Part C has the brothers get themselves wives, at their uncle's

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lowercase l with stroke, ł

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lowercase t with dot below, ṭ

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with _underscores_.

SEVEN MOHAVE MYTHS

BY

A. L. KROEBER

ANTHROPOLOGICAL RECORDS

Vol. 11, No. 1

ANTHROPOLOGICAL RECORDS

Editors: A. L. Kroeber, E. W. Gifford,

R. H. Lowie, R. L. Olson

Volume 11, No. 1, pp. 1-70, frontispiece

Submitted by editors August 17, 1945

Issued August 6, 1948

Price, $1.25

UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA PRESS

BERKELEY AND LOS ANGELES

CALIFORNIA

CAMBRIDGE UNIVERSITY PRESS

LONDON, ENGLAND

MANUFACTURED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

[Illustration: KWATNIALKA OR JACK JONES, INTERPRETER]

[Illustration: BLUEBIRD, NARRATOR OF CANE STORY]

[Illustration: JO NELSON, NARRATOR OF MASTAMHO STORY]

CONTENTS

Page

Introduction 1

I. Cane 4

The narrator 4

The Cane narrative 4

Song scheme and narrative outline 19

The Cane song scheme 19

Movement of the narrative 20

Apparent inconsistencies 20

Handling of the plot 21

Supplementary 23

II. Vinimulye-pātše 24

The tale 24

III. Nyohaiva 27

Circumstances and nature of the story 27

The Nyohaiva tale 28

The song scheme 35

IV. Raven 37

Narrator's statements 37

Outline of song scheme 37

The Raven story 38

V. Deer 41

Discussion 41

Variations in song scheme 42

Words of songs 42

The Deer story 42

VI. Coyote 46

Circumstances of the recording 46

The tales 46

A: Dreamed 46

B: Dreamed 48

Children's stories: C, D, E 48

More stories for children: F, G, H 48

VII. Mastamho 50

The informant 50

Content of the myth 50

Schematic outline 51

Quality of the narrative 52

Main narrative: Mastamho's instituting 52

Supplement: Thrasher and Mockingbird

institute sex life 64

The lists of manufactured words 67

Appendix I. Mohave Directional Circuits 69

Appendix II. Mohave Names 70

ILLUSTRATION

Interpreter and narrators frontispiece, facing v

SEVEN MOHAVE MYTHS

BY

A. L. KROEBER

INTRODUCTION

This paper is an endeavor to make a beginning of payment on a

scholarly debt long in arrears. Between 1900 and 1910, I spent

considerable time with the Mohave Indians, both in the vicinity of

Needles and with visitors from there to the University. Summaries of

the data recorded, and some samples of concrete detail, have been

published in one place or another, most coherently in two chapters of

the Handbook of California Indians in 1925. But I kept deferring

presentation of the fuller data, in particular of the mythological

narratives, many of which run to unusual length. The tales offered

herewith comprise in bulk about half of the Mohave narrative material

in my notebooks. This is exclusive of the "Great Tale" of

pseudo-historical moving about and fighting of clan-like groups, my

unfinished recording of which runs to about the length of the seven

tales presented herewith.[1]

[1] The fragmentary beginning of one of these clan or war

legends is given in Handbook, pp. 772-775.

In quality the narratives of the Mohave resemble not only those of the

other Yuman tribes of the Colorado River, but also, to a considerable

extent, those of the Shoshonean Indians of southern California. The

typical story of the region is not a relatively rapid narrative of

plot, but a detailed elaboration still further expanded by the

inclusion of a song series. A myth might be characterized as a web

loaded with a heavy embroidery of songs which carry an emotional

stimulus of their own, and at the same time endow the plot with a

peculiar decorative quality and charge it with a feeling tone which

renders of secondary importance the sort of consistency of character,

motivation, and action which we expect in a narrative. This is a

paraphrase of how I expressed myself in regard to Gabrielino mythology

in 1925. It holds probably even more forcibly for the Mohave. Many of

their tales seem to appeal to them more in the manner of an ornamental

pattern than as a portrayal of a related sequence of events.

Essentially all Mohave myths are told in an almost ritualized style.

They are not, strictly, rituals; but their telling and singing largely

take the place of formal rituals in the culture. The songs which

belong to the great majority of narratives can be sung with equal

suitability for a dance at a festival or victory celebration; for the

mere pleasure of singing; as an expansion of the spoken tale; or as a

"gift" of lamentation for a dying or dead relative.

The Mohave validate what happens in their lives by referring it to

their dreams. Success in life, the fortunes of a person or of a

career, are believed to be the result of what one has dreamed. A

Mohave dreams among other things--or perhaps above other things--of

the beginnings of the world in the far distant past.

He dreams of being present at the creation and witnessing its events.

Thereby he participates in them and gets certain knowledges: powers

for war, for curing, for success in love or gambling. Such mystically

dreamed powers are what really count in human life, the Mohave firmly

believed. Over most of native North America the acquisition of power

by dreams or visions of spirits is the basis of shamanism; and where

religion is simple, it is largely constituted of shamanism. The Yuman

tribes, however, have evolved the special belief that the visions are

not of the spirits of now, but of the spirits and great gods of the

beginning of the world. This group of tribes in their philosophy

transcend time and project their souls back to the origin of things.

This act they call dreaming. The basic and most significant dreams are

not those of last night or of one's adolescence, but those which one

had before birth--while still in the mother's belly, they say. It is

these prenatal dreams which the newly born baby and the child may

forget, but which come back to the growing boy and to the man when he

hears others singing or telling similar experiences. As they see it,

the tribal mythology is thus first learned by personal participation

in it as an unborn soul. Secondarily, it is strengthened, clarified,

and perhaps adjusted by what one learns from others. Some old Mohave

of my acquaintance admitted that they "also heard" or learned their

special lore, usually from blood kinsmen, in addition to dreaming it;

but all denied having been "taught." The distinction may seem verbal

to us, but I am sure that it is not verbal to them.

Now and then a person will admit having learned a story from others,

apparently without any sense of inferiority therefor. Mostly, however,

the old men claimed to have dreamed what they knew. This was without

any very evident sense of pride about it--in fact, dreaming was so

common that it would be only what one had dreamed, not the fact of

dreaming, that could give distinction. I am sure that my informants

believed they had dreamed in the way they said. A people starting out

with preconceptions such as these would not be likely to be able to

explain matters in terms of what we consider psychological reality. I

suspect that many men, as they grow older and perhaps begin to sing

song series with their kinsmen, begin also to brood about them in

periods of inactivity. Their minds presumably run on the implications

of the words of the songs, until, under the spell of the tribal

theory, they come to believe that they have in their own person seen

the events of the far past happen.

At any rate, informants now and then mention in the midst of their

mystical narrative, randomly and in the most matter-of-fact way, "Then

I saw him doing so and so," or "I was there," or "Then he said to me."

Those narratives which the Mohave evidently consider historical, and

they are the longest of all, the Great Tales, come unaccompanied by

singing. The story of the actual first beginnings of the world seems

also to be without songs; and so is the prolix account of the origins

of culture, of which I give a version herewith under the title of

Mastamho, the culture hero. Matters of "history" are in the Mohave

mind related to matters of war, and are therefore clean and honorable.

Cosmic origins, however, seem to be felt as allied to shamanism and

doctoring. Now the doctor can cure, but he can also kill; and there is

consequently some reluctance to sing, or even to hear, series of

doctoring songs, no doubt because of their associations with illness.

The songs of a good many non-shamanistic narratives are danced to when

there is a festival or gathering. Each story has its appropriate dance

step, as it has its characteristically recognizable songs, and its

prescribed rattle, struck basket, palm slap, resonating pot, or other

accompanying beat. There are even one or two kinds of singings,

notably Pleiades, for which I could never learn that there was a

narrative and the two songs of which are simply sung over and over

again for the dancers. The non-shamanistic song series are "given

away" or "destroyed" (tšupilyk) at the death of a relative. If he dies

gradually, they are sung during his last one or two days and nights.

If he dies suddenly, they are sung from then until his cremation. This

is considered equivalent to the destruction of property for the dead.

But, as the Mohave say, after a time a man forgets his grief and

begins to sing his songs again.

The songs accompanying any narrative seem to run from about a hundred

to about four hundred. All the songs of any one series are variations

on a basic theme, which most Mohave can recognize and name on hearing.

Most of the variations presumably are improvised according to a

pattern style. It seems impossible that hundreds of minute variations

should be kept separately fixed in memory. An informant's listing of

the localities or stages of his story at which he sings is usually

fairly consistent from one listing to another. But the number of songs

that he says he sings at each stage varies considerably more.

Obviously, if his recollection is uncertain whether he sings three or

four songs at a particular point, he is unlikely to carry precise

minor variations of his melody fixed in his memory.

For convenient reference, I have followed the plan of putting into a

single paragraph each section of a story which a narrator told as a

unit until he said that here he sang so many songs about the episode.

Informants fell of themselves into the habit of thus punctuating the

narrative by mentioning the song numbers. These paragraphs I have then

numbered consecutively for convenience in reference to episodes; and a

list of captions corresponding to the paragraphs has usually been

added to serve as an outline of the song scheme and guide to the

story.

Most of the tales take a night to tell, or a night and part of the

morning, or up to two nights, according to the narrators. If anything,

they underestimate the time required, in my experience. It seems

doubtful that they would keep an audience through periods as long as

this; and I have the impression that many of them had never told their

whole myth continuously through from beginning to end. They also found

it difficult to make clear what sort of occasions prompted the

telling. Theoretically, when it is not a matter of a dance or a

funeral, a man both narrates and sings, telling an episode and then

singing the songs that refer to it, until his audience drops off or

falls asleep.

It remains to characterize the tales themselves and their style.

If the narratives are long, they almost inevitably show minor

inconsistencies. The narrator may say that a thing is done four times,

and then proceed to narrate six variations of it. Contradictions of

plot may occur through lapses of memory or shifts of the narrator's

interest. Sometimes it is difficult to decide whether this has

happened, or whether the interpreter or recorder misunderstood. This

holds for a number of discrepancies in the first tale, that of Cane,

which are noted in detail in the discussion and footnotes. Such

inconsistencies proved difficult to clear up with informants:

explanations had a way of introducing new discrepancies. On the other

hand, most narrators keep pretty successfully to the main thread of

their plot and proceed in its development in a rather prolix,

step-by-step, orderly manner.

Major inconsistencies are due to shifts in participation or

identification of the narrator and hearer with the characters. He who

seems to have been the hero, turns evil without warning and our

sympathies are enlisted for a new personage. This is a quality which

is also notable in southern California Shoshonean myth narratives. I

suspect that the Mohave feel less need than we of participating with

their personages, both the story and its setting being so formalized

and stylized.

Where fighting is involved, motivation becomes particularly elusive.

The main thing seems to be that there should be war and the happenings

that go with war. Hence, in place of a definite sense of

identification of the teller or hearer with one or the other of the

personages, there is often a sense of foreboding or of the

inevitability of what will happen. This is not confined to the tales

which professedly deal with war, but recurs in the Cane myth, and,

with reference to death instead of war, in that of Deer. In the

latter, the identification is particularly obscure. Jaguar and

Mountain Lion create a pair of Deer in order to kill them for the

benefit of the future Walapai. But a full three-quarters of the story

tells about the Deer, their thoughts and feelings; so that it is

difficult not to feel them as what we would call the "heroes" of the

plot. If so, they are unquestionably tragic heroes.

The tales are given their great length less by fundamental

complications of plot than by expansion of detail. The most common

expansion is geographical. There are long travels. If no events occur

on the journey, many places are nevertheless enumerated, and the

traveler's feelings or thoughts at each point, or what he sees growing

or living there, are expatiated on. The Mohave evidently derive a

satisfaction from these mental journeys with their visual recalls or

imaginings.

In Raven the physical movement of the whole story exists only in the

mind. How people will travel and fight is told and sung of, but in the

tale itself the entire journey is that from the rear to the front of

the house in which the two fledgling heroes grow.

Another method of expansion is more stylistic. What is going to happen

is discussed first, and then it is told over again as a happening.

There are arguments between personages on whether to do this or that;

whether to understand an event in one way or in another; or as to what

is going to happen later.

Most of the tales are given some tie-up with Ha'avulypo in Eldorado

Canyon and the first god Matavilya and his death there; or with

Mastamho who succeeded him and his Avikwame which we call Dead or

Newberry Mountain--both north of Mohave valley. These tie-ups seem to

be for placement reference: they indicate that the events occurred in

the beginning of time. Sometimes an incident of the creation serves as

the introduction of a tale; or it may be only alluded to. The heroes

or personages are preponderantly boys, sometimes even miraculously

precocious babies. Then overnight they may have grown up sufficiently

to get married. These irrationalities or surrealisms of time should

not be disconcerting when one remembers that to the Mohave the whole

basis of knowledge of myth is due to a projection from the present

into the era of first beginnings--is the result of the utter

obliteration of time on the mythological and spiritual level. Even the

culture hero Mastamho is sometimes described as merely a boy; so are

the future tribes whom he is instructing; at times the informant

refers to himself as a watching and listening boy. There is an evident

feeling that the eras dealt with are those when everything in the

world was fresh and young and formative.

