From Copyright Photograph 1904 by E.S. Curtis
The Jicarillas, or, as they are commonly called, "Jicarilla Apaches," occupy a reservation of nearly four hundred and fifty square miles of mountainous country in northern New Mexico. Linguistically the Jicarillas are of the same stock as the Apache of Arizona; but here the relationship ceases, for the two peoples have virtually no knowledge one of the other; each, according to their respective genesis myths, had their origin in the general region in which they live to-day, while the dialect, mythology, legends, and medicine rites of the Jicarillas more closely resemble those of the Navaho than any of the Apache groups. The designation "Jicarilla Apaches" is an inheritance from the early Spaniards, who were wont to designate as Apache any warlike tribe which had not been brought under subjection. Such were the Apaches de Nabajú (Navaho), the Apaches del Perrillo, the Apaches Gileños, Apaches Tejuas, Apaches Vaqueros, Apaches Faraones, Apaches Llaneros, Apaches Lipanes, and a host of others, of whom the Spanish missionaries and colonists had little or no knowledge except that derived, alas, from predatory raids on the peaceable Indians among whom they were established. The name "Apache," therefore, was applied in the Rio Grande country of New Mexico in much the same way as the term "Yavapai" was given in the Rio Colorado region of Arizona, and, naturally enough, it still survives.
From Copyright Photograph 1904 by E.S. Curtis
Owing to their composite nature the Jicarillas are a peculiarly interesting group. Too small in numbers to resist the cultural influence of other tribes, and having been long in contact with the buffalo hunters of the great plains as well as in close touch with the pueblo of Taos with its great wealth of ceremony and ritual, it is not surprising that the Jicarillas, in life and ceremony,[pg 054] have been deeply influenced by adjacent tribes. As previously stated, the Jicarilla medicine rites are much like those of the Navaho, but are far simpler in character. In dress the Jicarillas resemble the Indians of the plains, even to the feather headdress, which is never worn by the tribes to their south and west. Features of an annual fiesta have been borrowed directly from the Pueblos.
The typical habitation of the Jicarillas is a tipi, or lodge, called kozhán, patterned after that of the Plains tribes. Formerly they hunted the buffalo, making periodical excursions from their mountain home to the plains and bringing back quantities of prepared meat and large numbers of hides, which were fashioned into tents and used for many other purposes. To all intents and purposes, therefore, the Jicarillas were a plains tribe. Only within recent years have they grown crops of any kind. They exhibit fair skill in basketry, this being their chief industry and source of barter with neighboring tribes; indeed it was through this custom of making "little baskets" that the Spaniards applied to them the name by which they are popularly known. The Pueblos of the Rio Grande use many baskets, which they obtain chiefly from the Jicarillas in exchange for corn. During late years many of these jicarillas have been disposed of to traders. Like the Navaho they make but little pottery, and that only for utilitarian purposes.
The Jicarillas seem to have no system of clans or gentes. The tribe is divided into two bands—commonly called by their Spanish names, Olleros (Potters) and Llaneros (Plainsmen)—within which marriage is not prohibited. In the days of the buffalo a part of the tribe, preferring the prairie country, remained there for a short time and received the name Kolhkahín, People of the Plains. The others returned to the mountains and from the pottery they there made were called Sait Ndĕ, Sand People, sand being used in mixing the clay. In event of marriage between members of different bands, sons born of the union belong to the father's band, while daughters belong to the band of the mother.
[pg 055]Generally speaking, chieftainship is hereditary, passing to the eldest son, if there be such, otherwise to a brother, on the death of the incumbent; but this rule might be set aside if public opinion were strong enough to warrant it, and the chief be selected from another family. Each band has a headman, chosen by reason of his personal bravery and worthiness. The tribal chief, however, is the recognized leader, the two band chiefs being little more than figureheads.
The social customs of the Jicarillas are well defined. A young man wishing to marry sends a near relation to procure the consent of the girl's parents, with whose decision the wishes of the daughter have little weight. If the young man meets their approval, he is sent out to hunt, and the game which he kills is distributed among the girl's relations. The following day his family build a kozhán and place in it the personal effects of the young couple, who, at night, enter with friends and kinsfolk. A medicine-man prays to Nayé̆nayĕzganĭ, asking his beneficence toward the new home. This ceremony lasts until midnight, when the visitors depart and the marriage is consummated. Polygamy was common. Divorce is effected without ceremony, the discontented one deserting the other and leaving him or her in possession of the dwelling.
