men came from the neighboring pueblo of Ki'ndotliz, Blue House, to
compete with the great gambler. They bet their own persons, and after
a brief contest they lost themselves to Nohoílpi. Again a notice of
four days was given, and again twelve men of Ki'ndotliz--relatives of
the former twelve--came to play, and these also lost themselves. For
the third time an announcement, four days in advance of a game, was
given; this time some women were among the twelve contestants, and
they, too, lost themselves. All were put to work on the building of
Kintyél as soon as they forfeited their liberty. At the end of another
four days the children of these men and women came to try to win back
their parents, but they succeeded only in adding themselves to the
number of the gambler's slaves. On a fifth trial, after four days'
warning, twelve leading men of Blue House were lost, among them the
chief of the pueblo. On a sixth duly announced gambling day, twelve
more men, all important persons, staked their liberty and lost it. Up
to this time the Navahoes had kept count of the winnings of Nohoílpi,
but afterwards people from other pueblos came in such numbers to play
and lose that they could keep count no longer. In addition to their
own persons the later victims brought in beads, shells, turquoise,
and all sorts of valuables, and gambled them away. With the labor of
all these slaves it was not long until the great Kintyél was finished.
211. But all this time the Navahoes had been merely spectators, and had
taken no part in the games. One day the voice of the beneficent god,
Hastséyalti,[73] was heard faintly in the distance crying his usual
call, "Wu`hu`hu`hú." His voice was heard, as it is always heard,
four times, each time nearer and nearer, and immediately after the
last call, which was loud and clear, Hastséyalti appeared at the
door of a hut where dwelt a young couple who had no children, and
with them he communicated by means of signs. He told them that the
people of Ki'ndotliz had lost at game with Nohoílpi two great shells,
the greatest treasures of the pueblo; that the Sun had coveted these
shells and had begged them from the gambler; that the latter had
refused the request of the Sun and the Sun was angry. In consequence
of all this, as Hastséyalti related, in twelve days from his visit
certain divine personages would meet in the mountains, in a place
which he designated, to hold a great ceremony. He invited the young
man to be present at the ceremony and disappeared.
212. The Navaho kept count of the passing days; on the twelfth day
he repaired to the appointed place, and there he found a great
assemblage of the gods. There were Hastséyalti, Hastséhogan[74]
and his son, Ni'ltsi[75] (Wind), Tsalyél (Darkness), Tsápani (Bat),
Listsó (Great Snake), Tsilkáli (a little bird), Nasi'zi (Gopher),
and many others. Besides these there were present a number of pets or
domesticated animals belonging to the gambler, who were dissatisfied
with their lot, were anxious to be free, and would gladly obtain
their share of the spoils in case their master was ruined. Ni'ltsi
(Wind) had spoken to them, and they had come to enter into the plot
against Nohoílpi. All night the gods danced and sang and performed
their mystic rites for the purpose of giving to the son of Hastséhogan
powers, as a gambler, equal to those of Nohoílpi. When the morning came
they washed the young neophyte all over, dried him with meal, dressed
him in clothes exactly like those the gambler wore, and in every way
made him look as much like the gambler as possible, and then they
counselled as to what other means they should take to outwit Nohoílpi.
213. In the first place, they desired to find out how he felt about
having refused to his father, the Sun, the two great shells. "I will
do this," said Ni'ltsi (Wind), "for I can penetrate everywhere, and no
one can see me;" but the others said: "No; you can go everywhere, but
you cannot travel without making a noise and disturbing people. Let
Tsalyél (Darkness) go on this errand, for he also goes wherever
he wills, yet he makes no noise." So Tsalyél went to the gambler's
house, entered his room, went all through his body while he slept,
and searched well his mind, and he came back saying, "Nohoílpi is
sorry for what he has done." Ni'ltsi, however, did not believe this;
so, although his services had been before refused, he repaired to
the chamber where the gambler slept, and went all through his body
and searched well his mind; but he, too, came back saying Nohoílpi
was sorry that he had refused to give the great shells to his father.
214. One of the games they proposed to play is called taká-thad-sáta,
or the thirteen chips. (It is played with thirteen thin flat pieces of
wood, which are colored red on one side and left white or uncolored
on the other side. Success depends on the number of chips which,
being thrown upwards, fall with their white sides up.) "Leave the game
to me," said the Bat; "I have made thirteen chips that are white on
both sides. I will hide myself in the ceiling, and when our champion
throws up his chips I will grasp them and throw down my chips instead."
