for their arrow shafts. When their mother saw the wood she cried, “You
naughty boys! where have you been?” They replied, “We have killed the
cougar.” The mother refused to believe them, but Ma´asewe declared they
spoke the truth. She then embraced her children with pride and joy.
Two days the boys were busy making shafts, to which they attached their
arrows. Then Ma´asewe desired plumes for the shafts. “Mother,” said he,
“do you know where we can find eagle plumes?” “Yes, I know where they
are to be found. Away on the brink of a canyon in the west there are
many plumes, but there is a very bad man there.” Ma´asewe said, “Well,
I do not care to go there. We will look elsewhere for plumes.” But he
had scarcely left the house when he urged U´yuuyewĕ to accompany him
to the brink of the canyon. “No,” said U´yuuyewĕ, “I do not care to
go there. Besides the bad man mother spoke of, there are many other
bears;” but Ma´asewe finally persuaded U´yuuyewĕ to accompany him.
After a time Ma´asewe cried: “See, there is the house; younger brother,
you remain a little way back of me, and when the bear passes by you aim
your arrow at him.” Ma´asewe approached the house, and when the bear
discovered the boy he started after him. Just as the bear was passing
U´yuuyewĕ he shot him through the heart. Ma´asewe drew his knife down
the breast of the bear, and took out his heart, cutting it into pieces,
preserving the bits. “Now,” said Ma´asewe, “let us hasten and secure
the plumes.”
They found many beautiful feathers. Then, returning to the bear, they
flayed him, preserving the lower skin of the legs with the claws,
separate from the remainder of the skin. They filled the body with
grass and tied a rope around the neck and body, and Ma´asewe led the
way, holding one end of the rope, he drawing the bear and U´yuuyewĕ
holding the other end of the rope to steady the animal. As they
approached their home they cried, “Mother, mother, see!” Their mother,
hearing the cry, called, “What is it my children?” as she advanced to
meet them, but when she discovered the bear she returned quickly to
the house, exclaiming: “Let the bear go; do not bring him here; why do
you bring the bad bear here?” The boys, following their mother, said,
“Mother, the bear is dead.”
The boys remained at home two days completing their arrows. Then
Ma´asewe said to his mother, “Mother, we wish to hunt for deer. Our
arrows are good and we must have meat.” “That is good, my children,
but listen. Away to the south lives an eagle in a high rock. She has
two children. The father also lives there, and these parents are very
large, and they eat all the little ones they find.” Ma´asewe replied,
“We will not go there.” But he was no sooner out of his mother’s sight
than he declared they must go to the home of the eagle. After they had
proceeded a little way they saw a deer, and Ma´asewe drew his bow and
shot him through the heart. They cut the deer down the breast, drew
the intestines, and, after cleansing them from blood, the boys wrapped
them around their necks, arms, and breast, over their right shoulders,
and around their waists. “Now,” said Ma´asewe, “we can approach the
house of the eagle.” When the boys drew near the eagles flew to the
earth. One eagle, catching Ma´asewe and flying far above the house,
dropped him on a sharp stone ledge in front of his house. The stone
was sharp, like the blade of a knife, and it broke the intestines
of the deer, which protected him from the rock, and the blood fell
like rain. Ma´asewe lay still and the eagle thought he was dead. The
mate then descended and caught Û´yuuyewĕ and, flying above her house,
dropped him also upon the rock. He, too, lay perfectly still, and the
eagles thought he was dead. “Now,” said the eagles, “our children will
be happy and contented, for they have abundance of meat.” In a little
while these birds started off on a long journey.
The young ones, having been informed by their parents that they were
well provided with food, which would be found in front of their door
when hungry, went out for the meat. Ma´asewe and Û´yuuyewĕ astonished
them by speaking to them. They asked, “When will your mother return?”
The children replied, “Our mother will return in the forenoon.” “When
your mother returns will she come to this house?” “No,” replied the
young eagles, “she will go to the one above and come here later.” “When
will your father arrive?” “He will come a little later.” “Will he
come here?” they asked. “No; he will go to the house above.” Ma´asewe
then destroyed the young eagles. After killing them he dropped them
to the earth below. Upon the return of the mother she stood upon the
rock above, and Ma´asewe aimed his arrow at her and shot her through
the heart, and she fell to the earth dead; and later, when the father
returned, he met with the same fate.
