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Title: Aw-Aw-Tam Indian Nights: Being the Myths and Legends of the Pimas of Arizona

Author: J. Wm. Lloyd
        Comalk-Hawk-Kih

Translator: Edward Hubert Wood

Release date: November 20, 2011 [eBook #38064]
                Most recently updated: January 8, 2021

Language: English

Credits: Produced by Jeroen Hellingman and the Online Distributed
        Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net/ for Project
        Gutenberg (This file was produced from images generously
        made available by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.)


*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK AW-AW-TAM INDIAN NIGHTS: BEING THE MYTHS AND LEGENDS OF THE PIMAS OF ARIZONA ***




Produced by Jeroen Hellingman and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net/ for Project
Gutenberg (This file was produced from images generously
made available by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.)









                        AW-AW-TAM INDIAN NIGHTS

                                 Being

             The Myths and Legends of the Pimas of Arizona


                             As received by

                            J. William Lloyd

                  From Comalk-Hawk-Kih (Thin Buckskin)

                       Thru the interpretation of

                           Edward Hubert Wood



                          Price $1.50 Postpaid
                   The Lloyd Group, Westfield, N. J.








                 Copyright, 1911, by John William Lloyd








                                            January 20th, 1904.


        This is to certify that the myths and legends of the
        Pimas derived by J. William Lloyd from my granduncle,
        Thin Buckskin, thru my interpretation, are correct and
        genuine to the best of my ability to interpret them.


            Edward H. Wood,
            (Pima Indian)

            Sacaton, Arizona.








THE STORY OF THESE STORIES


When I was at the Pan-American Fair, at Buffalo, in July, 1901, I
one day strolled into the Bazaar and drifted naturally to the section
where Indian curios were displayed for sale by J. W. Benham. Behind the
counter, as salesman, stood a young Indian, whose frank, intelligent,
good-natured face at once attracted me. Finding me interested in
Indian art, he courteously invited me behind the counter and spent
an hour or more in explaining the mysteries of baskets and blankets.

How small seeds are! From that interview came everything that is in
this book.

Several times I repeated my visits to my Indian friend, and when I had
left Buffalo I had learned that his name was Edward Hubert Wood, and
that he was a full-blooded Pima, educated at Albuquerque, New Mexico.

Afterward we came into a pleasant correspondence, and so I came to
know that one of my Indian friend's dreams was that he should be the
means of the preservation of the ancient tales of his people. He
had a grand-uncle, Comalk-Hawk-Kih, or Thin Buckskin, who was a
see-nee-yaw-kum, or professional traditionalist, who knew all the
ancient stories, but who had no successor, and with whose death the
stories would disappear. He did not feel himself equal to putting these
traditions into good English, and so did not quite know what to do.

We discussed this matter in letters; and finally it was decided that
I should visit the Gila River Reservation, in Arizona, where the Pimas
were, and get the myths from the old seeneeyawkum in person, and that
Mr. Wood should return home from Pyramid Lake, Nevada, where he was
teaching carpentry to the Pai-utes, and be my host and interpreter.

So, on the morning of July 31st, 1903, I stepped from a train at Casa
Grande, Arizona, and found myself in the desert land of which I had
so long dreamed. I had expected Mr. Wood to meet me there, but he
was not at the station and therefore I took passage with the Irish
mail-carrier whose stage was in daily transit between Casa Grande
and Sacaton, the Agency village of the Pima Reservation.

We had driven perhaps half the distance, and my Irish friend was
beguiling the tedium by an interminable series of highly spiced
yarns, calculated to flabbergast the tenderfoot, when my anxious eyes
discerned in the distance the oncoming of a neat little open buggy,
drawn by two pretty ponies, one of which was a pinto, and in which sat
Mr. Wood. Just imagine: It was the last day of July, a blazing morning
in the open desert, with the temperature soaring somewhere between
100 and 120 degrees, yet here was my Indian friend, doubtless to do me
honor, arrayed in a "pepper-and-salt" suit, complete with underclothes;
vest buttoned up; collar and necktie, goggles and buckskin driving
gloves. And this in an open buggy, while the Irishman and I, under our
tilt, were stripped to our shirts, with sleeves rolled above elbows,
and swigging water, ever and anon, from an enormous canteen swathed
in wet flannel to keep it cool. Truly Mr. Wood had not intended that
I should take him for an uncivilized Indian, if clothes could give
the lie; but the face was the same kindly one of my "Brother Ed," and
it did not take me long to greet him and transfer myself to his care.

We came to Sacaton (which Ed said was a Mexican name meaning "much tall
grass"--reminding me that Emory, of the "Army of the West," who found
the Pimas in 1846, reported finding fine meadows there--but which the
Pimas call Tawt-sit-ka, "the Place of Fear and Flight," because of some
Apache-caused panic) but we did not stop there, but passed around it,
to the Northwest, and on and over the Gila, Akee-mull, The River,
as the Pimas affectionately call it, for to them it is as the Nile
to Egypt. The famous Gila is not a very imposing stream at any time,
and now was no stream at all, but a shallow dry channel, choked with
desert dust, or paved with curling flakes of baked mud which cracked
like bits of broken pottery under our ponies' feet. But I afterwards
many times saw it a turbid torrent of yellow mud, rushing and foaming
from the mountain rains; perilous with quicksand and snag, the roaring
of its voice heard over the chaparral for miles to windward.

The Pimas live in villages, each with its sub-chief, and we were bound
for the village of Lower San-tan. But in these villages the houses
are now seldom aggregated, as in old days of Apache and Yuma war,
but scatter out for miles in farm homesteads.

Brother Ed had lately sold his neat farmstead, near Sacaton, and
when I came to his home I found he was temporarily living under
a vachtoe (pronounce first syllable as if German), or arbor-shed,
made of mezquite forks, supporting a flat roof of weeds and brush for
shade. Near by he was laying the foundations of a neat little adobe
cottage, which was finally completed during my stay.

Ed introduced me to his mother, a matronly Indian woman of perhaps
fifty-five, who must have been quite a belle in her day, and
whose features were still regular and strong, and his step-father,
"Mr. Wells," who deserves more than a passing word from me, for his
kindness was unremitting (bless his good-natured, smiling face!) and
his solicitude for my comfort constant. These were all the family,
for Ed himself was a widower. Fifty yards or so to the northwest were
the huts of two old and wretchedly poor Pimas (the man was blind)
who had been allowed to settle there temporarily by Mr. Wood, owing to
some difficulty about their own location on their adjoining land. One
or two hundred yards in the other direction were two old caw-seens,
or storehouses, square structures of a sort of wattlework of poles,
weeds and brush, plastered over with adobe and roofed with earth. In
one of these I placed my trunk, and on its flat roof I slept, rolled
in my blankets, most of the nights of the two months of my stay. I
came to know it as "my Arizona Bedstead," and I shall never forget
it and its quaint, crooked ladder.

My Indian brother was not slow in shedding his dress-parade garments,
and in getting down to the comfort of outing shirt and overalls, neck
handkerchief and sombrero. Then I had my first meal with Indians in
Arizona. Mrs. Wells, or as I prefer to call her, Sparkling-Soft-Feather
(her Indian name) was a good cook of her kind, and gave us a meal
of tortillas, frijole beans, peppers (kaw-awl-kull), coffee, and
choo-oo-kook or jerked beef. Ed and I were given the dignity of chairs
and a table, but the older Indians squatted on the ground in the good
old Pima way, with their dishes on a mat. There were knives and spoons,
but no forks, and the usefulness of fingers was not obsolete. A
waggish, pale-eyed pup, flabbily deprecative and good-natured,
and a big-footed Mexican choo-chool, or chicken, were obtrusively
familiar. Neither of the older Indians could speak a word of English,
but chatted and laughed away together in Pima. The hot, soft wind of
the desert kissed our faces as we ate, and off in the back ground rose
the stately volcanic pile of Cheoff-skaw-mack, the nearest mountain,
and all around the horizon other bare volcanic peaks burned into the
blue. Sometimes a whirlwind of dust travelled rapidly over the plain,
making one ponder what would happen should it gyrate into the vachtoe.

The old woman from the near-by kee slunk by as we ate, going to the
well. She wore gah-kai-gey-aht-kum-soosk (literally string-shoes),
or sandals, of rawhide, on her feet, and was quite the most
wretched-looking hag I ever saw among the Pimas. Her withered body
was hung with indescribable rags and her gray hair was a tangled
mat. Yet I came to know that that wretched creature had a heart and a
good one. She was kind and cheerful, industrious and uncomplaining,
and devotion itself to her old blind husband; who did nothing all
day long but move out of the travelling sun into the shade, rolling
nearly naked in the dust.

After dinner we got our guns and started out to go to the farm of old
Thin Buckskin ("William Higgins," if you please!) the seeneeyawkum
I had come so far to see. Incidentally we were to shoot some
kah-kai-cheu, or plumed quails, and taw-up-pee, or rabbits, for supper.

We found the old man plowing for corn in his field. The strong,
friendly grasp he gave my hand was all that could be desired. Tall,
lean, dignified, with a harsh, yet musical voice; keen, intelligent
black eyes, and an impressive manner, he was plainly a gentleman
and a scholar, even if he could neither read nor write, nor speak a
sentence of English.

The next afternoon he came, and under Ed's vachtoe gave me the first
installment of the coveted tales. It was slow work. First he would tell
Ed a paragraph of tradition, and Ed would translate it to me. Then I
would write it down, and then read it aloud to Ed again, getting his
corrections. When all was straight, to his satisfaction, we would go on
to another paragraph, and so on, till the old man said enough. As these
Indians are all Christianized now, and mostly zealous in the faith,
I could get no traditions on Sunday. And indeed, when part way thru,
this zeal came near balking me altogether. A movement started to stop
the recovery of these old heathen tales; the sub-chief had a word with
Comalk, who became suddenly too busy to go on with his narrations,
and it took increased shekels and the interposition of the Agent,
Mr. J. B. Alexander, who was very kind to me, before I could get the
wheels started again.

Sometimes the old man came at night, instead of afternoon, and I find
this entry in my journal: "Sept. 6.--We sat up till midnight in the
old cawseen getting the traditions. It was a wild, strange scene--the
old cawseen interior, the mezquite forks that supported the roof,
the poles overhead, and weeds above that, the mud-plastered walls
with loop-hole windows; bags, boxes, trunks, ollas, and vahs-hrom
granary baskets about. Ed sitting on the ground, against the wall,
nodding when I wrote and waking up to interpret; the old man bent
forward, both hands out, palms upward, or waving in strange eloquent
gestures; his lean, wrinkled features drawn and black eyes gleaming;
telling the strange tales in a strange tongue. On an old olla another
Indian, Miguel, who came in to listen, and in his hand a gorgeously
decorated quee-a-kote, or flute, with which, while I wrote, he would
sometimes give us a few wild, plaintive, thrilling bars, weird as an
incantation. And finally myself, sitting on a mattress on my trunk,
writing, fast as pencil could travel, by the dim light of a lantern
hung against a great post at my right. Outside a cold, strong wind,
for the first time since I came to Arizona, bright moonlight, and
some drifting white clouds telling the last of the storm."

Again, on Sept. 12th: "Traditions, afternoon and until midnight. I
shall never forget how the half-moon looked, rising over
Vahf-kee-woldt-kih, or the Notched Cliffs, toward midnight, while
the coyotes laughed a chorus somewhere off toward the Gila, and we
sat around, outdoors, in the wind, and heard the old seeneeyawkum
tell his weird, incoherent tales of the long ago."

My interpreter was eager and willing, and well-posted in the meaning of
English, and was a man of unusual intelligence and poetry of feeling,
but was not well up in grammar, and in the main I had to edit and
recast his sentences; yet just as far as possible I have kept his words
and the Indian idiom and simplicity of style. Sometimes he would give
me a sentence so forceful and poetic, and otherwise faultless, that I
have joyfully written it down exactly as received. I admit that in a
very few places, where the Indian simplicity and innocence of thought
caused an almost Biblical plainness of speech on family matters,
I have expurgated and smoothed a little for prudish Caucasian ears,
but these changes are few, and mostly unimportant, leaving the meaning
unimpaired. And never once was there anything in the spirit of what was
told me that revealed foulness of thought. All was grave and serious,
as befitted the scriptures of an ancient people.

Occasionally I have added a word or sentence to make the meaning stand
out clearer, but otherwise I have taken no liberties with the original.

As a rule the seeneeyawkum told these tales in his own words,
but the parts called speeches were learned by heart and repeated
literally. These parts gave us much trouble. They were highly poetic,
and manifestly mystic, and therefore very difficult to translate
with truthfulness to the involved meanings and startling and obscure
metaphors. Besides they contained many archaic words, the meaning of
which neither seeneeyawkum nor interpreter now knew, and which they
could only translate by guess, or leave out altogether. But we did
the best we could.

The stories were also embellished with songs, some of which I had
translated. They were chants of from one to four lines each, seldom
more than two, many times repeated in varying cadence; weird, somber,
thrillingly passionate in places, and by no means unmusical, but,
of course, monotonous. I obtained phonograph records of a number,
and the translations given are as literal as possible.

As to the meaning of the tales I got small satisfaction. The Indians
seemed to have no explanations to offer. They seemed to regard them
as fairy tales, but admitted they had once been believed as scriptures.

My own theory came to be that they had been invented, from time to
time, by various and successive mah-kais to answer the questions
concerning history, phenomena, and the origin of things, which they,
as the reputed wisest of the tribe, were continually asked. My chief
reason for supposing this is because in almost every tale the hero is
a mahkai of some sort. The word mah-kai (now translated doctor, or
medicine-man) seems to have been applied in old time to every being
capable of exerting magical or supernatural and mysterious power,
from the Creator down; and it is easy to see how such use of the word
would apparently establish the divine relationship and bolster the
authority of the medicine men, while the charm of the tale would focus
attention upon them. The temptation was great and, I think, yielded to.

I doubt if much real history is worked in, or that it is at all
reliable.

All over the desert, where irrigation was at all practicable, in the
Gila and Salt River valleys, and up to the edge of the mountains,
among the beautiful giant cactus and flatbean trees, you will ride
your bronco over evidences of a prehistoric race;--old irrigating
ditches, lines of stone wall; or low mounds of adobe rising above
the greasewood and cacti, and littered over profusely with bits of
broken and painted pottery, broken corn-mills and grinders, perhaps
showing here and there a stone ax, arrowhead, or other old stone
implement. These mounds (vah-ahk-kee is the Pima word for such a ruin)
are the heaps caused by the fallen walls of what were once pueblos of
stone and clay. In some places there must have been populous cities,
and at the famous site of Casa Grande one finds one of the buildings
still standing--a really imposing citadel, with walls four or five feet
thick, several stories high, and habitable since the historic period.

Now according to these traditions it was the tribes now known as
Pimas, Papagoes, Yumas and Maricopas, that invaded the land, from
some mythic underworld, and overthrew the vahahkkees & killed all
their inhabitants, and this is the most interesting part of the tales
from a historic point of view. Fewkes, and other ethnologists, think
the ancestors of the Pimas built the Casa Grande & other vahahkkees,
but I doubt this. Is it reasonable to suppose that if a people as
intelligent & settled as the Pimas had once evoluted far enough
in architecture & fortification to erect such noble citadels and
extensive cities as those of Casa Grande & Casa Blanca, that they,
while still surrounded by the harassing Apaches, would have descended
to contentment with such miserable & indefensible hovels as their
present kees and cawseens? To me it is not. They are as industrious
as any of the pueblo-building Indians, not otherwise degenerate, and
had they once ever builded pueblos I do not think would have abandoned
the art. But it is easy to understand that a horde of desert campers,
overthrowing a more civilized nation, might never rebuild or copy
after its edifices. So far, then, I am inclined to agree with the
traditions and disagree with the ethnologists.

But these traditions are evidently very ancient. They appear to me to
have originated from the aborigines of this country; people who knew
no other land. Every story is saturated with local color. From the
top of Cheoffskawmack, I believe I could have seen almost every place
mentioned in the traditions, except the Rio Colorado & the ocean,
and the ocean was to them, I believe, little more than a name. They
never speak of it with their usual sketchy & graphic detail, and the
fact that in the ceremony of purification it is spoken of as a source
of drinking water shows they really knew nothing of it. The Indian is
too exact in his natural science to speak of salt water as potable. And
these stories certainly say that the dwellers in the vahahkkees were
the children of Ee-ee-toy, created right here. And that the army that
carried out Ee-ee-toy's revenge upon his rebellious people were the
children of Juhwerta Mahkai, who had been somewhere else since the
flood, but who were also originally created here.

Now, for what it is worth, I will give a theory to reconcile
these differences. I assume that their flood was a real event,
but a local one, and the greater part of the people destroyed by
it. A minority escaped by flight into the desert, and neither they
nor their descendants, for many generations, returned to the place
where the catastrophe occurred. Another remnant escaped by floating
on various objects & climbing mountains. The first were those of
whom it is fabled that Juhwerta Mahkai let them escape thru a hole
in the earth. These became nomadic, desert dwellers. The second
remained in the Gila country, became agricultural & settled in habit,
irrigating their land & building pueblos, growing rich, effeminate &
inapt at war. At length the desert fugitives, also grown numerous,
and war-like & fierce with the wild, wolf-like existence they had led,
and moved by we know not what motives of revenge or greed, returned &
swept over the land, in a sudden invasion, like a swarm of locusts;
ruthlessly destroying the vahahkkees and all who dwelt therein;
breaking even the ma-ta-tes & every utensil in their vandal fury;
dividing the region thus taken among themselves. According to these
traditions the Apaches were already dwellers in the outlying deserts &
mountains, and were not affected especially by this invasion.

Is it now unreasonable to suppose that some of the invaders
kept up, to a great extent, their old habits of desert wandering
(Papagoes for instance), and that others adopted to some extent the
agricultural habits of those they had conquered, and yet retained,
with slight change, the little brush & mud houses & arbors they had
grown accustomed to in their wanderings? These last would be our
present Pimas.

If it is considered strange that these adopted the habits, to any
extent, of those they supplanted it may be urged that they almost
certainly, in conquering the vahahkkee people, spared and married
many of the women, and adopted many of the children; this being in
accordance with their custom in historic times. And this infusion
of the gentler blood may have been very large. And these women would
naturally go on, and would be required by their new husbands to go on,
with the agricultural methods to which they were accustomed & would
teach them to their new masters. And their children, being wholly or
partly of the old stock, would have a natural tendency to the same
work, to some extent.

This theory not only explains & agrees with the main parts of the
old traditions, but seems confirmed by other things. Thus the Pimas,
Papagoes, Quojatas, and the "Rabbit-Eaters" of Mexico, speak about
the same language, which would seem to prove them originally the same
people. But some have kept the old ways, some have become agricultural,
and some are in manners between, and thus have become classed as
different tribes. And, judging from the remains, the life of the old
vahahkkee dwellers was in many ways like that of the modern Pima,
only less primitive.

But the real value of these stories is as folklore, and in their
literary merit. They throw a wonderful side-light on the old customs,
beliefs and feelings. I consider them ancient, in the main, but do
not doubt that in coming down thru many seeneeyawkums they have been
much modified by the addition of embellishment, the subtraction of
forgetfulness. As proof I adduce the accounting for the origin of
the white people, who use pens & ink, in the story of Van-daih. The
ancient Pimas knew neither white men, nor pens, nor ink, therefore
this passage is clearly an interpolation by some later narrator,
if the story is really ancient, as I suppose it is. In the story of
Noo-ee's meeting the sun, the word used by old Comalk, for the sun's
weapon, was vai-no-ma-gaht (literally iron-bow) which is the modern
Pima's name for the white man's gun, and it was translated as gun by
my interpreter. But iron and guns were both unknown to ancient Pimas,
therefore this term must have been first used by some seeneeyawkum
after the white man came, who thought a gun more appropriate than a
bow for the sun's shooting.

How much has been lost by forgetfulness we can never know; but at least
I found that the meaning of many ancient words had disappeared, that
the mystic meaning of the highly symbolic speeches seemed all gone,
and I felt certain that the last part of the Story of the Gambler's War
had been lost by forgetting; for it stops short with the preliminary
speeches, instead of going on with a detailed account of the battles
as does the Story of Paht-ahn-kum's war.

Another proof that these tales were changed by different narrators is
afforded by the variants of some of them published by Emory, Grossman,
Cook, and other writers about the Pimas.

As to the mystic meaning I can only guess. The mystic number four,
so constantly used, probably refers to the four cardinal points,
but my Indians seemed not aware of this. In the stories, West is
black, East is white or light, South is blue, North is yellow,
and Above is green. Of course the west is black because there night
swallows up the sun, and the east is light because it gives the sun,
but why south is blue and north is yellow I do not know. But south
is the nearest way to the ocean, and as in one story the word ocean
seems used in place of south, I infer the blue color was derived from
that. And the desert lying north of the ocean may suggest the desert
tint, yellow, as the color of the north. As to the sky being green,
I find this in my journal: "August 29--Last evening, after sunset,
there were the most wonderful sky effects--there was a line of light
clouds across the sky, in the west, about half way up to the zenith,
and suddenly the white part of these was washed over, as tho by a
paint brush, with a strong but delicate pea-green, while under this
spread a mist or haze of dainty pink, changing to a rich, delicate
mauve. Lasted quarter of an hour or more. Never saw anything like
it in nature before." Again, on September 6, I saw nearly the same
phenomenon. The green was very strong and vivid, and could not fail
to attract an Indian's eye, and something of the sort, I fancy,
made him make the strange choice of green for the sky color.

Those who like to compare myths and folktales and ancient scriptures
will find a rich field here. And the interesting thing is that these
tales come straight from a line of Indians who could neither read
nor write nor speak English, therefore adulteration by white man's
literature seems improbable.

As to the literary merit of these tales, after all that is lost by a
double interpretation, I consider it still very high. You must come
to them as a little child, for they are intensely child-like, and to
expect them to be like a white man's narrative is absurd. But they are
sketched in such clear, bold lines, with such a sure touch and delicate
expressiveness of salient points; there are such close-fitting, shrewd
bits of human nature; such real yet startling touches of poetry in
metaphor; such fertile and altogether Indian imagination in plot and
incident, that the interest never fails. No two stories are alike, and
if surprise is a literary charm of high value, and I think it is, then
these tales are certainly charming, for they constantly bring surprise.

And the poetry, in Eeeetoy's speech for example, is so rich and strong;
and in such parts as the story of the Nah-vah-choo the mysticism
seems to challenge one like a riddle.

When these old tales were told with all proper ceremony and respect,
they were told on four successive nights. This could not be in
the giving of them to me, for many practical reasons, but I have
endeavored to give them that form for my reader and hence the title of
my book. But I did not discover how many or what ones were told on any
one night, so my division is arbitrary, and only aims at reasonable
equality. The naming, too, of the different stories is my own, for
the old man did not appear to have any set names for them. I fancy
the old man was rusty and out of practice, and forgot some of the
tales in their proper sequence, and brought them in afterward as they
recurred to him. For instance, the story of Tcheu-nas-sat Seeven's
singing away another chief's wives evidently belongs among the early
stories of the vahahkkee people, and before the account of his death,
when the vahahkkees were destroyed. But I have given the stories in
the order in which they were told to me, leaving all responsibility
on the old seeneeyawkum's shoulders.

I lived a little more than two months with these Indians, collecting
these stories, enjoying their kindly hospitality, living as they lived,
eating their food, riding their ponies, sleeping on their roofs under
the splendid Arizona stars.