215. Another game they were to play is called nánzoz.[76] (It is played
with two long sticks or poles, of peculiar shape and construction,
one marked with red and the other with black, and a single hoop. A
long, many-tailed string, called the "turkey-claw," is secured
to the end of each pole.) "Leave nánzoz to me," said Great Snake;
"I will hide myself in the hoop and make it fall where I please."
216. Another game was one called tsi'nbetsil, or push-on-the-wood. (In
this the contestants push against a tree until it is torn from its
roots and falls.) "I will see that this game is won," said Nasi'zi,
the Gopher; "I will gnaw the roots of the tree, so that he who shoves
it may easily make it fall."
217. In the game tsol, or ball, the object was to hit the ball so that
it would fall beyond a certain line. "I will win this game for you,"
said the little bird Tsilkáli, "for I will hide within the ball,
and fly with it wherever I want to go. Do not hit the ball hard;
give it only a light tap, and depend on me to carry it."
218. The pets of the gambler begged the Wind to blow hard, so that they
might have an excuse to give their master for not keeping due watch
when he was in danger, and in the morning the Wind blew for them a
strong gale. At dawn the whole party of conspirators left the mountain,
and came down to the brow of the canyon to watch until sunrise.
219. Nohoílpi had two wives, who were the prettiest women in the
whole land. Wherever she went, each carried in her hand a stick with
something tied on the end of it, as a sign that she was the wife of
the great gambler.
220. It was their custom for one of them to go every morning at
sunrise to a neighboring spring to get water. So at sunrise the
watchers on the brow of the cliff saw one of the wives coming out
of the gambler's house with a water-jar on her head, whereupon the
son of Hastséhogan descended into the canyon and followed her to
the spring. She was not aware of his presence until she had filled
her water-jar; then she supposed it to be her own husband, whom the
youth was dressed and adorned to represent, and she allowed him to
approach her. She soon discovered her error, however, but, deeming
it prudent to say nothing, she suffered him to follow her into the
house. As he entered, he observed that many of the slaves had already
assembled; perhaps they were aware that some trouble was in store for
their master. The latter looked up with an angry face; he felt jealous
when he saw the stranger entering immediately after his wife. He said
nothing of this, however, but asked at once the important question,
"Have you come to gamble with me?" This he repeated four times, and
each time the young Hastséhogan said "No." Thinking the stranger feared
to play with him, Nohoílpi went on challenging him recklessly. "I'll
bet myself against yourself;" "I'll bet my feet against your feet;"
"I'll bet my legs against your legs;" and so on he offered to bet
every and any part of his body against the same part of his adversary,
ending by mentioning his hair.
221. In the mean time the party of divine ones, who had been watching
from above, came down, and people from the neighboring pueblos came in,
and among these were two boys, who were dressed in costumes similar to
those worn by the wives of the gambler. The young Hastséhogan pointed
to these and said, "I will bet my wives against your wives." The
great gambler accepted the wager, and the four persons, two women
and two mock-women, were placed sitting in a row near the wall. First
they played the game of thirteen chips. The Bat assisted, as he had
promised the son of Hastséhogan and the latter soon won the game,
and with it the wives of Nohoílpi.
222. This was the only game played inside the house; then all went out
of doors, and games of various kinds were played. First they tried
nánzoz. The track already prepared lay east and west, but, prompted
by the Wind God, the stranger insisted on having a track made from
north to south, and again, at the bidding of Wind, he chose the red
stick. The son of Hastséhogan threw the wheel; at first it seemed
about to fall on the gambler's pole, in the "turkey-claw" of which it
was entangled; but to the great surprise of the gambler it extricated
itself, rolled farther on, and fell on the pole of his opponent. The
latter ran to pick up the ring, lest Nohoílpi in doing so might hurt
the snake inside; but the gambler was so angry that he threw his stick
away and gave up the game, hoping to do better in the next contest,
which was that of pushing down trees.
223. For this the great gambler pointed out two small trees, but his
opponent insisted that larger trees must be found. After some search
they agreed upon two of good size, which grew close together, and of
these the Wind told the youth which one he must select. The gambler
strained with all his might at his tree, but could not move it, while
his opponent, when his turn came, shoved the other tree prostrate
with little effort, for its roots had all been severed by Gopher.