Property right is governed by tribal laws. The wife's belongings are inherited by her children or, if she should have none, by her parents, not by the husband. On the death of the husband his property passes to the children and the wife.
The dead are buried in secret, only a few of the close relations having knowledge of the place. Immediately after death the body is carried on horseback to a high point, where it is placed on the ground and covered with the personal possessions of the deceased, such as clothing, blankets, saddles, and weapons, and over all are heaped brush and stones. Formerly a man's horse was killed near his grave, and sometimes as many as three or four horses were similarly sacrificed at different places. In former times also the kozhán was burned after the burial, and members of the family cut their hair as a sign of mourning.[pg 056] The souls of the dead are believed to rise skyward. In one portion of the sky, among vast herds of buffalo, all those who have met death in battle assemble, rich and happy; in another part, those who have succumbed to sickness and old age. The evil, or those who have practised witchcraft, have a place apart from the rest. Between the latter and the spirits of the good stands a high rock wall at which the evil ones are condemned to dig for eternity in an effort to reach the happier home. Spirits can work only in darkness, and the work of the night is ever brought to naught by recurring daylight.
From Copyright Photograph 1904 by E.S. Curtis
The Jicarillas, like their kindred the Navaho and Apache, pay much attention to religion and ceremony. Compared with the Navaho their life seems almost lacking in ceremony, but when contrasted with the various Yuman tribes on the Colorado and Gila rivers of Arizona it is fairly rich. Their healing or medicine rites include a dance, called Isánĕ, that occupies four days and four nights, and many one-day "sings," in all of which dry-paintings are employed. Like the Apache the Jicarillas attach much importance to the girls' puberty ceremony and still rigidly adhere to it.
A four-day medicine dance is founded on the following legend:
Two maidens lived at the bottom of a deep pit. Many of the men wished to marry them, but the girls were well content and refused to come out. The Bear and the Snake formed a plan to carry them off and make them their wives. A beautiful butterfly was sent fluttering down over the girls' heads, but they paid little heed to its beauties. Another was sent, then another, and yet a fourth, which was so beautiful that the girls reached up to catch it, for they wished to copy its splendid colors on a large basket they were weaving. But the butterfly escaped them and flew upward, keeping ever out of reach as the girls followed to the mouth of the pit. There the Bear and the Snake in waiting suddenly reached over, seized the girls, and carried them away. The people, learning of this, asked them to bring the girls back, but the Bear and the Snake refused, so an appeal was made to Nayé̆nayĕzganĭ and Kobadjischínĭ. These two gods built a fence[pg 057] around the world to keep the Bear and the Snake from escaping, and, summoning all the people, compelled the Bear and the Snake to bring the two young women back. The one the Bear had married had grown very fat and coarse, like her master. "What have you done to make this girl so fat?" demanded Nayé̆nayĕzganĭ in anger. "You must give her medicine to make her comely again." So the Bear sang songs and made medicine until the girl was herself again. Then came the Snake with the girl he had stolen. She had become thin, like her master. "What have you done to make this girl so thin?" cried Nayé̆nayĕzganĭ. "You must give her medicine to make her well again." The Snake then sang his songs and made medicine until the girl became again robust and beautiful.
As already mentioned, the performance of this ceremony extends through a period of four days and four nights. The day preceding is spent in preparation: the head of the family of the sick person makes ready for a feast, and helpers build a corral of piñon and spruce branches. This corral is circular, about forty yards in diameter and six feet high, with an opening at the east. To the west, close to the fence, is the medicine kozhán. The latter part of each morning of the four days is spent by the medicine-man and his assistants in the kozhán, where a dry-painting of blue, black, yellow, and red earths is made in the shape of a snake lying in a circle with a space between the head and the tail. The circle is about six feet in diameter, and within it are represented numerous animals: the bear, turkey, deer, eagle, buffalo, elk, badger, gopher, and others. A decoction is mixed in an earthen bowl and the patient is summoned. Sand from the various parts of the painting are sprinkled on the corresponding parts of his body, and the medicine mixture is given him to drink.