I shall never forget that day, before I left, when Ed and I saddled our
ponies in the early morning and rode twenty miles to the Casa Grande
ruins. On the way we crossed the dry bed of the Gila; and passed
thru the Agency village of Sacaton and the village of Blackwater;
skirting the Maricopa Slaughter mountains, where once some unfortunate
Maricopas were waylaid and massacred by a band of Apaches, almost in
sight of Sacaton. The Casa Grande ruins are imposing enough, but sadly
belittled in effect by the well-meant roof which the government has
erected over them to preserve them. This kills all the poetry and
gives them the ludicrous aspect of a museum specimen. Had the old
walls been skillfully capped with a waterproof cement and the walls
coated with some weatherproof and transparent wash, all necessary
security could have been effected with perhaps less expense than
this absurd roof, and all the romance of impression preserved. Let
us hope the genial and manly young custodian, Mr. Frank Pinckly, to
whose warm-hearted hospitality and that of his parents I owe grateful
thanks, will consider this suggestion favorably and earn the blessing
of future travellers. A storm broke on us while we were at the ruins,
and riding home that evening we found the Gila flooded. I shall always
remember how its muddy torrent looked to me, plunging along at my feet,
where that morning I had crossed dry shod; its yellow waves shot with
blood-red reflections from the last colors of sunset.

"You better see that Pinto's cinch is tight, or she may try to get you
off in the river," warned Ed, in my ear, as he jumped off to cinch up
"Georgie."

It was always exciting to me to ford the treacherous Gila, the tawny
waters were so sweeping, and the ponies plunged so when their feet
felt the quicksands, but we got across all right, and galloped home
on the slippery, muddy roads.

When I left these people it was with a genuine regard for their
virtues. I found them in the main kind, honest, simple-minded,
industrious, surprisingly clean, considering their obstacles of scant
water and ever-present dust, and the calmest tempered people I have
ever known.

I remember the second day of my stay we were going to ride to the Casa
Blanca ruins. In watering the ponies at the well, "Georgie's" loosened
saddle turned and swung under his belly. Such bucking and frantic
kicking as that half-broken colt indulged in for a few moments would
have made a congress of cow-boys applaud, and when it was over the
beautiful colt stood exhausted on the far side of a twenty acre field,
with the saddle fragments somewhere between. Now to poor Indians the
loss of a saddle is not small, and I fancy most frontiersmen, under the
provocation, would have made the air blue with oaths, but Ed only sadly
said: "I'm afraid that spoils Georgie," and the stepfather laughed and
started patiently out on the trail of the colt "to save the pieces,"
while the mother took one of her bowl-shaped Pima baskets, with beans
in it, and coaxed the colt till she caught him. Then he was patted
and soothed and fed with sugar, the saddle patched up and replaced,
and we rode eighteen miles that day and never another mishap. And
from first to last never a harsh or complaining word.

I at no time encountered a beggar among the Pimas, and tho they were
mostly very poor I had not a pin's worth stolen. I never heard an
oath, or saw a brutal or violent act, or a child slapped or scolded,
or a woman treated with disrespect or tyranny, nor any drunkenness
or cruelty to animals. Perhaps I was especially fortunate, but I can
only speak of what I saw. Their self-respect and serenity continually
aroused my admiration.

I must say that they appeared to me to excel any average white
neighborhood in good behavior.

It is a strange land, that in which the Pimas dwell; a desert overgrown
with strange soft-tinted weeds, "salt weeds," pink, red, green, gray,
blue, purple; the rich-green yellow-flowering greasewood; odd cacti,
and all manner of thornbearing bushes. The soil is inexhaustibly rich,
were there water enough, but the white people, settling above the
Indians, on the Gila, have so withdrawn the water that crop failures
from lack of sufficient irrigation are the rule, now, instead of the
exception, and the once ever-flowing Gila is more often a dry channel,
as sun-baked as the desert around it.

All around their valley, and rising here and there from the plain,
are low volcanic peaks, mere dead masses of rock except where in
places a giant cactus stands candelabra-like among the slopes of
stone. About the feet of these mountains, and along the channels where
the torrents rush down in times of rain, are weird forests of desert
growths, mezquite, cat-claw, flat-beans, screw-beans, greasewood,
giant-cactus, cane-cactus, white-cactus, cholla-cactus, and a host
of others, almost everything bristling with innumerable thorns.

On this strange pasture of weed and thorn the Indian's ponies &
his few cattle graze.

Here in summer the sun beats down till the mercury registers 118 to
120 degrees in the shade, and dust storms & dust whirlwinds travel
over the burning plain.








STORIES OF THE FIRST NIGHT


THE TRADITIONS OF THE PIMAS


The old man, Comalk Hawk-Kih, (Thin Buckskin) began by saying that
these were stories which he used to hear his father tell, they being
handed down from father to son, and that when he was little he did
not pay much attention, but when he grew older he determined to learn
them, and asked his father to teach him, which his father did, and
now he knew them all.








THE STORY OF THE CREATION


In the beginning there was no earth, no water--nothing. There was
only a Person, uh-wert-a-Mah-kai (The Doctor of the Earth).

He just floated, for there was no place for him to stand upon. There
was no sun, no light, and he just floated about in the darkness,
which was Darkness itself.

He wandered around in the nowhere till he thought he had wandered
enough. Then he rubbed on his breast and rubbed out moah-haht-tack,
that is perspiration, or greasy earth. This he rubbed out on the palm
of his hand and held out. It tipped over three times, but the fourth
time it staid straight in the middle of the air and there it remains
now as the world.

The first bush he created was the greasewood bush.

And he made ants, little tiny ants, to live on that bush, on its gum
which comes out of its stem.

But these little ants did not do any good, so he created white ants,
and these worked and enlarged the earth; and they kept on increasing
it, larger and larger, until at last it was big enough for himself
to rest on.

Then he created a Person. He made him out of his eye, out of the shadow
of his eyes, to assist him, to be like him, and to help him in creating
trees and human beings and everything that was to be on the earth.

The name of this being was Noo-ee (the Buzzard).

Nooee was given all power, but he did not do the work he was created
for. He did not care to help Juhwertamahkai, but let him go by himself.

And so the Doctor of the Earth himself created the mountains and
everything that has seed and is good to eat. For if he had created
human beings first they would have had nothing to live on.

But after making Nooee and before making the mountains and seed for
food, Juhwertamahkai made the sun.

In order to make the sun he first made water, and this he placed in
a hollow vessel, like an earthen dish (hwas-hah-ah) to harden into
something like ice. And this hardened ball he placed in the sky. First
he placed it in the North, but it did not work; then he placed it in
the West, but it did not work; then he placed it in the South, but
it did not work; then he placed it in the East and there it worked
as he wanted it to.

And the moon he made in the same way and tried in the same places,
with the same results.

But when he made the stars he took the water in his mouth and spurted
it up into the sky. But the first night his stars did not give light
enough. So he took the Doctor-stone (diamond), the tone-dum-haw-teh,
and smashed it up, and took the pieces and threw them into the sky to
mix with the water in the stars, and then there was light enough. [1]

And now Juhwertamahkai, rubbed again on his breast, and from the
substance he obtained there made two little dolls, and these he laid
on the earth. And they were human beings, man and woman.

And now for a time the people increased till they filled the earth. For
the first parents were perfect, and there was no sickness and no
death. But when the earth was full, then there was nothing to eat,
so they killed and ate each other.

But Juhwertamahkai did not like the way his people acted, to kill
and eat each other, and so he let the sky fall to kill them. But
when the sky dropped he, himself, took a staff and broke a hole thru,
thru which he and Nooee emerged and escaped, leaving behind them all
the people dead.

And Juhwertamahkai, being now on the top of this fallen sky, again made
a man and a woman, in the same way as before. But this man and woman
became grey when old, and their children became grey still younger,
and their children became grey younger still, and so on till the
babies were gray in their cradles.

And Juhwertamahkai, who had made a new earth and sky, just as there had
been before, did not like his people becoming grey in their cradles, so
he let the sky fall on them again, and again made a hole and escaped,
with Nooee, as before.

And Juhwertamahkai, on top of this second sky, again made a new heaven
and a new earth, just as he had done before, and new people.

But these new people made a vice of smoking. Before human beings
had never smoked till they were old, but now they smoked younger,
and each generation still younger, till the infants wanted to smoke
in their cradles.

And Juhwertamahkai did not like this, and let the sky fall again,
and created everything new again in the same way, and this time he
created the earth as it is now.

But at first the whole slope of the world was westward, and tho
there were peaks rising from this slope there were no true valleys,
and all the water that fell ran away and there was no water for the
people to drink. So Juhwertamahkai sent Nooee to fly around among
the mountains, and over the earth, to cut valleys with his wings,
so that the water could be caught and distributed and there might be
enough for the people to drink.

Now the sun was male and the moon was female and they met once a
month. And the moon became a mother and went to a mountain called
Tahs-my-et-tahn Toe-ahk (sun striking mountain) and there was born her
baby. But she had duties to attend to, to turn around and give light,
so she made a place for the child by tramping down the weedy bushes
and there left it. And the child, having no milk, was nourished on
the earth.

And this child was the coyote, and as he grew he went out to walk
and in his walk came to the house of Juhwertamahkai and Nooee, where
they lived.

And when he came there Juhwertamahkai knew him and called him
Toe-hahvs, because he was laid on the weedy bushes of that name.

But now out of the North came another powerful personage, who has
two names, See-ur-huh and Ee-ee-toy.

Now Seeurhuh means older brother, and when this personage came
to Juhwertamahkai, Nooee and Toehahvs he called them his younger
brothers. But they claimed to have been here first, and to be older
than he, and there was a dispute between them. But finally, because he
insisted so strongly, and just to please him, they let him be called
older brother.



        JUHWERTA MAHKAI'S SONG OF CREATION

        Juhwerta mahkai made the world--
        Come and see it and make it useful!
        He made it round--
        Come and see it and make it useful!



NOTES ON STORY OF CREATION

The idea of creating the earth from the perspiration and waste cuticle
of the Creator is, I believe, original.

The local touch in making the greasewood bush the first vegetation
is very strong.

In the tipping over of the earth three times, and its standing right
the fourth time, we are introduced to the first of the mystic fours
in which the whole scheme of the stories is cast. Almost everything
is done four times before finished.

The peculiar Indian idea of type-animals, the immortal and supernatural
representatives of their respective animal tribes, appears in Nooee and
Toehahvs, and here again the local color is rich and strong in making
the buzzard and the coyote, the most common and striking animals of
the desert, the particular aides on the staff of the Creator.

Might not the creation of Nooee out of the shadow of the eyes of the
Doctor of the Earth be a poetical allusion to the flying shadow of
the buzzard on the sun-bright desert?

In the creation of sun and moon we find the mystic four referred to
the four corners of the universe, North, South, East and West, and
this, I am persuaded, is really the origin of its sacred significance,
for most religions find root and source in astronomy.

In the dropping of the sky appears the old idea of its solid character.

In the "slope of the world to the Westward" there is something
curiously significant when we remember that both the Gila and Salt
Rivers flow generally westward.

Nooee cuts the valleys with his wings. It would almost appear that
Nooee was Juhwertamahkai's agent in the air and sky, Toehahvs on earth.

The night-prowling coyote is appropriately and poetically mothered
by the moon.

And here appears Eeeetoy, the most active and mysterious personality
in Piman mythology. Out of the North, apparently self-existent,
but little inferior in power to Juhwertamahkai, and claiming greater
age, he appears, by pure "bluff" and persistent push and wheedling,
to have induced the really more powerful, but good-natured and rather
lazy Juhwertamahkai to give over most of the real work and government
of the world to him. In conversing with Harry Azul, the head chief's
son, at Sacaton, I found he regarded Eeeetoy and Juhwertamahkai as
but two names for the same. And indeed it is hard to fix Eeeetoy's
place or power.








THE STORY OF THE FLOOD


Now Seeurhuh was very powerful, like Juhwerta Mahkai, and as he took
up his residence with them, as one of them, he did many wonderful
things which pleased Juhwerta Mahkai, who liked to watch him.

And after doing many marvelous things he, too, made a man.

And to this man whom he had made, Seeurhuh (whose other name was
Ee-ee-toy) gave a bow & arrows, and guarded his arm against the
bow string by a piece of wild-cat skin, and pierced his ears & made
ear-rings for him, like turquoises to look at, from the leaves of
the weed called quah-wool. And this man was the most beautiful man
yet made.

And Ee-ee-toy told this young man, who was just of marriageable age,
to look around and see if he could find any young girl in the villages
that would suit him and, if he found her, to see her relatives and
see if they were willing he should marry her.

And the beautiful young man did this, and found a girl that pleased
him, and told her family of his wish, and they accepted him, and he
married her.

And the names of both these are now forgotten and unknown.

And when they were married Ee-ee-toy, foreseeing what would happen,
went & gathered the gum of the greasewood tree.



Here the narrative states, with far too much plainness of
circumstantial detail for popular reading, that this young man married
a great many wives in rapid succession, abandoning the last one with
each new one wedded, and had children with abnormal, even uncanny
swiftness, for which the wives were blamed and for which suspicion they
were thus heartlessly divorced. Because of this, Juhwerta Mahkai and
Ee-ee-toy foresaw that nature would be convulsed and a great flood
would come to cover the world.

And then the narrative goes on to say:

Now there was a doctor who lived down toward the sunset whose name was
Vahk-lohv Mahkai, or South Doctor, who had a beautiful daughter. And
when his daughter heard of this young man and what had happened to
his wives she was afraid and cried every day. And when her father
saw her crying he asked her what was the matter? was she sick? And
when she had told him what she was afraid of, for every one knew
and was talking of this thing, he said yes, he knew it was true,
but she ought not to be afraid, for there was happiness for a woman
in marriage and the mothering of children.

And it took many years for the young man to marry all these wives,
and have all these children, and all this time Ee-ee-toy was busy
making a great vessel of the gum he had gathered from the grease
bushes, a sort of olla which could be closed up, which would keep
back water. And while he was making this he talked over the reasons
for it with Juhwerta Mahkai, Nooee, and Toehahvs, that it was because
there was a great flood coming.

And several birds heard them talking thus--the woodpecker, Hick-o-vick;
the humming-bird, Vee-pis-mahl; a little bird named Gee-ee-sop,
and another called Quota-veech.

Eeeetoy said he would escape the flood by getting into the vessel he
was making from the gum of the grease bushes or ser-quoy.

And Juhwerta Mahkai said he would get into his staff, or walking stick,
and float about.

And Toehahvs said he would get into a cane-tube.

And the little birds said the water would not reach the sky, so they
would fly up there and hang on by their bills till it was over.

And Nooee, the buzzard, the powerful, said he did not care if the
flood did reach the sky, for he could find a way to break thru.

Now Ee-ee-toy was envious, and anxious to get ahead of Juhwerta
Mahkai and get more fame for his wonderful deeds, but Juhwerta Mahkai,
though really the strongest, was generous and from kindness and for
relationship sake let Ee-ee-toy have the best of it.

And the young girl, the doctor's daughter, kept on crying, fearing
the young man, feeling him ever coming nearer, and her father kept
on reassuring her, telling her it would be all right, but at last,
out of pity for her fears & tears, he told her to go and get him
the little tuft of the finest thorns on the top of the white cactus,
the haht-sahn-kahm, [2] and bring to him.

And her father took the cactus-tuft which she had brought him, and
took hair from her head and wound about one end of it, and told her
if she would wear this it would protect her. And she consented and
wore the cactus-tuft.

And he told her to treat the young man right, when he came, & make
him broth of corn. And if the young man should eat all the broth,
then their plan would fail, but if he left any broth she was to eat
that up and then their plan would succeed.

And he told her to be sure and have a bow and arrows above the door
of the kee, so that he could take care of the young man.

And after her father had told her this, on that very evening the young
man came, and the girl received him kindly, and took his bows & arrows,
and put them over the door of the kee, as her father had told her,
and made the young man broth of corn and gave it to him to eat.

And he ate only part of it and what was left she ate herself.

And before this her father had told her: "If the young man is wounded
by the thorns you wear, in that moment he will become a woman and a
mother and you will become a young man."

And in the night all this came to be, even so, and by day-break the
child was crying.

And the old woman ran in and said: "Mos-say!" which means an old
woman's grandchild from a daughter.

And the daughter, that had been, said: "It is not your moss, it is
your cah-um-maht," that is an old woman's grandchild from a son.

And then the old man ran in and said: "Bah-ahm-ah-dah!" that is
an old man's grandchild from a daughter, but his daughter said:
"It is not your bah-ahm-maht, but it is your voss-ahm-maht," which
is an old man's grandchild from a son.

And early in the morning this young man (that had been, but who
was now a woman & a mother) made a wawl-kote, a carrier, or cradle,
for the baby and took the trail back home.

And Juhwerta Mahkai told his neighbors of what was coming, this
young man who had changed into a woman and a mother and was bringing
a baby born from himself, and that when he arrived wonderful things
would happen & springs would gush forth from under every tree and on
every mountain.

And the young man-woman came back and by the time of his return
Ee-ee-toy had finished his vessel and had placed therein seeds &
everything that is in the world.

And the young man-woman, when he came to his old home, placed his
baby in the bushes and left it, going in without it, but Ee-ee-toy
turned around and looked at him and knew him, for he did not wear a
woman's dress, and said to him: "Where is my Bahahmmaht? Bring it to
me. I want to see it. It is a joy for an old man to see his grandchild.

"I have sat here in my house and watched your going, and all that
has happened you, and foreseen some one would send you back in shame,
although I did not like to think there was anyone more powerful than
I. But never mind, he who has beaten us will see what will happen."

And when the young man-woman went to get his baby, Ee-ee-toy got into
his vessel, and built a fire on the hearth he had placed therein,
and sealed it up.

And the young man-woman found his baby crying, and the tears from it
were all over the ground, around. And when he stooped over to pick
up his child he turned into a sand-snipe, and the baby turned into
a little teeter-snipe.

And then that came true which Juhwerta Mahkai had said, that water
would gush out from under every tree & on every mountain; and the
people when they saw it, and knew that a flood was coming, ran to
Juhwerta Mahkai; and he took his staff and made a hole in the earth
and let all those thru who had come to him, but the rest were drowned.

Then Juhwerta Mahkai got into his walking stick & floated, and Toehahvs
got into his tube of cane and floated, but Ee-ee-toy's vessel was
heavy & big and remained until the flood was much deeper before it
could float.

And the people who were left out fled to the mountains; to the
mountains called Gah-kote-kih (Superstition Mts.) for they were
living in the plains between Gahkotekih and Cheoffskawmack (Tall
Gray Mountain).

And there was a powerful man among these people, a doctor (mahkai),
who set a mark on the mountain side and said the water would not rise
above it.

And the people believed him and camped just beyond the mark; but the
water came on and they had to go higher. And this happened four times.

And the mahkai did this to help his people, and also used power to
raise the mountain, but at last he saw all was to be a failure. And
he called the people and asked them all to come close together, and he
took his doctor-stone (mah-kai-haw-teh) which is called Tonedumhawteh
or Stone-of-Light, and held it in the palm of his hand and struck
it hard with his other hand, and it thundered so loud that all the
people were frightened and they were all turned into stone.

And the little birds, the woodpecker, Hickovick; the humming-bird,
Veepismahl; the little bird named Gee-ee-sop, and the other called
Quotaveech, all flew up to the sky and hung on by their bills, but
Nooee still floated in the air and intended to keep on the wing unless
the floods reached the heavens.

But Juhwerta Mahkai, Ee-ee-toy and Toehahvs floated around on the
water and drifted to the west and did not know where they were.

And the flood rose higher until it reached the woodpecker's tail,
and you can see the marks to this day.

And Quotaveech was cold and cried so loud that the other birds pulled
off their feathers and built him a nest up there so he could keep
warm. And when Quotaveech was warm he quit crying.

And then the little birds sang, for they had power to make the water
go down by singing, and as they sang the waters gradually receded.

But the others still floated around.

When the land began to appear Juhwerta Mahkai and Toehahvs got out,
but Ee-ee-toy had to wait for his house to warm up, for he had built
a fire to warm his vessel enough for him to unseal it.

When it was warm enough he unsealed it, but when he looked out he
saw the water still running & he got back and sealed himself in again.

And after waiting a while he unsealed his vessel again, and seeing
dry land enough he got out.

And Juhwerta Mahkai went south and Toehahvs went west, and Ee-ee-toy
went northward. And as they did not know where they were they missed
each other, and passed each other unseen, but afterward saw each
other's tracks, and then turned back and shouted, but wandered from
the track, and again passed unseen. And this happened four times.

And the fourth time Juhwerta Mahkai and Ee-ee-toy met, but Toehahvs
had passed already.

And when they met, Ee-ee-toy said to Juhwerta Mahkai "My younger
brother!" but Juhwerta Mahkai greeted him as younger brother &
claimed to have come out first. Then Ee-ee-toy said again: "I came
out first and you can see the water marks on my body." But Juhwerta
Mahkai replied: "I came out first and also have the water marks on
my person to prove it."

But Ee-ee-toy so insisted that he was the eldest that Juhwerta Mahkai,
just to please him, gave him his way and let him be considered
the elder.

And then they turned westward and yelled to find Toehahvs, for they
remembered to have seen his tracks, and they kept on yelling till he
heard them. And when Toehahvs saw them he called them his younger
brothers, and they called him younger brother. And this dispute
continued till Ee-ee-toy again got the best of it, and although really
the younger brother was admitted by the the others to be Seeurhuh,
or the elder.

And the birds came down from the sky and again there was a dispute
about the relationship, but Ee-ee-toy again got the best of them all.

But Quotaveech staid up in the sky because he had a comfortable nest
there, and they called him Vee-ick-koss-kum Mahkai, the Feather-Nest
Doctor.

And they wanted to find the middle, the navel of the earth, and
they sent Veepismahl, the humming-bird, to the west, and Hickovick,
the woodpecker, to the east, and all the others stood and waited for
them at the starting place. And Veepismahl & Hickovick were to go as
far as they could, to the edge of the world, and then return to find
the middle of the earth by their meeting. But Hickovick flew a little
faster and got there first, and so when they met they found it was
not the middle, and they parted & started again, but this time they
changed places and Hickovick went westward and Veepismahl went east.

And this time Veepismahl was the faster, and Hickovick was late,
and the judges thought their place of meeting was a little east of
the center so they all went a little way west. Ee-ee-toy, Juhwerta
Mahkai and Toehahvs stood there and sent the birds out once more,
and this time Hickovick went eastward again, and Veepismahl went
west. And Hickovick flew faster and arrived there first. And they said:
"This is not the middle. It is a little way west yet."

And so they moved a little way, and again the birds were sent forth,
and this time Hickovick went west and Veepismahl went east. And when
the birds returned they met where the others stood and all cried
"This is the Hick, the Navel of the World!"

And they stood there because there was no dry place yet for them to
sit down upon; and Ee-ee-toy rubbed upon his breast and took from
his bosom the smallest ants, the O-auf-taw-ton, and threw them upon
the ground, and they worked there and threw up little hills; and this
earth was dry. And so they sat down.

But the water was still running in the valleys, and Ee-ee-toy took
a hair from his head & made it into a snake--Vuck-vahmuht. And with
this snake he pushed the waters south, but the head of the snake was
left lying to the west and his tail to the east.

But there was more water, and Ee-ee-toy took another hair from his
head and made another snake, and with this snake pushed the rest of
the water north. And the head of this snake was left to the east and
his tail to the west. So the head of each snake was left lying with
the tail of the other.

And the snake that has his tail to the east, in the morning will
shake up his tail to start the morning wind to wake the people and
tell them to think of their dreams.

And the snake that has his tail to the west, in the evening will
shake up his tail to start the cool wind to tell the people it is
time to go in and make the fires & be comfortable.

And they said: "We will make dolls, but we will not let each other
see them until they are finished."

And Ee-ee-toy sat facing the west, and Toehahvs facing the south,
and Juhwerta Mahkai facing the east.