Now, the boys had destroyed the bad eagles of the world. Then Ma´asewe
said, “Younger brother, how will we get down from here? The road to the
earth is very long,” and, looking up, he said, “The road to the rock
above is also very long.” Presently Ma´asewe saw a little Ké-ow-uch, or
ground squirrel (_Tamias striatus_), and he called to him, saying, “My
little brother, we can not get down from here. If you will help us we
will pay you; we will give you beautiful eagle plumes.”
The squirrel planted a piñon nut directly below the boys, and in a
short time—almost immediately—for the squirrel knew much of medicine,
a tall tree was the result. “Now,” said the squirrel, “you have a good
road. This is all right; see?” And the little animal ran up the tree
and then down again, when the boys followed him.
Upon their return home their mother inquired, “Where have you been?”
and when they told her they had visited the house of the eagle she
said, “You have been very foolish.” At first she disbelieved their
statement that they had destroyed the eagles; but they finally
convinced her and she embraced her boys with pride. The grandmother was
also highly pleased.
The boys remained at home only two days, Ma´asewe being impatient to be
gone, and he said to his brother, “Let us go travel again.” The home of
the boys was near the center of the earth, Ko´chinako remaining here
for a time after their birth. When the mother found they were going to
travel and hunt again, she begged of them not to go far, for there were
still bad people about, and Ma´asewe promised that they would keep near
their home. They had gone but a short distance when they saw a woman
(a sko´yo) approaching, carrying a large pack which was secured to her
back by strings passing around her arms near the shoulder. Ma´asewe
whispered to his brother: “See! there comes a sko´yo.” The boys stood
side by side, when she approached and said, “What are you children
doing here?” Ma´asewe replied, “We are just looking about; nothing
more.” The sko´yo passing her hands over the boys said, “What pretty
boys! What pretty children! Come with me to my house.” “All right,
we will go,” Ma´asewe being the spokesman. “Get into the pack on my
back and I will carry you.” When the boys were tucked away the sko´yo
started for her home.
After a time she came to a broad, level, grassy country and Ma´asewe
called: “Woman! do not go far in this country where there are no
trees, for the sun is hot and when there is no shade I get very sick
in my head. See, woman,” he continued, “there in the mountains are
trees and the best road is there.” The sko´yo called out, “All right,”
and started toward the mountains. She came to a point where she must
stoop to pass under drooping limbs upon which rested branches, which
had fallen from other trees. Ma´asewe whispered to Ûyuuyewĕ, “When
she stoops to pass under we will catch hold of the tree and hang
there until she is gone.” The boys caught on to the fallen timber
which rested across the branches of the tree, and the sko´yo traveled
on unconscious of their escape. When she had gone some distance she
wondered that she heard not a sound and she called, “Children!” and no
answer; and again she called, “Children,” and receiving no answer she
cried, “Do not go to sleep,” and she continued to call, “Do not go to
sleep.” Hearing not a word from the boys she shook the pack in order to
awaken them, as she thought they were sleeping soundly. This bringing
no reply she placed the pack upon the ground and to her surprise the
boys were not there. “The bad boys! the bad boys!” she cried, as she
retraced her steps to look for them. “Where can they be? where can they
be?”
When she discovered them hanging from a tree she called, “You bad boys!
why are you there?” Ma´asewe said, “No! woman; we are not bad. We only
wished to stop here and see this timber; it is very beautiful.” She
compelled them to get into the pack and again started off, saying to
the children, “You must not go to sleep.” The journey was long ere
the house of the sko´yo was reached. She said, “I am glad to be home
again,” and she placed the pack on the floor, telling the boys to get
out. “My children, I am very tired and hungry. Run out and get me some
wood for fire.” Ma´asewe whispered to his younger brother, “Let us go
for the wood.”
In a little while the boys returned with loads of wood on their backs.