224. Then followed a variety of games, on which Nohoílpi staked his
wealth in shells and precious stones, his houses, and many of his
slaves, and lost all.
225. The last game was that of the ball. On the line over which
the ball was to be knocked all the people were assembled; on one
side were those who still remained slaves; on the other side were
the freedmen and those who had come to wager themselves, hoping
to rescue their kinsmen. Nohoílpi bet on this game the last of his
slaves and his own person. The gambler struck his ball a heavy blow,
but it did not reach the line; the stranger gave his but a light tap,
and the bird within it flew with it far beyond the line, whereat the
released captives jumped over the line and joined their people.
226. The victor ordered all the shells, beads, and precious stones,
and the great shells, to be brought forth. He gave the beads and
shells to Hastséyalti, that they might be distributed among the gods;
the two great shells were given to the Sun.[77]
227. In the mean time Nohoílpi sat to one side saying bitter things,
bemoaning his fate, and cursing and threatening his enemies. "I will
kill you all with the lightning. I will send war and disease among
you. May the cold freeze you! May the fire burn you! May the waters
drown you!" he cried. "He has cursed enough," whispered Ni'ltsi to
the son of Hastséhogan. "Put an end to his angry words." So the young
victor called Nohoílpi to him and said: "You have bet yourself and
have lost; you are now my slave and must do my bidding. You are not a
god, for my power has prevailed against yours." The victor had a bow
of magic power named Eti'n Dilyi'l, or the Bow of Darkness; he bent
this upwards, and placing the string on the ground he bade his slave
stand on the string; then he shot Nohoílpi up into the sky as if he
had been an arrow. Up and up he went, growing smaller and smaller
to the sight till he faded to a mere speck and finally disappeared
altogether. As he flew upwards he was heard to mutter in the angry
tones of abuse and imprecation, until he was too far away to be heard;
but no one could distinguish anything he said as he ascended.
228. He flew up in the sky until he came to the home of Békotsidi,[78]
the god who carries the moon, and who is supposed by the Navahoes
to be identical with the God of the Americans. He is very old, and
dwells in a long row of stone houses. When Nohoílpi arrived at the
house of Békotsidi he related to the latter all his misadventures in
the lower world and said, "Now I am poor, and this is why I have come
to see you." "You need be poor no longer," said Békotsidi; "I will
provide for you." So he made for the gambler pets or domestic animals
of new kinds, different to those which he had in the Chaco valley;
he made for him sheep, asses, horses, swine, goats, and fowls. He
also gave him bayeta,[79] and other cloths of bright colors, more
beautiful than those woven by his slaves at Kintyél. He made, too,
a new people, the Mexicans, for the gambler to rule over, and then
he sent him back to this world again, but he descended far to the
south of his former abode, and reached the earth in old Mexico.
229. Nohoílpi's people increased greatly in Mexico, and after a while
they began to move towards the north, and build towns along the Rio
Grande. Nohoílpi came with them until they arrived at a place north of
Santa Fé. There they ceased building, and he returned to old Mexico,
where he still lives, and where he is now the Nakaí Digíni, or God
of the Mexicans.
230. The Navaho who went at the bidding of the Sun to the tryst of the
gods stayed with them till the gambler was shot into the sky. Then he
returned to his people and told all he had seen. The young stranger
went back to Tse`gíhi, the home of the yéi.
231. The wanderers were not long at Kintyél, but while they were
they met some of the Daylight People. From Kintyél they moved
to To`i'ndotsos, and here Mai,[80] the Coyote, married a Navaho
woman. He remained in the Navaho camp nine days, and then he went
to visit Dasáni, the Porcupine. The latter took a piece of bark,
scratched his nose with it till the blood flowed freely out over it,
put it on the fire, and there roasted it slowly until it turned into
a piece of fine meat. Porcupine then spread some clean herbs on the
ground, laid the roasted meat on these, and invited his visitor
to partake. Coyote was delighted; he had never had a nicer meal,
and when he was leaving he invited his host to return the visit in
two days. At the appointed time Porcupine presented himself at the
hut of Coyote. The latter greeted his guest, bade him be seated, and
rushed out of the house. In a few minutes he returned with a piece
of bark. With this he scratched his nose, as he had seen Porcupine
doing, and allowed the blood to flow. He placed the bloody bark over
the fire, where in a moment it burst into flames and was soon reduced
to ashes. Coyote hung his head in shame and Porcupine went home hungry.