And the earth was still damp and they took clay and began to make
dolls. And Ee-ee-toy made the best. But Juhwerta Mahkai did not make
good ones, because he remembered some of his people had escaped the
flood thru a hole in the earth, and he intended to visit them and
he did not want to make anything better than they were to take the
place of them. And Toehahvs made the poorest of all.

Then Ee-ee-toy asked them if they were ready, and they all said yes,
and then they turned about and showed each other the dolls they
had made.

And Ee-ee-toy asked Juhwerta Mahkai why he had made such queer
dolls. "This one," he said, "is not right, for you have made him
without any sitting-down parts, and how can he get rid of the waste
of what he eats?"

But Juhwerta Mahkai said: "He will not need to eat, he can just smell
the smell of what is cooked."

Then Ee-ee-toy asked again: "Why did you make this doll with only one
leg--how can he run?" But Juhwerta Mahkai replied: "He will not need
to run; he can just hop around."

Then Ee-ee-toy asked Toehahvs why he had made a doll with webs between
his fingers and toes--"How can he point directions?" But Toehahvs
said he had made these dolls so for good purpose, for if anybody
gave them small seeds they would not slip between their fingers,
and they could use the webs for dippers to drink with.

And Ee-ee-toy held up his dolls and said: "These are the best of all,
and I want you to make more like them." And he took Toehahv's dolls
and threw them into the water and they became ducks & beavers. And he
took Juhwerta Mahkai's dolls and threw them away and they all broke
to pieces and were nothing.

And Juhwerta Mahkai was angry at this and began to sink into the
ground; and took his stick and hooked it into the sky and pulled the
sky down while he was sinking. But Ee-ee-toy spread his hand over his
dolls, and held up the sky, and seeing that Juhwerta Mahkai was sinking
into the earth he sprang and tried to hold him & cried, "Man, what
are you doing! Are you going to leave me and my people here alone?"

But Juhwerta Mahkai slipped through his hands, leaving in them only
the waste & excretion of his skin. And that is how there is sickness &
death among us.

And Ee-ee-toy, when Juhwerta Mahkai escaped him, went around swinging
his hands & saying: "I never thought all this impurity would come
upon my people!" and the swinging of his hands scattered disease
over all the earth. And he washed himself in a pool or pond and the
impurities remaining in the water are the source of the malarias and
all the diseases of dampness.

And Ee-ee-toy and Toehahvs built a house for their dolls a little
way off, and Ee-ee-toy sent Toehahvs to listen if they were yet
talking. And the Aw-up, (the Apaches) were the first ones that
talked. And Ee-ee-toy said: "I never meant to have those Apaches
talk first, I would rather have had the Aw-aw-tam, the Good People,
speak first."

But he said: "It is all right. I will give them strength, that they
stand the cold & all hardships."

And all the different people that they had made talked, one after
the other, but the Awawtam talked last.

And they all took to playing together, and in their play they kicked
each other as the Maricopas do in sport to this day; but the Apaches
got angry and said: "We will leave you and go into the mountains and
eat what we can get, but we will dream good dreams and be just as
happy as you with all your good things to eat."

And some of the people took up their residence on the Gila, and some
went west to the Rio Colorado. And those who builded vahahkkees,
or houses out of adobe and stones, lived in the valley of the Gila,
between the mountains which are there now.




        JUHWERTA MAHKAI'S SONG BEFORE THE FLOOD

            My poor people,
            Who will see,
            Who will see
        This water which will moisten the earth!




        THE SONG OF SUPERSTITION MOUNTAINS

        We are destroyed!
        By my stone we are destroyed!
        We are rightly turned into stone.




        EE-EE-TOY'S SONG WHEN HE MADE THE WORLD SERPENTS

        I know what to do;
        I am going to move the water
            both ways.




NOTES ON THE STORY OF THE FLOOD

In the Story of the Flood we are introduced to Indian marriage. Among
the Pimas it was a very simple affair. There was no ceremony
whatever. The lover usually selected a relative, who went with him to
the parents of the girl and asked the father to permit the lover to
marry her. Presents were seldom given unless a very old man desired
a young bride. The girl was consulted and her consent was essential,
her refusal final. If, however, all parties were satisfied, she went at
once with her husband as his wife. If either party became dissatisfied,
separation at once constituted divorce and either could leave the
other. A widow or divorced woman, if courted by another suitor, was
approached directly, with no intervention of relatives. Of course,
on these terms there were many separations, yet all accounts agree
that there was a good deal of fidelity and many life-long unions and
cases of strong affection.

Polygamy was not unknown.

Grossman says that the wife was the slave of the husband, but it
is difficult to see how a woman, free at any moment to divorce
herself without disgrace or coercion, could be properly regarded as
a slave. Certainly the men appear always to have done a large part
of the hard work, and as far as I could see the women were remarkably
equal and independent and respectfully treated, as such a system would
naturally bring about. A man would be a fool to ill-treat a woman,
whose love or services were valuable to him, if at any moment of
discontent she could leave him, perhaps for a rival. The chances are
that he would constantly endeavor to hold her allegiance by special
kindness and favors.

But today legal marriage is replacing the old system.

So far as I saw the Pimas were very harmonious and kindly in family
life.

The birds, gee-ee-sop and quotaveech, were pointed out to me by the
Pimas, and as near as I could tell quotaveech was Bendire's thrasher,
or perhaps the curve-bill thrasher. It has a very sweet but timid
song. I did not succeed in identifying gee-ee-sop, but find these
entries about him in my journal: "Aug. 5--I saw a little bird which
I suppose to be a gee-ee-sop in a mezquite today, smaller and more
slender than a vireo, but like one in action, but the tail longer and
carried more like a brown thrasher, nearly white below, dark, leaden
gray above, top of head and tail black." Again on Sept. 1: "What a
dear little bird the gee-ee-sop is! Two of them in the oas-juh-wert-pot
tree were looking at me a few minutes back. Dark slate-blue above and
nearly white below, with beady black eyes and black, lively tails,
tipped with white, they are very pretty, tame and confiding."

The faith of the Aw-aw-tam in witchcraft appears first in this story
and afterwards is conspicuous in nearly all. Almost all diseases
they supposed were caused by bewitching, and it was the chief
business of the medicine-men to find out who or what had caused the
bewitching. Sometimes people were accused and murders followed. This
was the darkest spot in Piman life. Generally, however, some animal or
inanimate object was identified. Grossman's account in the Smithsonian
Report for 1871 is interesting. In the stories, however, witchcraft
appears usually as the ability of the mahkai to work transformations
in himself or others, in true old fairy-tale style.

Superstition Mountain derives its name from this story. It is a
very beautiful and impressive mountain, with terraces of cliffs,
marking perhaps the successive pausing places of the fugitives, and
the huddled rocks on the top represent their petrified forms. Some
of the older Indians still fear to go up into this mountain, lest a
like fate befall them.

What beautiful poetic touches are the wetting of the woodpecker's tail,
and the singing of the little birds to subdue the angry waters.

The resemblances to Genesis will of course be noted by all in these
two first stories. Yet after all they are few and slight in any matter
of detail.

In Ee-ee-toy's serpents, that pushed back the waters, there is a
strong reminder of the Norse Midgard Serpent.

The making of the dolls in this story is one of the prettiest and
most amusing spots in the traditions.

The waste and perspiration of Juhwerta Mahkai's skin again comes into
play, but this time as a malign force instead of a beneficent one. It
would also appear from this that the more intelligent Pimas had a
glimmering of the fact that there were other causes than witchcraft
for disease.

I have generally used the word Aw-aw-tam (Good People, or People of
Peace) as synonymous with Pima, but it is sometimes used to embrace
all Indians of the Piman stock and may be so understood in this story.

And perhaps this is as good a place as any to say a few descriptive
words about these Pimas of Arizona, and their allies, who have from
prehistoric times inhabited what the old Spanish historian, Clavigero,
called "Pimeria," that is, the valleys of the Gila and Salt Rivers.

Their faces seemed to me to be of almost Caucasian regularity and
rather of an English or Dutch cast, that is rather heavily moulded. The
forehead is vertical and inclined to be square; and the chin, broad,
heavy and full, comes out well to its line. The nose is straight,
or a little irregular, or rounded, at the end, but not often very
aquiline, never flat or wide-nostriled. The mouth is large but well
shaped, with short, white, remarkably even teeth, seldom showing any
canine projection. The whole face is a little heavy and square, but
the cheek bones are not especially prominent. The eyes are level, frank
and direct in glance, with long lashes and strong black brows. In the
babies a slight uptilt to the eye is sometimes seen, like a Japanese,
which indeed the babies suggest. The head of almost all adults is
well-balanced and finely poised on a good neck.

Another type possesses more of what we call the Indian feature. The
forehead retreats somewhat, so does the chin, while the upper lip
is larger, longer, more convex and the nose, above is more aquiline,
with wider nostrils. Consequently this face in profile is more convex
thruout. The cheek-bones are much more prominent, too, and the head
not generally so well-balanced and proportional.

While I have seen no striking beauty I believe the average good looks
is greater than among white men, taken as they come.

The women as a rule, however, do not carry themselves gracefully, are
apt to be too broad, fat and dumpy in figure, with too large waists,
and often loose, ungracefully-moving hips. This deformity of the hips,
for it almost amounts to that, I observe among Italian peasant women,
too, and some negresses, and, I take it, is caused by carrying too
heavy loads on the head at too early an age. There seems to be a
settling down of the body into the pelvis, with a loose alternate
motion of the hips. There are exceptions, of course, and I have seen
those of stately figure and fine carriage. Sometimes the loose-hip
motion appears in a man.

A slight tattooing appears on almost all Pima faces not of the last
generation. In the women this consists of two blue lines running down
from each corner of the mouth, under the chin, crossing, at the start,
the lower lip, and a single blue line running back from the outer
angle of each eye to the hair.

In the men it is usually a single zigzag blue line across the forehead.

The pigment used is charcoal.

The men are generally erect and of good figure, with good chests and
rather heavy shoulders, the legs often a little bowed. Strange to say
I never saw one who walked "pigeon-toed." All turned the toes out like
white men. The hands are often small and almost always well-shaped; and
the feet of good shape, too, not over large, with a well-arched instep.

Emory and his comrades found the Pimas wearing a kind of breech-cloth
and a cotton serape only for garments; the women wearing only a
serape tied around the waist and falling to the knee, being otherwise
nude. Today the average male Pima dresses like a white workman, in hat,
shirt, trousers and perhaps shoes, and his wife or daughter wears a
single print gown, rather loose at the waist and ruffled at the bottom,
which reaches only to the ankles. Both sexes are commonly barefooted,
but the old sandals, once universal, are still often seen. These
gah-kai-gey-aht-kum-soosk, or string-shoes, as the word means, were
made in several different ways, and often projected somewhat around
the foot as a protection against the frequent and formidable thorns
of the country.

Sometimes a wilder or older Indian will be seen, even now, with only
a breech-cloth on, and some apology for a garment on his shoulders.

The skin is often of a very beautiful rich red-bronze tint, or perhaps
more like old mahogany.

Except the tattooing both sexes are remarkable for their almost
entire absense of any marked adornment or ornament of person. Even a
finger-ring, or a ribbon on the hair, is not common, and the profuse
bead-work and embroidery of the other tribes is never seen.

The exceedingly thick and intensely black hair was formerly worn
very long, even to the waist, being banged off just over the eyes
of the women and over the eyes and ears of the men and allowed to
hang perfectly loose. But the women seldom wore as long hair as
the men. This long hair is still sometimes seen and is exceedingly
picturesque, especially on horseback, and it is a great pity so
sightly a fashion should ever die out. I have seen Maricopas roll
theirs in ringlets. Sometimes the men braided the hair into a cue,
or looped up the ends with a fillet. But the Government discourages
long and loose hair, and now most men cut it short, and women part
theirs and braid it. Like all Indians, the men have scant beards,
and the few whiskers that grow are shaved clean or resolutely pinched
off with an old knife or pulled out by tweezers.

Their hair appears to turn gray as early as ours, tho I saw no baldness
except on one individual. In old times (and even now to some extent)
the hair was dressed with a mixture of mud and mezquite gum, at times,
which was left on long enough for the desired effect and then thoroly
washed off. This cleansed it and made it glossy and the gum dyed the
gray hair quite a lasting, jet black, tho several applications might
be needed.

Women still carry their ollas and other burdens on their heads and
are exceedingly strong and expert in the art, balancing great and
awkward weights with admirable dexterity.

The convenient and even beautiful gyih-haw (a word very difficult to
pronounce correctly), or burden basket, of the old time Pima woman,
seems to have entirely disappeared. It was not only picturesque,
but an exceedingly useful utensil.

The wawl-kote, or carrying-cradle for the baby, is obsolete, too,
now. Strange to say, tho in shape like most pappoose-cradles, it
was carried poised on the head, instead of slung on the back in the
usual way.

The Pimas are fond of conversation and often come together in the
evening and have long talks. Their voices are low, rapid, soft and
very pleasant and they laugh, smile and joke a great deal. They are
remarkable for calmness and evenness of temper and the expression of
the face is nearly always intelligent, frank, and good-natured.

They are noticeably devoid of hurry, worry, irritability or
nervousness.

Unlike most Indians these have not been removed from the soil of their
fathers and, indeed, such an act would have been cruelly unjust, for,
true to their name, the Pimas have maintained an unbroken peace with
the whites.

Lieutenant Colonel W. H. Emory, of "The Army of the West," who visited
them in 1846, was perhaps the first American to observe and describe
these people. He says: "Both nations (Pimas and Maricopas) cherished an
aversion to war and a profound attachment to all the peaceful pursuits
of life. This predilection arose from no incapacity for war, for they
were at all times able and willing to keep the Apaches, whose hands
are raised against all other people, at a respectful distance, and
prevent depredations by those mountain robbers who held Chihuahua,
Sonora and a part of Durango in a condition approaching almost to
tributary provinces."

As observed by Emory and the other officers of the "Army of the West"
they were an agricultural people raising at that time "cotton, wheat,
maize, beans, pumpkins and water melons." I found them raising all
these in 1903, except cotton, and I think he might have added to his
list, peppers, gourds, tobacco and the pea called cah-lay-vahs.

Emory says: "We were at once impressed with the beauty, order,
and disposition of the arrangements made for irrigating the land
... the fields are subdivided by ridges of earth into rectangles of
about 200×100 feet, for the convenience of irrigating. The fences
are of sticks, matted with willow and mezquite." I found this still
comparatively correct. The fields are still irrigated by acequias
or ditches from the Gila, and still fenced by forks of trees set
closely in the ground and reinforced with branches of thorn or barbed
wire. Some of these fences with their antler-like effect of tops are
very picturesque.

From the description given by Emory, and Captain A. R. Johnson of the
same army, of their kees or winter lodges, they were essentially the
same as I found some of them still inhabiting. There is the following
entry in my journal: "I have been examining the old kee next door,
since the old couple left it. It is quite neatly and systematically
made. Four large forks are set in the ground, and these support
a square of large poles, covered with other poles, arrow-weeds,
chaff and earth, for the roof. The walls are a neat arrangement of
small saplings, about 10 inches apart curving up from the ground on
a bending slant to the roof, so that the whole structure comes to
resemble a turtle-shell or rather an inverted bowl. These side sticks
are connected by three lines of smaller sticks tied across them with
withes, all the way around the kee. Against these arrow-weeds are
stood, closely and neatly, tops down (perhaps thatched on) and kept in
place by three more lines of small sticks, bound on and corresponding
to those within. Then the whole structure is plastered over with adobe
mud till rain-proof. No window, and only one small door, about 2-1/2
feet square, closed by a slat-work."

This kee of the Pima was not to his credit. The most friendly must
admit it dirty, uncomfortable and unpicturesque. It was too low to
stand erect in, the little fire was made in the center, the smoke
escaping at last from the low doorway after trying everywhere else
and festooning the ceiling with soot.

The establishment of the Pima was most simple. He sat, ate and
slept on the earth, consequently a few mats and blankets, baskets,
bowls and pots included his furniture. A large earthen olla, called
by the Pimas hah-ah, stood in a triple fork under the shade of the
vachtoe and being porous enough to permit a slight evaporation kept
the drinking water cool.

The arbor-shed or vachtoe pertains to almost every Piman home
and consists of a flat roof of poles and arrow-weeds supported
by stout forks. Sometimes earth is added to the roof to keep off
rain. Sometimes the sides are enclosed with a rude wattle work of
weeds and bushes, making a grateful shade, admitting air freely;
screening those within from view, while permitting vision from within
outward in any direction. Sometimes this screen of weeds and bushes,
in a circular form, was made without any roof and was then called
an o-num. Sometimes after the vachtoe had been inclosed with wattle
work the whole structure was plastered over with adobe mud and then
became a caws-seen, or storehouse. All these structures were used
at times as habitations, but now the Pima is coming more and more to
the white man's adobe cottage as a house and home. But the vachtoe,
attached or detached, is still a feature of almost every homestead.

Under the vachtoe usually stood the metate, or mill (called by the
Pimas mah-choot) which was a large flat or concave stone, below,
across which was rubbed an oblong, narrow stone (vee-it-kote),
above, to grind the corn or wheat. Other important utensils were a
vatchee-ho, or wooden trough, for mixing, and a chee-o-pah, or mortar,
of wood or stone, for crushing things with a pestle. The nah-dah-kote,
or fire-place, was an affair of stones and adobe mud to support the
earthern pots for cooking or to support the earthern plates on which
the thin cakes of corn or wheat meal were baked. These were what the
Mexicans call tortillas. Perhaps the staple food of the Pima even
more than corn (hohn) or wheat (payl-koon) is frijole beans--these
of two kinds, the white (bah-fih), the brown (mohn). A sort of meal
made of parched corn or wheat; ground on the mahchoot and eaten, or
perhaps one might say drank, with water and brown sugar (pano-che)
was the famous pinole, the food carried on war trips when nutrition,
lightness of weight and smallness of bulk were all desired. It has a
remarkable power to cool and quench thirst. Taw-mahls, or corn-cakes
of ground green corn, wrapped in husks and roasted in the ashes,
or boiled, were also favorites. Peppers (kaw-aw-kull) were a good
deal used for seasoning and relishes.

Today the country of the Pima is very destitute of large game but he
adds to the above bill of fare all the small game, especially rabbits,
quail and doves, that he can kill. In the old days when the Gila always
had water it held fine fish and the Indians caught them with their
hands or swept them up on the banks by long chains of willow hurdles
or faggots, carried around the fish by waders. I could not learn that
they ever had any true fish-nets or fish-hooks; nor any rafts, canoes
or other boats. But owing to the frequent necessity of crossing the
treacherous Gila the men, and many of the women, were good swimmers.

The Toe-hawn-awh Aw-aw-tam, or Papagoes, whose reservation is in
Pima County, near Tucson (and called St. Xavier) are counted "blood
brothers" of the Pimas, speak essentially the same language, are on
the most cordial terms with them, and are under the same agency.

The Maricopas are a refugee tribe, related to the Yumas, who
once threatened them with extermination because of an inter-tribal
feud. They were adopted by the Pimas and protected by them, and have
ever since lived with them as one people, having however a different
language, identical with that of the Yumas.

The Quojatas are a small tribe, of the Piman stock, living south of
the Casa Grande.

The total number of Pimas, Papagoes and Maricopas in the U. S. is
now estimated at about 8000, the Pimas alone as 4000.

I am not a linguist, or a philologist, and my time was short with
these people, and I did not go to any extent into their language,
or study its grammar. Their voices were soft and pleasant, and I
was continually surprised at the low tones in which they generally
conversed and the quickness with which they heard. But their words
were most awkward to my tongue. There were German sounds, and French
sounds, too, I would say, in their language, and there were letters
that seemed to disappear as they uttered them, or never to come really
forth, and syllables that were swallowed like spoonfuls of hot soup.

But I trust that I am substantially correct in the words that I have
retained in the stories and that I have written them so that the
English reader can pronounce them in a way to be understood.

The accent is generally on the first syllable.








THE STORY OF AH-AHN-HE-EAT-TOE-PAHK MAHKAI


And there was an orphan named Ah-ahn-he-eat-toe-pahk Mahkai
(which means Braided-Feather Doctor) who lived at a place called
Two Reservoirs (Go-awk-Vahp-itchee-kee) north of Cheoff-Skaw-mack,
or Tall Gray Mountain.

And his only relative was an old grandmother. And she used to go
and get water in earthern vessels, a number of them in her carrying
basket. And when she neared home she would call to her grandson,
saying: "Come, help me wrestle with it!" meaning to help her down
with her load. And he would jump and run, and wrestle so roughly he
would break all the vessels in her basket.

And thus was he mean and mischievous, a bad boy in many ways. And
one day his grandmother sent him to get some of the vegetable called
"owl's-feathers," which the Awawtam cook by making it into a sort
of tortilla, baked on the hot ground where a fire has just been. And
he went and found an owl and pulled its feathers out & brought them
to the old woman, and she said: "This is not what I want! It is a
vegetable that I mean!"

And so he went off again and got the vegetable owl's-feathers for her.

After that she sent him for the vegetables named "crow's-feet" and
"blackbird's-eyes," saying to him that they were very good cooked
together. And the mischievous orphan went & got the feet of some real
crows and the eyes of real blackbirds and brought them to her. And
she said: "This is not what I mean! I want the vegetables named after
these things!"

And the boy, who was then about twelve years old, went and got what
she wanted and she cooked them.

And this orphan boy had a dream which he liked and wished to have come
true, and went to a dance that was being danced in the neighborhood,
a ceremonial dance such as is celebrated when a young girl arrives
at womanhood, and he went to see it, hoping it would in some way be
like his dream, but when he saw it he was disgusted.

And he went to hear the song of a singing doctor, a mahkai or
medicine-man, but when he heard his singing he was disgusted with
that too.

And he left his home and on his way found a little house, or kee,
made of rough bushes. And the one who lived therein invited him to
stay awhile and see all the different people who would arrive there.

And he did so, and in the early evening they came--all the fiercest
animals, cougars, bears, eagles, and they were bewitching each other,
but nobody bewitched him, and in the morning he went on.

And he went along until he came to another kee, and the owner invited
him to stay over night and see all the people who came there. And he
did so, and in the early evening came the same creatures and did the
same as before, but he was not bewitched.

And he went on again till he came to a desert place, utterly barren,
without trees or bushes and there a wind came to meet him, a whirlwind,
Seev-a-lick, and it caught him up and carried him to the East &
then back again; and to the North and back again; and to the West &
back again; and then South & back again. And so it got possession of
his soul and carried it off to its own place.

And Seevalick, the whirlwind, said to him: "You shall be like me."

And there his dream came true and he said: "This is what I was looking
for; this it is for which I was travelling."

And he wished to go back, and the wind took his soul back again into
his body, and so he returned to his home.

And after his return he was the best young man in the country, kind
to everybody, and everybody liked him. But he did not care to be with
boys of his own age, but liked better to be with the wise old men, and
went where they came together at nights. And he would sit and listen
to them, but did not attempt to make any speeches himself. His reasons
were that the young were often vicious, thieves, beggars, murderers,
and he would rather be with the old who followed what was better.

And in the evening he would often hear the old people say: "We will
go rabbit-hunting in such a place," but he stayed at home and did
not go with them.

But one night, after a while, when they said: "Tomorrow we will go
jack-rabbit hunting," he went home as they did, but the next morning,
when they went hunting, he went and made himself a bow & arrows,
as Seevalick had told him and placed them where he could find them.

And the next evening they were talking again of hunting, and appointed
a place to meet, and the following morning, when they were getting
ready, he got his bows & arrows, but he did not come quite up to the
meeting place, but sat a little way off.