Pointing to a small conical house near by, she said, “Children, carry
the wood there,” and the sko´yo built a fire in the house and called
the boys to look at it saying, “Children, come here and see the fire;
it is good and warm.” Ma´asewe whispered to his younger brother, “What
does the woman want?” Upon their approach the sko´yo said, “See! I
have made a great fire and it is good and warm; look in;” and as the
children passed in front of her she pushed them into the house and
closed the door. She wished to cook the boys for her supper, and she
smacked her lips with satisfaction in anticipation of the feast in
store for her. But she was to be disappointed, as the boys threw shells
from their mouths which instantly protected them from the heat.
After closing the door on the boys the woman went into her house and
bathed all over in a very large bowl of yucca suds, washing her head
first, and taking a seat she said to herself, “All is well. I am most
contented and happy.” The boys were also contented. The woman, thinking
it was about time her supper was cooked, removed the stone which she
had placed in the doorway and secured with plaster. The boys had
secreted themselves in one side of the house, where they kept quiet.
What she supposed to be their flesh was i´isa (excrement) which the
boys had deposited there. The woman removed this with great care and
began eating it. (This woman had no husband and lived alone.) She said
to herself, “This is delicious food and cooked so well,” and again and
again she remarked to herself the delicious flavor of the flesh of the
boys. Finally Ma´asewe cried, “You are not eating our flesh but our
i´isa,” and she looked around but could see no one. Then U´yuuyewĕ
called, “You are eating our i´isa,” and again she listened and looked
about, but could see no one. The boys continued to call to her, but it
was sometime before she discovered them sitting in the far end of the
room. “What bad boys you are,” she cried, “I thought I was eating your
flesh.” The woman hastened out of the house and tickling her throat
with her finger vomited up the offal.
She again sent the boys for wood, telling them to bring much, and they
returned with large loads on their backs, and she sent them a second
time and they returned with another quantity. Then she again built a
fire in the small house and left it, and the two boys exclaimed, “What
a great fire!” and Ma´asewe called to the woman, “Come here and see
this fire; see what a hothouse; I guess this time my brother and I will
die;” and the woman stooped to look at the fire, and Ma´asewe said to
her, “Look away in there. See, we will surely die this time. Look!
there is the hottest point!” he standing behind the woman and pointing
over her shoulder, the woman bending her head still lower to see the
better, said, “Yes; the fire is best off there.” “Yes,” said Ma´asewe,
“it is very hot there;” and the Sko´yo was filled with interest, and
looked intently into the house. The boys, finally, inducing her to
stoop very low so that her face was near the doorway, pushed her into
the hot bed of coals, and she was burned to death.
The boys rejoiced, and Ma´asewe said, “Now that the woman is dead, let
us go to her house.” They found the house very large, with many rooms
and doors. In the middle of the floor there was a small circular door
which Ma´asewe raised, and looking in, discovered that below it was
very dark. Pointing downward, he said, “Though I can not see, I guess
this is the most beautiful room. I think I will go below; perhaps
we will find many good things.” As soon as he entered the door he
disappeared from sight and vanished from hearing. U´yuuyewĕ, receiving
no reply to his calls, said to himself, “Ma´asewe has found many
beautiful things below, and he will not answer me; I will go and see
for myself.” After entering the door, he knew nothing until he found
himself by the side of his elder brother, and, passing through the
doorway, the boys tumbled over and over into a lower world.
When Ma´asewe reached this new world he was unconscious from the fall,
but after a time he revived sufficiently to sit up, when he beheld
U´yuuyewĕ tumbling down, and he fell by the side of Ma´asewe, who was
almost dead, and Ma´asewe said, “Younger brother, why did you follow
me?” After a while U´yuuyewĕ was able to sit up and Ma´asewe remarked:
“Younger brother, I think we are in another world. I do not know where
we are, and I do not know what hour it is. I guess it is about the
middle of the day. What do you think?” U´yuuyewĕ replied, “You know
best, elder brother; whatever you think is right,” and Ma´asewe said,
“All right. Let us go now over the road to the house where the sun
enters in the evening, for I think this is the world where our father,
the sun, returns at night.”