I have put the Cane tale first because it has more plot and less of

mere prolixity, geographical or otherwise, than the others. Next

follow three stories that to the Mohave are concerned with war:

Vinimulye-pātše, Nyohaiva, and Raven. After that comes the story of

Deer, with animal actors; and then some fragments on Coyote, without

songs and perhaps unorthodox, secured from a woman. Women are not

precluded from dreaming, but on the whole the Mohave seem to have no

great interest in women's dreams. The last is another tale

unaccompanied by songs, the long one of Mastamho, which is essentially

an account of the origin of human and tribal culture.

I. CANE

THE NARRATOR

The story of Cane, Ahta, more properly Ahta-'amalya'e, Long Cane, was

told me on three days between April 24 and 27, 1904, with one day of

intermission, by a middle-aged man named Tšiyêre-k-avasūk, or

"Bluebird," who said he had dreamed the tale, beginning at Avikwame. I

neglected to write down personal or biographical details about him,

and dare not trust my memory at this interval.

This story has more plot interest than the majority of those which the

Mohave profess to dream and sing to. It might be described as a tale

of adventures on an almost epic scale, and it does not systematically

account for the origin or institution of anything, although a bit of

cosmogony drifts in toward the end.

The version recorded was told carefully and accurately. There are a

number of internal discrepancies, especially as regards relationship

of the characters and topography, which are considered in a section

following the story itself; but the plot is well constructed and

maintained.

The song scheme is also given after the tale. The songs are

accompanied with a double beat of a stick struck against the bottom of

a Chemehuevi bowl-shaped basket. Cane is not danced to.

The Cane type of plot recurs in another kind of Mohave singing called

Satukhôta, of which only a brief outline was obtained. The singer of

Satukhôta beats time by striking his palm against his chest.

THE CANE NARRATIVE

_A. Kamaiavêta Killed at Avikwame_

1a. All the people at Avikwame had gone out of the house and had sent

for (the great snake in the ocean to the south) Kamaiavêta.[1] They

thought it was he who had killed Matavilya and they wanted to kill

him. No one knew this to be so but all believed it. Then when he came

they killed him, and his body lay stretched over the earth. When he

was dead, I[2] took a piece from his tail, the rattle nearest the

body. I took it for good luck. Several tribes dream about this

killing: the Yuma, the Maricopa, the Kamia, the Walapai, the

Halchidhoma, and others down to the mouth of the river.[3]

[1] "Sky-rattlesnake-great." Also Kumaiavête or Mayavete.

[2] The narrator believes that he has seen and heard what he is

relating.

[3] The Kamaiavête incident seems to be mentioned only for the

purpose of fixing the time and place of the beginning of the

story. The myth properly begins at this point. Most Mohave

song-myths begin with an allusion to the death of Matavilya, of

which the Kamaiavête story is an after-incident.

_B. Two Brothers Go Off_

1b. Now there were two brothers there. They stood east of the house

and told of it. They did not speak, but sang. They sang of its posts,

the rafters, the sand heaped around and over it, and the other parts.

(4 songs.)

2. Their names were Pukehane, the older, and Tšitšuvare, the

younger.[4] They went north a short distance, where there was a little

gravelly place and thorny cactus. The ground-squirrel, hum'ire, lived

there. When the two brothers came, it ran away, crying like a boy. It

had never seen them before. They stood there and sang about it. (3

songs.)

[4] Both names refer to cane. Hipūke is the "end of the root" or

butt. Hipūke-hane is probably the full form. Tšitšu-vāre is said

to refer to the points of the cane. In the text, ū and ā have

been rendered u and a in these two names.

3. Then they went north again a very little distance.[5] There they

saw a rat, hamalyk. They did not kill it, but looked at it and sang

about it. (2 songs.)

[5] "About 50 yards," not far enough to necessitate a new name

for the place.

4. Now it was sundown. They struck their fire-flints,[6] made a fire,

and sat by it. They did not eat anything all night. In the morning

they were hungry. One thought that they should kill the rat and eat

it. His brother said: "That is good." So they killed the rat and ate

it. They stayed there that day, thinking. The next day, in the

morning, Pukehane, the older brother, said: "We have no place to

live." Tšitšuvare said: "Yes, that is true. Where can we get wood to

build a house?" Now Pukehane was intelligent; he was born thus.

Therefore he made sticks out of his saliva.[7] Thus in one day they

built a round house. At night they went into it. (3 songs.)

[6] Like wheat, cloth, etc., a Spanish absorption integrated

into the culture.

[7] Hika, his saliva, important element in magic and

therapeutics.

5. Now it was three days.[8] In the morning they hunted rats. When

they killed a rat, they hung it by its head under their belts.

Pukehane said: "I do not think this is good." Then he took[9] two

net-sacks,[10] and they put the rats into them and carried them on

their backs. At sunset they came back to the house. Now two men lived

at Avikwame, Hatpa-'aqwaoθtše,[11] their father's older brother, and

Nume-peta.[12] Hatpa-'aqwaoθtše said: "I will live with my younger

brother's sons (ivitk). I will not live with this man (Nume-peta) who

is not my relative." And he came and lived with them. So they were

three. In the morning, the two boys went hunting rats again. As the

rats were shot, they squeaked. The boys stood and listened and

laughed. (1 song.)

[8] One day since leaving Avikwame they had spent in thinking, a

second in building the house, this is the third.

[9] Created by magic out of nothing, by reaching out.

[10] Mayu, carrying-sacks of net-work such as the Paiute and

Chemehuevi use.

[11] Hatpa. Pima; aqwaθ-, yellow. The second part of the name is

not certain.

[12] Or Numê-t-veta. Nume is the wildcat; nume-ta, the jaguar.

6. When they came back, Pukehane said, "Some tribes after a time will

do like this: let me see how far you can shoot." They bet their

arrows. The elder shot far. The younger did not shoot far and lost,

lost all his arrows. The quiver was empty and he tied it around his

waist. He said, "I will bet the rats that I killed." Then he lost all

his rats. They came home and he had no arrows and no rats, only his

bow. Their father's older brother saw them. He said, "Why do you not

do right? This is wrong. Do not do it any more. That is not what I

came here for. I came in order that when you go hunting you bring them

here and I eat." (1 song.)

7a. Hatpa-'aqwaoθtše said, "We are three men here. I see you two do

not sleep but sit and wake. If three men live in a house everything is

ready for them when they come home to it. But there is no woman here

and that is why there is no wood and water. If you get a woman she

will cook." The boys said, "Yes, we will do that." That night Pukehane

stretched his hand to the southeast toward the Maricopa and got corn

in it. He got much and laid it in the corner of the house. Then he

stretched his hand out northeast, toward the Kohoaldja Paiute, and

took wheat.[13] Now they had two kinds of food.

[13], [13a] Cf. note 6.

_C. The Brothers Get Wives_

7b. In the morning the two boys went west. There was a man who had a

daughter Tšese'ilye;[14] her they wanted to get. As they went west

they saw a bird hanging in a tree in a cage of red and white woven

cloth.[13a] The bird was hwetše-hwetše.[15] "Look, that girl has a

bird," they said. (1 song.)

[14] My notes, after a correction, say that she was Tšese'ilye's

daughter; but the correction may be in error, since later the

woman is said to have been Tšese'ilye, daughter of Sun. Cf.

notes 35, 38, 52, 54, 58, 60, 63, 68, 75, 78, 83, 87 on the

confused relationships and names of certain characters.

[15] A yellow bird.

8. When they reached the house, Pukehane did not take the bird with

his hand, but caused the cage (_sic_--the bird?) to be outside the

door. The bird was singing: the woman was inside; she came out, saw it

in front of the door, and said: "What sort of people are you who have

come? That bird belongs to me; do you not know that? It watches

everything I have when I go out to gather seeds." The two boys stood

and laughed, the older east of the door, the younger west of it.[16]

The woman went back into the house, put on a (pretty) dress, and beads

around her neck. She took a white peeled willow stick, qara'asap, to

sweep the dress under her thighs so as not to crumple it when she sat

down.[17] Tied to the top of her dress she had two bags of paint

(kômkuvī), one black, one red. When she came to the two boys standing

outside the door she did not go to the older, she went to the younger:

she liked Tšitšuvare. Pukehane said, "She is mine." His younger

brother said, "No, if she were yours she would come to you." The older

said, "She is mine." The woman said nothing. The older embraced her.

The younger said, "Do not embrace her. She belongs to me." He embraced

her too and they both held her and pulled. Pukehane became tired. He

stood aside. "You are the better; take her," he said. So now they had

one woman: Tšitšuvare had her. (1 song.)

[16] The door was sohlyêpe, woven of willow inner-bark.

[17] A piece of coquetry or swank, rather surprising in a

culture so meager in its material aspects.

9. They started to go home from there: Pukehane wanted to. They had

far to go, too far for one day. So they slept in the desert where no

one lived. Tšitšuvare made a bed. Pukehane said, "My brother, when you

marry, both of us sleep with the woman.[18] That is what you said."

Tšitšuvare had not said that: Pukehane only wished it; and Tšitšuvare

did not let him. Then in the morning Pukehane said, "Let us go, my

sister-in-law."[19] (1 song.)

[18] "You at the vagina, I at the anus." While the younger slept

with her, the older sat up, had an erection, tried to clamp it

under his thigh and sit on it, could not.

[19] Hunyīk. The term denotes any female affinal of a man

(except his wife's sister) irrespective of generation, and all

male or female affinals of a woman (except her sister's

husband).

10. They started. At noon, when they came to the house, the woman was

ashamed, because it was the first time she was married.

Hatpa-'aqwaoθtše said, "I want to see my younger brother's

daughter-in-law." She did not look up: she had long hair--down to her

hips--behind which she hid her face. The old man took her by the hand,

led her inside, and took her around the house. He wanted her to grind

corn. Now the three men felt glad, when they saw her grinding corn.

They looked to see how she worked; all of them smiled. "See how

beautiful she looks," they said. She was clean and wore beads around

her neck and on her ears and wrists, and a dress of willow bark, and

was painted. (1 song.)

11a. In the morning she was going to make mush of the corn she had

ground. The two brothers were still in the house. The old man was

outside: he wanted to help her cook. He poured the corn into the pot

and she stirred it and put in salt.[20] When there was enough, she

boiled it, gave some to the old man, put some in a dish for the two

boys, and took it inside to them. Then the three ate together; the old

man sat outside. When the sun set they built a fire in the house near

the door. When it was dark the house was warm and they stayed there.

The two brothers did not say anything. Their father's older brother

spoke again. He said, "This is one woman. If you get another, it will

be well. Go east and take Sun's daughter." That is what the old man

said.

[20] An informal domestic scene, such as could still be seen

forty years ago. The cooking is in front of the house: the

ground corn is boiled; the old man stands by and assists; eating

is in or outdoors, men and women together or apart.

11b. In the morning the two boys went east. When the sun was halfway

up they heard a cock[21] making a loud noise, telling the time. (2

songs.)

[21] Kwaluyauve. Cf. the flint, wheat, cloth, etc. The cage,

however, is native: all the river tribes kept bird pets in stick

cages. In 86, however, the woman's bird is a masohwat.

12a. Very soon, after four or five steps, they saw a cage hanging,

Sun's daughter's cage, with red and blue cloth tied to it for

ornament: it was hanging high. The two boys came to it, took the cock

out of his cage, and put him by the door. He crowed and the woman

heard him. She said, "What sort of men are you? Do you not know

anything? That cock belongs to me. He takes care of me and stays with

me always. You have spoiled him." She went back into the house, put on

her dress and her beads, and came out. Tšitšuvare embraced her. His

older brother said, "She belongs to me." "No, she is not yours. She is

mine," said the younger. "No, she is mine," said the older. The older

was unable to hold her. "Well, she is yours," he said. Now the younger

had two wives.

12b. They started to go. The woman looked back and saw her house. She

said, "I thought my house was (already) far away, but it is only a

little distance." She stopped and urinated. "Wait and stand, while I

tell of my home." She meant that now she was going with them and would

live with them and would not go to her house any more. (2 songs, about

her house.)

13. They went on again. Now all the stars had been made,[22] but the

two boys were wise, had dreamed, and knew all. They said, "We will

tell about the stars; of mountain sheep (Orion), and of Hatša (the

Pleiades)." (2 songs, about the constellations.)

[22] The creation is recent in all these tales. Night comes on

as they travel, apparently; but they arrive in the afternoon!

14. In the afternoon they came home. The (new) woman sat down outside

at the southeast corner of the house. She was ashamed, and did not go

indoors with them. She had long hair, down to her thighs; she did not

say anything. The old man was ready for her to grind: he had a metate

prepared inside. Now he came out, took her hand, and led her indoors.

Then she ground corn. As she ground, blood flowed on her thigh. They

said, "Look at her, she is menstruating: the blood makes a streak on

her thigh."[23] (1 song.)

[23] More Mohave--both the fact of the mention when nothing

hinges on it, and the fact that the woman goes on preparing food

for them.