And as he sat there the people came up to him and made fun of him
and asked him if he expected to kill anything with his weapons, for
he had made a big bow & arrows as the Whirlwind had done. And the
people handed these about among themselves, laughing, and when they
were thru ridiculing them they brought back the bow and arrows and
laid them down before him. But he said nothing, and when the people
were thru he left the bow & arrows there, and went home and went
again to look for a suitable stick to make a bow from.

And he made a new bow & arrows and left them where he could find them,
and went home.

And again he went in the evening to the old people's gathering and
heard them appoint a place for the hunting, and went home when they
did. And in the morning, when he heard the signal cry for hunting,
he went and got his bow & arrows and followed after them again, but
again stayed some distance off. And again the people came about him and
handled his bow & arrows and laughed at them. And again he left them
lying there on the ground and went home to make a new bow & arrows.

And the fourth time this happened he was late at the place of meeting,
and before he came the one at whose house the meeting was said to the
others: "There is a young man who has been several times with us to
the place where we come together for the hunting, and I suppose he
has made a new bow & arrows today, for he has to do that whenever you
handle his weapons. Now I want you not to handle his weapons any more,
but to let him be till we see what he will do, for it appears to me
that he is some kind of a powerful personage (mahkai).

And Toehahvs, who was listening, said: "You yourself, were the very
first to handle his weapons."

And the next morning when Ahahnheeattoepahk Mahkai heard the signal
yells for the hunting, he went to the meeting place, with his bow and
arrows, and sat away off, as before, but this time nobody came to him.

And then the hunting began, and in it some one called to him: "There
is a jack-rabbit (choo-uff) coming your way!" and he shot the rabbit
with his arrow; but when he came to it he did not pick it up, but
grasped the arrow and with a swinging motion threw the rabbit from
it to the man nearest him.

And thus he went on all day, killing rabbits and giving them to others,
keeping none for himself.

And again he was late at the place of meeting, and the man who had
spoken the night before said: "Now you see what he has done! This is
the fourth bow that he has made. If you people had left him alone
before, he would, before this, have been killing game for you. And
now if you do not disturb him I am sure he will go on, and you will
have jack-rabbits to eat all the time."

And so he killed rabbits at every hunt, and gave them away, especially
to the old. Whenever he killed one he would pick it up and give it
to an old man, and keep on that way.

And one night at the place of meeting the spokesman said: "Tomorrow we
will surround the mountain and hunt deer, and we will put him at the
place where the deer will run, and we will see how many he will kill!"

And in the morning, at the mountain, they placed him at the deer-run,
and told him to "shut the valley," meaning for him to head-off and
kill any deer which might run toward him. But the young man began
to get big rocks and try to make a wall to close the valley up, and
paid no attention to the deer running past him, and when the people
came and asked him about his shooting he said: "You did not tell me
to kill the deer, you told me to 'shut the valley.'"

(Not but what he understood them, but he was acting again as he had
once done with his grandmother.)

And the next day they tried another mountain and said: "We will see
if the young man will kill us any deer there." So when they came to
this mountain they told him to go to a certain valley, on the other
side, and hang himself there. This is a form of speech which means
to hang around or remain at a place; but the young hunter went there
and left his bow & arrows on the ground, and hung himself up by his
two hands clasped around the limb of a tree.

And after they had chased many deer in his direction they said:
"Let us go now & butcher-up the deer the young man has killed, for
he must have killed a good many by this time."

But when they came to where the young man was, there he hung by
his hands, and when they asked him how many he had killed, he said:
"I have not killed any. You did not tell me to kill any, only to hang
myself here, which I did, and I have hung here and watched the deer
running past."

And they tried him again, on another morning, at another valley, and
this time they told him if he saw a doe big with fawn, "snon-ham,"
which is also the word used for a woman soon to become a mother, he
should kill her. And he went to his place, and there came by such a
woman and he shot her down and killed her.

And the next day they took him to another mountain and told him
to kill the "kurly," which means the old, but they meant him to
understand old deer. And when they came to him later to butcher-up
the deer he had killed, and asked him where they were, he replied:
"I have not killed any deer, you did not tell me to kill deer, but
to kill the kurly, and there is the kurly I have killed!"

And it was the old man who goes ahead whom he had shot with his arrow.

And after they had buried the old man they returned to the village, and
that night the man who owned the meeting place said: "Tomorrow we must
give him another trial, and this time I want you to tell him straight
just what you want. Tell him to kill the deer, either young or old,
and he will do it. If you had done this before he would have killed
us many deer. You should have understood him better by this time,
but you did not tell him straight, and now he has killed two of us."

And the next morning they took him to another mountain, and placed
him in a low place, and told him to kill all the deer which came
his way. And when they went after a while, after chasing many deer
toward him, they asked him where the deer were which he had killed,
and he replied: "Down in the low place you will find plenty deer." And
they went there and found many dead deer of all kinds, and butchered
them up.




NOTES ON THE STORY OF AH-AHN-HE-EAT-TOE-PAHK MAHKAI

In the story of Ah-ahn-he-eat-toe-pahk Mahkai we are introduced to
the Indian faith in dreams and to more witchcraft. We come, too,
to the national sport of rabbit-hunting, with its picturesqueness
and excitement.

In the transaction between Seevalick and the boy we have a reappearance
of the world-wide belief that there is a connection between the wind
and the human soul.

The strange quality of savage humor, labored, sometimes gruesome,
and often tragic, appears in the latter part of the tale.

It is noticeable that they buried the old man, but no mention is made
of burying the woman who was shot. The Pimas of old time buried their
dead in a sitting posture, neck and knees tied together with ropes,
four to six feet under ground, and covered the grave with logs and
thorn-brush to keep away wolves. The interment was usually at night,
with chants, but without other ceremony. Then, immediately after,
the house of the deceased was burned, and all personal effects
destroyed, even food; the horses and cattle being killed and eaten
by the mourners, excepting such as the deceased might have given to
his heirs. After the prescribed time of mourning (one month for a
child or distant relative, six months or a year for husband or wife)
the name of the dead was never more mentioned and everything about
him treated as forgotten.

The Maricopas burn their dead.

It is noticeable, too, that no one appears to have punished the slayer
for his murderous practical jokes. Indeed, while the Awawtam appear
to have been people of exceptionally good character, it also appears
that they seldom punished any crimes except by a sort of boycott or
pressure of public disapproval.








THE STORY OF VANDAIH, THE MAN-EAGLE


And thus Ahahnheeattoepahk Mahkai became famous for the killing of
game; and there was another young man, named Van-daih, who wanted to
be his friend. So one day Vandaih made him four tube-pipes of cane,
such as the Indians use for ceremonious smoking, and went to see the
young hunter. But when he entered the young man was lying down, and he
just looked at Vandaih and then turned his face away, saying nothing.

And Vandaih sat there and when the young man became tired of lying
one way and turned over he lit up one of his pipes. But the young man
took no notice of him. And this went on all night. Every time there
was a chance Vandaih tried his pipe, but Ahahnheeattoepahk Mahkai
never spoke, and in the morning Vandaih went away without the friend
he desired having responded to him.

The next evening Vandaih came again and sat there all night, but
the friend he courted never said a word, and in the morning he went
away again.

And he slept in the daytime, and when evening came he went again,
and sat all night long, but the young man spoke to him not at all.

And the third morning that this happened the wife of Ahahnheeattoepahk
Mahkai said to him: "Why are you so mean to Vandaih as never to
speak to him? Perhaps he has something important to say. He comes
here every night, and sits the whole night thru before you, and you
do not speak to him. And maybe he will come tonight again, and I feel
very sorry for him that you never say a word to him when he comes."

And the young man said: "I know it is true, what you have said, but I
know, too, very well, that Vandaih is not a good man. He gambles with
the gains-skoot, he is a liar, a thief, licentious, and is everything
that is bad. I wish some other boys would come to see me instead of
him, and better than he, for I know very well that he will repeat
things that I say in a way that I did not mean and raise a scandal
about it."

And the next night Vandaih came again and sat in the same place;
and when Ahahnheeattoepahk Mahkai saw him he just looked at him and
then turned over and went to sleep. But along in the night he awoke,
and when Vandaih saw he was awake he lit one of his pipes. Then
Ahahnheeattoepahk Mahkai got up. And when he got up Vandaih buried
his pipe, but the other said: "What do you bury your pipe for? I want
to smoke."

Vandaih said: "I have another pipe," and he lit one and gave it
to Ahahnheeattoepahk Mahkai, and then he dug up his own pipe, and
relighted it, and they both began to smoke.

And Ahahnheeattoepahk Mahkai said: "When did you come?" And Vandaih
replied: "O just a little while ago."

And Ahahnheeattoepahk Mahkai said: "I have seen you here for four
nights, now, but I know you too well not to know you have a way
to follow," ["a way to follow" means to have some purpose behind]
"but if you will quit all the bad habits you have I will be glad to
have you come; but there are many others, better than you, whom I
would rather have come to see me.

And now I am going to tell you something, but I am afraid that when
you go away from here you will tell what I have said and make more
of it, and then people will talk, and I shall be sorry.

I will tell you the habits you have--you are a liar, a gambler with
the dice-game and the wah-pah-tee, a beggar, you follow after women
and are a thief.

Now I want you to stop these bad habits. You may not know all that
the people say about you: They say that when any hunter brings in
game you are always the first to be there, and you will be very apt
to swallow charcoal [3] if you are so greedy.

Wherever you go, when the people see you coming, they say: 'There
comes a man who is a thief,' and they hide their precious things. When
you arrive they are kind to you, of course, but they do not care much
about you.

I don't know whether you know that people talk thus about you, but
it is a great shame to me to know, when I have done some bad thing,
that people talk about it.

Now if you quit these things you will be happy, and I want you to
stop them. I am not angry with you, but I want you to know how the
people are talking about you.

Now I want you to go home, but not say anything about what I have
told you. Just take a rest, and tomorrow night come again."

And the next night Vandaih came again, and Ahahnheeattoepahk Mahkai was
in bed when he came, but he got right up and received him, and said:
"Now after this I mean to tell you what is for your good, but I want
you to keep quiet about it. There are many people that gamble with
you. If they ask you again to gamble with them, do not do it. Tell
them you do not gamble any more. And if they do not stop when you
tell them this, but keep on asking you, come to me, and tell me,
first, that you are going to play. And if I tell you, then, that I do
not want you to gamble, I want you not to do it, but if I tell you
you may gamble & you win once, then you may bet again, but I do not
want you to keep on after winning twice. Twice is enough. But if the
other man beats you at first, then I do not want you to play any more,
but to quit gambling forever."

And after this a man did want to gamble with Vandaih, but Vandaih said:
"I have nothing to wager, and so cannot play with you."

And still another man wanted to gamble with him, and he made him the
same answer, but this man kept on asking, and at last Vandaih said:
"Perhaps I will play with you, I will see about it. But I must have a
little time first." And he came to Ahahnheeattoepahk Mahkai and said:
"There is a man who keeps on asking me to gamble with him, and I have
come to tell you about it as you told me to do."

And Ahahnheeattoepahk Mahkai told him to gamble, and gave him things
to wager on the game, but said: "If he beats you I do not want you
to gamble any more."

And Vandaih took the things which had been given him, and went & played
a game with this man who was so persistent, and won a game. And he
played another game and won that, and then he said, "That is enough,
I do not want to play any more;" but the other man kept on asking
him to play.

But Vandaih refused & took the things which he had won to
Ahahnheeattoepahk Mahkai and gave them all to him.

And the next morning he gambled again, and won twice, and he stopped
after the second winning, as before.

And thus the young man kept on winning and Ahahnheeattoepahk Mahkai
made gainskoot (dice-sticks) for him, and this was one reason why he
won, for Ahahnheeattoepahk Mahkai was a powerful doctor & the dice
were charmed.

And he beat every one who played against him till he had beat all
the gamblers of his neighborhood, and then distant gamblers came &
he beat them also. And so he won all the precious things that were in
the country and gave all to Ahahnheeattoepahk Mahkai & kept nothing
back. But one man went to Ee-ee-toy, who was living at the Salt River
Mountain (Mo-hah-dheck) and asked him to let him have some things
to wager against Vandaih. And Ee-ee-toy said: "You can have whatever
you want, and I will go along to see the game."

But when Ee-ee-toy got there he found the dice were not like common
dice, and it would be difficult for any one to win against them,
they were made by so powerful a man.

And Ee-eetoy went westward and found a powerful doctor who had a
daughter, and said to the father: "I want your daughter to go around
to all the big trees and find me all the feathers she can of large
birds, not of small birds, and bring them here. And I will come again &
see what she may have found."

And her father told her, and the very next morning she began to
hunt the feathers, and when Ee-eetoy came again she had a bundle,
and Ee-eetoy took them and took the pith out of their shafts and
cleansed every feather which she had brought him.

And Ee-ee-toy threw away the pith and cut the shafts into small
pieces and told the girl to roast them in a broken pot over a fire;
and she got the broken pot & roasted them, and they curled up as they
roasted till they looked like grains of corn. And then he told her
to roast some real corn & mix both together and grind them all up
very fine, and Ee-ee-toy told her to take some ollas of this pinole
in her syih-haw to the reservoirs.

And she did so, and passed by where Vandaih was going to play, and
Vandaih said: "Before I can play I must drink." But the man who was
playing with him said: "Get some water of some one near," but Vandaih
said, "I would rather go to the reservoir."

And Ee-ee-toy had prepared the girl before this, telling her that when
she passed the players Vandaih would follow her to the reservoir and
want to marry her. "Be polite to him," he said "and ask him to drink
some of the pinole, and to see your parents first."

And the man who was going to gamble with Vandaih asked him not to
go so far, for he wanted to gamble right away, but Vandaih replied:
"I would rather go there. I will come right back. You be making holes
till I get back."

So the girl went to the reservoir, and Vandaih followed her and asked
her to be his wife, and she said: "I want you to drink some of this
pinole, and in the evening you may go and see my folks and ask them
about it."

So Vandaih mixed some pinole and drank it, and it made him feel
feverish, like one with a cold; and the second time he drank the
goose-flesh came out on his skin; and the third time he drank feathers
came out all over him; and the fourth time long feathers grew out on
his arms; and the fifth time he became an eagle and went and perched
on the high place, or bank of the reservoir.

Then the girl went to the place where the other man was waiting to
play the game and told all the people to come and see the terrible
thing which had happened to Vandaih.

And the people, when they saw him, got their bows and arrows and
surrounded him and were going to shoot him.

And they fired arrows at him, and some of them struck him, but could
not pierce him, and then all were afraid of him. And first he began
to hop around, and then to fly a little higher, until he perched on
a tree, but he broke the tree down; and he tried another tree and
broke that down; and then he flew to a mountain and tumbled its rocks
down its side, and finally he settled on a strong cliff. And even the
cliff swayed at first as if it would fall,--but finally it settled
and stood still.

And this was foretold when the earth was being made, that one of the
race of men should be turned into an eagle. Vandaih was a handsome
man, but he had a bad character, and ever since the beginning parents
had warned their children to practice virtue lest they be turned into
eagles; because it had been foretold that some good-looking bad person
should be thus transformed, and it was to be seen that good-looking
people were often bad and homely ones good characters.

And Vandaih took that cliff for his residence and hunted over all the
country round about, killing jack-rabbits, deer and all kinds of game
for his food. And when the game became scarce he turned to men and
one day he killed a man and took the body to his cliff to eat. And
after this manner he went on. Early in the morning he would bring
home a human being, and sometimes he would bring home two.

Then the people sent a messenger to Ee-eetoy, to his home on
Mohahdheck, asking him to kill for them this man-eagle. And Ee-ee-toy
said to the man: "You can go back, and in about four days I will
be there." But when the fourth day came Ee-eetoy had not arrived,
as he had promised, but Vandaih was among the people, killing them,
carrying them away to the cliff.

And the people again sent the messenger, saying to him: "You must tell
Ee-ee-toy he must come and help his people or we shall all be lost."

And the man delivered his message and Ee-ee-toy said, as before,
that he would be there in four days.

And this went on, the people sending to Ee-ee-toy, and Ee-ee-toy
promising to come in four days, until a whole year had passed. And not
only for one year, but for four years, for the people had misunderstood
him, and when he said four days he meant four years, and so for four
years it went on as we have said.

(Now Ee-ee-toy and Vandaih were relatives, and that was one reason
why Ee-ee-toy kept the people waiting so long for his help and worked
to gain time. He did not want to hurt Vandaih.)

But when the fourth year came Ee-ee-toy did go, and told the people
to get him the "seed-roaster."

And the people ran around, guessing what he meant, and they brought
him the charcoal, but Ee-ee-toy said: "I did not mean this, I meant
the 'seed-roaster'!"

So they ran around again, and they brought him the long open earthen
vessel with handles at each end, used for roasting, and with it
they brought the charcoal which is made from ironwood. But he said:
"I did not mean these. I mean the 'seed-roaster.'"

And they kept on guessing, and nobody could guess it right. They
brought him the black stones of the nahdahcote, or fire place, and
he said: "I do not want these. I want the 'seed-roaster.'"

And the people kept on guessing, and could not guess it right, and so,
at last, he told them that what he wanted was obsidian, that black
volcanic stone, like glass, from which arrow heads are made. And this
was what he called the "seed-roaster."

So the people got it for him.

Then he told them to bring him four springy sticks. And they ran and
brought all the kinds of springy sticks they could find, but he told
them he did not mean any of these.

And for many days they kept on trying to get him the sticks which
he wanted. And after they had completely failed Ee-ee-toy told them
what he wanted. It was a kind of stick called vahs-iff, which did not
grow there, therefore they had not been able to find it. And beside
vahsiff sticks were not springy sticks at all, but the strongest kind
of sticks, very stiff.

So they sent a person to get these, who brought them, and Ee-ee-toy
whittled them so that they had sharp points. And there were four
of them.

And Ee-ee-toy said: "Now I am going, and I want you to watch the top
of the highest mountain, and if you see a big cloud over it, you will
know I have done something wonderful. But if there is a fog over the
world for four days you will know I am killed."

When he started he allowed one of the dust storms of the desert to
arise, and went in that, so that the man-eagle should not see him.

For many days he journeyed toward the cliff, and when sunset of the
last day came he was still a good way off; but he went on and arrived
at the foot of the cliff after it was dark, and hid himself there
under a rock.

About daybreak the man-eagle got up and flew around the cliff four
times and then flew off. And after he was gone Ee-ee-toy took one of
his sticks and stuck it into a crack in the cliff, and climbed on it,
and stuck another above it and so he went on to the top, pulling out
the sticks behind him and putting them in above.

And when he got to the home of the man-eagle, Vandaih, on the top of
the cliff, he found a woman there. And she was the same woman who had
given Vandaih the pinole with eagles' feathers in it. He had found her,
and carried her up there, and made her his wife.

When Ee-ee-toy came to the woman he found she had a little boy, and he
asked her if the child could speak yet, and she replied that he was
just beginning to talk; and he enquired further when the man-eagle
would return, and she said that formerly when game was plenty he had
not stayed away long, but now that game was scarce it usually took
him about half a day, so he likely would not be there till noon.

And Ee-ee-toy enquired: "What does he do when he comes back? Does he
sleep or not? Does he lie right down, or does he go looking around
first?"

And the wife said: "He looks all around first, everywhere. And even
the little flies he will kill, he is so afraid that some one will come
to kill him. And after he has looked around, and finished eating,
he comes to lay his head in my lap and have me look for the lice in
his head. And it is then that he goes to sleep."

So Ee-ee-toy turned into a big fly and hid in a crack in the rock,
and asked the woman if she could see him, and she said: "Yes, I can
see you very plainly."

And he hid himself three times, and each time she could see him, but
the fourth time he got into one of the dead bodies, into its lungs,
and had her pile the other dead bodies over him, and then when he
asked her she said: "No, I cannot see you now."

And Ee-ee-toy told her: "As soon as he goes to sleep, whistle, so
that I may know that he is surely asleep."

At noon Ee-ee-toy heard the man-eagle coming. He was bringing two
bodies, still living & moaning, and dropped them over the place
where Ee-ee-toy lay. And the first thing the man-eagle did was to
look all around, and he said to his wife: "What smell is this that I
smell?" And she said: "What kind of a smell?" And he replied: "Why,
it smells like an uncooked person!" "These you have just brought in
are uncooked persons, perhaps it is these you smell."

Then Vandaih went to the pile of dead bodies and turned them over &
over, but the oldest body at the bottom he did not examine, for he
did not think there could be anyone there.

So his wife cooked his dinner, and he ate it and then asked her to
look for the lice in his head. And as he lay down he saw a fly pass
before his face, and he jumped up to catch it, but the fly got into
a crack in the rock where he could not get it.

And when he lay down again the child said: "Father! come!" And Vandaih
said: "Why does he say that? He never said that before. He must be
trying to tell me that some one is coming to injure me!" But the wife
said: "You know he is only learning to talk, and what he means is
that he is glad that his father has come. That is very plain." But
Vandaih said: "No, I think he is trying to tell me some one has come."

But at last Vandaih lay down and the woman searched his head and sang
to put him to sleep. And when he seemed sound asleep she whistled. And
her whistle waked him up and he said: "Why did you whistle! you never
did that before?" And she said: "I whistled because I am so glad about
the game you have brought. I used to feel bad about the people you
killed, but now I know I must be contented & rejoice when you have
a good hunt. And after this I will whistle every time when you bring
game home."

And she sang him to sleep again, and whistled when he slept; and waked
him up again, and said the same thing again in reply to his question.

And the third time, while she was singing, she turned Vandaih's head
from side to side. And when he seemed fast asleep she whistled. And
after she had whistled she turned the head again, but Vandaih did
not get up, and so she knew that this time he was fast asleep.

So Ee-ee-toy came out of the dead body he had hidden in, and came to
where Vandaih was, and the woman laid his head down & left him. And
Ee-ee-toy took the knife which he had made from the volcanic glass,
obsidian, and cut Vandaih's throat, and beheaded him, and threw his
head eastward & his body westward. And he beheaded the child, too,
and threw its head westward and its body eastward.

And because of the killing of so powerful a personage the cliff
swayed as if it would fall down, but Ee-ee-toy took one of his
sharpened stakes and drove it into the cliff and told the woman to
hold onto that; and he took another and drove that in and took hold
of that himself.

And after the cliff had steadied enuf, Ee-ee-toy told the woman to
heat some water, and when she had done so he sprinkled the dead bodies.

The first ones he sprinkled came to life and he asked them where
their home was & when they told him he sent them there by his power.

And he had more water heated and sprinkled more bodies, and when he
learned where their home was he sent them home, also, by his power.

And this was done a third time, with a third set of bodies.

And the fourth time the hot water was sprinkled on the oldest bodies
of all, the mere skeletons, and it took them a long time to come to
life, and when they were revived they could not remember where their
homes were or where they had come from. So Ee-ee-toy cut off eagles'
feathers slanting-wise (pens) and gave them, and gave them dried
blood mixed with water (ink) and told them their home should be in
the East, and by the sign of the slanting-cut feather they should
know each other. And they are the white people of this day. And he
sent them eastward by his power.

And in the evening he & the woman went down the cliff by the aid of
the sharpened stakes, even as he had come up, and when they reached
the foot of the mountain they stayed there over night. They took some
of the long eagle feathers and made a kee from them, & some of the
soft eagle feathers and made a bed with them. And they stayed there
four nights, at the foot of the cliff.

And after a day's journey they made another kee of shorter eagle
feathers, and a bed of tail feathers. And they staid at this second
camp four nights.

And then they journeyed on again another day and build another kee,
like the first one, & stayed there also four nights.

And they journeyed on yet another day and built again a kee, like
the second one, and stayed there four nights.

And on the morning of each fourth day Ee-ee-toy took the bath of
purification, as the Pimas have since done when they have slain
Apaches, and when he arrived home he did not go right among the people
but stayed out in the bushes for a while.