The night portions of the ceremony begin shortly after dark. The medicine-man and any persons who know the songs gather in the kozhán and sing, accompanied with a drum made of a basket inverted over a hole in the ground and covered with a buffalo skin, the head toward the east. The hole represents the pit in the legend, the basket the one the girls were weaving, and a[pg 058] figure interwoven in the latter symbolizes the butterfly of the story. The beating of the drum is varied at intervals by the use of a leg-bone of a mountain sheep rasped quickly over a notched stick. Any men of the tribe may enter the kozhán, and even a white man who is well known. The songs consist of recitals of the powers of the medicine-man and invocations to the various animals, as the bear, snake, and mountain sheep. Some of the songs consist merely in naming the parts of the animal's body, while others are supposed to be those used by the Bear and the Snake in the legend. After singing these songs for about three hours, with intervals of rest, the dancing begins. On each side of the enclosure are three fires. Behind these on the north side are the men, on the south the women; thus a large open space is bounded by the two lines of fires, the kozhán, and the opening of the corral. Two women walk slowly into this space, their heads modestly bent. They stop, and a young man approaches to ascertain with whom they would dance. He then finds the desired persons, takes each by the arm, and drags him out. The men always feign unwillingness to go. In the meanwhile other pairs of women have come out and other young men become busy finding partners for them. As a rule they dance in groups of four, men and women facing each other and moving backward and forward five or six steps. As the dance progresses the man is likely to lay his hands upon the woman's shoulders, but modesty forbids her a similar liberty. The same pair may remain dancing together throughout the night, or they may cease when either desires. On the first night the dancing continues until about midnight; the second, an hour or two longer; the third, until well toward dawn; the fourth, until sunrise.
From Copyright Photograph 1904 by E.S. Curtis
On the last night the top of a small spruce tree, tipped with eagle down, is planted near the door of the kozhán, and a new element in the dancing is introduced. About midnight, before any dancing has been engaged in, the ceremonial dancers enter from two dressing kozhán some two hundred yards east of the corral. These consist of two parties. The first, eight in number, enter in single file, preceded and followed by a man in everyday[pg 059] costume. These dancers, called Tsannatí̆, are nude, save for the breech-cloth, with body and face painted in white and black, and the hair hanging loose. Immediately following them are the Chanzhiní̆, six in number, accompanied by four keepers, two in front and two behind. The six are nude, the bodies painted solid white with six black stripes encircling them. The hair is painted white and is done up into two long, stiff braids, which project from the sides of the head like a pair of horns. The faces are hideously made up to represent clowns, as indeed their name signifies. In dancing, the Chanzhiní̆ and Tsannatí̆ do not take steps, but shuffle sidewise, locomotion being effected by means of a sort of exaggerated shivering of the legs. This movement is common to Plains tribes in many of their dances. The whole line of dancers proceed with their peculiar motion into the kozhán and around the fire, passing before the patient, the Chanzhiní̆ all the while uttering hoarse, animal-like cries. Their utterances are always coarse and obscene, causing much merriment, which is supposed to aid the patient in casting off his illness. After passing through the kozhán the Tsannatí̆ form in line outside and with their feet keep time to the singing and drumming, while the others break ranks and in a promiscuous throng pass before the spectators, first on the men's side, then on the women's. Just before their departure from the corral any woman who feels an indisposition may crouch in their path near the gate, facing the west, and the Chanzhiní̆ one by one leap over her, first from the east, then from the other three directions, ever continuing their hoarse cries.
These characters make their appearance four times during the course of the night, the spectators dancing during the intervals. After their last exit dancing continues until shortly before sunrise; then the medicine-man and the singers arise, and, forming a circle about the fire in the centre of the kozhán, sing a number of songs. A maiden is summoned from the gathering to carry a basket of sacred meal, and the medicine-man, taking up the top of the spruce tree, passes out of the enclosure toward the rising sun, followed by the maiden, the patient, the singers, and any who may be afflicted with a bodily ailment. At a distance of about a hundred[pg 060] yards the medicine-man stops and plants the little spruce tip, to which the disease is now supposed to have been transferred, under a tree, sprinkling over it quantities of the sacred meal. Then each of the others, the patient leading, steps forward, throws a pinch of the meal on the tree, and passes on, always facing the east. When the last one has thus passed, the procession stops, everybody holds his blanket ready, and on signal from the medicine-man, just as the sun appears, gives it a shake and runs at full speed to the kozhán and around the fire. Thus is disease shaken out and the pursuit of the evil spirits of sickness eluded.
From Copyright Photograph 1904 by E.S. Curtis
It is interesting to note the difference between the Apache of Arizona and the Jicarillas in their assignment of colors to the cardinal directions. The former invariably associate black with the east, blue with the south, yellow with the west, and white with the north.