15. Now there were two women to work, and it did not take them long to

grind enough for mush. One of them built a fire and put a pot on it; the

old man came out to help them. When the water boiled, the old man poured

the corn into it and one of the women stirred. She put in salt and

tasted it; there was not enough, and she put in more until it was good.

Now she gave the old man some. She put some in a large dish and took it

in to the two boys. They ate together, the two women and the two boys.

At night they all lay down indoors. The old man thought, "It is not

right: one of them has two wives. They are two brothers but one has no

wife." He said, "You are two brothers, but the older has no wife. He

must have a wife too. In the morning go north and get one for yourself

also. Kukho-metinya's[24] daughter is the one that I want you to find."

In the morning the two boys went north. Then Kukho(-metinya)[24a] met

them, flying in the air. They said, "The bird is intelligent: he flies

to meet us." (2 songs.)

[24], [24a], [24b] Kukho is the yellowhammer or red-shafted

flicker. Kukho-metinya is the girl's father and flies to meet

the young man; and the girl keeps a kukho in a cage.

16. When they came there, there was a bird in a cage. It was a

kukho.[24b] They took it out with their hands and set it by the door.

The woman was inside, heard it, came out, and saw the bird. She said,

"Where are you two from? You are foolish. Do you know that that is my

bird in the cage? Why do you take it out?" They stood and laughed. She

went inside again, put on her dress and her beads, and came out. She

went to the older one and he embraced her. The younger wanted to come

to her also, and said, "She is mine." But Pukehane said, "No, she is

not yours, she is mine." Then Tšitšuvare said, "Well, she is yours."

He let him have her, because he had two already. Then they started

home. (1 song.)

17a. When they came to the house the old man took her by the hand, led

her inside, and wanted her to grind corn. Now there were three women

grinding and it did not take long. The old man helped them cook. They

gave him some, and the three women and the two brothers ate together.

The sun set, it became dark, they built a fire in the house. The two

brothers did not speak: the old man was thinking again. He said, "Now

you two brothers each have a wife." Pukehane had his bed in the

southeast corner of the house; Tšitšuvare, at the southwest; the old

man lay in the center of the house. He said, "Tšitšuvare, you have two

wives; Pukehane, you have only one. I think it will be best for you to

get another. If you each have two it will be well. If one of you has

two and the other only one, it will not be right. I want you to go

south to get one. Get Tankusahwire's[25] daughter." That is what he

said that night.

[25] This is again a bird.

17b. In the morning they went south. They saw a hotokoro bird in a

cage. The cage was woven of red and blue string. They had not come

there yet: as they were going they saw it. (1 song.)

18a. When they arrived, they took the bird in their hand, set it at

the door, it walked about there. The woman heard it and came out. She

said, "That bird is mine. It takes care of me. It lives with me

always. You know why you have done that!" It was as if she were angry.

She was not angry but she said that. She went back into the house to

put on her dress. She put it on, and beads on her neck and ears and

wrists. Tšitšuvare, the younger, saw her come out but did not go to

her. He let his older brother embrace her. He said nothing. He

thought, "It is well." Then they went back north. They came home the

same day. The three women were grinding corn. The new one did not go

inside: she was ashamed and sat outside. The old man took her in. He

gave her a metate and the four of them ground. When they had finished

they made mush: the old man helped them: he wanted to taste if there

was enough salt. He said, "If there is not enough, put in more. If it

is right, set it off the fire." Then they gave him some. They put more

in a large dish and took it inside. All the women and the two young

men ate together. At sunset they built a fire inside. Two women went

to the east side of the house, two to the west. The two men were lying

in the corners shading their eyes with their hands (δokōuk). The old

man lay in the center of the house. He got up, thought, and said,

"There is another thing good to have: it is cane. When you play on it

the sound goes as far as the sky and everyone can hear it." He said

that in the night.

_D. Quarrel over Cane: Elder Kills Younger_

18b. In the morning the two brothers went west, far west. There were

no clouds but there was lightning and it thundered. Tšitšuvare said,

"Do you hear that? I think that is dangerous." Pukehane said, "Well, I

do not care. Perhaps it will go well, perhaps it will go wrong. We

will go anyway: it does not matter where we die. We do not know. Do

not mind: if we both die in this land it will be well." (1 song.)

19. They went on west. They climbed up a mesa.[26] They stood and

looked down. Then they saw cane. Tšitšuvare was glad to get it.

Pukehane said, "Do not go yet! Wait! Good ones do not grow everywhere:

they grow in only one place. Wait until we tell about them. I will

tell about the roots (butts?), the large roots that they have." The

younger brother stood and listened to what the older one said about

the cane roots. (1 song.)

[26] River terrace of gravel.

20. They went down to the cane. There was a cane to the east: Pukehane

put his hand on it. There was a cane at the west: his younger brother

put his hand on that. The younger one said, "I do not want the top."

He cut the top off and gave it to his older brother: he wanted the

bottom part where it is large. Pukehane said, "A little boy like you

takes a little piece from the top." Tšitšuvare said, "Don't you know

when there are two brothers the younger wants the most of everything?

I want the large one, you take the top." Pukehane said, "Very well. It

is good." Tšitšuvare said, "If you had not given me the bottom but had

left me the top, I should have cried, because the younger always wants

most and if he does not get it he cries. You thought I would cry.

Well, my brother, I feel happy." Tšitšuvare wanted to break the cane

with his hands. Pukehane said, "Wait! You are able to break it with

your hands, but do not do so. We have both dreamed well. We have no

knife here but I can get a knife to cut it with." (1 song.)

21. He did not make a knife. He put his hand out to the west and had a

knife in it. The younger asked, "How many joints shall we cut?"

"Three," said Pukehane. (2 songs.)

22. Then Pukehane cut the cane at the butt. He was holding the top

end, his younger brother the bottom end, but Pukehane wanted that.

Tšitšuvare said, "No, you said you would let me have it!" "No," the

elder said. They did not break it: both of them held on. Tšitšuvare

did not want the top; Pukehane wanted to take it all: but his younger

brother held fast, and he could not take it away from him. Pukehane

was larger and knocked his little brother down, but Tšitšuvare held

on: he did not let go, he held tight. Then Pukehane put his foot on

his brother's belly: still he held on: He nearly died, but he kept his

hold. When Pukehane saw that his younger brother was nearly killed, he

stopped. He took hold of him and made him stand up. "Well, my younger

brother, I will let you have it," he said. The older was a doctor: he

had dreamed. He thought, "Well, I will let him have it, and after a

while I will kill him." Tšitšuvare said, "How must we use them, long

or short?" Pukehane told him, "The Yuma make them long, of four or

five joints, with a hole right through them. We do not do that: we use

three joints." (2 songs.)

23. Then they went back and came home. They laid the cane on the

ground. They told how they had brought it. (1 song.)

24. When the two boys sat down, the women had wheat bread[27] ready

and gave it to them. They began to eat outside. The old man came out

from the house and saw the two boys about to eat the bread. They had

not swallowed it yet: their mouths were full. The old man said, "Did I

not tell you that that was dangerous? I said not to eat anything with

salt in it[28] until you have washed yourselves." They spat it out.

When it was nearly sunset they built a fire and all went into the

house. That night the younger one became sick: he had the nightmare

and talked to himself.[29] Before it became day, Pukehane started to

go outdoors. He could make people go to sleep with θavôθapanye. He

held it in his hand and struck a house post. So they all went to

sleep: his younger brother too. Then Pukehane went outside, took the

cane, and decorated it with his saliva.[30] In the morning he said,

"Younger brother, why do you not get up? Do not sleep: a common man is

always doing that. You are likely to get sick. Get up and help me."

The younger sat up. Pukehane had already finished painting his cane.

Tšitšuvare came out and wanted to paint his. He did paint it: but when

he held it out to look at, there was no paint on it: it looked dark

(unpainted) to him. He said, "I thought I had painted it well. I think

I shall die." He threw the cane away to the north, went indoors, and

lay down. Then Pukehane sent for people to come for his brother who

was about to die; he sent for Nume-peta at Avikwame. When a man will

die they send word of it about and begin to sing. (1 song.)

[27] Moδīlya, baked in the hot sand.

[28] Salt is one of the most frequent Mohave taboos.

[29] Nyaveδītš itšôuk, ghost ill. The victim is in pain, like

crazy, thinks he is talking with someone, keeps on talking.

[30] Instead of marking it with fire. It is not clear whether

the paint consisted of his saliva, or whether he used spittle to

moisten his pigment.

25. The two brothers had birds in cages. The younger had five kinds:

pariθi (shrike), sakwaθa'ālya (magpie), aθikwa (woodpecker), atšyôra,

θinyêre (sparrowhawk). Pukehane took one of them, peeled the skin off

its head, and let it go. One he skinned on the back, one on the belly,

one over the ribs, and one under the eyes. He threw the pieces of skin

away, and let the birds loose. They flew up and fell down again. The

sick man said, "I think I shall die: I never saw that before: my birds

look different." (1 song.)

26. When the sun was halfway up, Nume-peta arrived with his people.

They crowded around the sick man and began to cry. Nume-peta said,

"After awhile, people will always do that; they will burn them too.

Now, two men go get wood: get timahutši."[31] (1 song.)

[31] It grows in the mountains; the interpreter did not know it.

27. Pukehane had made his younger brother sick. Therefore he did not

stay by him but by Nume-peta. Tšitšuvare said, "Move me a little so

that I can tell of all my bones before I die." (1 song.)

28. The two men got wood. When they brought it, Pukehane and Nume-peta

were thinking what they wanted to be in the future: they wanted to

teach the Chemehuevi, Yavapai, Walapai how to do. The sick man was not

dead yet. Then they took his rib out to use for a skin-dressing tool.

They took his kneecap for a shinny ball. They took his shinbone, cut

off each end, and used it to juggle up and catch on the back of the

hand.[32] They took these bones out of his body and so killed him.

Then they went to Avikwame, Pukehane taking his own two wives with

him.[33] Tšitšuvare's wives and Hatpa-'aqwaoθtše stayed, stood, cried,

and sang. When it was dark the old man took a knife and cut the two

women's long hair, and his own. One of the women was pregnant. (1

song.)

[32] "The Walapai and other tribes play much with bones like

this."--But, like the Mohave, not with human bones, except in

myth or fancy.

[33] They did not burn the body.

_E. Birth of the Hero_

29. They cried all night. In the morning--they had not thrown their

food away, and had corn and beans--they ate. Then Sun's daughter went

back to her home; the other woman (Tšese'ilye) and the old man were

still in the house. In the afternoon the woman said, "I am going to

have a child. I have a pain on each side of my belly." Then the old

man said, "Yes, that is the way." At night the child had not been born

yet, but it sang. They heard it talking and singing inside. They said,

"He is singing. We hear it." (1 song.)

30. The old man said, "That sort of a boy will be somebody; he will be

a shaman. When he is a man, he will make me be like a young man again.

I am glad." Then the boy said from inside, "Too many people are

passing by the house. I am going to make rain so that no one will come

by while I am being born: I want no one to know or hear or see it. I

do not want people to know when I emerge." (1 song.)

31. The woman could not sit still from her pain. She crawled around

into the corner of the house, and outdoors. Then the boy said, "Sit

still. I want to emerge." He did not know where to come out, at the

mouth or anus or ribs. He said, "Sit still. Keep your legs still, so

that I can come out; do not move them!" The woman said, "Old man, do

you hear what the boy in me says?" The old man said, "That sort of a

boy is wise. He will be a shaman." When it became day the boy came

out. They made hot sand to lay him on and covered him with hot sand up

to his neck. (1 song.)

32. The night the boy was born it rained. (Far in the north) Nume-peta

thought, "I believe that child has been born and has made the rain. If

one of you goes there today, you will see the child." A man went: he

saw the child sitting in the door. Hatpa-'aqwaoθtše asked him, "What

do you want?" The man said, "Nume-peta sent me to see this child."

Hatpa-'aqwaoθtše said, "Yes, it was born this morning." So the man

went back and told Nume-peta. Nume-peta said, "Did I not know it? The

child is wise and will be a doctor. It made rain so that no one would

know it was being born; but I knew it, for I am a doctor too." Then

Nume-peta took his people and Pukehane, and they all came to see the

child. They said, "We will look at it. If it is a boy, we will kill

him, because he will be a doctor and will kill us; when he is grown he

will make us sick. But if it is a girl, we will not kill her. It will

be well: she will work and get water. A girl will do that, but a boy

will not do that: he will kill us." Now they all stood at the door

looking at the child. Hatpa-'aqwaoθtše hid the child's penis, drawing

it back to the anus. Then they all said, "No, it is not a boy, it is a

girl. If it were a boy we would kill it, but it is a girl." So they

all went back. (1 song.)

33. Then the woman suckled the child and sang. They had made them

think that the child was a girl. It was a boy but they would not let

them know it. (1 song.)

_F. Shinny Game with Father's Foes_

34. The child grew fast. In four, five, six days it smiled and

laughed. In a year it was as high as that (gesture), and walked around

and played. Now Nume-peta and Pukehane came again with all their

people. They played shinny with the dead man's kneecap. Then the

child, dressed as a girl, went out to watch, not knowing those bones.