And the people knew he had killed Vandaih, the man-eagle, for they
had watched and had seen the cloud over the high mountain.

And after the killing of Vandaih, for a long time, the people had
nothing to be afraid of, and they were all happy.





NOTES ON THE STORY OF VANDAIH

In the story of Vandaih we are given a curious glimpse into Indian
friendship. The reference to smoking, too, is interesting. The Pimas
had no true pipes. They used only cigarettes of tobacco and corn-husk,
or else short tubes of cane stuffed with tobacco. These I have called
tube-pipes. They smoked on all ceremonial occasions, but appear to
have had no distinctive pipe of peace. The ceremonial pipes of cane
had bunches of little birds' feathers tied to them, and in my photo
of the old seeneeyawkum he holds such a ceremonial pipe in his hand.

"He gambles with the gain-skoot:" The gain-skoot were the Pima
dice--two sticks so marked and painted as to represent the numerals
kee-ick (four) and choat-puh (six), and two called respectively
see-ick-ko, the value of which was fourteen, and gains, the value of
which was fifteen. These were to be held in the hand and knocked in
the air with a flat round stone. At the same time there was to be on
the ground a parallelogram of holes with a sort of goal, or "home,"
at two corners. If the sticks all fell with face sides up they counted
five. If all fell with blank sides up it was ten. If only one face
side turned up it counted its full value, but if two or three turned up
then they counted only as one each. If a gain was scored the count was
kept by placing little sticks or stones (soy-yee-kuh) in the holes as
counters. If the second player overtook the first in a hole the first
man was "killed" and had to begin over. Among all Indians gambling
was a besetting vice, and there was nothing they would not wager.

Sometimes instead of the gain-skoot they used waw-pah-tee, which
was simply a guessing game. They guessed in which hand a certain
painted stick was held, or in which of four decorated cane-tubes,
filled with sand, a certain little ball was hidden and wagered on
their guess. These tubes were differently marked, and one was named
"Old Man," one "Old Woman," one "Black Head," and one "Black in the
Middle." Sticks were given to keep count of winnings.

The moral advice which Ahahnheeattoepahk Mahkai gives Vandaih, is very
quaint, and the shrewd cunning with which he loads the dice, pockets
the proceeds, and yet finally unloads all the blame on poor Vandaih,
is quite of a piece with the confused morals of most folk-lore in
all lands. On these points it is really very hard to understand the
workings of the primitive mind. Here is certain proof that the modern
conscience has evoluted from something very chaotic.

It will be noticed that Vandaih drinks the pinole, which bewitches
him, five times instead of the usual four. Whether this is a mistake
of the seeneeyawkum, or significant I do not know. Perhaps four is
a lucky and five an unlucky number.

Another variation in the numerical order is in the woman whistling
only three times, in putting Vandaih to sleep.

As I have before pointed out the reference to white men, and pens and
ink, is evidently a modern interpolation, not altogether lacking in
flavor of sarcasm.

There are suggestions in this story of Jack the Giant Killer, of
the Roc of the Arabian Nights, of the harpies, and of the frightful
creatures, part human, part animal, so familiar in all ancient
folk-lore.

The latter part of this tale is particularly interesting, as perhaps
throwing light on the origin of that mysterious process of purification
for slaying enemies, so peculiar to the Pimas.

It seems to have been held by the Awawtam that to kill an Apache
rendered the slayer unclean, even tho the act itself was most valiant
and praiseworthy, and must be expiated by an elaborate process of
purification. From old Comalk Hawk Kih I got a careful description
of the process.

According to his account, as soon as an Apache had been killed, if
possible, the fact was at once telegraphed to the watchers at home
by the smoke signal from some mountain. This custom is evidently
referred to in Ee-ee-toy's cloud over a high mountain as a signal of
success. The Indians apparently regarded smoke and clouds as closely
related, if not the same, as is shown in their faith in the power of
tobacco to make rain.

As soon as the Apache has been killed the slayer begins to fast
and to look for a "father." His "father" is one who is to perform
all his usual duties for him, for he is now unclean and cannot do
these himself. The "father," too, must know how to perform all the
ceremonial duties necessary to his office, as will be explained. If a
"father" can be found among the war-party the slayer need only fast
two days, but if not he must wait till he gets home again, even if it
takes four or more days. It appears that this friend, who has charge
of the slayer, is humorously called a "father" because his "child"
is usually so restless under his long fast, and keeps asking him to
do things for him and divert him.

If there is no "father" for him in the war-party, as soon as possible a
messenger is sent on ahead to get some one at home to take the office
for him, and to make the fires in the kee, that being a man's special
duty. And the wife of the slayer is also now unclean by his act,
and must purify herself as long as he, tho she must keep apart from
him. And she also must have a substitute to do her usual work. She
must keep close at home, and her husband, the slayer, remain out in
the bushes till the purification is accomplished.

For two days the fast is complete, but on the morning of the third
day the slayer is allowed one drink of pinole, very thin, and no more
than he can drink at one breath. The moment he pauses he can have no
more at that time.

When presenting this pinole, the "father" makes this speech:

"Your fame has come, and I was overjoyed, and have run all the way
to the ocean, and back again, bringing you this water.

On my return I strengthened myself four times, and in the dish in
which I carried the water stood See-vick-a Way-hohm, The Red Thunder
Person, the Lightning, and because of his force I fell down.

And when I got up I smelled the water in the dish, and it smelled as
if something had been burned in it.

And when I got up I strengthened myself four times, and there came
from the sky, and stood in the dish, Tone-dum Bah-ahk, The Eagle of
Light. And he turned the water in the dish in a circle, and because
of his force I fell down, and when I rose up again and smelled the
water in the dish it was stinking.

And when I had started again I strengthened myself four times, and
Vee-sick the Chicken Hawk, came down from the sky and stood in the
dish. And by his force I was thrown down. And when I stood again and
smelled the water in the dish, it smelled like fresh blood.

And I started again, strengthening myself four times, and there came
from the East our gray cousin, Skaw-mack Tee-worm-gall, The Coyote,
who threw me down again, and stood in the dish, and turned the water
around, and left it smelling as the coyote smells.

And when I rose up I started again, and in coming to you I have rested
four times; and now I have brought you the water, and so many powerful
beings have done wonderful things to it that I want you to drink it
all at one time."

After the third day the "father" brings his charge a little to eat
every morning and evening, but a very little.

On the morning of the fourth day, at daybreak the slayer takes a
bath of purification, even if it is winter and he has to break the
ice and dive under to do it. And this is repeated on the morning of
each fourth day, till four baths have been taken in sixteen days.

The slayer finds an owl and without killing him pulls long feathers out
of his wings and takes them home. The slayer had cut a little lock of
hair from the head of the Apache he had killed (for in old times, at
least, the Pimas often took no scalps) and now a little bag of buckskin
is made, and a ball of greasewood gum is stuck on the end of this lock
of hair which is placed in the bag, and on the bag are tied a feather
of the owl and one from a chicken hawk, and some of the soft feathers
of an eagle, and around the neck of the bag a string of blue beads.

(And during this time the women are carrying wood in their giyh-haws
to the dancing place.)

Now the Apaches are contemptuously called children, and this bag
represents a child, being supposed to contain the ghost of the dead
Apache, and the slayer sits on the ground with it, and takes it in
his hands as if it were a baby, and inhales from it four times as
if he were kissing it. And when it is time for the dance the slayers
who are a good ways off from the dancing place start before sunset,
but those who are close wait till the sun is down. And the "father"
goes with the slayer, through woods and bushes, avoiding roads. And
before this the "father" has dug a hole at the dancing place about
ten inches deep and two feet wide, just big enough for a man to squat
in with legs folded, and behind the hole planted a mezquite fork,
about five feet high, on which are hung the weapons of the slayer,
his shield, club, bow, quiver of arrows, perhaps his gun or lance.

(The shield was made of rawhide, very thick, able to turn an arrow
and was painted jet black by a mixture of mezquite gum and charcoal,
with water, which made it glossy and shiny. The design on it was in
white, or red and white. The handle was of wood, curved, placed in
the centre of the inside, bound down at the ends by rawhide, and the
hand fended from the rough shield by a piece of sheepskin.)

In this hole the slayer sits down and behind him and the fork lies down
his dancer, for the slayer himself does not dance but some stranger who
represents him perhaps a Papago or a Maricopa, drawn from a distance
by the fame of the exploit. Nor do the slayers sing, but old men who
in their day have slain Apaches. These singers are each allowed to
sing two songs of their own choice, the rest of the veterans joining
in. And as soon as the first old man begins to sing, the dancers get
up, take the weapons of the men they represent, and dance around the
fire, which the "fathers" keep burning, keeping time with the song.

And the women cook all kinds of good things, and set them before the
singers, but the bystanders jump in and snatch them away. But sometimes
the wife of an old singer will get something and save it for him.

And the relatives of the slayers will bring presents for the dancers,
buckskin, baskets, and anything that an Indian values. And as soon as
presented some relative of the dancer runs in and takes the present
and keeps it for him.

And while this big war-dance is going on the rest of the people are
having dances in little separate groups, all around. And as soon as
the dance is over the weapons are returned to the forks they were
taken from.

By this time it is nearly morning, and the slayers get up and take
their bath in the river, and return and dry themselves by the expiring
fire. Then returning to the bushes they remain there again four days,
and that is the last of their purification.

As this dance is on the eve of the sixteenth day, there were twenty
days in all.

Grossman's account differs considerably from this, and is worth
reading.

During the time of purifying, the slayers wear their hair in a
strange way, like the top-knot of a white woman, somewhat, and in it
stick a stick, called a kuess-kote to scratch themselves with, as
they are not allowed to use the fingers. This is alluded to in the
Story of Paht-ahn-kum's War. A picture of a Maricopa interpreter,
with his hair thus arranged, is in the report of Col. W. H. Emory,
before alluded to. This picture is interesting, because it shows that
the Maricopas, when with the Pimas, adopted the same custom. When I
showed this picture to the old see-nee-yaw-kum he was much interested,
saying he himself had known this man, who was a relative of his,
there being a dash of Maricopa blood in his family, and that he
had been born in Mexico and had there learned Spanish enough to
be an interpreter. His Mexican name, he said, was Francisco Lucas,
but the Pimas called him How-app-ahl Tone-um-kum, or Thirsty Hawk,
a name which has an amusing significance when we recall what Emory
says about his taste for aguardiente, and that Captain Johnston says
of the same man, "the dog had a liquorish tooth."








STORIES OF THE SECOND NIGHT


THE STORY OF THE TURQUOISES AND THE RED BIRD


And at the vahahkkee which the white men now call the Casa Grande ruins
was the home of Seeollstchewadack Seeven, or the Morning green Chief.

And one morning the young women at that place were playing and having
a good time with the game of the knotted rope or balls, which is
called toe-coll.

And in this game the young girls are placed at each end, near the
goals, and at this time, at the west end, one of the young girls
gradually sank into the earth; and as she sank the earth around her
became very green with grass.

And Seeollstchewadack Seeven told the people not to disturb the green
spot until the next morning; and the next morning the green spot was a
green rock, and he told the people to dig around it, and as they dug
they chipped off small pieces, and the people came and got what they
wanted of these pieces of green stone. And they made ear-rings and
ornaments from these green stones, which were tchew-dack-na-ha-gay-awh
or turquoises.

And after the turquoises were distributed, and the fame of this had
spread, the chief of another people, who lived to the east, whose name
was Dthas Seeven (Sun-Chief) thought he would do something wonderful,
too, being envious, and he opened one of his veins and from the blood
made a large, beautiful bird, colored red.

And Dthas Seeven told his bird to go to the city of Seeollstchewadack
Seeven and hang around there till that chief saw him and took him
in. And when they offered him corn he was not to eat that nor anything
else they gave him, but when he saw his chance he was to pick up a
bit of the green stone and swallow it, for when it should be seen that
he would swallow the green stones then he would be fed on turquoises.

So the bird was sent, and when it arrived at the city of the
turquoises, the daughter of Seeollstchewadack Seeven, whose name was
Nawitch, saw it and went and told her father. And he asked, "What
is the color of the bird?" and she answered, "Red;" and he said,
"I know that bird. It is a very rare bird, and its being here is a
sign something good is going to happen. I want you to get the bird
and bring it here, but do not take hold of it. Offer it a stick,
and it will take hold of it, with its bill, and you can lead it here."

And Nawitch offered the bird a stick, and it caught hold of the end by
its bill, which was like a parrot's bill, and she led it to her father.

And Seeollstchewadack Seeven said: "Feed him on pumpkin seed, for
that is what this kind of bird eats."

And Nawitch gave the bird pumpkin seed, but it would not eat. And
then she tried melon seed, but it would not eat. And then she tried
devil-claw seed, but it would not eat. And her father said, then: "Make
him broth of corn, for this kind of bird eats only new dishes!" And
she did so, but it would not eat the broth of corn.

And the old man told her to try pumpkin seed again; and she tried the
pumpkin seed again, and the melon seed again, and the devil-claw seed,
and the broth of corn, but the bird would not touch any of these.

But just then the bird saw a little piece of turquoise lying on the
ground and it sprang and swallowed it. And the daughter saw this and
told her father that the bird would eat turquoises. And her father
said: "This kind of bird will not eat turquoises, but you may try
him." And she gave it some turquoises and it ate them greedily. And
then her father said: "Go and get some nice, clean ones, a basket
full." And she did so, and the bird ate them all, and she kept on
feeding it until it had swallowed four basketful.

And then the bird began to run around, and the girl said: "I fear our
pet will leave us and fly away" but the old man said: "He will not
fly away. He likes us too well for that," but after a short time the
bird got to a little distance and took to its wings, and flew back
to the city of Dthas Seeven.

And Dthas Seeven gave it water twice, and each time it vomited,
and thus it threw up all the turquoises.

And so Dthas Seeven also had turquoises.




NOTES ON THE STORY OF THE TURQUOISES

Turquoises seem to have been regarded by all Arizona Indians as
magical and lucky stones, and the Story of the Turquoises professes
to give their origin.

Of the game, toe-coll, here spoken of, Whittemore gives this account
in Cook's "Among the Pimas:" "One of the amusements of the women was
that of tossing balls. They had two small ones, covered with buckskin,
and tied about six inches apart. Young women and married, from thirty
to seventy-five in a group, assembled as dressed for a ball, their
hair carefully manipulated so as to be black and glossy. Each had
a stick of willow six feet long. With these they dextrously tossed
the balls high in the air, running after them until one party was so
weary that they gave up the game from mere exhaustion.

"In order to make the excitement a success they had certain active
women, keen of wit and quick of action, practice weeks in advance."

Sometimes the balls were formed by two large knots in a short piece
of rope.








THE STORY OF WAYHOHM, TOEHAHVS AND TOTTAI


And Seeollstchewadack Seeven wondered what this action of the bird
meant, and he studied about it till he found out who it was that had
sent the bird and for what purpose.

And he sent a cold rain upon the home of Dthas Seeven. And it rained
a heavy rain for three days and three nights, so hard that it put
out all the fires in the city of Dthas Seeven, and Dthas Seeven was
dying with cold.

And the people came about him to witness his dying, and they said:
"Let us send some one to get the fire!" And they sent Toehahvs.

And Toehahvs went, and at last came to a house where he heard the
fire roaring within. And he looked in, and there was a big fire. And
he sat in the doorway holding out his paws toward the heat.

And the owner of the house, whose name was Way-hohm, or the
Lightning, sat working within with his face to the fire and his back
to Toehahvs. And Toehahvs wanted to dash in and steal some fire,
but he did not dare, and he went back and told the people he had seen
the fire but he could not get it.

On the fourth day it was still raining, and they sent another
person. And this time they sent Tot-tai, or the Road Runner, for they
said he could run almost as fast as Toehahvs.

And Tottai came to the same house, and heard the fire, and peeped
in the door to warm himself. And there sat the owner of the fire,
Wayhohm, working with his face to the fire and his back to Tottai. And
Tottai dashed in and caught hold of a stick with fire at one end and
ran out with it.

And Wayhohm caught up his bow, the Bow-of-the-Lightning,
Way-hohm-a-Gaht, and fired at Road Runner, and struck him on the side
of his head, and that is why the side of Tottai's head is still bare;
and Tottai ran on, and Wayhohm shot at him again and struck the other
side of his head.

And Tottai whirled around then so that the sparks flew every way,
and got into all kinds of wood, and that is why there is fire in all
kinds of sticks even now, and the Indian can get it out by rubbing
them together to this day.

But Tottai kept on, and got to the house of Dthas Seeven all right,
and they made a fire, and Dthas Seeven got better again.




NOTES ON THE STORY OF WAYHOHM

There is a suggestion of Thor in the Story of Wayhohm, and also of
Prometheus. Wayhohm's house must have been the hall of the clouds.

How true to nature, here, is the touch describing the Coyote-person,
Toehahvs. The excessive caution of the coyote, making it impossible for
him, however eager, to force himself into any position he suspects,
here stands out before us, contrasted in the most dramatic way with
the dashing boldness of the road-runner.

When we reached the end of this story Comalk Hawk-Kih took two
pieces of wood to rub them together to make fire. But he was old and
breathless, and "Sparkling-Soft-Feather," the mother of my interpreter,
took them and made the fire for me. I have the implements yet.

There were two parts to the apparatus. Gee-uh-toe-dah, the socket
stick was of a soft dry piece of giant cactus rib, and a notch was
whittled in one side of this with a small socket at the apex, that
is on the upper side.

This was placed flat on the ground, with a bit of corn husk under the
notch, and held firmly in position by the bare feet. The twirling
stick, eev-a-dah-kote, was a hard arrow weed, very dry and scraped
smooth. The end of this was engaged in the little socket, at the
top of the cactus rib, and then, held perpendicularly, was twirled
between the two hands till the friction rubbed off a powder which
crowded out of the socket, and fell down the notch at its side to
the corn-husk. This little increasing pile of powder was the tinder,
and, as the twirling continued, grew black, smelled like burned wood,
smoked and finally glowed like punk. It was now picked up on the corn
husk and placed in dry horse dung, a bunch of dry grass, or some such
inflammable material, and blown into flame.

It looked very simple, and took little time, but I never could do it.








THE STORY OF HAWAWK


And when Dthas Seeven had gotten better he meditated on what had
happened to him, and studied out that Seeollstchewadack-Seeven was
the cause of his trouble, and planned how to get the better of him.

Now the Indians have a game of football in which the ball is not kicked
but lifted and thrown a good ways by the foot, and Dthas Seeven made
such a ball, and sent a young man to play it in the direction of the
city of Seeollstchewadack-Seeven. And the young man did so, and as
he kept the ball going on it came to the feet of a young girl, who,
when she saw the ball, picked it up and hid it under the square of
cloth which Indian girls wear.

And the young man came up and asked her if she had seen the ball,
and she answered no, she had not seen it, and she kept on denying it,
so at last he turned back and said he might as well go home as he no
longer had a ball to play with. But he had not gone far before the
girl called to him: "Are you not coming back to get your ball?" And
he went back to her, and she tried to find the ball, but could not.

But the ball was not lost, but it had bewitched her.

And after a time this girl had a baby, a tall baby, with claws on
its hands and feet like a wild animal.

And the people did not know what this meant, and they asked Toehahvs,
and Toehahvs knew because this had been prophesied of old time. And
Toehahvs said: "She is Haw-awk."

And Hawawk grew and became able to crawl, but people were afraid
of handling her because of the scratching of her claws. Only her
relatives could safely handle her. And as she grew older, still,
she would sometimes see other children and wish to play with them,
but in a short time they would get scratched by her in her gambols
and would run home crying and leave her alone. And it got so that
when the children saw her coming they would tell each other and run
home and she could get none of them to play with her.

She claimed Ee-ee-toy as her uncle, and when he had been rabbit-hunting
and came in with game she would run and call him "uncle!" and try and
get the rabbits away from him; and when he cleaned the rabbits and
threw away the entrails she would run and devour them, and the bones of
the rabbits the people threw away after the feasts she would eat, too.

And when Hawawk grew older she would sometimes complain to Ee-ee-toy
if he came in without game. "Why is it you sometimes come in without
rabbits?" she would say, "And why do you not kill a great many?" And
he would reply: "It is not possible to kill a great many, for they
run very fast and are very hard to shoot with a bow and arrow." "Let
me go with you," she would say, "and I will kill a great many." But
he would tell her: "You are a girl, and it is not your place to go
hunting. If you were a boy it would be, but as it is you cannot go."

And she kept on begging in this way, and he kept on refusing, she
saying that she could kill a great many, and he saying that only a
man or a boy could shoot many rabbits, because they ran so fast.

But as she grew older still she began to follow the hunters, and when
the hunting began she would be in the crowd, but she tried to keep out
of her uncle's way so that he would not see her. And sometimes when she
would thus be following the hunt a rabbit would run in her direction,
and she would run fast and jump on it and kill it, and eat it right
there; and after a while she could do this oftener and caught a good
many; and she would eat all she wanted as she caught them, and the
others she gave to her uncle, Ee-ee-toy, to carry home. And Ee-ee-toy
came to like to have her with him because of the game she could
get. But after a time she did not come home anymore, but staid out
in the bushes, living on the game she could get. But when the hunters
came out, she would still join them and after killing and eating all
she wanted she would give the rest of her kill to her uncle, as before.

And so she contrived to live in the wild places, like a wild-cat,
and in time became able to kill deer, antelopes, and all big game,
and yet being part human she would tan buckskin like a woman and do
all that a woman needs to do.

And she found a cave in the mountain which is called Taht-kum,
where she lived, and that cave can be seen now and is still called
Hawawk's Cave.

But she had been born near where the ruins of Casa Grande now are
and claimed that vahahkkee for her own. And when she knew a baby had
been born there she would go to the mother and say, "I want to see my
grandchild." But if the mother let her take the baby she would put it
over her shoulder, into her gyih-haw, and run to her cave, and put
the baby into a mortar, and pound it up and eat it. And she got all
the babies she could in this way; and later on she grew bolder and
would find the larger children, where they were at play, and would
carry them off to eat them. And now she let all the rabbits and such
game go, and lived only on the children she caught, for a long time.

And Ee-ee-toy told the people what to do in this great trouble. He
told them to roast a big lot of pumpkin seeds and to go into their
houses and keep still. And when the people had roasted the pumpkin
seeds and gone into their houses, Ee-ee-toy came around and stopped
up the door of every house with bushes, and plastered clay over the
bushes as the Awawtam still do when they go away from home.

After a time Hawawk came around, and stood near the houses, and
listened, and heard the people cracking the pumpkin seeds inside.

And she said: "Where are all my grandchildren? They must have been
gone for a long time, for I do not see any tracks, nor hear any voices,
and I hear only the rats eating the seeds in the empty houses."

And she came several times and saw no one, and really believed the
people had gone entirely away. And for a while she did not come any
more, but after a time she was one day running by the village and
she saw some children playing. And she caught two and ran with them
to her cave. And from that day she went on stealing children as before.

And Ee-ee-toy made him a rattle, out of a wild gourd, and went and lay
on the trail on which Hawawk usually came, and changed himself into
the little animal called "Kaw-awts." And when Hawawk came along she
poked him with a stick of her gyih-haw and said: "Here is a little
kaw-awts. He must be my pet." And then Ee-ee-toy jumped up and shook
his rattle at her, and frightened her so that she ran home. And then
Ee-ee-toy made rattles for all the children in that place and when
they saw Hawawk coming they would shake their rattles at her and
scare her back again.

But after a while Hawawk became used to the rattles and ceased to
fear them, and even while they were shaking she would run and carry
some of the children off.