232. Soon after this Coyote visited Maítso,[80] the Wolf. The latter
took down, from among the rafters of his hut, two of the old-fashioned
reed arrows with wooden heads, such as the Navahoes used in the
ancient days; he pulled out the wooden points, rolled them on his
thigh, moistened them in his mouth, and buried them in the hot ashes
beside the fire. After waiting a little while and talking to his guest,
he raked out from the ashes, where he had buried the arrow points,
two fine cooked puddings of minced meat; these he laid on a mat of
fresh herbs and told Coyote to help himself. Coyote again enjoyed his
meal greatly, and soon after, when he rose to leave, he invited Wolf
to pay him a visit in two days. Wolf went in due time to the house of
Coyote, and when he had seated himself the host took two arrow-heads,
as Wolf had done, rolled them on his thigh, put them in his mouth,
and buried them in the hot ashes. After waiting a while, he raked
the ashes and found nothing but two pieces of charred wood where
he had placed the arrow-heads. This time he gave no evidence of his
disappointment, but sat and talked with his guest just as if nothing
had happened, until Wolf, seeing no sign of dinner and becoming very
hungry, got up and went home.
233. In those days the Chicken-hawks and the Hummingbirds were known
as great hunters. They were friendly to one another and dwelt together
in one camp.
234. Coyote went to pay them a visit, and when he arrived at the camp
he entered one of the huts of the Hummingbirds. He found therein two
beautiful Hummingbird maidens, gayly dressed, with rows of deer-hoof
pendants on their skirts and shoulders. He lay down in the lodge and
said to the maidens: "Where is everybody to-day? I heard there were
many people camped here, but the camp seems deserted." The maidens
replied: "There are many people camped here, but to-day the men are
all out hunting."
235. Now, Coyote was a dandy; he was always beautifully dressed; he
had a nice otter-skin quiver and his face was painted in spots. The
maidens, when they had looked well at him, bent their heads together
and whispered to one another, "He is a handsome young man. He is
beautifully dressed. He must be a person of some importance." He spent
the day gossipping with the maidens and telling them wonderful tales
about himself. "Would you know who I am?" he said. "I am the God of
Tsisnadzi'ni Mountain. I have no need to hunt. All I have to do is
to will the death of an animal and it dies. Your people have no need
to wear themselves out hunting for game. I can kill all they want
without labor."
236. At nightfall, when the hunters returned, the maidens left the
lodge, went to where their friends were assembled, and told them
all about the visitor. When the maidens had finished their story,
the chief directed one of the young men to go over to the hut,
peep in over the curtain in the doorway, and see what the stranger
looked like. The young man did as he was bidden, making no noise, and
looked into the lodge unobserved by Coyote. When he returned to the
chief he said: "The stranger is a fine-looking man and is beautifully
dressed. Perhaps he is indeed a god." The chief then said: "It may be
that all is true which he has told the maidens. We have to travel far
in all sorts of weather and to work hard to secure food. He may know
some way to save us from labor, so let us be kind to him. Go, one of
you maidens, back to the lodge to serve him." Hearing these words,
the younger of the two young women returned to the lodge. Her clothing
was ornamented with many pendants of bone and hoof that rattled with
every movement she made, and for this reason Coyote named her Tsiké
Nazi'li, or Young Woman Who Rattles.
237. In the morning she went to the lodge where her people were,
and where a good breakfast was already prepared, and she brought
a large dishful of the food for Coyote to eat. As she was about to
depart with the food her people charged her to tell Coyote nothing
of certain bad neighbors of theirs, lest he might visit them and work
wonders for their benefit. But their injunctions came too late. Already
Tsiké Nazi'li had told him all about these bad neighbors, and he had
made up his mind to visit them.
238. When breakfast was over she said: "Now the hunters are going
out." He replied: "I will go with them." So he joined the party,
and they travelled together till they got to the brow of a high hill
which overlooked an extensive country. Here Coyote told his companions
to remain concealed while he went into the plain and drove the game
toward them. When he got out of sight, he tied to his tail a long
fagot of shredded cedar-bark, which he set on fire, and then he ran
over the country in a wide circle as fast as he could go. Everywhere
the fagot touched it set fire to the grass, and raised a long line of
flame and smoke which drove the antelope up to where the hunters were
concealed. A great quantity of game was killed; the hunters returned
laden with meat, and their faith in Coyote was unbounded.