Some of them gave him a bone to make a doll of, for he wore a dress

and looked like a girl. Every day he went to play where these people

played, and at sunset came back to his house. So it was three nights:

the next night it would be four. Then his mother told him, "That doll,

the bone you play with, is from your father. Your father traveled to

be married. And he traveled to get cane, he and his older brother. The

younger was wise: he was superior to the older; but the older was a

great doctor. He made his younger brother sicken and die. That bone is

from your father, and so is the bone they play shinny with." (2

songs.)

35. Then the apparent little girl said, "I did not know that. If I had

known that it was the bone of my kin I should not have played with

it." So he said and cried. He cried all night and never suckled. In

the morning when the sun was up he went under the shade; he was tired

from crying, lay down and slept a little. Then he dreamed. The insect

θonoθakwe'atai[34] sat on his lip while he slept and said, "All of

them play with those bones. They think it is amusing but it is a bad

thing. They are not the bones of an animal. If they were animal bones

it would be well, but they are your father's bones." When the boy

dreamed that he sat up. He went back into the house. That night he

wanted to send his mother home: he did not want her to live there any

longer.[35] He told her, "Go west.[36] These people here are my

relatives but they do not treat me right. They said they would kill

me. I will stay here. The old man, my (father's) uncle, will stay

here too. He is wise: he saved me or I should have been dead long ago.

I want him to stay: he can beg around the houses and get something to

eat and water to drink. He can live in that way and be well; but I

want you to go west." The woman took a little round dish[37] and put

glowing coals into it. So she lit her way, to know where to go.[38]

Then she went off westward, traveling by that light. When she was gone

the boy thought about her. He thought, "Why have I sent my mother away

like a bird? A bird's nest is on the desert; it sleeps on the desert,

where no one lives." Then he was sorry for her and cried. (2 songs.)

[34] An insect that lives in trees, does not fly, and looks like

haltôθa.

[35] "Tšese'ilye was her name"--her father's, ante. About this

confusion, see note 58. Another confusion is that in 29 it is

Sun's daughter (wife no. 2) who goes away and Tšese'ilye who

gives birth to the hero, as confirmed by his now sending her

home west; whereas in 82b, 86, 87, he travels east to rejoin his

mother, and in 90 her father is Sun.

[36] Where she had come from, if she is Tšese'ilye (or

Tšese'ilye's daughter) and not Sun's daughter.

[37] Kwaθki-mareko, almost as deep as a pot.

[38] Travel by firebrand is a Yuman habit. Rio de los Tizones

was the first European name given the Colorado.

36. That night when there were only the two of them there, the boy

told the old man, "I am going to leave you. You stay here. Listen to

what I will do." He thought he would do something to the people that

played with his father's bones, but he did not yet know what. Then the

old man Hatpa-'aqwaoθtše said, "It is well. You will die somewhere and

I will cry for you here. That will be all. I can live. I am not very

old yet. I can go about begging for food. I will come to people's

houses and they will give me something to eat, for they will know me

and that I am poor and hungry. I shall live like that staying on

here." Then in the morning they all came there to play ball again.

They had short shinny sticks, nearly straight, not long and

curved.[39] When the boy saw them, he went outdoors, took earth and

rubbed it on himself, so that no one would see him, or know him; for

he wanted to take away their ball. So he turned himself into a

halye'anekītše lizard.[40] Now they played. They came near him: he was

lying by the side of the playing field: no one knew it. Now they

played toward the south and back again, four times, and one side won.

Then the boy seized the ball: no one saw him take it: no one knew he

had it. He went back to his house. Now he wanted to throw it, but did

not throw it yet: he wanted to know in which direction to throw

it.[41] First he wanted to throw it north, but did not. Then he was

going to throw it south, then west, then east. He kept it in his hand

and stood there. (1 song.)

[39] Of bone? The ordinary Mohave shinny stick is a yard long

and definitely bent at the end.

[40] The tip of its tail is blue: cf. note 95.

[41] Typical hesitation of Mohave narrative.

37. When he had told (kanavk) of the far heavens (amaiyêitše) four

times, still holding the ball, he struck the ball with a stick and it

flew west like a meteor (kwayū). It fell in the mountains and broke

them and killed the people who lived on them: it killed them all. The

boy stood and heard. He thought, "No one is there now: they are all

killed!" Nume-peta and Pukehane said, "That boy! I knew he would do

it: he has killed all those people. He will kill us too. You shall

see: he will do that." The boy did not hear them, but he knew (what

they said). He was glad and laughed and shouted and ran. He ran north

to Avi-kwutapārva: There he stood. (2 songs.)

_G. Journey South to Sea_

38. When he stood there at the river he thought how to cross it. He

said, "I thought I was a man who knew everything, who had dreamed

well." Then he piled up sand, four heaps, so high. He began, at the

nearer end, to level them with his foot. Then the river was full of

sand all the way across, enough to walk on. So he crossed and stood on

the other side, the east side of the river. He thought which way to

go, whether east or south. Then he thought, "Well, I will follow this

trail south." (1 song.)

39. He went downriver to Iδô-kuva'ire,[42] did not stop there, but

went on to Ahtšye-'iksāmta and Qara'êrve. There it was sunset and he

slept in the thick willows and cottonwoods by the river bank: it was a

good place to sleep, with much brush. Many birds were in the trees:

early in the morning they all awoke and made much noise. Then he could

not sleep well: he tried to but could not. So he sat up and listened

to the birds calling. Tinyama-hwarehware[43] was sitting on a tree

singing loudly. When a boy sleeps somewhere alone he is lonesome and

afraid; so this boy was afraid and could not sleep. Then he said to

the birds and the insects, "You make too much noise. I cannot sleep.

Be quiet!" So they were quiet and he slept again. (2 songs.)

[42] Iδo-kuva'ire is upstream from Fort Mohave.

[43] An insect "like a butterfly," with wings and a long belly.

40. After he had slept he got up and went south. Then he came to the

hill Selye'aya-kumītše.[44] (1 song.)

[44] East of Fort Mohave.

41. He went on south to an overflow lagoon, Hanyo-kumasθeve.[45] From

there he went south a little distance to where the ahtšye grass was

high. There a rattlesnake stuck up its head and shook its rattle

noisily. When he saw the snake he was frightened: he had never seen

one before. He nearly died from fear: he stood unable to move. (2

songs.)

[45] A little east of where the wagon road (of 1904) crosses the

irrigating canal.

42. Then he made the rattlesnake lie still without shaking its tail,

making no sound, and not biting. He kicked it and threw it with his

feet, four or five times. Then he picked it up, and used it for a

belt, and put it around his neck and into his mouth. So he played with

it, and the rattlesnake died and he threw it away. He said, "I am not

afraid of you. If you were dangerous to me you would bite and kill me,

but you are not dangerous and so it is you will not bite me."[46] He

left the snake lying there, and went south, to Amai-nye-qotarse, did

not stop there, and went on south to Kamahnūlye. Two men were hunting

there. When they killed a deer they did not cook it but ate it raw: He

saw their red mouths and was afraid of them. He saw that they were

wildcats (nume). (5 songs.)

[46] An unusually direct reaction on the wish-fulfillment level.

43. The two wildcats went off east and he went on south. He came to

Aha-kuminye. A horsefly (hoane) lived there at the edge of the mesa in

a cavity. It came to him, lit on his back and shoulders, and flew off

again. Then the boy thought, "It is intelligent like a man. It knows

something. When it sees me it comes to meet me." (1 song.)

44. The horsefly flew away and did not come back. Then the boy said,

"That is not a man. If it were a man he would come back to talk to me.

I will go on." Then he went on south to Hotūrveve. There were astake

trees there on the mesa: there he saw that a hummingbird (nyenyene)

had its nest. (1 song.)

45. He went on south to Sampulya-kwuvare. There he told the name of

that place. (1 song.)

46. He went on south to Atšqāqa. There he followed the (Sacramento)

wash up eastward, away from the river. The day was bright and there

were no clouds. Then he told about clouds, for he wanted the air fresh

and the day cooler because it was too hot to walk. He did not stop but

kept on going talking of that. (1 song.)

47. As he went on, soon there were clouds all over the sky. He came to

Hanyikoitš-kwamve, crossed the wash, and went southward toward the

mountain Akokehumī. Then he came to Avi-ahnalya (Gourd Mountain). (1

song.)

48. He went on south but not very far. He had not yet come to

Avi-a'īsa ("screw-mesquite mountain"), but stood and told of his going

there. (1 song.)

49. He went on south and reached Akokehumī. There he saw a spring: a

single screw mesquite grew there. He said, "I think this is my food: I

will eat it. There is water here too; so I shall be alive. I was lucky

to find this spring and this tree." He stood by the tree and sang. (5

songs.)

50. Then he pulled the mesquite-screws off the tree and ate them.

When he had eaten, he drank, and went on. He went south to

Ahwaṭa-kwimātše.[47] There used to be people who danced there, who

had turned to stone. At first they were men, but now they were many

rocks standing up; and the boy saw that. (2 songs.)

[47] North of Bill Williams Fork; also now called Williams

River.

51. He stood there awhile, then went on south. He came to Amaṭa-kuhultoṭve.

There there grew wild grapes (ahtoṭa) on the ground: they were ripe and

he picked them and held them in his hand and played with them. He did

not eat them. (2 songs.)

52. He threw them away and went on south. He came to Hakutšyepa, Bill

Williams Fork: he followed that creek up east. Then he met a badger

(mahwa). It smiled when it met him. He did not try to catch it and

the badger ran off. He paid no attention, but followed the creek up

east. He went on and on and came to Aha-ly-motāṭe. There were sand and

mountains and caves there, and he told about them. (1 song.)

53. He stayed there awhile and played. Then he followed a trail south

and came to Avi-su'ukwilye, a sandhill. There he stood on a mesa.

Ohūtšye, coyote-grass, grew there. He saw a jack rabbit eating that.

He thought, "Its body does not look like a man's, but it feels when it

gets hungry, and it eats. I thought it knew nothing, but it does know

something: it knows that that is good to eat." (1 song.)

54. Then he followed along the sand ridge, keeping on it, going south.

Far away he saw high mountains: they looked as if they were near, but

they were far. They were called Avi-melyehwêke: he was going there: he

arrived when it was nearly sunset. (3 songs.)

55. There he slept. It was (Western) Yavapai country. In the morning

he did not want to go farther south. He turned northward and came to

Avi-hupo. (2 songs.)

56. From there he went on north to near the river, to

Selye'aya-'ita.[48] There he stood, wanting to cross the river to the

western side, to Kuvukwīlye. (1 song.)

[48] There are two Selye'aya-'ita. This is the farther one, well

south of Mohave territory.

57. Then he did as he had done before. He made four piles of sand and

leveled them into one ridge with his feet and made the river dry

enough so that he could walk across, and came to the west side of the

river. Now he was at Kuvukwīlye. He said, "I can stand here and tell

the names of the mountains." (3 songs.)

58. He turned south again and came to Aha-kumiθe where is a spring. He

thought no one had seen it before. "I found this. No one knew of it."

People had seen the spring, but he thought not. (1 song.)

59. He went south to Amaṭa-hiya, "earth-mouth." There there was a hole

or crack in the ground, red like blood. He saw it and thought, "How

did this come to be?" He walked around it looking in, and stooped over

it. (1 song.)

60. He went and came to Tôske. There he stood and told the name of

that place.[49] (1 song.)

[49] He is near Yuma land now.

61. Going south again he came to a low mesa, to a place called

Yelak-īmi, "goosefoot." (1 song.)

62. Going on he came near the Yuma country. He stood on the mesa,

looked down on the ground for planting, and saw much cane. He thought,

"How did the cane come to be here? I did not think it grew here. I

will go down to see it." (2 songs.)

63. He went down to where the cane grew, broke off a piece as long as

a flute, and played with it. He came (abreast of) Enpeθo'auve, the

Cocopa Mountains, south of Yuma. He kept along the edge of the river,

going fast, running, walking, and keeping on. (1 song.)

64. He went on until he came to the sea (the Gulf of California). The

waves were high. When they came up on the land and went back, there

were holes and some of the water did not run back, but stayed in the

holes and made ponds. A crane (nyāqwe) was there. He said, "That is an

eagle (aspā): it surely looks just like an eagle." (3 songs.)

65. The bird flew off eastward. He said, "That bird is afraid of me:

it flew away." He walked along the sea to the east. As the waves came

and went they left shells there: hanye, ahtšīlye, aha-nye-amokye,

tamāθe, ahāspane, and two other kinds used by doctors.[50] He knew

that these shells were good to wear. No one had told him, but he knew.

He took them in his hand and played with them. (2 songs.)

[50] For which reason the narrator did not like to name them.

Perhaps they are used in poisoning. Hanye are small clamshells

cut into shape of a frog (hanye) and worn as a gorget.

66. Then he threw the shells away and kept going east. He looked back

to the west and saw ducks, heard them making a noise. He thought,

"What are those? They have feathers. They are like persons, but they

are ducks." There was a large flock of them on the sea, close

together. (2 songs.)