In the beginning all people, birds, and beasts were far beneath this earth, somewhere in the darkness; there was no sun, no moon. It was not a good place in which to live, because of the darkness. After a time came Chunnaái, the Sun, and Klĕnaái, the Moon. They directed the people to leave the world of darkness, showing the way they were to go by passing up through a rift in the sky. But the sky was so far above that the people knew of no way to reach it, so they made a pile of sand in the form of a mountain, and painted the east side white, the south blue, the west yellow, and the north side all colors.[1] Then they gathered seeds from all the plants they knew and placed them inside the little mountain. Chunnaái sent back his messenger, Ánltsĭstn, the Whirlwind, to instruct them how to make the mountain increase in size.
Then all gathered about it and danced and sang, until after four days the seeds sprouted and the mountain began to expand and to increase in height. This continued for four days, at the end of which time the mountain seemed almost to reach the sky; but suddenly its growth ceased, and none knew the cause. From[pg 061] Chunnaái came Whirlwind to tell the inhabitants how two of their maidens had entered the sacred space on the mountain top and had wantonly broken and destroyed plants and fruits, thus causing the mountain to cease growing.
With two long poles and four buffalo horns, which then were straight, the people made a ladder, which, when placed on the mountain top, reached the sky. One of the four Great Whirlwinds, Níchitso, went up to see what this new place was like. He put his head through the opening, and seeing that the world was covered with water, at once descended the ladder. The four Whirlwinds then went up; White Wind rolled the water to the east, but still there was water at the south; Blue Wind rolled it away to the south, but still there was water at the west; so Yellow Wind blew it away to the west, and then there was water only at the north, which All-Color Wind quickly blew away. Then the Winds blew over the earth for four days to dry it; but they left some of the water, which flowed along in streams.
When they returned and told what they had done, the people sent Ká̑gĕ, the Crow, who was wise, to view the land. They waited long, but Ká̑gĕ did not return. Then they sent Little Whirlwind, who found the Crow perched upon some dead bodies, plucking out their eyes; and because of his wickedness in forgetting the people, his feathers, once white, had turned black. Then Nagánschitn, the Badger, was sent to see if the land was good, but just as soon as he had crawled through he sank in the black mud and could go no farther, so Little Whirlwind was despatched to succor him. To this day Badger's legs are black. Next Kĕldinshé̆n, the Skunk, was sent, because he was light in weight; but even he sank in the mud and blackened his legs. Then the people sent Cha, the Beaver, who travelled about for a long time, and finding all the water running away in streams, built dams and thus formed many lakes. He came back and told the people that the land was good to live in, which pleased them greatly. Then they started up the ladder, and when all had passed over, it was found that their weight had bent the buffalo horns, which ever[pg 062] since have been curved. Thus all the people came out upon this earth at a place in the north.3
During the first days the Sun did not rise above the horizon, having been held back in the east by a web that Mansché̆, the Spider, had woven about him. But the people succeeded in tearing the web away, and from that time the Sun each day has travelled across the whole sky.
On emerging from the underworld the inhabitants began moving in a great circle, travelling from the north to the east, then to the south, then to the west. When any found a spot that pleased them, they settled there, and Chunnaái and Klĕnaái gave them a language of their own. Four times the land was thus encircled, but each time the circle became smaller, and when the people came the last time to the north, Haísndayĭn, the Jicarillas, found their home in the mountains near the Rio Chama.
During the wanderings of the people a girl, Yólkai Ĕstsán, became separated from the rest. She would lie all day on a hillside in the sunshine, and the Sun saw that no harm came to her. By and by she bore a child, whose father was Chunnaái, the Sun, and the child was Nayé̆nayĕzganĭ. Another girl, Ĕstsán Nátlĕshĭn, was fond of lying asleep under a rock, and by the trickling water that fell upon her Kobadjischínĭ was begotten.