A little after the middle of the day Ma´asewe was walking ahead of
U´yuuyewĕ, who was following close behind, and he said to his younger
brother as he listened to some noise, “I believe we are coming to
a village.” When they drew a little nearer they heard a drum, and
supposed a feast was going on in the plaza, and in a little while they
came in sight of the village and saw that there was a great feast
there. All the people were gathered in the plaza. The chi´ta was a
little way from the village and there was no one in it, as the boys
discovered when they approached it, and they ascended the ladder.
Ma´asewe said, “This is the chi´ta. Let us enter.” The mode of entering
shows this chi´ta to have been built above ground. Upon invading the
chi´ta they found it very large and very pretty, and there were many
fine bows and arrows hanging on the walls. They took the bows and
examining them said to one another, “What fine bows and arrows! They
are all fine. Look,” and they were eager to possess them. Ma´asewe
proposed that they should each take a bow and arrows and hurry away,
saying: “All the people are in the plaza looking at the dance, and
no one will see us;” and they hastened from the chi´ta with their
treasures. Ma´asewe said, “Younger brother, let us return over the road
whence we came.”
But a short time elapsed when a man had occasion to visit the chi´ta,
and he at once discovered footprints, and entering, found that bows and
arrows had been stolen; hurrying to the plaza he informed the people
of the theft, saying, “Two men have entered the chi´ta. I saw their
footprints,” and the people cried out, “Let us follow them,” and ran
over the road which the boys had taken. The boys had nearly reached the
point where they had lighted when they entered this lower world when
the people were close upon them.
The little fellows had to run hard, but they held fast to their bows
and arrows, and just as they stepped upon the spot where they had
fallen when they descended, their pursuers being close upon them, a
whirlwind carried them up and through the door and back into the house
of the sko´yo. Ma´asewe said, “Younger brother, let us hurry to our
mother. She must be sad. What do you think she imagines has become
of us?” U´yuuyewĕ replied, “I guess she thinks we have been killed.”
The boys started for their home. When they were still far from their
house Ma´asewe asked, “Younger brother, where do you think these bows
and arrows were made?” Holding them up before his eyes as he spoke, he
said, “I think they are very fine.” U´yuuyewĕ remarked, “Yes, they are
fine.”
Ma´asewe then shot one of the arrows a great distance and it made much
noise, and it was very beautiful and red. U´yuuyewĕ also shot one of
his. “Younger brother,” said Ma´asewe, “these are fine arrows, but they
have gone a great way.” When they were near their mother’s house, they
again used their bows and were so delighted with the light made by the
arrows that each shot another and another. The mother and grandmother,
hearing the noise, ran out of their house, and became much alarmed when
they looked to Ti´nia and saw the flashes of light and then they both
fell as dead. Previous to this time the lightning arrows were not known
on this earth, as the lightning people had not, to the present time,
let any of their arrows fall to the earth. When the mother was restored
she was very angry, and inquired of the boys where they had found such
arrows, and why they had brought them home. “Oh, mother,” cried the
boys, “they are so beautiful, and we like them very much.”
The boys remained at home three days, and on the fourth day they saw
many he’[ä]sh (clouds, like the plains) coming and bringing the arrows
the boys had shot toward Ti´nia, and when the cloud people were over
the house of the boys they began watering the earth; it rained very
hard, and presently the arrows began falling. Ma´asewe cried with
delight, “See, younger brother, the lightning people have brought our
arrows back to us, let us go and gather them.” The cloud people worked
two days sending rain and then returned to their home.
Ma´asewe said to his mother, “We will go now and pass about the
country.” She begged of them not to go any great distance. “In the
west,” said she, “there is a very bad antelope. He will eat you.”