67. He went on east. Where a little lagoon came out of the sea, there

was a hatômpa'auve.[51] He lived in that lagoon. The boy saw him

fishing and was afraid. He thought, "I will tell about him. Then I

will go on." (2 songs.)

[51] The hatômpa'auve is described as looking like "a large

horse with feet like a duck's and a tail."

68. He went on, not following the edge of the sea any more, but north

and northeast. Soon the sea was far away. He came to a gravelly place,

a good level place. There he saw a'i-kumeδī trees (mountain or desert

trees with curved thorns--catsclaw acacia?) He told of them. (1 song.)

_H. Marriage and Contests with Meteor and Sun_

69. He went on east or northeast. Soon, in a level place in the

desert, he saw women's tracks, four women's. The tracks had been there

a year but they looked as if they had been made the same day. He said,

"I think I know these four women. I know who they are. I think they

are Sun's wives."[52] (5 songs.)

[52] They are called Sun's daughters later, and then his wives

again. See notes 54, 58.

70. Going on to the east, he found a house. No one was there. He said,

"Sometimes people go away and their house is empty." He went in and

stayed. He had in mind the four women. He said, "I think the oldest of

those four sisters knows me." He did not say this aloud: he thought

it. He did not want anyone to know that he had come: he did not want

anyone to see him. "But the oldest one will know me, I think," he

said. He slept there. He pulled out one of the sticks from the east

side of the house and made a little fire of it and slept. In the

morning he made a wind to blow away the ashes so no one would see he

had been there, and smoothed the sand inside the house to cover his

tracks. He thought, "I will turn to cane. I want the wind to blow me

away into the bushes. The oldest sister will find me." Then he went

out and lay there in the brush, a piece of cane. He left his shadow

inside the house. (2 songs.)

71. The four women came near. The boy was singing loudly. They could

hear him from far. He was telling the names of the four women. The

oldest was called Tasekyêlkye, the next Ahta-tšaôre, the next

Ahta-kwasase, and the youngest Ahta-nye-masape. Then the youngest

said, "My oldest sister, do you hear him say that? He calls you first.

He names you too, and you; and me: He calls all four of us. Do you

know that?" The oldest sister said, "Yes, I know it. There were two

men in the north. They were married. I think this is their boy. He

knows us. No one knows us, but this is their son. When we enter the

house you will see no one there, and no tracks. He will have turned to

a stick or perhaps to a piece of charcoal. Perhaps when you (are about

to) break a coal it will say, 'You are hurting me: look out!' If it

says that do not break it. Perhaps when you break a stick it will

speak and say, 'Look out: you hurt me!' Then do not break it. Perhaps

he will be lying in a crack of a house post. Perhaps he will turn into

a piece of cane and lie outdoors in the brush." So Tasekyêlkye, the

oldest sister, said to Ahta-nye-masape, her youngest sister. Then they

went into the house. She said, "There is no one here. There are no

tracks. He slept here last night but there is no one. Put your foot on

the fire place: There is warmth there." They drew the sand away with a

stick and there they found fire. "See, I knew there was fire here,"

said Tasekyêlkye. (2 songs.)

72. The four women stood in the house. Tasekyêlkye, the oldest, said,

"Look around. When you find a crack in the house post, push something

into it. If it says, 'Ana (ouch, look out), you are hurting me,' then

stop. Or pick up a lump of earth and start to break it: If it says,

'Look out, you hurt me,' then do not break it." They took up a coal

and broke it. It did not speak and they knew it was not he.

Tasekyêlkye said again, "When you find him, do not say, 'He is rotten,

he stinks.' And look in the brush; perhaps you will find him there."

So Ahta-nye-masape, the youngest, went west, and the others all about,

to look for him in the brush. Then the youngest found him: he was long

dead, stinking, rotten, full of maggots. With a stick they scraped off

the maggots. But there was no flesh on him: he was all bones: he had

been dead too long and was dry: they could not bring him to life. The

four of them stood there. (2 songs.)

73. Tasekyêlkye said, "Bring a karri'i basket; I want to put him in."

But her three sisters said, "What for? I do not like that. I don't

want my basket spoiled." Then Tasekyêlkye brought her own basket. She

said, "Come, help me. Take him up with your hands and put him in the

basket." But her three sisters turned away. They stood and would not

look at him: they vomited: none of them helped her. Then she herself

gathered the flesh and bones and put them into the basket. She said,

"Help me put it on my head: I want to carry him to the house." Her

three sisters did not want to help her: he was too old and maggotty

and stinking: they would not come near, but stood around. "Do it

yourself," they said; "take the basket up with your own hands and set

it on your head." So she took it up and carried it to the house. The

others followed her. Then Tasekyêlkye said, "Make a fire." She wanted

hot sand. When it was hot, she poured water on it and leveled it. Then

she piled the maggots and flesh and bones there together and covered

them with the basket. Then she went and bathed. Her three sisters

looked at the thing. They did not know what she would do with the

rotten boy. She came back, took off the basket, and a boy was sitting

there, as big as that boy (pointing to a ten-year old). The three

women looked at him. Tasekyêlkye sat by him combing her hair with her

fingers; the boy had no hair yet.[53] (2 songs.)

[53] Or: she combed what little hair he had?

74. The man whose house this was had four wives. He was Kwayū, meteor,

shooting-star: he hunted people and ate them. The four women were

Sun's daughters[54] and Kwayū's wives. Then Tasekyêlkye said, "That

boy does not eat. He does not become hungry. I know what he likes: he

likes tobacco. That is all he uses for food. Ahta-nye-masape, bring a

dish[55] with tobacco in it." The youngest sister went and got the

tobacco and gave it to the boy. He took the dish and poured the

tobacco in his mouth: he did not take it up with his hands. "Do you

see? I know what he likes," said the oldest sister. The boy had not

enough. He looked around and picked up the tobacco stalks lying about

the house and ate them. The three sisters laughed. Tasekyêlkye said,

"I think he wants more: he has not had enough." Then the youngest

sister gave him a cane as long as a hand, filled with tobacco. The boy

smoked it. He did not smoke it long: he sucked once and swallowed the

smoke: he did not blow it out. The whole cane was burned up except the

end. He chewed that up and spat it out. The women laughed. They liked

to see that: they had never seen a man doing it.[56] (1 song.)

[54] Not to be confused with the Sun's daughter who was the

second wife of Tšitšuvare and the boy's mother's co-wife.--See

notes 14, 38, 52, 58, 68, 78, 83.

[55] There is no record of tobacco being stored in pottery

vessels. Evidently it is here served in a dish because it is

consumed like food.

[56] Characteristic Mohave lack of reserve.

75. Tasekyêlkye said, "When our husband comes back he is tired from

gambling with hoop-and-poles and is hungry. Then he is angry. We had

better go gather something to eat: we have nothing in the house."

Every morning Kwayū went early to gamble, carrying his poles: one day

he would win and one day lose. Now the women all took their baskets

(karri'i). Tasekyêlkye said, "We are going to gather kwinyo or what we

can find. We are going off, but will come back. The man who lives in

this house, Kwayū, hunts persons. The people who live near he does not

kill: he kills those who live far away.[57] Sometimes he kills two or

three men and carries them home. He cuts them up but does not cook

them: he eats them raw. If he does not eat them all, he slices the

meat and dries it on a tree. And he does not throw away their bones:

he puts them away. When they are dry, he says, 'Grind the bones: I

want to eat mush.' We grind and he eats it. He does not eat what we

do. I am afraid that when he comes he will swallow you and keep you in

his stomach (isoqāte). I am thinking of that and afraid of it. That is

why we will not go off the whole day but will come back. If you were

not here we should be gone all day." So they went, carrying their

baskets. The boy thought, "How will he swallow me? I do not think he

can swallow me. I am wise; I have dreamed; I am a shaman, too. He

cannot do that. Sun is my father's elder brother (navīk). Now I have

come to his house.[58] If he sees me he will not let Kwayū swallow

me." Then he said to the house, "In the north I saw a house like this,

a good house. A man who lives in a house like this does not eat

people."[59] (4 songs.)

[57] Typical stylistic expression.

[58] The kinship is inextricable. His only uncle was Pukehane,

who had killed his father, whose second wife was Sun's daughter.

About the "two" Suns and their daughters, see above and below,

notes 35, 52, 54, 64, 78, 79, 83. When the informant was

appealed to at this point, he repeated what he had said first,

that the four women were Sun's wives, but contradicting the

statement in the narrative two paragraphs above, that they were

Sun's daughters and Kwayū's wives. Perhaps the kinship is

specifically conceived at any given moment in the story, but the

concepts waver and contradict one another as the long narrative

progresses. A kind of decorative pattern is followed rather than

logical or factual consistency maintained. At the same time the

inconsistency is precisely of the sort that is familiar in

lengthy dreams. This seems significant in view of the Mohave

assertion that they dream their tales. Even though this cannot

be literally true, they perhaps tend to regress into a

dream-mood in thinking of and relating the stories.

[59] This self-reassurance by addressing the house also suggests

infantile or dream phantasy.

76. So he stayed there alone. About noon Kwayū came. The boy saw him

coming and went into the house to hide. He drew his breath into his

belly and made it tight and projecting. He wanted to go on a rafter.

He thought, "If I lie on it he will not be able to pierce me. If he

stabs (at) me I will jump to another rafter. If he stabs (at) me

there I will go to another." Kwayū came: he had a spear (otaṭa). He

said, "Who came into my house? I smell him but I do not see him. Tell

me, has some one come? I know it." The boy heard him but did not say a

word, lying on top of a rafter. Kwayū struck at him. The boy jumped to

another rafter. Kwayū stabbed at him there. He penetrated the rafter

too far: his spear stuck: he could not pull it out: he became tired.

The boy jumped to another rafter. Again Kwayū struck at him and his

spear stuck in the rafter. He could not pull it out and left it

hanging in the rafter; he went and sat at the door. The boy came down

and sat in the middle of the house between the posts. "Give me

tobacco, I want to smoke," he said. Kwayū said, "You are too young to

smoke, but I will give you tobacco. You do not know how to smoke cane,

for the Mohave smoke a pipe of clay." The boy said, "I know how to do

that, for that is my name (I am cane)." Kwayū said, "My younger

brother's son, is that you?"[60] The boy said, "Yes, I know you: that

is why I came here. If I had not known you I should not have come."

Kwayū thought, "I thought that the boy born from the two brothers in

the north was wise. I was afraid of him. I was thinking he would kill

me." He did not say that but he thought it. He said, "You do not know

the small cane?" The boy said, "Yes, I know it. It belongs to me. I

dreamed good luck from it." Kwayū said, "I have meat here. I have

people's bones ground and made into mush. I ate of it but I did not

eat it all and there is some left. But I think you do not like that."

The boy said, "I do not know that kind: I do not like it. I know cane;

but wait, do not give it to me. I will tell you about it first: then

give it to me." Then he told of joints of cane.[61] (2 songs.)[62]

[60] Still another relationship. This would make Kwayū the same

person as Pukehane. Of course, kin terms may be being used

loosely in address to non-relatives.

[61] His father's name refers to cane joints.

[62] Here the narrator interjected the following: When Kwayū

came home, he thought: "No one comes to my house; I want no one

to come. I am stingy. I want no one to see my wives' faces. I am

bad and want to kill any man who has been among my wives. My

brother (_sic_) is good, he goes to play with people and wants

to be friendly; but that is not my way."

77. Kwayū said, "Have you told all?" "Yes," he said. Then Kwayū handed

him two pieces of cane filled with tobacco. The boy smoked one. It was

gone, but he still had the other. Kwayū said, "Stay here. I always go

hunting. I eat whatever I find. If I find a little boy on my way I

swallow him; if an old man or an old woman, I eat them too." Then

Kwayū went. Then after he had gone, Sun came. The four women had not

yet returned. Sun said, "You are a young boy, too young to travel.

Where are you from?" The boy said, "I came this morning." Sun said,

"There is a bad man here: he eats everybody. But he did not eat you:

I think you must have dreamed well." The boy said, "Yes, he did not

eat me." "Where are you from?" asked Sun. The boy said, "I came from

Avikwame. I was born there, I lived there." He meant that his father

had died there and his mother had gone away and his (father's) uncle

was still living there. "I left my uncle[63] (Hatpa-'aqwaoθtše) in the

north and came here. He knows everything, but I do not. He told me,

'Your relatives live far south.' You are my uncle:[64] that is why I

have come here." Sun said, "I knew you when you were at Avikwame. I

know what you wore: you wore cut raven-feathers." He had not (really)

seen it, the boy did not tell him, nevertheless Sun knew it. "You wore

a woven belt and beads. I know what else you wore: a white feather

rope." The raven feathers, aqaqa soverevere, he called kwasolīθ

soθôre. The woven belt, sorāpe, he called sorāpe.[65] The beads,

nyapūke,[66] he called hapanyôra. The feather rope,[67] soδīlyk

nyitšêve, he called kwinyekalāk. He said, "Will you gamble?" The boy

said, "I am poor. I have nothing to bet. My father died and my mother

went away and I have nothing." Sun said, "You have something at the

back of your head" (in his hair). "No," said the boy. After a time he

said, "Yes, I have it: I have a bead necklace. But I do not want to

play." He had hidden that, but Sun knew it. (2 songs.)