239. Next morning they all went out once more to hunt. Again the
hunters concealed themselves on the brow of a hill, and again Coyote
tied the blazing fagot to his tail and ran. The people on the hilltop
watched the line of fire advancing over the plain; but when it turned
around as if to come back to the place from which it started, it
suddenly ceased. Much game was driven toward the party in ambush;
but Coyote did not return, and the hunters went to work cutting up
the meat and cooking food for themselves.
240. Coyote, in the mean time, had gone to seek the bad neighbors. He
untied his brand at the place where the hunters had seen the line
of fire cease, and wandered off in a different direction. After
a while he came to two great trees, a spruce and a pine, growing
close together, and filled with chattering birds of two kinds. The
spruce-tree was filled with birds called Tsi'di Béze, and the
pine-tree with birds called Tsi'di Sási. They were all busily
engaged in playing a game which Coyote had never seen before. They
would pull out their eyes, toss these up to the top of the tree, cry
"Drop back, my eyes! Drop back!" and catch the eyes as they descended
in their proper sockets. Coyote watched their play for a long time,
and at length, becoming fascinated with the game, he cried out to
the Tsi'di Sási in the pine-tree, "Pull out my eyes for me. I want
to play, too." "No," they replied, "we will have nothing to do with
you." Again and again he begged to be allowed to join in the sport,
and again and again they refused him. But when he had pleaded for the
fourth time, they flew down to where Coyote sat, and, taking sharp
sticks, they gouged his eyes out. The eyes were thrown up to the top
of the pine-tree, and when they fell down Coyote caught them in his
orbits and could see again as well as ever. Coyote was delighted
with the result of his first venture, and he begged them to pull
his eyes out again, but they said angrily: "We do not want to play
with you. We have done enough for you now. Go and leave us." But he
continued to whine and beg until again they pulled out his eyes and
tossed them up with the same happy result as before. Thus four times
were his eyes pulled out, thrown upward, and caught back again in the
head. But when he begged them to pull out his eyes for the fifth time,
they went to a distance and held a council among themselves. When
they returned they pulled his eyes out once more; but this time
they took pains to pull out the strings of the eyes (optic nerves)
at the same time; these they tied together, and, when the eyes were
again flung up in the tree, they caught on one of the branches and
there they stayed. Now Coyote was in mortal distress. "Drop back, my
eyes! Drop back!" he cried. But back they never came, and he sat there
with his nose pointed up toward the top of the tree, and he howled
and prayed and wept. At last the birds took pity on him and said:
"Let us make other eyes for him." So they took a couple of partly
dried pieces of pine gum and rolled them into two balls; these were
stuck into the empty sockets, and, although they were not good eyes,
they gave him sight enough to see his way home. The gum was yellow,
and for this reason coyotes have had yellow eyes ever since.
241. He crept back, as best he could, to the place where he had left
the hunters, and where he found them cutting and cooking meat. He
sat down facing the fire, but he soon found that his gum eyes were
getting soft with the heat, so he turned his side to the fire. The
hunters gave him a piece of raw liver, supposing he would cook it
himself. Not daring to turn towards the fire, lest his eyes should
melt altogether, he threw the liver on the coals without looking,
and when he tried afterwards to take it up he thrust his hand at
random into the fire and caught nothing but hot coals that burned
him. Fearing that his strange action was observed, he tried to pass
it off as a joke, and every time he picked up a hot coal he cried:
"Don't burn me, liver! Don't burn me, liver!" After a while the hunters
seated around the fire began to notice his singular motions and words,
and one said to another: "He does not act as usual. Go and see what
is the matter with him." The hunter who was thus bidden went over in
front of Coyote, looked at him closely, and saw melted gum pouring
out from between his eyelids.
242. It happened that during the day, while Coyote was absent, a
messenger had come to the camp of the hunters from another camp to tell
them that an individual named Mai, or Coyote, had left his home, and
had been seen going toward the camp of the Hummingbirds, and to warn
them against him. "He is an idler and a trickster,--beware of him,"
said the messenger. So when they found out the condition of their
visitor they said: "This must be Coyote of whom we have heard. He
has been playing with the Tsi'di Sási and has lost his eyes."