voices of the heralds,

she asked her younger sister, who had been listening, what they said.

And the younger sister exclaimed: “Alas! you must all die!” and then she

told her what she had heard.

Now, the young man called the old priest and told him that he knew what

would happen, and the old priest said: “It is well; let the will of the

gods be done. My people know not the way of good fortune, but are fools

and must have their way.”

Therefore for two days the people labored at their weapons, and on the

morning of the third day they began to prepare for a feast of victory.

Then said the young man to his wife: “My little mother, dearly beloved,

on the morrow I must go forth to meet my father”; for he suddenly

remembered that he had neglected his father.

When the Sun had nearly reached the mid-heavens, the young man said to

his wife: “Go up and open the sky-hole. Farewell!” said he, and he

suddenly became a cloud of mist which whirled round and round and shot

up like a whirlwind in the rays of sunlight.

When he neared the Sun, the Sun-father said nothing, and the young man

waited outside in shame. Then said the Sun-father in pretended anger:

“Come hither and sit down. Thou hast been a fool. Did I not command thee

and thy brother?” And the young man only bent his head and said: “It is

too true.”

Then the Sun-father smiled gently, and said: “Think not, neither be sad,

my child. I know wherefore thou comest, and I remember how thou didst

try to prevail upon thy younger brother to obey my commandments; and

that it might be well I caused thee to forget me, and to come unto the

past that thou hast come unto. Thou shalt be a god, and shalt sit at my

left hand. Forever and ever shalt thou be a living good unto men, who

will see thee and worship thee in the evening. And through thy will

shall rain fall upon their lands. True, I had designed, had my children

been wiser, that thou shouldst remain with them and enrich them with thy

precious shells and stones, with thy great knowledge and good fortune.

But those are men very unwise and ungrateful, therefore shalt thou and

thy children, and even thy wife, be won from thy earth-life and sit by

my left hand. Descend. Make four sacred hoops and entwine them with

cotton. Make four sacred wands, such as are used in the races. Hast thou

an unembroidered cotton mantle?”

“I have,” replied the young man.

“It is well. This evening spread it out and place at each of its four

corners one of the sacred hoops and wands. Place all thereon that thou

valuest. Leave not a precious stone nor yet a shell to serve as

parentage for others, but place all thereon. The people will gather

around thy father’s house and storm it, and then retire and storm it

again. Now, when the people approach the house, sit ye down, one at each

of the four corners; grasp them and lift them upward, and gradually ye

will be raised. Then when the people approach nearer, lift them upward

once more, and ye will be raised yet farther. And when they begin to

mount the ladders, lift ye again, and yet again, and ye shall come unto

my country.”

So the young man descended. No change was visible in the old

priest-chief’s countenance. He had caused gay preparations to go forward

for the festival, for a priest knows that all things are well, and he

makes no change in his mind or actions. And when he asked the young man

what the Sun-father had said to him, the only reply was: “It shall be

well. Tomorrow we go to dwell forever at the home of the Sun-father.”

Early in the morning the two Priests of War mounted to the house-tops

and called out: “Hasten, hasten! For the time has come and the people

must gather, each carrying his weapons, for today the children of our

priest-chief must die!”

So, after the morning meal, all gathered at the council, chambers of the

warriors, and a great company they were. The Sun had risen high.

Brightly painted shields glittered in his light. Long lances stood black

with paint like the charred trunks of a burned forest; and the people

raised their war-clubs and struck them against one another until the

din was like thunder.

“_Ho-o-o!_” sounded the clash of weapons and the war-cries of the

people, and in the home of the priest-chief they knew they were coming.

All night long they had been preparing; the young man had placed all

their belongings upon the blanket, and now one by one they sat down. The

wife and the husband grasped two corners, the children grasping the two

others. They lifted them and slowly arose toward the ceiling. Once more,

as the people came nearer, they lifted the corners and neared the

sky-hole. When again they lifted the corners, they passed above the

roof, and the people saw their shadows cast upon the ground.

“Quick, quick!” shouted the young men. “See the shadow; they are

escaping!”

Already the arrows began to whistle past them, but the Sun cast his

shield beneath them, and the arrows only glanced away or flew past. Once

more they drew the corners of the mantle upward, and as they rose higher

and higher, the people, old and young, began to quarrel and fell to

beating one another, and to fighting among themselves. The old ones

called the young ones fools for attempting the life of a god, and the

young ones in turn called the old ones fools for counselling them to

attempt the life of a god.

“Thus shall ye ever be,” cried the young man, “for ye are fools! Your

father, the Sun, had intended all things for your good, but ye were

fools; therefore with me and mine will pass away your peace and your

treasures.”

My children, at sunset have you not seen the little blue twinkling

stars that sit at the left hand of the Sun as he sinks into night? Thus

did it come to pass in the days of the ancients, and thus it is that

only in the east and the west where the Sun rises and sets, even on the

borders of the great oceans, may we find the jewels whereby we decorate

our persons. And ever since then, my children, the world has been filled

with anger, and even brothers agree, then disagree, strike one another,

and spill their own blood in foolish anger.

Perhaps had men been more grateful and wiser, the Sun-father had smiled

and dropped everywhere the treasures we long for, and not hidden them

deep in the earth and buried them in the shores of the sea. And perhaps,

moreover, all men would have smiled upon one another and never enlarged

their voices nor strengthened their arms in anger toward one another.

Thus short is my story; and may the corn-stalks grow as long as my

stretches, and may the will of the Holder of the Roads of Life shelter

me from dangers as he sheltered his children in the days of the ancients

with the shield of his sunlight.

It is all finished. (_Tenk’ia._)

[Illustration: {Zuñi symbols}]

* * * * * *

Transcriber’s note:

Illustration captions in {brackets} have been added by the transcriber

for the convenience of the reader.

Archaic and variant spelling is preserved as printed.

Minor punctuation errors have been corrected.

Hyphen and accent usage has been made consistent.

There was one instance in which a double quotation mark was unpaired.

On page 99, there is the following:

“... they dressed her in her sacred cotton robes of ceremonial,

embroidered elaborately, and adorned her ...”

There may be a word missing following ‘ceremonial’ but as there is

no way to determine what it might be, it is preserved as printed.

The following amendments have been made:

Page 42--comform amended to conform--... and they taught him how

to conform himself to it, ...

Page 107, footnote 8--explaned amended to explained--This, it

may be explained, ...

Page 321--croned amended to crooned--“Foolish, foolish boys!”

crooned the old grandmother.

Page 456--they amended to he--“... Come up and come down,” said

he.

The frontispiece has been moved to follow the title page. Other

illustrations have been moved where necessary so that they are not in

the middle of a paragraph.

Zuñi Folk Tales · 第 27 / 27 段