[63] Navik denotes not only f's o br but f's f's y br; but the

boy's father Tšitšuvare was said to be Hatpa-'aqwaoθtše's

hivetk, man's y br's ch, which would make him the boy's f's f's

_o_ br. Again, the kinships cannot be reconciled.

[64] Ct. note 58.

[65] Span. zarape, "serape."

[66] Obtained from the Cahuilla and Serrano, the Shoshonean

tribes toward the Pacific.

[67] Made by twisting the skin of a large white bird around a

cord; worn as a scarf or boa.

78. He said, "Well, I will put up what I have." Sun asked, "Will you

bet your body?" The boy said, "Yes. What will you bet against my body?

Put up your four women."[68] Then they played (hoop-and-pole). They

played running to the south. The boy won and counted one. They ran and

threw to the north and the ring fell on his pole and he had two

points. Then they threw to the south and he won and had three. Then

they threw north and he made that point and had four. So the boy won.

He won Sun's apparel and the four women. Then Sun said, "I want to bet

my house, my dishes, and the sack I have in the house. I have made

heaven and earth into a sack."[69] They bet, played again as before,

four times, and the boy won: now he had won the house too. Sun said,

"I will bet you the lake (slough) where I bathe. I will bet you my

looking-glass water (haliyōi). And I have a beaver who lives in the

water: that is why you cannot see him; but he belongs to me and I will

bet him. I have a scorpion (menīse), too, and bees (θampô): I will

bet those." So they played four times, to the south and the north and

the south and the north, as before, and the boy won again. When he had

won all those things he said, "I will bet what I have won against your

body. Will you play?" Sun said, "Yes, I will bet it." The boy said,

"If you lose your body, lie down where we have played. When I take my

knife, do not move: I will cut you to pieces because you have lost."

Sun said, "It is well: if I lose I will not move. Say what you like:

name whatever part you like to cut first." Then they played for four

points. Now Sun was lying: the four women belonged to Kwayū; and the

house belonged to Kwayū, and what was in the house, but Sun said it

was all his own. So they played. Three times the boy won. Now Sun had

nearly lost: once more and he would lose. Then he did not go on

playing: he stepped back, and stood, and did not throw his pole, and

talked, for he was about to lose his body. The boy thought, "If Sun

loses his body I think he will do something to me: he will try to kill

me, and I know how. He has sky-heat (ammay ipīlyta) in his body: I

know he has it and he will try to kill me with that. I have not seen

it but I know he will do that. He will make his casting pole stand up,

climb up it, and drop it on me and the house to kill me." So the boy

thought; but then, "I will prevent it: I will make ice. When he throws

his fire on the brush of the house the ice will prevent it." Soon Sun

climbed up his pole and threw the fire on the house. The boy caused

ice to be there and it put out the fire. Sun began to climb to the

sky. The boy climbed after and tried to strike him but could not reach

him. Then he slid back and stood on the ground. Sun went on up,

jumping like a ghost. The boy said, "You thought I was a little boy

and did not know anything; but I am wise. I will turn you into

something. I will make you be what you are now (the sun)." The fire

was still running all around the house. The four women came back and

saw the fire. Tasekyêlkye said, "Did I not know that that boy was

wise, that he would do something we have never seen?" The boy stood

outdoors and put the things he had won into the little sky-sack. He

thought (about Sun), "I will make you be something: I will turn you

into something: I will make you be two. Some days there will be two

suns (the sun and a sun dog)." That is what he did. (1 song.)

[68] The four women of the house, Sun's "daughters."

[69] The beginning of an episode of cosmic mythology.

79. As he stood he thought, "Well, I will see what I have won. I will

take a bath. And the looking-glass[70] and the beaver I have won! I

will go see those." Then the beaver did not know the boy and cried

with much noise. The boy said, "You do not know me? I am the one that

feeds you." And he went to see his scorpion. He thought, "I would like

to see it." The scorpion was lying still, but when the boy came, it

moved about, afraid. "Do you not know me? I am the one who feeds you,"

he said. "Well, I will go to see the bee that I have won, my bee." The

bee did not know him and wanted to sting him. It flew to him, under

his arm, lit where his neck and shoulder came together. The boy said,

"Do you not know me? Know me now: I am the one who feeds you." (2

songs.)

[70] A pottery dish, blackened with charcoal and filled with

water, used in face painting; a minor ethnographic detail,

interesting because of the prehistoric Hohokam mirrors of

pyrites in the Gila valley.

80. The boy stood there: he left these things there in the playing

field (matāre). He wanted to see his body. He wanted to look in his

mirror. He thought, "I want to see what sort of a looking boy I am."

When he looked; he said, "I have no clothes: I am a bad-looking boy."

(2 songs.)

81. He had no long hair, only short hair like a boy: he saw that. He

went to the bathing place and dived in northward. He came out again

and dived westward. Then he dived to the south. Then he dived to the

east.[71] He came out and now his hair fell below his hips. Then he

wanted to make a little wind to dry his hair. He did not sit down, he

did not lie down, he stood. Then the wind dried his hair. He came back

and looked in his mirror. He said, "I think I will wear eagle-down

(θume)." He put his hand out to the north and got eagle-down. Then he

put that on and looked at himself. "That is good," he said. Then he

put out his hand to the east and got a woven ("Navaho") shirt,

tolyekô-pa, and a woven strip of wool cloth (tolyekô-hare-hare) for a

breech-clout. "Now I have all that," he said. He put his hand out to

the west[72] and got beads (nyapūka). He thought, "When I was a boy I

did not know what was good: I did not wear anything. Now I know what

is good and am wearing what I have never worn before. I am ready now

and it is good." He was standing where he had bathed. The four women

were crying (at the house); he heard them. Tasekyêlkye, the oldest,

was thinking about the three persons (the boy, Kwayū, Sun), wondering

which of them had been turned into something and killed, for none of

them had come back yet. "Perhaps the boy has done that," she thought.

Then she said to her youngest sister, "Get water! You have a jar you

made yourself." "Yes, I have one," she said, and went to get water.

When she saw the boy all dressed up, she dropped her jar and went and

embraced and kissed him. She was away for some time. The oldest sister

said, "What is the matter with her that she does not come back? What

did she see when she went to get water?" And she sent another. When

the other woman came and saw Ahta-nye-masape embracing and kissing the

boy, she too threw away her jar and hugged him. "He is a good-looking

boy: I want to marry him," she said. Then Tasekyêlkye sent her other

sister. She came and saw the boy: he was not embracing the two girls;

they were holding him, and saying, "I want him." "No, I want him."

Then she also dropped her jar, for she wanted him too. Now the three

were gone and did not come back. Then the oldest sister thought,

"Well, there were three of them, but they have not brought water. I

will go myself and drink and then return here to cry." She took her

jar, went there, and saw the three women surrounding the boy,

embracing him; but the boy was not moving, not saying a word. When she

saw it she ran up: "Did I not know it? You like that boy: all of you

want him: I knew it!"[73] She too wanted him, but could not take him

away from the others. Now they had all come there to get water and

there was no one at the house. Then the four women said, "We will take

you to the house. We do not want you to walk: we will stand, you lie

down, and we will carry you." So the boy lay down and they carried him

in their hands. Four times they became tired and laid him down. When

they came to the house they spread a woven blanket, hatš-hārke, and

laid him with his head against a post in the middle of the house. (4

songs.)

[71] Anti-sunwise circuit, contrasting with the W-E, N-S pairing

of Tšitšuvare's and Pukehane's wives.

[72] Not a ceremonial circuit in this case, but a reaching out

to where the articles came from, to the Mohave: cloth from the

Hopi to the east, shell beads from the Shoshoneans to the west.

[73] Mohave tales do not weary of I-told-you-so's.

82a. The boy said, "I want the sky-sack in the house. I have many

things in it." The youngest went out and got the sack. Then the three

youngest ground corn, for they thought, "I think he is hungry." The

boy thought, "You three did not like me before: you thought I was

rotten. Now when you grind corn and make bread or mush and give it to

me I will not eat it." They made bread (môδīlya) and gave it to him

but he would not eat. Then Tasekyêlkye, the oldest, ground aksamta[74]

seeds and made bread of them and gave them to him and he ate: he did

not eat the other bread that the three younger sisters made. At sunset

they went to bed: two of them lay on each side of him. From each side

they tried to embrace him. He paid no attention to them except to the

oldest who lay next to him on the right side. That night she said,

"Will you stay here and live in this house, or go away? The man who

lived here eats people. We are afraid of that. When he goes hunting

without luck, he is hungry, and then I am afraid he will eat me; I

fear that every day." Then the boy said, "When I was north I told my

mother, 'I am going far to the south, but I am coming back.' My mother

is thinking of me, thinking I am coming to see her. I must go north to

where she lives and stay there. I will start in the morning."

[74] One of the "wild" seeds planted by the Mohave.--Handbook of

California Indians, p. 736.

_I. Return to Mother, Half-Brother, and Father's Ghost_

82b. In the morning he said, "I think that man (Kwayū) will come back

today." They said, "He has enough to eat: plenty of people's dried

meat and people's bones ground up." The boy said, "I do not think he

will follow me. Now I am ready to start. Are you ready?" All the women

said, "Yes." He said, "Take your baskets." Then they each took a

basket. He said, "I did not come here to gamble, I came to see my

relatives. When I came he wanted to play with me. He wanted to bet

everything,[75] his house, his property, and you, and I won you too.

It was not I who wanted to gamble, it was he." Then they went east on

the desert along a valley. After a while he stood still with the four

women. He thought, "When I am traveling, women make too much trouble.

They do not travel fast. If I kill them, I can go fast. I think I will

make it rain on them and they may die. It will become cold and they

will freeze and die from that." (2 songs, about clouds.)

[75] This must be Sun, whereas just before, in this paragraph

and the preceding, it is clearly Kwayū the cannibal that is

being referred to.

83. They went on and soon it rained. It rained heavily and continued

to rain. They went farther and the water was deep. The four women were

wet. Their clothes were wet and they could not go fast. The boy

thought, "Some men do wrong. I was thinking something bad. It is not

right: I do not like it. I said of Kwayū that his was a bad way. I do

not want to do anything bad. That is what I said, but now I am doing a

bad thing. I brought a heavy rain and made the four women wet. I will

stop the rain. If the rain stops and the sun shines, the women will

sit for awhile and their dresses will become dry; then we will start

again and go on." He thought like this and the rain stopped, and they

sat and rested. (1 song.)

84. They sat in the shade with their clothes off hanging in a tree to

dry. When their clothes were dry they went on again. There was much

mud from the rain. Their sandals (haminyo)[76] were full of mud. The

boy ran around the women. "Your feet are full of mud," he said, and

laughed. (1 song.)

[76] In recent generations sandals were made of horse rawhide,

but not very often worn.

85. They did not rest but went on. The four women wore frog

shell-gorgets (hanye),[77] with strings of shell beads at the back of

their necks. Then the boy told of what they wore. (1 song.)

[77] Standard woman's ornament. Cf. note 50.

86. They went on east and came to a valley and saw a basket-like cage

hanging; there was a masohwaṭ bird in it; the cage was red and white

striped. The bird saw the boy and came flying toward him. He said,

"This bird is my mother's. That is why it came to me. It belongs to

her." Then the bird flew back to its cage. (2 songs.)

87. He went on east and came to his mother's house at sunset. He took

the bird, put it down at the door, and stood to one side. The bird

walked around at the door, and made a noise. The woman came out and

saw the boy. "My son, it is you," she said. "Yes, it is I," he told

her. She said, "I thought you had died long ago. I thought somebody

had killed you. You have dreamed well: I did not think I would see you

again." She embraced him and cried. The four women stood off, looking

at them. (2 songs.)

88. The boy said, "You left me and I stayed in the house. When you

left me, I hid. The people playing shinny did not see me. I lay there

and took their ball. When I got it I went back to my house and struck

it to the west with my shinny stick. The ball fell in the mountains

and broke them, killing many people. Then I said to the old man, 'My

uncle, I am going to leave you. I am going to follow my mother. I am

going to go to her house. If I am not sick I will come back to see

you.' That is what I told the old man. Then I left and saw many

dangerous things, rattlesnakes and other dangers, but I was not

afraid. I saw animals and people but I overcame them all. I came to

Sun's house. When I came there this woman knew what I would be like.

She saved me. No one knew me, but she knew me. I killed Sun and turned

him into the sun, to be two suns. I did that; then I came here. I

myself killed my uncle (the sun): no one else did it." (1 song.)[78]

[78] On being asked the mother's name, the narrator said it was

Kuvahā; that the dead father's first wife's name was Tšese'ilye,

and that the two were half-sisters, daughters of Sun by

different mothers. Apparently either I or my experienced

interpreter misunderstood on Tšese'ilye's first mention, and

recorded "Tšese'ilye's daughter" instead of "Tšese'ilye, Sun's

daughter" (note 14). However, it is also possible that names and

relationships changed in the narrator's mind. His story was

recorded for three days, with an empty day's interval. In any

event, it is clear that names mean little to the Mohave in these

narratives: they talk chiefly in terms of boy, old man, woman,

brother, etc. Cf. note 87.