And one day two little boys were hunting doves after the manner of
the country. They had a little kee of willows, and a hole inside in
the sand where they sat, and outside a stick stuck up for the doves to
light on. And when the doves came they would shoot them with their bows
and arrows. And while they were doing this they saw Hawawk coming. And
they said: "What shall we do! Hawawk is coming and will eat us up."

And they lay down in the hole in the sand and covered themselves
with the dove's feathers. And Hawawk came and said: "Where are my
grandchildren! Some of them have been here very lately." And she went
all around and looked for their tracks, but could find none leading
away from the place. And she came back again to the kee, and while
she was looking in a wind came and swept away all the dove-feathers,
and she sprang in and caught up the two boys and put them in her
gyih-haw and started off.

And as she went along the boys said: "Grandmother, we like flat stones
to play with. Won't you give us all the flat stones you can find?" And
Hawawk picked up all the flat stones she came to and put them one by
one over her shoulder into the basket.

And the boys said, again, after the basket began to get heavy,
"Grandmother, we like to go under limbs of trees. Go under all the
low limbs of trees you can to please us." And Hawawk went under a low
tree, and one of the boys caught hold of the limb and hung there till
she had gone on. And Hawawk went under another tree, and the other boy
caught hold of a limb and staid there. But because of the flat stones
she kept putting into her gyih-haw Hawawk did not notice this. And when
she got to her cave and emptied her basket there were no boys there.

And when Hawawk saw this she turned back and found the tracks of the
boys, and ran, following after them, and caught up with them just
before they got to their village. And she would have caught them
there, and carried them off again, but the boys had gathered some of
the fine thorns of a cactus, and when Hawawk came near they held them
up and let them blow with the wind into her face.

And they stuck in her eyes, and hurt them, and she began to rub her
eyes, which made them hurt worse so that she could not see them,
and then the boys ran home and thus saved their lives.

After that she went to another place called Vahf-kee-wohlt-kih,
or the Notched Cliffs, and staid around there and ate the children,
and then she moved to another place, the old name of which is now
forgotten, but it is called, now, Stchew-a-dack Vah-veeuh, or the
Green Well. And there, too, she killed the children.

And the people called on Ee-ee-toy to help them, and Ee-ee-toy said,
"I will kill her at once!"

And Ee-ee-toy, being her relative, went to her home and said: "Your
grandchildren want some amusement and are going to have dances now
every night and would like you to come."

And she replied: "You know very well I do not care for such things. I
do not care to come."

And Ee-ee-toy returned and told the people she did not care to come
to their dances, tho he had invited her, but he would think of some
other way to get her to come where they were, that they might kill her.

And he went a second time, and told her the people were going to sing
the Hwah-guff-san-nuh-kotch Nyuee, or Basket Drumming Song, and wanted
her to come. But she said: "I have heard of that song, but I do not
care to hear it. I care nothing for such things, and I will not come."

So Ee-ee-toy returned and told of his second failure, but promised
he would try again. And in the morning he went to her and said: "Your
grandchildren are going to sing the song Haw-hawf-kuh Nyuee or Dance of
the Bone-trimmed Dresses Song and they want you to come." But she said:
"I do not care for this song, either, and I will not come."

And Ee-ee-toy told of his third failure, but promised the people he
would try once more, and when the morning came he went to Hawawk
and said: "Your grandchildren are going to dance tonight to the
song which is called See-coll-cod-dha-kotch Nyuee," (which is a
sort of ring dance with the dancers in a circle with joined hands)
"and they want you to come."

And she said: "That is what I like. I will come to that. When is it
going to be?"

And he said: "It will be this very night."

And he went and told the people she was coming and they must be ready
for her.

Hawawk got ready in the early evening and dressed herself in a
skirt of soft buckskin. And over this she placed an overskirt of
deerskin, fringed with long cut fringes with deer-hoofs at the ends
to rattle. And then she ran to the dancing place; and the people
could hear her a long way off, rattling, as she came. And they were
already dancing when she arrived there, and she went and joined hands
with Ee-ee-toy.

And Hawawk was a great smoker, and Ee-ee-toy made cigarettes for her
that had something in them that would make folks sleep. And he smoked
these himself, a little, to assure her, but cautiously and moderately,
not inhaling the smoke, but she inhaled the smoke, and before the four
nights were up she was so sleepy that the people were dragging her
around as they danced, and then she got so fast asleep that Ee-ee-toy
carried her on his shoulder.

And all the time they were dancing they were moving across country,
and getting nearer the cave where she lived, and other people at the
same time were ahead of them carrying lots of wood to her cave. And
when they arrived at her cave in the mountain of Tahtkum they laid her
sleeping body down inside, and placed the wood in the cave between
her and the door, filling it all to the entrance, which they closed
with four hurdles, such as the people fasten their doors with, so
that she could not run out.

And then they set the wood on fire, and it burned fiercely, and when
the fire reached Hawawk she waked and cried out. "My grandchildren,
what have I done that you should treat me this way!"

And the fire hurt her so that she jumped up and down with pain, and
her head struck the ceiling of the cave and split the rock. And when
the people saw it they called to Ee-ee-toy, and he went and put his
foot over the crack, and sealed it up, and you may see the track of
his foot there to this day.

But Ee-ee-toy was not quick enough, and her soul escaped through
the crack.

And then for a while the people had peace, but in time her soul
turned into a green hawk, and this hawk killed the people, but did
not eat them.

And this made the people great trouble, but one day a woman was making
pottery and she had just taken one pot out of the fire and left another
one in the furnace, on its side, when this hawk saw her and came
swooping down from high in the air to kill her, but missed her, and
went into the hot pot in the fire, and so was burned up and destroyed.

And one day they boiled greens in that pot, the greens called
choo-hook-yuh, and the greens boiled so hard that they boiled over,
and splashed around and killed people. And they boiled all day and
stopped at night, and at daybreak began again to boil, and this they
did for a long time; boiling by day and stopping at night.

And the people sent for Toehahvs who lived in the east, and Gee-ah-duk
Seeven, or Strong Bow Chief, who lived where is now the ruin of
Aw-awt-kum Vah-ahk-kee, to kill the pot for them.

And when they arrived Geeahduk Seeven enquired if the pot slept. And
the people said: "Yes, it sleeps all night." Then said Geeahduk Seeven,
"We will get up very early, before the pot wakes, and then we will
kill it."

But Toehahvs said; "That is not right, to go and kill it at night. I
am not like a jealous woman who goes and fights her rival in the
darkness. I am not a woman, I am a man!"

And Toehahvs said to Geeahduk Seeven: "I will go in the morning to
attack the pot and I want you to go on the other side, and if the pot
throws its fluid at me, so that I cannot conquer it, then do you run
up on the other side and smash it."

Then Toehahvs took his shield and his club, in the morning, and went to
attack the pot. But the pot saw him, and, altho he held up his shield,
it boiled over, and threw the boiling choohookyuh so high and far
that some of it fell on Toehahvs' back and scalded it. And Toehahvs
had to give back a little. But at that moment Geeahduk Seeven ran in
on the other side and smashed the pot.

And there was an old man with an orphan grandson, living near there,
and when the pot was smashed these came to the spot and ate up the
choohookyuh. And at once they were turned into bears, the old man
into a black bear, the boy into a brown bear.

And these bears also killed people, and tho the people tried to kill
them, for a long time they could not do so. When they shot arrows at
the bears, the bears would catch them and break them up. And so the
people had to study out other ways to get the better of them. There
is a kind of palm-tree, called o-nook, which has balls where the
branches come out, and the people burned the trees to get these
balls, and threw them at the bears. And the bears caught the balls,
and fought and wrestled with them, and while their attention was
taken by these balls the people shot arrows at them and killed them.

And thus ended forever the evil power of Hawawk.




NOTES ON THE STORY OF HAWAWK

The Story of Hawawk opens with an interesting reference to the favorite
Pima game of football. The ball was about two and one half inches in
diameter, merely a heavy pebble coated thick with black greasewood
gum. Sometimes it was decorated with little inlays of shell. It was
thrown by the lifting of the naked or sandaled foot, rather than
kicked. Astonishing tales are told of the running power and endurance
of the older Indians. White and red men agree in the testimony.

Emory says of the Maricopa interpreter, Thirsty Hawk, before alluded
to, that he came running into their camp on foot and "appeared to
keep pace with the fleetest horse." Whittemore, the missionary, says:
"Some young women could travel from forty to fifty miles in sixteen
hours, and there were warriors who ran twenty miles, keeping a horse
on a canter following them." G. W. Mardis, the trader at Phoenix,
told me he had known Indians to run all day, and my interpreter told
me of Pimas running forty to seventy miles in a day, hunting horses on
the mountains. Others ran races with horses and with a little handicap
and for moderate distance often beat them. On these long runs after
horses the men took their footballs and kept them going, saying it
made the journey amusing and less tiresome. And undoubtedly it was,
in the practice of this sport, that their powers were developed. Beside
the usual foot-races, in which all Indians delight, it often happened
that two champions would, on a set day, start in different directions
and chase their footballs far out on the desert, perhaps ten miles
and then return. The one who came in first was winner. The whole
tribe, in two parties, on horseback as far as they could get mounts,
followed the champions, as judges, assistants, critics and friends
and there was profuse betting and picturesque excitement and display.

But the fine old athletic games seem to have all died out now.

Stories of miraculous conception are not uncommon in Indian tradition,
and this story of the bewitching of the young girl into motherhood
thru the agency of the football is an instance.

This gruesome and graphic tale is full of insight into Indian thought
and fancy. In reading it we are reminded of many familiar old nursery
tales of kidnapped child, pig or fowl ("the little red hin" of Irish
legend for instance) and of Were-Wolf and Loup-Garou.

And here reappears the old myth of some god's or hero's footstep
printed in solid rock.

Here is a hint, too, of transmigration in the various adventures of
the soul of Hawawk.

My Indian hosts cooked me a pot of choohookyuh greens, and I found
them very palatable.

The reference to the pottery making reminds me of Pima arts. Today the
Maricopas have almost a monopoly of pottery making, tho the Quohatas
make some good pottery too. It is shaped by the hands (no potters
wheel being known) and smoothed and polished by stones, painted red
with a mineral and black with mezquite gum and baked in a common
fire. It is often very artistic in a rude way, in form and decoration.

The Papagoes do most of the horse-hair work, chiefly bridles, halters
and lariat ropes, and make mats and fans from rushes.

The Pimas make the famous black and white, watertight baskets, which
are too well known to need description. The black in these is shreds
of the dead-black seed pod of the devil-claw and not some fibre dyed
black, as some suppose.

There seems to have been no original bead work among Pima Indians.








THE STORY OF TAWQUAHDAHMAWKS AND HER CANAL


And after this the people had long peace, increased in numbers,
and were scattered all around. Some lived where the old vahahkkees
now are in the Gila country, and some lived in the Papago country,
and some in the Salt River country. And those who lived where the
mound now is between Phoenix and Tempe were the first to use a canal
to irrigate their land. And these raised all kinds of vegetables and
had fine crops. And the people of the Gila country and the people
of the Salt River country at first did not raise many vegetables,
because they did not irrigate, and they used to visit the people
who did irrigate and eat with them; but after a while the people
who lived on the south side of the Salt River also made a canal,
and you can see it to this day.

But when these people tried their canal it did not work. When
they dammed the river the water did not run, because the canal was
uphill. And they could not seem to make it deeper, because it was
all in a lime rock.

And they sent for Ee-ee-toy to help them. And Ee-ee-toy had them get
stakes of ironwood, and sharpen them, and all stand in a row with
their stakes in their hands at the bottom of the canal.

And then Ee-ee-toy sang a song, and at the end of the song the people
were all to strike their stakes into the bottom of the canal to make
it deeper. But it would not work, it was too hard, and Ee-ee-toy gave
it up.

And Ee-ee-toy said: "I can do no more, but there is an old woman
named Taw-quah-dahm-awks (which means The Wampum Eater) and she,
tho only a woman, is very wise, and likely can help you better than
I. I advise you to send for her."

And the people sent for her, and she said: "I will come at once."

And she came, as she had promised, but she did not go to where the
people were assembled, but went right to the canal. And she had brought
a fog with her, and she left the fog at the river, near the mouth of
the canal. And she went up the course of the canal, looking this way
and that, to see how much up-hill it ran.

And when she reached where the canal ran up-hill she blew thru it the
breath which is called seev-hur-whirl, which means a bitter wind. And
this wind tore up the bed of the canal, as deep as was necessary,
throwing the dirt and rocks out on each side.

And then the fog dammed up the river and the water ran thru the canal.

Then the old woman did not go near the people, but went home, and in
the morning, when one of the people went to see why the old woman did
not come, he saw the canal full of water and he yelled to everybody
to come and see it.

And in this way these people got water for their crops and were as
prosperous as the others below them.




NOTES ON THE STORY OF TAWQUAHDAHMAWKS

In this story we find proof that the oldest digging utensil was a
sharpened stake.

Before these people became agricultural they must have subsisted
mainly on the game and wild fruits of the desert. They showed me
several seed-bearing bushes and weeds which in old time had helped
to eke out for them an existence.

Starvation must have often stared them in the face, and the references
to hunger, and the prophecies of plenty, and of visits to relatives
whose crops were good, are scattered pathetically all thru these
legends.

And indeed, until very recently, mezquite beans and the fruit of
various cactus plants were staple articles of food.

Mezquite beans grow in a pod on the thorny mezquite trees. The
gathering of them was quite a tribal event, large parties going
out. The beans when brought home were pounded in the chee-o-pah,
or mortar, which was made by burning a hollow in the end of a short
mezquite log, set in the ground like a low post. A long round stone
pestle, or vee-it-kote, was used to beat with, and sometimes the
cheeopah itself was of stone. But stone mortars were usually ancient
and dug from out the vahahkkee ruins.

The beans, crushed very fine and separated from the indigestible seeds,
packed into a sweet cake that would keep a year.

Various cactus fruits were eaten. They warned me that for a novice to
eat freely of prickly pears produced a lame, sore feeling, as if one
had taken cold or a fever. I noticed no symptoms however. The fruit of
the giant cactus is gathered from the top, around which it grows like
a crown, by a long light pole, made from the rib of the same cactus,
with a little hook at its end made by tying another short piece,
slant-wise, across. They called the constellation of Ursa Major,
Quee-ay-put, or The Cactus-Puller, from a fancied resemblance to this
familiar implement.

The giant cactus, or har-san, was eaten ripe, or dried in the sun, or
boiled to a jam and sealed away in earthern jars. They also fermented
it by mixing with water, and made their famous tis-win or whiskey
from it. They had "big drunks" at this time, in which all the tribe
joined in a general spree.

A sort of large worm (larva) was also gathered in large quantities,
boiled and eaten with salt.

The confusion in the Pima thought on religious matters is well revealed
in this tale, in which Ee-ee-toy, who may be regarded as a god,
frankly admits that in some matters an old woman may be wiser and more
powerful than he. Nothing appears to have been very clearly defined
in their faith except that a mahkai might be or do almost anything.








HOW NOOEE KILLED EE-EE-TOY


Ee-ee-toy lived in the Salt River Mountain, which is called by the
Awawtam Moehahdheck, or the Brown Mountain, and whenever the girls
had ceremonial dances because of their arrival at womanhood he would
come and sing the appropriate songs. And it often happened that he
would tempt these young girls away to his mountain, to be his wives,
but after keeping them awhile he would grow tired of them and send
them back.

And the people disliked Ee-ee-toy because of this. And when they
had crops, too, Ee-ee-toy would often shoot his hot arrows thru the
fields, and wither up the growing things; and tho the people did not
see him do this, they knew he was guilty, and they wanted to kill him,
but they did not know how to do it.

And the people talked together about how they could kill Ee-ee-toy. And
two young boys, there were, who were always together. And as they lay
at the door of their kee they heard the people talking of sending
bunches of people here and there to kill Ee-ee-toy, and one said:
"He is only one, we could kill him ourselves." And the other one said:
"Let us go and kill him, then."

So the two boys went to Moehahdheck, and found Ee-ee-toy lying asleep,
and beat him with their clubs, and killed him, and then came back and
told the people of what they had done. But none of the people went
to see the truth of this and in the morning Ee-ee-toy came again,
just as he used to do, and walked around among the people, who said
among themselves: "I thought the boys said they had killed him."

And that same night all the people went to Moehahdheck, and found
Ee-ee-toy asleep, and fell upon him and killed him. And there was a
pile of wood outside, and they laid him on this and set fire to the
wood and burned his flesh. And feeling sure that he was now dead,
they went home, but in the morning there he was, walking around,
alive again.

And so the people assembled again, and that night, once more, they
killed him, and they cut his flesh up into little bits, and put it
into a pot, and boiled it, and when it was cooked they threw it all
away in different directions. But in the morning he was alive again
and the people gave it up for that time.

But after awhile they were planning again how to kill him; and one
of them proposed that they all go and tie him with ropes and take him
to a high cliff, and push him off, and let him fall. And so they went
and did this, but Ee-ee-toy was not hurt at all. He just walked off,
when he reached the bottom, and looked up at the people above him.

The next scheme was to drown him. They caught him and led him to a
whirlpool, and tied his hands and feet and threw him in. But he came
up in a few minutes, without any ropes on, and looked at the people,
and then dived, and so kept on coming up and diving down. And the
people, seeing they could not drown him, went home once more.

Then Nooee called the people together and said: "It is of no use
for you to try to kill Ee-ee-toy, for you cannot kill him. He is too
powerful for men to kill. He has power over the winds, and all the
animals, and he knows all that is going on in the mountains, and in
the sky. And I have power something like him."

So Nooee told the people to come in, that evening, to his house. He
said: "I will show you part of my power, and I want everyone to
see it."

And Nooee lived not far from where Ee-ee-toy did, south of the
Moehahdheck mountain, at a place called Nooee Vahahkkee, and that
was where he invited the people to come.

And so, when the people assembled at Nooee Vahahkkee, Nooee made
earth in his habitation, and mountains on it, and all things on it,
in little as we say, so that the people could see his power; for
Juhwerta Mahkai had made him to have power, tho he had not cared to
use it. And he made a little world in his house for them to look at,
with sun, moon and stars working just as our sun and stars work;
and everything exactly like our world.

And when night came, Nooee pushed the darkness back with his hands,
and spread it on the walls, so that the people could see his little
world and how it worked. And he was there four days and four nights,
showing this wonder to the people.

And after this Nooee flew up thru the openings in the roof of his
house, and sat there, and saw the sun rise. And as soon as the sun
rose Nooee flew towards it, and flew up and up, higher and higher,
until he could see Ee-ee-toy's heart. And he wore a nose ring, as
all the brave people did, a nose ring of turquoise. But from his high
view he saw that everything looked green and so he knew he could not
kill Ee-ee-toy that day.

And the next day he did the same thing, only he wore a new nose-ring,
made of a sparkling shell. And when he got up high enuf to see
Ee-ee-toy's heart he saw that the ground looked dry, and he was
very much pleased, for he knew that now he would, someday, kill
Ee-ee-toy. And he went home.

And the third morning Nooee again put on his nose ring of glittering
shell, and flew up to meet the Sun, and he flew up and up until he
came to the sun himself. And Nooee said to the Sun: "You know there is
a Person, on earth, called Ee-ee-toy, who is very bad, and I want to
kill him, and I want your help, and this is the reason I come to you."

And Nooee said to the Sun: "Now you go back, and let me shine in your
place, and I will give just as much light as you do, but let me have
your vi-no-me-gaht, your gun, to shoot with, when I get around to your
home." And the Sun said: "Moe-vah Sop-hwah, that is all right. But I
always go down over yonder mountain, and when you get to that mountain
just stop and look back, and see how the world looks."

And Nooee took the Sun's place, and went down, that evening, over
the mountain, stopping, as he was told, to see how wonderful the
world looked; and when he came to the Sun's home, the sun gave him
the weapon he shot with.

And the next morning Nooee rose in place of the Sun, and after rising
a little he shot at the earth, and it became very hot. And before noon
he shot again, and it was still hotter. And Ee-ee-toy knew, now that
he was going to be killed, but he tried to use all his power to save
himself. He ran around, and came to a pond where there had always been
ice, and he jumped in to cool himself, but it was all boiling water.

And when it was nearly noon Nooee shot again, and it became terribly
hot, and Ee-ee-toy ran for a rock which had always been cold, but
just before he got there the heat made the rock burst.

And he ran to a tree, whose cool shade he often enjoyed, but as he
came near it the tree began to burst into flame, and he had to turn
back. And now it was noon, and Nooee shot again.

And Ee-ee-toy ran to a great post, all striped around with black and
white, which had been made by his power, and which had a hollow that
was always cool inside, and was about to put his arms around it when
he fell down and died.

So Ee-ee-toy was dead, and Nooee went down to his setting, and returned
the weapon to the Sun, and then went home to his vahahkkee.




        THE SONG OF NOOEE WHEN HE WENT TO THE SUN

        The Rising (Sun) I am going to meet.

        (Repeated many times)




        WHEN NOOEE KILLED EE-EE-TOY [4]

        (A Song)

        The gun, he gave it to me as a cane;
        With it I killed the Brother's heart.




NOTES ON HOW NOOEE KILLED EE-EE-TOY

The hot arrows of Ee-ee-toy, that withered the crops, remind us
of Apollo.

The idea often comes up in these stories that a person possessing
the powers of a mahkai was hard to kill, having as many lives as
a cat. It would also appear that there was a confusion as to what
constituted killing, anyway. They perhaps regarded mere unconsciousness
as death. Both Ee-ee-toy and Nooee are "killed," but after an interval
are alive again. And Whittemore relates: "An Apache, seeing Louis, the
Pima interpreter, came to him in high glee. Taking his hand, he said:
'You are the Pima who killed me years ago.' Louis then recognized
him as the man to whom he had dealt a heavy blow with a warclub,
and then left him for dead on the battle-field."

Is there any connection between the the fact that when Nooee wore a
nose-ring of turquoise the earth looked green, and that when he wore
a nose-ring of glittering shell the earth looked dry to him?

Could this whole story have been a myth of some great drouth?








EE-EE-TOY'S RESURRECTION AND SPEECH TO JUHWERTA MAHKAI


And after Ee-ee-toy was dead he lay there, as some say for four months,
and some say for four years. He was killed, but his winds were not
killed, nor his clouds and they were sorry for him, and his clouds
rained on him.

And he lay there so long that the little children played on him,
jumping from him.

But at last he began to come to life again, holding down the ground--as
a wounded man does, moaning, and there was thunder, and an earthquake.

And Ahahnheeattoepahk Mahkai's daughter was grinding corn when this
happened, and the corn rolled in the basket, and she said: "How is
it that it thunders when there are no clouds, none to be seen, and
that the corn rolls in the basket?"

And her father said: "You may think this is only thunder, but I tell
you wonderful things are going to happen."

Ee-ee-toy, when he got a little stronger, picked up some stones and
examined them, and threw them away. He did this four times, throwing
away the stones each time, not liking any of them. And the children
went there to play, and found him alive, and asked each other: "Why
is that old man doing that, picking up stones, and throwing them away,
and picking up more?"

And he began then to cut up all kinds of sticks, four at a time, and
to lay them down and look at them, but he liked none of them. Then
he cut arrow weeds, four of them, and he liked their look. And he lit
his pipe and blew the smoke over them, and spread his hand above them,
and he liked the light of them which came thru his fingers.

And he put those sticks away in his pouch. And then he rose and took
a few steps, and began to walk. And all his springs of water had been
dried up while he was dead, but when he walked the earth again they
gushed forth, and he dipped his fingers in them and stroked his wet
fingers over his breast and he did the same to the trees.

And he went on and came to the cliff, where Vandaih once was, and
he did the same to it, putting his hand to it and rubbing it. And he
went to see the Sun.