From Copyright Photograph 1904 by E.S. Curtis
The two women and their sons lived together. To amuse the children the mothers made them a wheel, but cautioned them never to roll it toward the north. Whenever he heard the sound of water, Kobadjischínĭ, to seek its source, would leap straight into any torrent, and his mother hoped that the toy would deter him from falling into such danger. One day the two boys became curious to know what was in the north, so they rolled the wheel in that direction. It went straight on for a long time, then came[pg 063] to a ladder leading up the steep side of a rock, up which it rolled. The boys stopped in astonishment. The wheel rolled on down into a cave, where lived Yíyĕ, a monster Owl, who ate human flesh. A young girl, Yíyĕ's slave, was sent up to see who was outside. "Two young, fine-looking boys," she reported. Yíyĕ sent her to tell them to come into the cave, but this they refused to do, even when he urged them himself, saying, "No! Give us our wheel!" But at last the boys yielded to Yíyĕ's persuasions and proceeded up the ladder and down into the cave. Owl built a fire under a huge pot of water, seized the boys, and put them into it. He boiled them a long time, then lifted them out with a stick. They stood up and said, "Why do you not give us our wheel and let us go home?" Then Yíyĕ became angry and thrust them into a great heap of hot ashes and built a fresh fire over them. After a long time he took them out, but they were still unharmed, and only asked, "Why do you not give us our wheel?" At this Owl became very angry and, seizing them, cut them into small pieces, put them into the pot, and boiled them again; but when he took them out they were alive and whole. Owl said not a word, but gave them their wheel and motioned them to go. All this time the mothers of the two boys knew from the Sun where they were, and by a burning stick could tell when their children were in danger; for if they were safe the flame burned high, but if in danger it burned low.
Because there were so many monsters on the earth that destroyed people, the mothers of Nayé̆nayĕzganĭ and Kobadjischínĭ sent them on a visit to Chunnaái to learn how to kill these evil beings. Chunnaái sent down the rainbow, and up this the two boys climbed and went into the house of the Sun. For Nayé̆nayĕzganĭ the Sun made a complete suit of turquoise—shirt, leggings, and moccasins—and in his hair fastened a long eagle feather. He gave him also huge arrows made of pine trees pointed with flint of white, blue, yellow, and all-colors, and a bow made of a part of the rainbow. To Kobadjischínĭ he gave a suit of flint of many colors and a long whip with which to drive away sickness, and in his hair he tied a downy eagle[pg 064] feather. Then he said to Nayé̆nayĕzganĭ, "Shoot down and see if you can hit that tree." So Nayé̆nayĕzganĭ shot, and the arrow shattered the tree like a bolt of lightning.
From Copyright Photograph 1904 by E.S. Curtis
After his return from the home of the Sun, Nayé̆nayĕzganĭ and his mother, Yólkai Ĕstsán, went over to the pueblo of Taos, where in a lake lived a monster Turtle which had destroyed many people by dragging them beneath the water. Nayé̆nayĕzganĭ went into the village and asked for food, but the people refused him, not knowing who he was. In the night he sent worms into their corn, spoiling it all; and in the morning, when they discovered it, they were filled with fear, and said:
"You must be some great man. In the west is a large lake, and in it a being which has dragged many of our people into the water. Will you go and kill it?"
"I will kill it," replied Nayé̆nayĕzganĭ, "but first you must give me as much turquoise as I now have in my suit."
This they did, and Nayé̆nayĕzganĭ asked Chunnaái how he should kill this creature. His father gave him four wheels—white, blue, yellow, and all-colors. Then from the east he threw the white one into the middle of the lake, and the water receded a little. From the south he threw the blue wheel, from the west the yellow, from the north the wheel of all-colors, and each time the water decreased a little more, until a ladder leading downward was exposed. From the centre in four directions led rows of large stones, upon which Turtle walked in going to his house. Nayé̆nayĕzganĭ went out on one of these stone-trails and down the ladder. At the bottom he found two mountain lions, which he quieted by giving them eagle feathers. He went through a long passage and successively met two fierce bears, two snakes, and two spotted wildcats, but each in turn was pacified with eagle feathers. At the end of the passage was a door, which Nayé̆nayĕzganĭ burst open, coming suddenly upon the great Turtle. The monster tried in vain to seize and kill him, but Nayé̆nayĕzganĭ took out his fire-stick, and said:
"Release the people you have here, or I will destroy you with my fire!"
[pg 065]"I have only one," said Turtle, "and you may take him."
When the one came out Nayé̆nayĕzganĭ asked him if there were any more captives in the house, and the man said there were many more. So again he threatened Turtle, and other prisoners were released; but these were not all, and he compelled Turtle to free still more. On the fourth demand, however, the monster refused to give up any more of his prisoners, whereupon Nayé̆nayĕzganĭ killed him with his fire and smoke. Then going through the rooms he released all the people he found. There were two young Turtles, whom he told not to grow any larger, nor to kill people or animals; and small Turtles yet inhabit the land.