Ma´asewe promised the mother that they would not go far, but when
at a short distance from home he said to his younger brother, “Why
does not mother wish us to go there?” pointing to the west. “Let us
go.” U´yuuyewĕ replied, “No, mother does not wish it.” He was finally
persuaded by Ma´asewe, and when near the house of the antelope the boys
discovered him. There was neither grass nor vegetation, but only a
sandy plain without trees or stones. “I guess he is one of the people
who, mother said, would eat us.” U´yuuyewĕ replied, “I guess so.” Then
Ma´asewe said, “Let us go a little nearer, younger brother.” “You know
what is best,” replied U´yuuyewĕ, “I will do whatever you say, but I
think that if you go nearer he will run off.” They counciled for a
time and while they were talking the little Chi´na (mole) came up out
of his house and said, “Boys, come down into my house.” “No,” said
they, “we wish to kill the antelope,” and Ma´asewe added, “I think you
know all about him.” “Yes,” said the mole, “I have been near him and
passed around him.” Then Ma´asewe requested him to go into his house
and prepare a road for them that the antelope might not discover their
approach. And the mole made an underground road to the point where the
antelope stood (the antelope facing west) and bored a wee hole in the
earth over this tunnel, and peeping through he looked directly upon the
heart of the antelope; he could see its pulsations. “Ah, that is good,
I think,” he exclaimed, and returning, he hastened to inform the boys.
“Now, all is well,” said the mole; “you can enter my house and approach
the antelope.” When they reached the tiny opening in the earth Ma´asewe
looked up and said, “See, younger brother, there is the heart of the
antelope directly above us; I will shoot first;” and pointing his arrow
to the heart of the antelope and drawing his bow strongly he pierced
the heart, the shaft being buried almost to its end in the body. “We
have killed the antelope,” cried Ma´asewe, “now let us return quickly
over the underground road.” While the boys were still in this tunnel,
the antelope, who was not killed immediately by the shot, was mad with
rage and he ran first to the west to look for his enemy, but he could
see no one; then he ran to the south and found no one; then he turned
to the east with the same result, and then to the north and saw no one,
and he returned to the spot where he had been shot, and looking to the
earth discovered the diminutive opening. “Ah,” said he, “I think there
is some one below who tried to kill me.” By this time the boys were
quite a distance from the hole through which the arrow had passed. The
antelope thrust his left horn into the opening and tore up the earth as
he ran along above the tunnel. It was like inserting a knife under a
piece of hide; but he had advanced only a short distance when he fell
dead. The youths then came up from the house of the mole and cried out,
“See! the antelope is dead.”
Ma´asewe said, “Younger brother! let us go and get the flesh of the
antelope.” U´yuuyewĕ remarked, “perhaps he is not yet dead.” The mole
said, “you boys wait here; I will go and see if he still lives,” and
after examining and passing around him, he found that the body was
quite cold, and returning to the boys said, “Yes, boys, the antelope
is dead.” “Perhaps you do not speak the truth,” said Ma´asewe, but
the mole repeated “The antelope is dead.” Ma´asewe insisted, however,
that the mole should again examine him and the little animal made a
second visit. This time he dipped his hands into the heart’s blood
of the animal and rubbed it all over his face, head, body, arms, and
legs, for Ma´asewe had accused him of lying and he wished this time to
carry proof of the death of the antelope; and returning to the boys he
cried, “See, boys, I am covered with the blood, and I did not lie.”
Then Ma´asewe proposed that the three should go together; and when
they reached the antelope, Ma´asewe cut the breast with his stone
knife, passing the knife from the throat downwards. The boys then
flayed the antelope; Ma´asewe cut the heart and the flesh into bits,
throwing the pieces to the north, west, south, and east, declaring that
hereafter the antelope should not be an enemy to his people, saying,
“His flesh shall furnish food for my people.” Addressing the antelope
he commanded, “From this time forth you will eat only vegetation and
not flesh, for my people are to have your flesh for food.” He then said
to the mole, “The intestines of the antelope will be food for you,” and
the mole was much pleased, and promptly replied, “Thank you; thank you,
boys.”
The boys now returned to their home and their mother, who, on meeting
them, inquired, “Where have you been? You have been gone a long time;
I thought you were dead; where have you been?” Ma´asewe answered, “We
have been to the house of the antelope who eats people.” The mother
said, “You are very disobedient boys.” Ma´asewe continued, “We have
killed the antelope, and now all the giants who devoured our people are
destroyed, and all the people of the villages will be happy, and the
times will be good.”
After Ma´asewe and U´yuuyewĕ had destroyed the giant enemies of the
world the people were happy and were not afraid to travel about; even
the little children could go anywhere over the earth, and there was
continual feasting and rejoicing among all the villages.