He came to where the Sun starts, but the Sun was not there, but he
could see the road the Sun takes, and he followed it. And that road
was fringed with beautiful feathers and flowers and turquoises.

And he came to the tree which is called The Talking Tree. And the Tree
took of its bark thin strips, which curled as owl feathers do when
split, and tied them on a little stick, and put them in Ee-ee-toy's
hair. And it gave him four sticks, made from that one of its branches
which dipped to the south. And from its middle branch it made him a
war club, and from a gall, or excrescence, which grew on its limb,
it made him a vah-quah, or canteen.

After that he went along the beautiful fringed road which the Sun
travels, and came to the place where the Sun drinks. And he took a
drink there himself, putting his knee in the spot where the Sun's
knee-print is, and his hand where the Sun rests his hand. And in the
clear water he saw a stone like the Doctors' Stone, somewhat, but of
the color of slate, with a zigzag pattern around it. And he took his
four arrow-weeds and placed them under this stone and left them there.

And he went on, and went down where the Sun goes down. And he went
to see Juhwerta Mahkai, to the place where he lived with his people,
those who sank thru the earth before the flood.

And when Ee-ee-toy came to where Juhwerta Mahkai was, he said to him:--


"There was an Older Brother, and his people were against him;
And he had made an earth that was like your earth;
And he had made mountains that were like your mountains;
And he had made springs of water, like yours, that were satisfactory;
And he made trees like yours, and everything that he made worked well.
And they shot him till he bounced, four times on the open ground;
And threw him with his face to the earth.
And he lay there, dead, but when he came to life he used the strength
    of his right arm and rose up.
But things were changed, and looked different from the old times.
He examined the sticks, but none suited him;
He eyed along the river, that green snake, which he had made, and
    found the sticks that pleased him.
And he cut those arrow-weeds, he found there, into four pieces,
    and blew the smoke over them.
And out of them came sparks of light, that almost reached the Opposite
World, the World of the Enemy, where things are different.
And when he saw the light from the sticks he smiled within himself;
He was so pleased he had found the sticks that suited him.
And he brought the Black Fog from the West, and stroked the sticks
    with it, and so finished them,
And from the Ocean he brought the Blue Fog, and stroked the sticks
    with it, and finished them;
And from the East he brought the Fog of Light, and stroked the sticks
    with it and finished them;
And from Above brought the Green Fog, and put it in hiding, and there
    secretly stroked the sticks with it, and finished them;
From the West he brought the Black Snake, which he had made, and
    bound the sticks together, and finished them.
And from the Ocean he brought the Blue Snake, and bound the sticks
    together, and finished them;
From the East he brought the Snake of Light, and bound the sticks
    together, and finished them;
And from Above he brought the Green Snake, and bound them together
    and finished them.
And then he rose up, and with the first step he stepped on the great
    doctors of the earth and sank them down;
The next step he stepped on the Speaker, and sank him down;
The next step he stepped on the Slayer, and sank him down;
And the next step he stepped on the rushing young maid who gathers
    the fruit to feed the family, and sank her down.
And then he sank down himself, and walked under the earth's crust
    a little way, and then came out and found the Light's Road, his
    own proper way, and walked in it.
Where he found his springs of water, which he had made, with their
    green moss growing, and dipped his hand in them and moistened
    his heart;
And every mountain he came to, which he had made, he entered and
    there he cooled his heart;
And rested his hand on every tree he had made, and so freshened
    his heart;
And came like a ghost to the place, the cliff, where he had killed
    the man-eagle, and sat there.
And there was Someone there, whom he did not know, who asked him what
    he wanted, coming there like a ghost;
Who said: 'I told you that you would be against my people and the
    earth!'
And from there he went to the East and strengthened himself four times;
When he arrived at where the Sun arises;
Where he came to the four notches which the Sun uses when he is rising.
And where the Sun steps it is full of wind;
And where the Sun puts his hands it is full of wind.
In spite of that he climbed the way, the way in which the Sun rises.
And he went Westward, stopping and taking his breath four times;
Even at the fourth time, still going, still breathing westward.
It was the west-bound road he followed, the road adorned with all
    beautiful fringes;
Fringes of soft feathers, and large feathers; and flowers made from
    beautiful trees, and turquoises.
And he went along this road, pulling all the fringes, and whenever
    he came to the doctors, tossing them up in the air.
And there he came to Nee-yaw-kee-tom Oas, The Talking Tree;
And he came to it like a ghost, and fell down on his knees toward it;
And the Tree asked him why he came like a ghost, and what he wanted:--
'I have told you that some day you would be the enemy to my people
    and to the earth.'
There the Tree pulled off its bark and stuck it in his head, like
    split owl feathers;
And it was its middle branch which it cut down in fine shape for a
    club and slipped under his belt;
And it was a nut-gall from its limbs which it made into a canteen
    for him.
And these two together it slipped under his belt.
    And it was the branch toward the ocean which it broke into four
    pieces, equally, and handed to him.
And from thence he travelled on, on the Middle Road, and where there
    were beautiful fringes he examined them as he went along.
And from the Middle Road he could see the road on either side, the
    Road of the Enemy.
And it was among the fringes, where he was pulling the flowers made
    from sticks, that he reached the Speaker and tossed him, too.
And there he reached the place where the Sun drinks.
And tho the print of the Sun's knee was full of wind, and the print
    of his hand full of wind, there he knelt and drank as the Sun drinks.
And there, in the clear water, he found the Doctor's stone, the
    Dab-nam-hawteh, which is square, and there, under it, left the
    arrow-weeds.
And he started on from thence and went to the Sunset Place.
Going down as the Sun goes down, and slid down from there four times,
    to the home of Juhwerta Mahkai.
When he sat down there a strong wind came from the West and carried
    him to the East and brought him back and sat him down again;
And from Above a strong wind came and tossed him up toward the sky,
    and returned him back and sat him down again.
And the Black Gopher, his pet from the West, was rolling over;
And the Blue Gopher, his pet from the South, was rolling over;
And the Gopher of Light, his pet from the East, was rolling over;
And the Yellow Gopher, his pet from the North, was rolling over;
Because of their trouble about him."
And Juwerta Mahkai picked up Ee-ee-toy like a baby, and held him in
    his arms, and swept the ground, and set him down upon it.
And blew smoke over him, till he felt refreshed like a green tree.
One kind of smoke was the ghost-smoke, which he blew over him;
And the other kind was the smoke of the root called bah-wiss-dhack.
And there they built the O-num of Light:
Which means the circle of those great ones around the fire.
And thence they sent the Gray Owl, to go around the enemy and breathe
    over them.
Who, when they heard him, were shaking with fear;
A fear that pulled out their thoughts so that they knew nothing and
    were weak in arms and legs,
And they could not remember their dreams, and their skins became like
    the skins of sick people;
And their lice became many, and their hair became coarse, and their
    eyes became sore.
And they chose the little Blue Owl and sent him to the enemy, and he
    breathed over them.
And he was invisible because of his blue darkness, and he breathed
    over them quietly.
And they selected a Green Road Runner, and sent him to breathe
    over them.
And the people could not see him because of his green darkness,
    and he breathed over them quietly.
And they selected the small Gray Night Hawk;
And he blew a gray dust all thru the enemy's houses and swept their
    ground.
And their springs of water were left dry, choked with driftwood and
    covered with cobwebs.
And their kees, their houses, were full of soot, and their trails
    like old trails;
And after that the fresh foot-tracks could be seen--
And they went out and found the enemy by his fresh tracks and captured
    him, for he had no weapons.
And from the sending out of the birds, even to the end, all this is
    a prophecy.




NOTES ON EE-EE-TOY'S RESURRECTION

The Story of Ee-ee-toy's Resurrection is perhaps the most poetic in the
series, and the opening picture of him lying on the ground, lifeless,
with the elements lamenting over him and the little children playing
on him, might challenge the genius of a great artist.

It is particularly rich in the mystical element also.

I confess that I am not very confident of my rendering of those of the
opening sentences of Ee-ee-toy's speech between "And he had made an
earth" and the statement "And they shot him," etc. My Indians seemed
to get hopelessly tangled over archaic words and other impediments here
and not at all sure of what they told me. The rest I think is correct.

Here we came to the mystic colors of the four quarters, North, South,
East and West and of the zenith, the Above, which the Pimas reckoned
evidently as a cardinal point. If their mystic power was derived
from the cardinal points, might not their inclusion of the zenith
make five also sometimes a mystic number? I think that it perhaps was.

Brinton says that among the Mayas of Yucatan, East is Red, West is
Black, North is White and South is Yellow.

The Speaker: It was customary in the villages of the Awawtam for some
individual, perhaps a chief, or a mahkai, or some representative
of these, to mount on a kee, or other high place, and in a loud
voice shout news, orders, advice, or other important matters to the
people. This was the Speaker, a sort of town crier.

To step on the rushing young maid who gathered the cactus fruit was
a blow at the enemy's subsistence.

It seems to have been a custom among the mahkais to have pet animals
to assist them in their magic.

A circle of bushes, stood up in the earth, forming a screen for shelter
or privacy, was called an onum. One or more may be found near almost
any Pima hut.

To work witchcraft on a foe, so that he be left weaponless and
helpless, and off his guard against attack, seems to have been the
favorite dream of whoso went to war. Treachery was idolized. There
was no notion of a fair fight.

Stories of mythical beings who, tho repeatedly killed, persist in
coming to life again, are common among many Indian tribes.








STORIES OF THE THIRD NIGHT


THE STORY OF EE-EE-TOY'S ARMY


And after Ee-ee-toy was thru speaking Juhwerta Mahkai addressed him,
and promised him his help, and that he would lead out to earth again
his people, who had sunk down before the flood, that these might
fight against the people whom Ee-ee-toy had made and who now had
turned against him.

So when his people heard this they gathered together all their property
that they could carry, to take to earth with them.

And Juhwerta Mahkai said to Ee-ee-toy: "You go ahead of the people
and I will follow."

And they went out in bands.

The first band was called the Mah-mahk-Gum. These were led by
Ee-ee-toy, and their color was red.

The second band was called Ah-pah-pah Gum. And their colors were
white and yellow.

The third band was called Vah-vah Gum. And their color was red.

The fourth band was called Ah-pah-kee Gum. And their colors were
white and yellow.

The fifth band was called Aw-glee Gum. And their color was red.

And the sixth band was called Ah-pel-ee Gum. And their colors were
white and yellow.

And these bands were so called because it was by these names they
called their fathers.

As they were going to start they sent the Yellow Gopher ahead to open
a way for them to this earth.

And the gyih-haws were loaded with their belongings, and stood up
beside the ranks. And the bands went thru, one by one.

And when the fifth band was partly thru Toe-hahvs looked back and saw
the gyih-haws walking beside the ranks, and he was amused and said:
"I don't think there will be enemies enuf for us to kill, we are
so many, and there are these other things, beside us, that look so
funny." And he began to laugh.

And as soon as he laughed the gyih-haws stopped walking, and ever since
they have never walked, and the women have been obliged to carry them.

And after these words, too, the earth closed up, so that the sixth
band and part of the fifth band were left behind. And Juhwerta Mahkai
was left behind, also, and only Ee-ee-toy and Toe-hahvs, and some
other powerful men, went thru to lead the people.

And after they had come out a little way they came to a place called
the White Earth. And Ee-ee-toy stopped then and the others camped
with him.

And there the powerful men all sang, and the people joined in, and
all dressed themselves in their war-bonnets, and attired themselves
for war, and had a great war dance together.

And they went on again, another journey, and camped at the place
called Black Mountain, and again sang and danced a war dance.

So they went on, slowly, camping at one place, sometimes, for many
days or several weeks, making their living by hunting game.

And whenever they stopped they sent scouts and spies ahead to look out
for the next stopping-place, so that they might go ahead safely. And
this went on for many years.

And there were no deer in those days, and Ee-ee-toy said to the
wood-rat: "Let me make a deer of you." And the wood-rat said:
"Moevah Sophwah" (all right). But when Ee-ee-toy took out his knife
and began to cut at his skin to change him into a deer, he cried out
so hard that Ee-ee-toy let him go. And you may see the knife mark on
his chest and neck to this day.

And Ee-ee-toy asked another rat, the little one with coarse hair,
called Geo-wauk-kuh-wah-paw-kum, if he might make him into a deer,
and the little rat said "Moevah Sophwah!" And this little rat was
brave, and let Ee-ee-toy cut and change him, and he became a deer. And
Ee-ee-toy said: "You shall not be like some animals, that love to roam
all over, you shall love only one spot and wish to stay there." And
that is why, to this day, the deer do not care to leave their own
places and wander as coyotes do.

So there were now plenty of deer, and the people had something new
to live upon.

And there were two brothers who were especially good at hunting
the deer. Their names were Hay-mohl and Soo-a-dack Cee-a-vawt. And
they hunted as the people marched, and kept them well supplied with
deer-meat.

And there was a doctor among them who took the ears and tail of the
deer and worked such witchcraft on them that the deer could hide
away so well that the hunters could not see them. They hunted, as
the people journeyed along, but all in vain.

And the hunters in their trouble sought to get help from a doctor,
and they happened to go to the very one who had helped the deer, and
they told him they wanted help to find the deer, for the children
were crying and hungry and they wanted meat to feed them. And the
doctor said: "I guess the trouble is that you look for the deer in
the old places, where you have already killed them. If you will hunt
for them in the 'cheeks' (the outlying flanks) of our line of march,
you will find them." And the hunters hunted for the deer in the cheeks
but could not find them.

And they went that evening to the same doctor and told him of their
bad luck, and the doctor said: "If you will look for them next time
in the little valleys between the hills, I think, you will find them,
for they like to go there."

And the hunters went the next day and looked in the little valleys,
but could not find the deer, and they came that evening and told the
doctor of their bad luck. And he said: "If you hear of anyone who
chances to kill a deer, even if it is only a fawn, bring me the tips
of its ears, and of its tail, and of its nose."

And the doctor said: "I want you to bring me these because a deer
feels first with his tail that some one is after him, and, second,
hears with his ears that some one is near, and, third, smells danger
with his nose. And that is why I want you to bring me these."

The next day these brothers were in a crowd and heard that a fawn
had been killed, and went to it and cut off the tips of its tail and
of its ears and of its nose and brought these to the doctor. And the
doctor took these, and then he took those which he had used at first
to hide the deer with, and with these in his hand he began to sing.

And in his song he asked one of the brothers, Haymohl, for the
turquoise earrings which he wore; and then he asked Sooadack Ceeavawt
for the beads which were around his neck. But the brothers kept on
listening to his song and did not understand what he meant.

And he told them to hunt the next day near the crowd of people,
and they did so and killed a fawn, and took it home and had meat
with their family. And then they went again to the doctor; who again
sang his song, asking for the same gifts. And this time the brothers
understood him and Haymohl said: "O, I never thought of these," and
took off his ear rings and gave them to him. And Sooadack Ceeavawt
took off his necklace of beads and gave them to him. And the doctor
told them that the next day they were to hunt near the crowd, and they
would find plenty of deer anywhere they might hunt for them. And he
went to where the fawn skin was, and took pieces of its skin and made
medicine-bags for the brothers, out of the cheek pieces of the fawn
stretched out and made into soft buckskin, and filled these with the
scrapings of the buckskin and the tips of the fawn's ears and of his
tail and nose and gave one to each of the brothers.

And the brothers took these bags, and wore them at their belts, and
the next day they went out hunting and in a little while killed a
deer, and went on a little further and killed another, and after that
found plenty of deer; and from that time on the people had plenty of
venison again.

And the people marched on in the order of their villages; and a member
of one village, a woman, was taken sick, and her fellow-villagers
stayed with her to take care of her, and the rest of the army marched
on, leaving this village behind. And these remained with her till
she died, and buried her, and then journeyed on till they overtook
the others.

And as they traveled a pestilence broke out, a sickness which spread
thru all the villages and delayed them. But a doctor told them to
kill a doe and have a big dance, the dance that is called "Tramping
Down the Sickness," that the sick might get well. And they did this
and all their sick ones recovered.




        THE FIRST SONG OF EE-EE-TOY'S ARMY

        The White Earth I come to and sing;
        Where many war-bonnets are shaking with the wind;
        There we come together to dance and to sing.




        THE DOCTOR'S SONG TO THE HUNTERS

        Sahn-a-mahl! [5]
        Haymohl give me the necklace!
        Sooadack Ceeavawt give me the turquoise ear-rings!








THE DESTRUCTION OF THE VAHAHKKEES


(The Pima plural of vah-ahk-kee is vahp-ahk-kee, but I have made all
plurals English, as more understandable.)


And after this they were not sick any more, and they came to the Gila
Country, to Ee-ee-toy's land, the Land of the Vahahkkees, and here they
divided themselves into four parties, of which one went south; but the
doctors united them all by "The Light," so that they would know about
each other in case there was a battle in which any needed assistance.

And as they came into this country the people there were stirred up
with alarm, and the great doctor who lived at Casa Blanca, whose name
was Tcheu-tchick-a-dah-tai Seeven, sent his son to Stcheuadack Seeven,
at Casa Grande, to enquire if there were any prophecies that he knew
of about the coming of this great invading army.

So the boy went, but just before he got there he heard a frog, a big
one, which Stcheuadack Seeven kept for a pet and to assist him in his
work as a doctor, and when the boy heard the frog he was frightened,
and ran back, and when his father asked what he had learned, he said:
"Nothing, I heard a noise there that frightened me, so I ran home
again."

And his father said: "That is nothing to be afraid of, that is only
the voice of his pet, his frog," and he sent the boy once more.

So the boy went again, and came to Stcheuadack Seeven who asked him
what his father had sent him for, and the boy replied that his father
wanted to know if there were any prophecies about the coming of this
enemy, and how he felt about it every evening.

When the boy returned his father asked him what Stcheuadack Seeven
knew, and how he felt, and the boy said: "He does not know anything. He
says he sits out every night, and hears the different animals, and
enjoys their pleasant voices, and in the morning he enjoys hearing
the sweet songs of the birds, and he always feels good, and does not
fear anything."

So his father said: "I am well satisfied that I will not be the
first to see this thing happen. It will be Stcheuadack Seeven who
will first see it, and it will not be ten days before it will occur."

And in a few days Ee-ee-toy's army came to the village of Stcheuadack
Seeven and killed all the people there.

And Geeaduck Seeven, who lived at Awawtkum Vahahkkee, told his people
to flee: and many did so and ran to the mountains and other places,
but the others who did not run away came to Geeaduck Seeven's house,
and he told them to come in there.

And the enemy came, and they fought, but it was not easy for
Ee-ee-toy's warriors to fight the men of Geeaduck Seeven, because they
were nearly all inside, but his men managed to set fire to the house,
and so destroyed it, and killed all who were therein.

Then Ee-ee-toy's men marched on, north, to where Cheof-hahvo Seeven,
or Long Dipper Chief, lived, and as they marched along they sang
about the places they were conquering, and they sang of the beads that
they expected to get at this village, the beads called sah-vaht-kih,
and there was an old woman among them who said: "When you get those
beads, I want them." And so when they had conquered that vahahkkee
they gave the beads to her.

And they went from there to the home of Dthas Seeven, who had a
cane-cactus fence about his place, and Ee-ee-toy's men heard of this,
and sang about it as they went along. And they took this place and
killed Dthas Seeven.

And then they went on to where the Casa Blanca vahahkkees now are in
ruins; and the great doctor who lived there, the same who had sent his
boy to inquire of the prophecies, drew a magic line before his place,
so that the enemy could not cross. And when Ee-ee-toy's men came to
the line the earth opened, and they could not go further till one
of their great doctors, by his power, had closed it, and then they
could pass it.

And they had a great battle there, for the place was very strong,
and hard to get into. And there was a doctor among them called Nee-hum
Mah-kai, or Thunder Doctor, and they asked him to use his magic power
to tear the place down, and he tried, but could not succeed. And they
asked another, called Tchu-dun Mahkai, or Earthquake Doctor, and he
tried and failed also. And then they asked another, a little man,
not supposed to have much power, and he took a hair from his head,
and held it up by the two ends, and sang a song, and turned it into a
snake. And he sent the snake, and it struck the house, and shook it
so that it broke and fell down from above. And then Ee-ee-toy's men
took the place, and killed everybody there except Tcheutchickadahtai
Seeven, who escaped and ran on.

And one of Ee-ee-toy's warriors pursued him, and was going to strike
him with a club when he sank down, and the place where he sank was
filled with a fog, so that they could not see him, and he got out on
the other side and ran on. But they had a doctor called Ku-mi-wahk
Mahkai, or Fog Doctor, and they had him clear away the fog and then
they could see him and chased him again.

And again, when about to be struck, he sank down, and a mirage filled
the place so that they could not see him, for things did not look
the same. And he got out beyond, and ran on. And they had a Sas-katch
Mahkai, or Mirage Doctor, who cleared away the false appearance, and
again they chased him, and were about to kill him, when again he sank.

And this time a rainbow filled the place and made him invisible,
and again he ran on till their Kee-hawt Mahkai, or Rainbow Doctor,
removed the rainbow.

And once more they were about to strike him when he sank, and the
quivers which heat makes, called coad-jook, filled the hole, and
again he got away. But they had a Coadjook Doctor, and he removed it,
and then they chased him and killed him.

And they went northward again from there.

And there was a rattlesnake who had never killed an enemy, and
he asked a doctor to help him do this, and the doctor told him
he would. And the doctor told his pet gopher to dig a hole to the
village of the doctor who lived beyond Od-chee, where is the place
called Scaw-coy-enk, or Rattlesnake Village. And this doctor was the
speaker of his village, and every morning stood on a big stone and
in a loud voice told the people what they were to do. And the gopher
dug a hole to this stone, through which the rattlesnake crawled and
lay in wait under the stone. And when the doctor came out to speak
to his people in the morning, the rattlesnake bit him and then slid
back into his hole again. And the doctor came down from the stone,
and went into his kee, and fell down there and died.

And after taking this place they marched to the place called
Ko-awt-kee Oy-yee-duck, or Shell Field, where a doctor-chief lived,
named Tcheunassat Seeven, and this place they took, and Ee-ee-toy
himself killed this doctor, this being the first foe he had killed.

And they went on again to the place where Nooee lived, called
Wuh-a-kutch. And Ee-ee-toy said: "When you come there you will know
the man who killed me by his white leggings, and when you find him,
do not kill him, but capture him, and bring him to me, and I will do
what I please with him."

And Ee-ee-toy had the Eagle and the Chicken-Hawk go up in the sky to
look for Noo-ee, for he said he might go up there. And the Eagle and
the Chicken-Hawk found Nooee there, and caught him, and brought him to
Ee-ee-toy, who took him and scalped him alive. And Nooee, after he was
scalped, fell down and died, and the women came around him, rejoicing
and dancing, and singing; "O why is Seeven dead!" And after awhile
be began to come to life again, and lay there rolling and moaning.

And Ee-ee-toy's men went on again to a village beyond Salt River,
where lived a chief who had a brother, and they were both left-handed,
but famous shots with the bow. And these brothers put up the hardest
fight yet encountered. But when the brothers were too hard pressed
they fled to Cheof See-vick, or Tall Red Mountain, and there they
kept shooting and killed a great many of Ee-ee-toy's men, who were
short of arrows, after so long fighting and many of their bows broken.

Because of this, Ee-ee-toy's men had to fall back and surround
the place.

And when this happened the band that had gone to the south knew by
the "Light" that it was so, and came to help them. And these had many
bows and arrows, and beside brought wood to mend the broken bows, and
wood to make new arrows; and when they came into the place they gave
their bows and arrows to Ee-ee-toy's men and made themselves new bows
from the wood they had brought. And these men were the ancestors of
the Toe-hawn-awh Aw-aw-tam, the present Papagoes, and that is why to
this day the Papagoes are most expert in making bows and arrows. And
then the fight began again and the two brave brothers were killed.