Nayé̆nayĕzganĭ heard that to the east of the mountains of the Haísndayĭn lived Tzĕs, the enormous Elk, in the midst of a great high plain, which no one could approach unseen. So he journeyed thither, thinking to ascend the eastern side; but Elk saw him, and he went no closer. Then he tried from the south, the west, and the north, but always Elk saw him. At the northern side of the plain Nayé̆nayĕzganĭ heard someone ask, "What are you doing here?"
It was Maínĕlin, the Gopher; and when he learned what Nayé̆nayĕzganĭ wished to do, he promised his help. So he burrowed into the ground and came up under the spot where Elk was lying, and just behind the shoulder gnawed away the thick hair that protected the monster's heart. Elk felt the gnawing, and cried out, "Who is doing that?"
Gopher answered, "I need fur to make a nest for my little children."
So Elk became quieted and Gopher went back into the ground, and from the centre dug holes in four directions to the edge of the plain. Nayé̆nayĕzganĭ then entered one from the east, and coming to the centre looked up and saw Elk's heart beating. Drawing his flint-pointed arrow to the head, he shot the monster through the heart, then quickly dropped down into Gopher's burrow beneath four stones which, one below the other, stopped the vertical channel. But first he made with his[pg 066] fire-stick a dense white smoke at the end of the burrow that ran to the east. Elk leaped down into the opening and rushed in the direction of the smoke, seeking his enemy. Then in his rage he went to the centre, but in the meantime Nayé̆nayĕzganĭ had made a cloud of blue smoke at the south, so Elk ran thither. Successively Nayé̆nayĕzganĭ made yellow smoke at the west and all-color smoke at the north, each time at the mouth of the burrow, and each time Elk ran in the direction of the newly made smoke. All the time blood was pouring from the wound in Tzĕs' heart. At last he espied the hole blocked with four stone doors of white, blue, yellow, and all-colors, which led straight down from the floor of the passage. With his great antlers the monster broke through the first three doors, but at the fourth he fell dead. Nayé̆nayĕzganĭ divided the meat with Gopher, and taking the greater portion on his back, for by this time he was grown large and strong, he started back to his mother, who was overjoyed by his safe arrival and because he had brought such a quantity of meat. Near the village he stopped to rest, and the weight of himself and of Elk's body flattened the top of the hill on which he sat. Where Elk's blood soaked into the ground the soil is still red.
From Copyright Photograph 1904 by E.S. Curtis
From his father, Chunnaái, Nayé̆nayĕzganĭ had knowledge of another evil thing and how to destroy it. Cutting off a piece of Elk's intestine, he filled it with blood and fastened it about his waist. Then he told his mother to strip off the hide and while it was still soft sew it into a suit that would cover him completely. When the suit was finished he put it on, hid Elk's antlers under it, and departed westward in search of Itsá, the Eagle, who every day killed a man. When Nayé̆nayĕzganĭ approached the home of Eagle the latter swooped down from his high rock and four times tried to seize him, but could not fasten his talons in the hardened hide. At the fourth attempt Nayé̆nayĕzganĭ allowed Eagle to take hold of his suit in the front, whereupon the bird carried him up and up, and from a tremendous height dropped him upon the sharp rocks. Though unhurt, to deceive Eagle he tore open the piece of intestine,[pg 067] allowing the blood to gush out upon the rock. Itsá told his two children to go and eat, but when they drew near Nayé̆nayĕzganĭ made a sound, "Sh!" and they stopped in fright. Again they came near and again heard the sound "Sh!" So the Eaglets went to their father, perched high on the point of the rock, and said:
"That body is not dead, it makes a noise 'Sh!'"
"Never mind that; go and eat!" commanded the parent Eagle, who then flew away for his day's hunting.
When Itsá was gone, Nayé̆nayĕzganĭ arose, took off the elk-skin suit, and addressed the frightened Eagle children:
"In what weather does your father come home?"
"In a great storm of thunder and lightning," they answered.
"And in what weather does your mother come home?"
"When all the sky is clouded and a slow rain falls."