89. When she heard what her son had done, his mother said, "You have

come far and are tired. You have stood long and your legs are tired.

Sit down. I have corn and wheat. Grind it and make mush or eat it

whatever way you like. Take as much as you want." Then the oldest of

his wives went into the house and took corn and parched it. The three

other sisters were ashamed and stood with their heads hanging. His

mother put her hands on them, saying, "My daughters-in-law." (1 song.)

90. When Sun[79] came home, his daughter (the boy's mother) told him

what her son had told her. She said, "He says he has killed Sun and

turned him into the sun. He has made him be two suns." Then the old

man, the boy's grandfather, said, "If he has killed him, it is well.

Even though it was his kinsman, it is well. If a relative is bad and

is killed it is right." Then the boy asked him, "Are there any

dangerous things to the east?" He said, "Yes: thunder and lightning.

One cannot do anything to them. Look out!" The boy wanted them to kill

somebody with. He wanted to make them be something to take with him

when he went to war. So they talked that night. In the morning he

rolled up his blanket and carried it on his back, going east. He did

not say where he was going. When he was gone, his mother asked his

wife, "Did you hear him say anything? Did he tell you?" His wife said,

"I heard him say, 'When I come to my mother's house, Sun's house, I

will not stay because I do not know the old man there.' That is all I

heard him say." Meanwhile the boy went on east. (2 songs.)

[79] "Another Sun, brother of the one" that the boy had chased

to the sky and turned into the luminary.

91. When he came to Thunder's place, he went into a hole made by

lightning when it struck the ground. In the hole he found a (piece of)

cane. Then he split it with his fingernail into four splints. (2

songs.)[80]

[80] The only words in the two songs are: īδauk, I hold; kwatša,

a chief in the north (note 82); hanyô, enter hole; oδik, I

bring. These words are considerably twisted and added to by

meaningless syllables like -ngau.

92. When he had that cane, he brought it back to his mother's house,

at noon. He carried it in a bundle and hung it outdoors. His wife gave

him to eat. That night he said nothing. In the morning the woman

wanted to see what he had got. He said, "If I show it to you you will

all die quickly. So I will not show it to you: I will put it away."

Next day he said, "You know what they did to me long ago.[81] I am

going to have war with them. I am alone, but I am going, going north."

The women said, "If you go, we will go." Sun said, "I will stay." The

boy was going to war with Pukehane, Nume-peta, Tinya-kwaθpi, and

Kwatša-kwatša.[82] In the morning they started. (1 song.)

[81] When they killed his father. Perhaps the indirect allusion

to the dead is preferred.

[82] The two last are mentioned here for the first time. The

Mohave like groups of four. Tinya-m is "night." Kwatša-kwatša's

name, unreduplicated, occurs in the songs about getting the

lightning-cane (note 80).

93. They went north. Tšese'ilye had also had a boy.[83] That boy said,

"I am wise too. I have dreamed well: I know everything." He called

himself Ahta-kwasume.[84] He gave himself that name: no one else gave

it to him. Around his neck he wore cane, and he wore it on his belt

and in his ears. When he walked, the cane in front and behind him

rattled. Now he went east: He came to Hatšakwanakwe. There he burned

the grass[85] and stayed, wanting to see his half-brother from the

south. Then that one from the south came. Ahta-kwasume had a little

fire over which he was stooping and did not see him. Then when he saw

him he did not know him: he thought he was of some other tribe and not

his brother. He was afraid and ran off east, and the other chased him,

saying, "You do not know who I am: I am your brother." That one

continued to run; at last he stood and waited; he saw it was his

brother, and they talked. He went back with him to where the women

were. (The one from the south) said; "You are my brother. I did not

think I should see you. You did not expect to see me, did you? I met

you on the desert. How do you live?" (1 song.)

[83] Here the woman, not her father, is again called Tšese'ilye.

This boy would of course be our hero's half-brother.

[84] Ahta is cane.

[85] Perhaps as a signal?

94. "Who are you? Whose boy are you?" he said. Ahta-kwasume did not

say, but asked him the same. He also would not tell. Then Ahta-kwasume

sang. In the song he mentioned his father's (_sic_) name. Then the one

who had come from the south said, "I stand on Hatpa-'aqwaoθtše"

(circumlocution for: he is kin of my father).[86] (1 song by each of

them.)

[86] Names of the dead are not mentioned. Hatpa-'aqwaoθtše was

his father's older kinsman and still alive.

95. Then Ahta-hane,[87] who had come from the south, said, "We met

here. We will cry together for a little while." Then they took hotū

paint;[88] with that they painted. Then they cried. They burned their

clothes and their baskets and all they had;[89] but Ahta-hane did not

burn the cane he had got from the lightning hole. (1 song.)

[87] Here at last we have the name of our boy hero. The narrator

gave it when he was asked it at this point. When asked

previously, in the part of the story where the boy is coming

near Yuma tribal territory in his southward travels, the

narrator said that as yet he had no name.

[88] Not ordinary black paint, but micaceous, and glittering

when ground. Perhaps a mourning paint.

[89] In mourning. The reunion, recognition of kinship, and

reference to their dead father finally brings on this expression

of emotion.

96. He sprinkled water on the ashes and walked on the ashes and made

the ground open wide in four places. Their father was deep down and

they wanted him to come up. They heard him come. He continued to come

and they heard him nearer. Soon he emerged. He had no bones, only

flesh.[90] The two boys embraced him and cried. Ahta-kwasume sat to

the west of him, Ahta-hane to the east. (2 songs.)

[90] A curious expression of unsubstantiality. This whole Witch

of Endor episode seems strange in Mohave culture.

_J. Revenge on Father's Foes_

97. Ahta-hane said, "You cannot walk. You cannot come with me. I

wanted to see you, to see your face and your body. That is all. I am

going north." Their father said, "It is well. I have seen you both."

Soon he went back (down), he who had been Tšitšuvare. Then the two

brothers and the women went north. They went north until they came to

Selye'aya-kumītše.[91] They stood there. Then Ahta-hane saw dust in

the north, and his father's scalp tied on a pole, and the wind raising

the dust.[92] (1 song.)

[91] Near Fort Mohave, to the east of it.

[92] Presumably from people dancing about it.

98. Then word was brought to Pukehane and Nume-peta and Kwatša-kwatša

and Tinya-kwaθpi, who were living at Avikwame with many people. Then

Pukehane and Nume-peta sent Kwatša-kwatša to the two boys to say that

they wanted to meet them: he came southward and met them at

Qara'êrve.[93] They said, "Tell them that we shall be there. We will

see them: we are going there." (2 songs.)

[93] A mile or so northeast of Fort Mohave.

99. Kwatša-kwatša said, "All have heard that you are coming. All know

it: the news was brought to them. When you arrive they want to try

something with you. There is a large rock with roots far down in the

ground. Takse[94] has dug under the rock and broken the roots. He is

to roll it, pick it up in his hand, and put it back where it belongs.

There is another: Halye'anekītše:[95] he will obey you. Your father's

scalp is on the pole: he will climb up to get it. If he can bring it

down, we shall lose, but if he cannot bring it we shall win." The two

boys said, "The people who live in the north do not think as we do.

They ridicule me because they have killed my father. We shall arrive

about noon." Then Kwatša-kwatša went back. (2 songs.)

[94] A ground-squirrel or large rat.

[95] The blue-tailed lizard. Cf. note 40.

100. That day they went up the river and came near the others.

Halye'anekītše went to meet them. He said, "I will climb up to get the

scalp. If you win you will get everything, their clothes, the men and

women, the boys and the girls. But if I climb and cannot bring down

the scalp, you will lose your bodies and everything you have. Then

again, if Takse can dig under the large rock and cut its roots and

carry it and throw it, you will lose, but if he cannot move the rock,

you will win. You will win the houses, the dishes, and all the

property of those people." Now Hatpa-'aqwaoθtše wanted to see the two

boys. He said, "I want to see my two nephews." He met them, embraced

them, and felt them over.[96] (1 song.)

[96] Tactifying his emotion, as it were. He did not cry, the

narrator said.

101. Now the two boys came there.[97] Then they argued what they

should do first. The two boys wanted Halye'anekītše to make his trial

first. The people who lived there wanted Takse to be first. Then Takse

tried first. He took the rock, but could not throw it and it fell down

just where he stood. So the people who lived there lost. Now

Halye'anekītše was ready to climb: they told him to try. He climbed

and brought down the scalp. So the two boys won again. The people

there had lost everything. But they did not give up everything that

they had lost; they gave up only part. They gave up their clothes and

dishes and property but they did not give up their bodies. (1 song.)

[97] Where the others lived "at Avikwame" or Avi-mota (note 98).

Subsequently, the narrator said that when he threw his fire, the

hero stood at Tšohatave and δokupīta-tuδūmpe, two spots at the

east end of Avi-mota. Presumably this is where the contest took

place. It is not clear why the localization of this important

scene was not given spontaneously.

102. Then they said they wanted to bet again. They wanted to bet their

bodies. They too had lightning. Ahta-hane's lightning (horrave) was

not like theirs. They said to him, "Show yours." He said, "No, show

yours." Then they showed it. It was only light and did no harm. Then

he showed his: it was brighter than theirs, and quick, and struck the

ground, and entered it. So he won everything that they had bet. Then

he started to go away. But before that he had sent the five women

back, his four wives and his mother; and Hatpa-'aqwaoθtše and

Axta-hane (_sic_, for Ahta-kwasume); seven people in all. Now, when he

went, he took one of his four pieces of cane and threw it west over

Avi-mota.[98] It burned up everything and killed every one: Pukehane,

Nume-peta, Kwatša-kwatša, Tinya-kwaθpi, and their people. Then he ran

to the south. The fire had nearly overtaken his seven people. Only a

plant like bulrushes, nyaveδi-ny-ipa, ghost arrow, did not burn. It

stopped the fire at I ō-kuva'ire and saved those seven people. (2

songs.)

[98] It was on Avi-mota, not on Avikwame, that these people

lived, the narrator said later, in explanation. Cf. note 97.

_K. Transformation_

103. Ahta-hane had made this plant grow. Now his brother stood by him,

and Hatpa-'aqwaoθtše, and the five women in a row. They wanted to know

what he would do. He took off the covering of his cane, showed it to

them, put the pieces of cane together between his hands, and it

thundered. He wanted to turn them into something. Then the five women

flew up to the sky. They stayed there and were the Pleiades, hatša.

Then he wanted to do something for his brother. "I think it will be

best if I take him to a little lake full of mud and throw him in to be

a bird and he will shake his head, and we shall call him

teristeris."[99] Then he did that, and now Ahta-kwasume was that sort

of a bird. Then he wanted to do something with the old man,

Hatpa-'aqwaoθtše. He thought, "I will throw him into the same place. I

want him to be called soθêrqe."[100] Then he did that with the old

man. (10 songs.)

[99] With a banded neck, in flocks. Elsewhere recorded as

mīn-turīs-turīs. Perhaps a snipe.

[100] Probably the snowy owl; with "gray" feathers.

104. Now he alone was left. No one was there. He thought, "What am I

going to be? I think I will fly up and go through the air. I will be a

meteor, kwayū,[101] and fly into the sea." Then he changed his mind. He

thought, "No, I will not go into the sea. When I fly up I will go

south." Then he went south. Just below Mukiampeve is Kway-ū-namau,[102]

where Kwayū's father's mother had turned to rock. He went by there

southward a little, jumped into the water, and sank to the bottom, to

stay there. But, "I do not think it is good here," he said, came out,

and went to the east side of the river. There he sat down. He is

sticking up there now. He has been there forever, turned to rock. We

call it Mêkoaṭa. (2 songs.)

[101] A checked start toward another doublet name.

[102] The name means meteor's paternal grandmother.

SONG SCHEME AND NARRATIVE OUTLINE

As usual for Mohave myths, a list of song topics also provides a sort

of skeleton or framework of the story, and, although somewhat

imperfectly, it serves conveniently as an outline of the plot.

The list that follows is in a sense the informant's. Wherever he said:

"one song," or "four songs here," a paragraph has been terminated. The

sections thus indicated by him normally deal with a single episode or

thought, and are presented as consecutively numbered paragraphs. The

only departure I have made from this procedure has been to break a

paragraph into "a" and "b" when its first part consists of the

conclusion of an incident without songs, and its second part deals

with a new incident to which there are songs; as, 1a, 1b, 7a, 7b, etc.

This minor formal device in the interest of clarity in the outline of

the tale makes it that there are 111 actual paragraphs of narrative as

against 104 numbered ones.

The informant listed 182 songs as due to be sung at the 104 stations

or stages of incident: an average of less than two per station. This

is low for Mohave song-narratives. There was only a single song for 54

stations, or more than half of them. He sang two songs at 38 stations,

three at five, four and five at three each, and ten songs only once,

at the next to final incident of the story.

The narrative breaks naturally into sections or chapters of unequal

length. To these I have given titles, and have entered these captions,

for convenience of orientation, both in the text of the narrative and

in the song scheme outline. The latter follows.

_The Cane Song Scheme_

_Paragraph_ _Songs_

A. Placement in the Cosmogony

1a .. Kamaiavêta killed

B. Two Brothers Go Off

1b 4 At Avikwame: parts of the house

2 3 To North: Ground-squirrel

3 2 A little north. Rat

4 3 Rat eaten; house built

5 1 Uncle "Yellow-Pima" joins the brothers

6 1 Betting arrows

7a .. Corn and wheat from east

C. They Get Wives

7b 1 Girl in west has hwetše-hwetše bird

8 1 Quarrel over the girl

9 1 Tšitšuvare gets her

10 1 Bring her to uncle

11a .. He sends them to Sun in east

11b 2 Cock sings in cage

12a .. Tšitšuvare gets Sun's daughter

12b 2 About her house

13 2 About the stars

14 1 She grinds corn

15 2 Uncle sends them north for a third wife;

yellowhammer in cage

16 1 Pukehane gets her

17a .. Uncle sends them south

17b 1 Hotokoro in cage

18a .. Bring fourth wife

D. Quarrel over Cane: Elder Kills Younger

18b 1 Go for cane

19 1 Find cane

20 1 Quarrel for butt

21 2 Elder makes knife to cut cane

22 2 They fight over it

23 1 Return home

24 1 Elder makes younger ill

25 1 Elder spoils younger's birds

26 1 Nume-peta arrives for the death

27 1 Younger tells of his bones

28 1 Killed by elder and Nume-peta

E. Birth of the Hero Ahta-hane

29 1 Younger brother's son sings inside his mother

30 1 The unborn child makes rain

31 1 He emerges

32 1 Spared because disguised as girl

33 1 Suckled as if a girl

F. Shinny Game with Father's Foes

34 2 Shinny played with his father's kneecap

35 2 Boy grieves, sends his mother away

36 1 Steals the shinny ball

37 2 Knocks it west as meteor into mountains

G. Journey South to Sea

38 1 Crosses river on four sand piles

39 2 Sleeping at Qara'êrve, wakened by birds

40 1 South to Selye'aya-kumītše

41 2 Frightened by rattlesnake at Hanyo-kumasθeve

42 5 Wears snake as belt, sees wildcats at

Kamahnūlye

43 1 Met by horsefly at Aha-kuminye

44 1 Hummingbird nest at Hotūrveve

45 1 On southward to Sampulya-kwuvare

46 1 Wants cooling clouds as he goes east up

Sacramento Wash

47 1 Cloudy as he goes south to Gourd Mountain

48 1 Proceeding south

49 5 To Screw-mesquite spring at Akokehumī mountain

50 2 To petrified dancers at Ahwaṭa-kwimātše

51 2 Finds wild grapes at Kuhultoṭve

52 1 Eastward up Bill Williams Fork, meets badger

53 1 South again to Avi-su'ukwilye, watches jack

rabbit

54 3 South along sand ridge to Avi-melyehwêke

55 2 After sleeping, north to Avi-hupo

56 1 Northerly to river at Selye'aya-'ita

57 3 Crosses on sand piles to Kuvukwīlye

58 1 South to Aha-kumiθe spring

59 1 On south to Earth-Mouth gap

60 1 On to Tôske

61 1 On to Goosefoot mesa

62 2 Near Yuma land, sees cane in bottoms

63 1 Breaks off cane, travels on down past Cocopa

Mountains

64 3 To Gulf of California, sees surf and crane

65 2 Plays with sea shells

66 2 East along shore, sees ducks

67 2 Sees Hatōmpa'auve monster in lagoon

68 1 Turns inland northeast to catsclaw acacias

H. Marriage, and Contests with Meteor and Sun

69 5 Tracks of four women in desert

70 2 Reaches their empty house, hides as piece

of cane

71 2 Returning, the sisters are warned of him by

the eldest

72 2 Youngest sister finds him, rotten

73 2 Eldest revives him

74 1 Feeds him tobacco

75 4 Women go gathering, warn him of their

husband Meteor

76 2 Meteor comes, fails to kill him, gives

tobacco

77 2 Meteor leaves, Sun comes, wants to gamble

78 1 Sun loses belongings, then body, escapes to

sky

79 2 Boy inspects his winnings

80 2 His mirror shows him he is ugly

81 4 Beautiful from diving, he is found and wanted

by the four women

82a .. Selects the eldest

I. Return to Mother, Half-Brother, and

Father's Ghost

82b 2 Going homeward, he wishes rain to get rid of

wives

83 1 Repents, brings out sun

84 1 Laughs at mud in wives' sandals

85 1 The wives wear frog-shaped shell-gorgets

86 2 Mother's masohwat bird flies to meet him

87 2 Reunion with his mother

88 1 He tells her what happened

89 1 She calls the wives daughters-in-law

90 2 Boy questions his mother's father (another

Sun)

91 2 Goes east to get lightning cane

92 1 Travels east to war on father's relatives

93 1 Meets his half-brother

94 2 They identify their relationship

95 1 Mourn together

96 2 Call up their dead father

J. Revenge on Father's Foes

97 1 Traveling north again to father's killers

98 2 Foe sends messenger to meet at Qara'êrve

99 2 Conditions of contest arranged

100 1 Old man Yellow-Pima embraces both boys

101 1 Hero boy wins the contest

102 2 Destroys foes with his cane lightning

K. Transformation

103 10 Transforms wives and mother into Pleiades,

brother and old man into birds

104 2 Flies south as meteor, turns into rock Mêkoaṭa

by river

MOVEMENT OF THE NARRATIVE

Bluebird was a competent narrator in making his story move while

retaining concrete and vivid detail. There is not the actionlessness

of Raven, the bald outline manner of Vinimulye-pātše, the constant

self-communing of Deer, or the deliberate repetitive prolixity of

Mastamho. The tale always progresses. Either there are incidents

crowding into a situation of emotional interest; or, when this flags,

as in a long journey, the stages of travel are passed through with

conciseness. The direct story appeal of Cane seems to me greater than

that of the other Mohave narratives here presented.

APPARENT INCONSISTENCIES

There are a number of internal inconsistencies or contradictions. Some

of these are almost certainly due to misunderstandings by either the

interpreter or myself; for others I strongly suspect the narrator to

be responsible; but in any given case it is almost impossible to be

sure. After all, the story is so long that it took three days to tell

and English it, and these three days were interrupted by a fourth.

There was thus much provocation for the narrator to change his plot in

spots through forgetting what he had said before.

One of these doubts concerns whether Tšese'ilye is the name of

Tšitšuvare's first wife from the west or of her father (cf. n. 14);

also that Tšitšuvare also married Sun's daughter in the east; that

this woman went home after Tšitšuvare died, whereas Tšese'ilye gave

birth to the hero Ahta-hane (29-31), who in 35 sends her off to the

west; but in 82b following, he travels _eastward_ (after having gone

south and east!) to meet his mother, whose father is Sun (90): which

would make her the second wife. See footnotes 14, 35, 36, 52, 54, 58,

63, 68, 75, 78, 79, 83, 87.

There are two Suns (11a, 90; 77, 78). Analogous is the fact that the

hero strikes his shinny ball away as a meteor (37), overcomes Kwayū,

the cannibal Meteor (75, 76), and flies off as a meteor himself on his

way to his final transformation, 104.

Relationship terms are not always used consistently. See especially

75-77, footnotes 58, 60, 62-64. However, we do not know how strict and

consistent Mohave usage in daily life is. In 11b, Sun's daughter,

Tšitšuvare's second wife, has a tame cock, kwaluyauve, as her pet, but

in 86 it is a masohwaṭ bird; or, if in 86 the woman is Tšese'ilye,

Tšitšuvare's first wife, the change is from a hwetše-hwetše bird in 7b

to a masohwat.

In 2 and 3, the two brothers are said to have gone north only a short

distance from their origin at Avikwame. They must however have

proceeded farther, and then have turned to the south, as may be

inferred from what follows. Thus, in 37, the younger brother's son

goes north from where his father was killed and he was born, to

Avi-kwutapārva, crosses the Colorado river there, and then goes

downstream a little on the east side to Iδô-kuva'ire and Qara'êrve,

all three places being in northern Mohave valley near Fort

Mohave.--The evil older brother is at Avikwame, according to 5, 24,

28, 98, when his nephew hero returns, but is killed by him at Avi-mota

in 102; cf. footnotes 97, 98.--The hero sends his mother away to the

west in 35, though his father got her in the east; he starts on a long

journey south in 38, then east along the seacoast, and inland

northeast in 68 to find his wives and his adversaries. When he returns

to his mother in 82b, he ought accordingly to be going north or

northwestward, but is said to be traveling east. Is it a case of a

slip of the narrator's mind, of the interpreter's tongue, or of my

pencil? Or possibly did the hero follow an indirect course which

escaped mention? An emendation might simplify the situation--such as

assuming an intended "east" for recorded "west" when the mother was

sent away in 35; but there would be no control of the guesses. And it

may well be that as much contradiction as this is expectable in so

long a narrative acquired supposedly by dreaming, retained without

mnemonic device, and probably told only a very few times in a life.

In any event, none of these discrepancies of factual statement, if

they are discrepancies, seriously affect the plot interest, the

feeling tone, or the hearer's ability to participate in the story.

HANDLING OF THE PLOT

This section will examine the organization and treatment of the plot

of the Cane narrative as a construct and specimen of literary

endeavor. The discussion will be more easily followed by reference to

an ultra-summary of the principal parts or sections of the story, as

follows:

_Paragraph_ _Number of_

_Designation_ _Paragraphs_ _Songs_

A. Placement in Cosmogony 1a 1 ..

B. Two Brothers Go Off 1b-7a 7 14

C. They Get Wives 7b-18a 15 16

D. Quarreling over Cane,

Older Kills Younger 18b-28 11 12

E. Birth of the Hero Ahta-hane 29-33 5 5

F. Shinny Game with Father's

Foes 34-37 4 7

G. Journey South to Sea 38-68 31 54

H. Marriage, and Contests with

Meteor and Sun 69-82a 14 31

I. Return to Mother,

Half-Brother, and

Father's Ghost 82b-96 15 22

J. Revenge on Father's Foes 97-102 6 9

K. Transformation 103-104 2 12

--- ---

111 182

The main defect in the Cane plot, from our point of view, is the long

preliminary, A to D. A full quarter of the tale--to be exact,

three-tenths of its length, 28 out of 104 song groups or stages, and

42 of 182 songs--precedes the hero's birth. This makes a narrative

long enough for interest to get well established in the hero's father,

and it has then to be rebuilt around the son. However, the story can

also be viewed as a sort of epic covering two lifetimes, with the

second generation recuperating the losses of the first and revenging

it. In a definitely sophisticated art, the reverses of the first life

would presumably be only sketched, or suggested by implication, and

the action could then be developed around the chief hero's career or

its climax. The Cane situation is somewhat like that in the

Nibelungenlied, where the story of Siegfried's exploits about balances

that of the revenge for his death: as an introduction, the first half

is too long and autonomous; as an epilogue to a life, the second half

is much too long and heavily charged. The imbalance in the mediaeval

German epic is obvious as a defect and has led to discussion of

whether in its present form it is not a secondary joining of two poems

originally distinct. Similarly, the history of the accretion of the

Cane story might conceivably have been partly traceable from

comparison of a series of versions. But these have not been recorded

and are presumably no longer remembered, at least hardly in

unmutilated form.

The very brief first section, A, with the reference to Kamaiavêta, is

the normal Mohave way of giving the story its placement in the scheme

of things by tying it into the cosmogony. Kamaiavêta or

Sky-rattlesnake was killed for being thought to have caused the death

by witchcraft of Matavilya, the child of Heaven and Earth and first

great god. This dates the Cane story as happening right after the

beginnings, ties it to the sacred spots Ha'avulypo and Avikwame, and

endows it with weight and authenticity. That this is pure preliminary

is shown by the fact that there are no songs.

In our next section B, the brothers drift off, discover things, build

a house, find a living, and are joined by their uncle. In short, they

grope and become partially established. This is good Mohave story

pattern. The pairing, in place of a single hero, occurs again in

Raven, in Coyote, in Deer; and in other myths. But so far there is

nothing very eventful in the plot: it is only slowly getting started.

Part C has the brothers get themselves wives, at their uncle's

instigation. The plot is beginning to have "human interest." And yet

it remains quite "decorative": there are four girls in four

directions, each living alone with a pet bird in a cage, the approach

is through the bird, then the brothers struggle for the girl, and

bring her home. Still, the repetition is not formally exact, as it

would be in a ritual, or as in the myths of some other tribes; no two

of the four episodes are told quite alike, and each contains certain

unique incidents. The brothers' quarreling for the girls foreshadows

what is to come; just as it is faintly pre-anticipated by their

childish arrow betting in paragraph 6 of the preceding part. The

younger is the stronger and wins the two first girls; and though the

elder gets the next two on sufferance, a grievance is thereby set up.

This is not dwelled on, but helps to motivate what follows.