Presently a great storm arose, and the Eaglets exclaimed, "Our father is coming!" Soon the Eagle came rushing through the air, and from afar Nayé̆nayĕzganĭ heard wailing, for Eagle had a man in his talons. From far aloft, as was his wont, he dropped the man upon the rocks. Nayé̆nayĕzganĭ took up one of Elk's antlers and just as the great bird was alighting on his perch hurled it at him, striking him on the head. Listening, he heard the body drop upon the rocks far below. Then a slow rain began to fall, and the Eaglets cried, "Our mother is coming!" Soon the mother Eagle came. She too had a man in her talons, and with the other horn Nayé̆nayĕzganĭ killed her. Then he warned the Eagle children that they must not grow any larger, or ever attempt to carry away people; and they promised to be content with hunting animals.
But Nayé̆nayĕzganĭ found that there was no way to get down from the rock, for it was steep and very high, so high that it made him dizzy to look over the edge. Chunnaái told him to wait there, for he would send someone to bring him down safely. At last Nayé̆nayĕzganĭ saw somebody below, who proved to be Bat.
"Come, help me down!" he called.
[pg 068]From Copyright Photograph 1906 by E.S. Curtis
Bat came up, flying round and round the rock. On his back was a basket, supported from his shoulders by two cords that looked like Spider's thread.
"That will not hold me!" exclaimed Nayé̆nayĕzganĭ.
"But it will," answered Bat; "it will hold the biggest of mountain sheep!" And to prove the truth of his assertion he filled the basket with stones and jumped up and down, and the threads held. Then Nayé̆nayĕzganĭ was satisfied and got in, and Bat began the descent. "Don't open your eyes!" he commanded. After a long time, feeling that they must be near the bottom, Nayé̆nayĕzganĭ opened his eyes, but the sight made him dizzy, and he almost fell out of the basket. Bat became angry at this, for the lurch almost threw him from the rock. At last, however, they reached the ground in safety.
There they dragged the bodies of the two great Eagles together, plucked them, and filled Bat's basket with the feathers, which Nayé̆nayĕzganĭ wished to take home. "Don't go in the low places," he advised Bat, as the latter started on ahead. But Bat forgot, and because the walking was easier went across the low places, where the birds stole all the feathers for their nests; so he had to return and fill the basket again. These he carried safely to Yólkai Ĕstsán, who gave many of them to the people of the village.
From Chunnaái, Nayé̆nayĕzganĭ learned of one more monster on the earth, a huge Rolling Stone, which lived in the south near the pueblo of Picuris; so he and his mother went southward. They stopped in a cañon through which Rolling Stone often passed on its way to and from the village, and by and by it came crashing along, destroying everything in its path. Just as it passed, Nayé̆nayĕzganĭ shot with one of his great flint-pointed arrows and shattered it, as he had shattered the tree when Chunnaái first gave him his weapons; and the ground in that spot is still red from the blood that flowed from Rolling Stone's heart.
Black Man, Haschí̆n Dí̆lhĭli, was created by Nayé̆nayĕzganĭ to be his helper in the task of making the earth a good dwelling-place for the people. Haschí̆n made the animals, mountains, trees, and rivers, gave the people weapons and implements, and showed how they were to be used. When all were supplied with houses to live in and weapons with which to protect themselves and to kill game, he called Coyote, Tsilité̆n, the Mimic.
"Go to the Land of the Fireflies," he commanded, "and bring back their fire, for the people have no fire with which to cook their food."
Coyote started, and found the Land of the Fireflies. These beings lived at the bottom of a deep, deep hole—an enormous cave in the solid rock. Its sides were smooth and straight, and how to get down Coyote did not know. He went to the edge of the pit, and there found growing Little Tree.
"Help me down to the Land of the Fireflies," he said. So Little Tree sent its roots down, down, down, until they extended quite to the bottom, and Coyote descended. There he played with the little Firefly boys, romping about, running back and forth, pretending to be thinking of nothing but their amusement, for the Fireflies guarded their fire carefully and would let no one touch it.
On the tip of his tail Coyote had tied a tuft of cedar bark. Suddenly he dashed through the great fire which always burned in the centre of the village, and was off before the Firefly people knew what he had done. When they discovered that he had stolen some of their fire, they set out in pursuit; but Coyote was very swift of foot, and reached the wall of the pit far ahead of them.
"Little Tree, help me out!" he called.
Little Tree drew its roots up, up, up, while Coyote held on and was drawn safely out of the hole. Then he ran quickly about among the people, lighting the piles of wood they had prepared, until every family was supplied with fire.