And from there they went on to another awawtkumvahahkkee, where is
now Fort McDowell, where lived another seeven whom they fought and
conquered.

And from there they went on westward thru the mountains. But when
they came to Kah-woet-kee, near where is now Phoenix, one of the
chiefs in Ee-ee-toy's army said: "I have seen enuf of this country,
and I will take this for my part and remain here." And he did so.

And the bands went on and came to the Colorado River, and there one of
the great doctors, called Gaht Mahkai, or Bow Doctor, struck the river
with his bow and laid it down in the water. And the water separated
then so that the people were able to go over to the other side. And
beyond the Colorado they came to a people who lived in holes in the
ground, whom they found it hard to fight, and they asked help of their
Thunder Doctor, and when the people came out of their holes to fight
he struck right in the midst of them, but killed only one. Then they
asked help of the Earthquake Doctor, and he was able to kill only
one. And these two were all they killed. And these people were called
Choo-chawf Aw-aw-tam, or the Foxes, because they lived in holes.

And after the army failed to conquer the Foxes they returned across
the Colorado River, near where is now Yuma. And here again the Bow
Doctor divided the water for them. But before all the bands were
across the waters closed, and some were left behind. And these called
to those who were across to have the Bow Doctor hit the waters again,
that they also might get there. But those who were across would not
do this, but told them that there was plenty of land where they were
that would make them a comfortable home. And those left there were
the ancestors of the present Yumas and Maricopas.




        SONG BEFORE THE FIGHT WITH CHEOF-HAHVO SEEVEN [6]

        In the land where there are a great many galley-worms--
        I will get the doctor out,
        It will lighten his heart.




        A SONG OF THE DOCTOR WHOSE SNAKE THREW DOWN THE VAHAHKKEE

        I made the black snake;
        And he went across and wounded the vahahkkee.




NOTES ON THE STORY OF EE-EE-TOY'S ARMY AND THAT OF THE DESTRUCTION
OF THE VAHAHKKEES

In the Story of Ee-ee-toy's Army we come to an amusing superstition of
the Pimas. There is a funny little creature in Arizona, related to the
tarantula, perhaps, which the Pimas say is very poisonous, and which
is certainly very quick in motion and the hardest thing to kill I ever
saw. It is covered with a sort of fuzzy hair, which blows in the wind,
and is sometimes red and sometimes yellow or white. Now there seems
to be a connection in the Indian mind between this way-heem-mahl,
as they name him, and this story of Ee-ee-toy's Army. The bands, it
is related, were distinguished by certain colors--some took red, and
some yellow and white, for their badge-color. And the Pimas of today
suppose themselves descended from these bands, and some clans claim
that the bands of the red were their forbears, and some trace back
to the bands of yellow and white. And not many years back there was a
rivalry between these, and the wayheemmahls, having the same colors,
were identified with the bands, and the Pimas descended from a band
of a certain color would not kill a wayheemmahl of that color, or
willingly permit others to do so, but would eagerly kill wayheemmahls
of the opposite color. If, then, a Pima of the red faction saw a
yellow wayheemmahl, running over the ground, he was quick to jump
on it; but if a Pima of the yellow stood near he would resent this
attack on his relation, and a hair-pulling fight would result. This
custom is probably altogether obsolete now.

It will be noticed that the fantastic explanations of why gyihhaws
are now carried by the women, is contradicted by the carrying of
gyihhaws by various women in previous stories.

The closing of the earth cuts down the six bands to four and a
fraction.

Wardances, and extravagant and boastful speeches prophesying success,
seem to have preceded all the military movements of the Awawtam.

The creation of deer in this story, by Ee-ee-toy, is contrary to their
presence in earlier tales, as in that of Ahahnheeattoepahk Mahkai.

The careful mention of the sickness and death of an apparently
unimportant woman is curious, and hard to explain. Perhaps this was
the inauguration of the pestilence.

The Story of the Destruction of the Vahahkkees has the most historic
interest of any.

The uniting of the bands by the "Light" is very curious. My Indians
could not tell me what this was, only something occult and mysterious
by which they had clairvoyant ken of each other's needs. Its use
appears in the fight at Cheof Seevick.

The resemblance to the Israelites crossing the Red Sea is remarkable
in the exploit of the Bow Doctor, and the crossing of the Rio Colorado.

The Choochawf Awawtam appear to have been cave-dwellers, and my
Indians were confused in memory as to whether they were encountered
on the hither or far side of the Colorado.

The statement that the closing of the waters left the Yumas and
Maricopas on the far bank of the Colorado is likely only a mahkai's
fanciful attempt to explain their presence there. As the Indians of
the Yuman stock speak an entirely different language from the Indians
of the Piman stock, it is unlikely they were united in the original
invading army. There is no other evidence that there ever was any
alliance between them till the Maricopas, fearing extermination
from the Yumas, joined the Pimas sometime in the first half of the
nineteenth century.

Comalk Hawkkih gave me this account of the coming in of the Maricopas:
The Yumas and the Maricopas were once all one people, but there was
a jealousy between two sons of a chief, one of whom was a favorite
of his father, and one killed the other, and this grew to a civil
war. The defeated party, the Maricopas, went first to Hot Springs,
where they staid awhile, and then to Gila Bend, but each time the Yumas
followed and attacked them and drove them on. Fearing extermination
they came to the Pimas for protection. The Pimas adopted them. Now
began war between Yumas and Mohaves on one side, and Pimas, Papagoes
and Maricopas on the other. There were only two battles after the
Maricopas came in, but in the second battle all the Yuma warriors
engaged were killed, and the Mohaves had to flee over the mountain,
and only a part of these escaped. This battle was fought at what is
now called Maricopa Mountain.

So terrible was the defeat, that to this day the Yumas hold an annual
"Cry," or lamentation, in memory of it. Their old foes are invited,
and if any Pima or Maricopa attends he is given a horse. This war
reduced both Yumas and Maricopas to a mere remnant.

Since then the Maricopas have lived with the Pimas, and in customs
are almost exactly similar, except that they burn their dead, and
still speak their distinctive language.

They are a taller, larger race than the Pimas, more restless, said
to be quicker witted, but more inclined to vice, and to be rapidly
dying out; while the Pimas yet hold their own in numbers, despite
recent inroads of tuberculosis.








THE STORY OF SOHAHNEE MAHKAI AND KAWKOINPUH


Now when the bands were going thru this country they had selected
the places for their homes, expecting to return, and each band, as
it selected its place, drove down short sticks so as to know it again.

And after returning across the Rio Colorado the bands went again to
these places which they had selected and settled there.

Only the Toehawnawh Awawtam (the Papagoes) did not at first go to
their selected place, but went on beyond Awn-kee Ack-kee-mull, the
Salt River, to where is now Lehi.

And there was one doctor among them named So-hah-nee Mahkai, and he
had no child, but he had found one of the children belonging to the
country, which had been left alive, and he had adopted it for his
own. And he went on and lived by himself at the place then called
Vah-kah-kum, but now named Stcheu-a-dack-a-Vahf, or Green Cliff.

And the Aw-up, or Apaches, were a part of the original people of
this country, and this child which Sohahnee Mahkai had adopted was
an Apache.

And when he had grown up to be quite a large boy the Apaches planned
to capture Sohahnee Mahkai; but Sohahnee Mahkai knew of this and told
the boy to go to a place where he had been clearing up a farm and to
find the stick there with which he had been cutting down bushes, and
to dig a hole there under the bushes, and then to come back home and
eat his supper. And after he had eaten his supper he was to return to
the place where the stick was, and hide in the hole under the bushes
which were there.

And the boy's name was Kaw-koin-puh, and he dug the hole under the
bushes, as he was directed, and returned for his supper.

And then Sohahnee Mahkai said to him: "Now to-night the Apaches will
come to kill me, but here is a basket-box which I want you to have
after I am dead. And when you are safe in your hole you will hear
when they come to kill me. But don't you come out till they are far
enuf away. Then come and find my body, no matter whether h is here or
dragged away. And when you find it, do not mind how stained and bloody
it is, but fall upon it, and put your mouth to mine, and inhale, and
thus you will inherit my power. And when you leave my body, do not
attempt to follow after the Apaches, for they would surely kill you,
for tho you are one of them they would not know that, because you do
not speak their language. But I want you to return to where we left
some people at the place called Vik-kuh-svan-kee."

So the boy took the little basket-box, and went to his hole, and
early in the evening the Apaches came and surrounded the house,
and staid there till near morning, and then began the attack. And
the boy could hear the fighting, and could hear Sohahnee Mahkai yell
every time his arrow killed anyone; and he could hear the old woman,
his wife, shout out in her exultation, too. And it was after the sun
was up that the old woman was killed; and then Sohahnee Mahkai ran
out and the Apaches chased him and killed him, and said: "Now let us
cut him open and find what it is that made him so brave, and enabled
him to kill so many of us." And they cut him open and found under
his heart a feather of the chicken hawk.

And the Apaches took that feather, and that is how they are so brave
and even if there are only two of them will often attack their enemies
and kill some of them.

And after the Apaches were far away the boy came out of his hole and
found the old woman, and from there tracked till he found the old man;
and he fell over him, as he had been told, and inhaled four times;
and then he went to Vikkuhsvankee, but he got there at night, and
did not attempt to go into any house, but staid outside all night in
the bushes.

And in the morning a girl came and found the boy, and went back and
told the people there was some one outside who was a stranger there,
some one with short hair. And they came and stood around him, and
teased him, and threw dirt at him, until finally he cried out: "Don't
you remember me, who I am? My name is Kawkoinpuh and I was here once,
but went away with the doctor, Sohahnee Mahkai. And now the Apaches
have killed him and the old woman, his wife, and I am left alone."

And when he said this the people remembered him, and took him by
the hand, and led him to a doctor named Gawk-siss Seev-a-lick, who
adopted him, and he was treated nicely because he was a good hunter
and used to keep the doctor in plenty of game.

And the doctor had a daughter, and when she was old enuf he gave
her to Kawkoinpuh for his wife. And Kawkoinpuh staid with his wife's
people; and his wife expected a child, and wanted different things to
eat. So Kawkoinpuh left home and went to the mountain called Vahpkee,
and there got her a lot of the greens called choohookyuh. And after
a while he wanted to go again, but she said: "Do not go now, for
the weather is bad. Wait till it is more pleasant." But he said,
"I am going now," and he went.

And this time he was hunting wood rats instead of greens, and he had
killed three and was trying to scare out the fourth one, where he could
shoot it, when the Apaches came and surrounded him a good ways off.

He saw them and ran for home, but there were many Apaches in front
of him, and they headed him off.

But he jumped up and down and sideways, as Sohahnee Mahkai had done,
shooting and killing so many that finally he broke thru their ring,
and started for home. But he kept turning back and shooting at them
as he ran. And one of them came near and was about to kill him, but
he shot first and killed the Apache. And then another came near and
this time the Apache shot first, and so Kawkoinpuh was killed.

And when evening came, Gawksiss Seevalick came out, and called aloud,
and invited the people to his house, and asked them if any had seen
his son, Kawkoinpuh; who had seen him last; for he knew something had
happened to him, as he always came home after his hunt, because he
loved his home. But nobody had seen anything of Kawkoinpuh, because
no one had been out, the weather being bad.

But Gawksiss Seevalick knew the boy was killed, because he was a
doctor, and there is a being above, called Vee-ips-chool, who is
always sad and who makes people sad when anything bad has happened.

So they went out the next morning, and tracked the boy, and came to
where he had killed the wood-rats, and then they found the tracks of
the Apaches, and then found a great many Apaches whom he had killed,
and finally they found his body.

The Apaches had cut him open, and taken out his bowels and wound
them around bushes, and cut off his arms and legs and hung them on
trees. And one of the men, there, told them to get wood and to gather
up these parts of Kawkoinpuh's body and burn them. And some of the
people remained behind and did this, and then all went home.

And in the evening Gawksiss Seevalick again called the people together
and sang them a song to express his grief.

And the next morning he went with his daughter to where Kawkoinpuh had
been burned, and there they found some blood still remaining and buried
it. And that evening again he called the people together, and said:
"You see what has happened; we have lost one of our number. We ought
not to stay here, but to return to the place we first selected." And
the people took his advice and got their things ready and started.

And they went slow because they were on foot, and it took them four
nights to get to the place where they wanted to go. And the first
night there was no singing, but the second night there was a doctor
named Geo-goot-a-nom-kum who sang a song for them; and the third night
there was a doctor named Geo-deck-why-nom-kum who sang a song for them;
and on the fourth night there was a doctor named Mahn-a-vanch-kih
who sang for them a song.




NOTES ON THE STORY OF SOHAHNEE MAHKAI

In this we are given a most graphic and pathetic glimpse of Indian
warfare.

Notice the bushes are "cut down" (broken off more likely) by a stick. A
glimpse of the rude old tools.

Very poetic is the conception of Veeipschool, "the being above who is
always sad, and makes people sad when anything bad has happened." A
personification of premonition.








THE STORY OF PAHTAHNKUM


And when they came to their journey's end the wife of Kaw-koin-puh
had a baby, which grew up to be a fine boy, but the mother cried all
the time, where-ever she went, on account of her husband's death.

And the people, after they had settled down, used to go rabbit-hunting,
and the children too, and this boy, Paht-ahn-kum, used to watch them
wistfully, and his mother said: "I know what you are thinking of,
but there is nothing for you to kill rabbits with. But I will send
you to your uncle, my brother, whom I am expecting will make a bow
and arrows for you."

And the next morning, early, the boy went to his uncle, who said: "Why
do you come so early? It is an unusual thing for you to come to see
me so early instead of playing with boys and girls of your own age."

And the boy replied: "My mother said she was expecting you to make
me a bow and arrows."

And his uncle said: "That is an easy thing to do. Let us go out and
get one." And they went out and found an o-a-pot, or cat-claw tree,
and cut a piece of its wood to make a bow, and they made a fire and
roasted the stick over this, turning it, and they made a string from
its bark to try it with; and then they found arrow-weeds, and made
arrows, four of them, roasting these, too, and strengthening them;
and then they went home and made a good string for the bow from sinew.

And then the boy went home and showed his mother his bow and arrows.

And the next morning the children went hunting and little Pahtahnkum
went with them to the place of meeting.

And they found a quotaveech's nest near them, with young ones in it,
and one of the men shot into it and killed one of the young ones, and
then the children ran up to join in the killing. And when Pahtahnkum
came up, one of the men threw him one of the young birds, and said:
"Here, take it, even if your mother does not wish to marry me."

And the little boy ran home and gave his game to his mother, and when
she saw it she turned her back on it and cried. And he wondered why
she cried when he had brought her game and was wishing she would cook
it for his dinner.

And his mother said: "I never thought my relatives would treat you
this way. There is an animal, the caw-sawn, the wood rat, and a
bird, the kah-kai-cheu, the quail, and these are good to eat, and
these are what they ought to give you, and when they give you those,
bring them home and I will cook them for you." She said, further;
"This bird is not fit to eat; and I was thinking, while I was crying,
that if your father were living now you would have plenty of game,
and he would make you a fine bow, and teach you to be as good a
hunter as there is. And I will tell you now how your father died. We
did not use to live here. But beyond this mountain there is a river,
and beyond that another river still, and that is where we lived and
where your father was killed by the people called Apaches, and that
is why we are here, and why we are so poor now.

I am only telling you this so you may know how you came to be
fatherless, for I know very well you can never pay it back, for the
Apaches are very fierce, and very brave, and those who go to their
country have to be very careful; for even at night the Apaches may
be near them, and even the sunshine in their country feels different
from what it does here."

And the little boy, that night, went to his uncle, who asked: "Why
do you come to me in the night?"

And the little boy said: "I come to you because today I was hunting
with the bow and arrows you made me, and someone gave me a little
bird, and I was bashful, and brought it right home for my mother to
cook for me, and she cried, and then told me about my father and how
he died. And I do not see why you kept this a secret from me. And I
wish you would tell me what these Apaches look like, that they are
so fierce and brave."

And his uncle said: "That is so. I have not told you of these things
because you are just a baby yet, and I did not intend to tell you
until you were a man, but now I know you have sense enuf to wish to
learn. There is nothing so very different or dangerous about these
Apaches; only their bows, and their arrows of cane are dangerous."

And the little boy went on to another doctor, who said: "Why do you
come to me? Are you lost? If so, we will take you home." But the little
boy said to him: "No, I am not lost, but I want you to tell me one
thing--why the Apaches are so dangerous--are they like the har-sen,
the giant cactus, with so many thorns?" And the doctor answered:
"No, they are men like we are, and have thoughts as we have, and eat
as we do, and there is only one thing that makes them dangerous and
that is their bows and their arrows of cane."

So the little boy went to the next doctor, and this doctor also asked
him if he were lost, and he said: "No, but I want you to tell me
just one thing--why the Apaches are so dangerous. Are they like the
mirl-hawk, the cane-cactus, with so many branches all covered with
thorns?" And the doctor replied: "No, they are human beings just
as we are, and think just as we do, and eat as we do, and the only
things that make them dangerous are their bows and their arrows of
cane." And the little boy said: "I am satisfied."

But he went yet to another doctor and asked him also why the Apaches
were so dangerous, were they like the hah-nem, the cholla cactus? But
the doctor said no, and gave the same answer as the others had done,
and the little boy said: "I am satisfied, then," and went back to his
uncle again and began to question him about what people did when they
got ready for war, and what they did to purify themselves afterward,
and his uncle said: "It is now late at night, and I want you to go
home, and tomorrow come to me, and I will tell you about these things."

So the little boy went home, but very early in the morning, before
sunrise, he was again at his uncle's house, and came in to him before
he was yet up. And his uncle said: "I will now tell you, but we must
go outside and not talk in here before other people."

And he took the little boy outside, and they stood there facing the
east, waiting for the sun to rise, with the little boy on the right
of his uncle. And when the sun began to rise the doctor stretched
out his left hand and caught a sunbeam, and closed his hand on it,
but when he opened his hand there was nothing there; and then he used
his right hand and caught a sunbeam but when he opened his hand there
was nothing there; and he tried again with his left hand, and there
was nothing, but when he tried the second time with his right hand,
when he opened it, there was a lock of Apache's hair in his hand.

And he took this and put it in the little boy's breast, and rubbed
it in there till it all disappeared, having entered into the little
boy's body.

And then he told the little boy to get him a small piece of oapot or
cat-claw tree, but no, he said, I will go myself; and he went and got a
little piece of the oapot, and tied a strip of cloth around the boy's
head, and stuck the little piece of wood in it, and then told him to
go home to his mother and tell her to give him a new dish to eat from.

And this stick which the doctor had put into the boy's hair represented
the kuess-kote or scratching stick which the Pimas and Papagoes used
after killing Apaches, during the purification time; and the doctor
had made it from cat-claw wood because the cat-claw catches everybody
that comes near, and he wanted the boy to have great power to capture
his enemies.

And his uncle told the boy to stay at home in the day time, lying
still and not going anywhere, but at night to come to him again. "And
before you come again," he said, "I will make you something and have
it ready for you."

And the little boy kept still all that day, but at night he went to
his uncle again, and his uncle had four pipes ready for him, made from
pieces of cane, and he said, "Now tonight when the people gather here
(for it was the custom for many people to come to the doctor's house
in the evening) they will talk and have a good time, but after they
are thru I will roll a coal from the fire toward you, and then you
light one of the pipes and smoke four whiffs, and after that slide the
watch-kee, the pipe, along the ground toward me, as is the custom,
and I will smoke it four times and pass it to my next neighbor, and
he will do the same, and so the pipe will go all around and come
back to you. And even when it is out, when it comes back to you,
you are to take it and stick the end that was lighted in the ground.

So that evening the people all assembled as usual, and told all the
news of the day, and about the hunting as was their custom. And when
they were thru, and had quieted down, the uncle moved to the fire and
rolled a coal toward Pahtahnkum, who took it and lit one of the pipes,
and smoked it four times, and then slid it slowly (the pipe must be
slid slowly because if it were slid rapidly the enemy would be too
quick and escape, but if it is done slowly the enemy will be slow
and can be captured) along the ground to his uncle. And his uncle
took the watchkee, the pipe-tube, and smoked it also four whiffs,
and passed it on, but saying: "Of course you are all aware that if
any man among you has a wife expecting to have a baby soon, he should
not smoke it, but pass it on without smoking to his neighbor, for if
you smoke in such case the child will not be likely to live very long."

And so the pipe passed around, and the boy, when the pipe came to
him again, buried it as he had been told, and then he began to make
this speech:--

"I am nothing but a child, and I go around where the people are cooking
and when they give me something to eat I generally suffer because it
is so hot. And there was a hunt, and you gave me nothing but a little
quotaveech, and stuck it under my belt as if it were something good
to eat: and when I took it home to my mother, and dropped it down
by her, she turned her back upon it and began to cry. And when she
had done crying she told me of all that had happened before, about my
father's death, and the story entered my heart; and I went for help to
a respectable person, a doctor, one to whom a child would not be likely
to go, and he kindly assisted me, and told me what I asked of him.

And I wanted to be revenged on the slayers of my father, and in
imagination a day was appointed for the war, and I went; and the
first night I feared nothing and felt good, and the second night,
too, I feared nothing and felt good, but the third night I knew I
was in the land of the Apaches, an enemy with shield and club, and
I did not feel good, and it seemed to me the world was shaking, and
I thought of what my mother had said, that the land of the Apaches
was different from ours.

And the fourth day I went on and came to the mountain of the Apaches,
and I found there the broken arrows of my father's fight; and I sat
down, for it seemed to me the mountains and the earth were shaking,
and shook my knees, and I thought of what my mother had said that
the land of the Apaches felt entirely different.

And the next day I went on and came to the water of the Apaches. And my
hair lay over the water like moss. And I looked and found my skull, and
I used it for a dipper, and parted the hair with it, and dipped up the
water and drank it. And when I drank from the skull I felt as if I were
crazy, and clutched around with my hands at things that were not there.

And from there I went on to another water, and that was covered with
the white war-paint of my hair, which lay like ashes on the water,
and I looked around and found my skull, and drank from that water,
and it smelled strong to me like the smell of human flesh and of
black war-paint.

And all this was caused in my imagination by the thought of my dead
father, and of how the Apaches had gone along rejoicing because they
had killed him.

And the next place was a great rock, and I sat down under it, and it
was wet with my tears; and the winds of the power of my sadness blew
around the rock four times, and shook me.

In the far east there is a gray cousin, the Coyote, and he knows where
to find the Apaches, and he was the first I selected to help me and
be my comrade, and he took my word, and joined me; and stood up and
looked, and saw the Apaches for me and told me; and I had my band
ready, and my boys captured the Apaches, who had no weapons ready to
injure them.

And after killing them I took their property, and I seemed to get
all their strength, all their power. And I came home, bringing all
the things I had captured, and enriched my home, strengthening myself
four times, and the fame of my deed was all over the country.

And I went to the home of the doctor, taking the child I had captured,
and when we were there the blue tears fell from the eyes of the child
onto my boys and girls.

And all of you, my relatives, should think of this, and be in favor
of the war, remembering the things we have captured, and the enemies
we have killed, and should make your singing all joy because of our
past successes."

And after the speech was done, feeling it the speech of a child,
the people were silent, but at length Toehahvs said: "I like the
way of the child, because I am sure he is to be a powerful person,
perhaps stronger than any of us, and I respect him, and that is
why I am kind to him, and I want that we should all take a smoke,
and after that you will get over your feeling of his insignificance."

And then they all smoked again, and began to talk about the war,
and of the things they lacked, but the boy wanted them to get ready
in four days, telling them that was plenty of time. And so they all
began to get ready for the war, making and getting ready shields,
clubs, bows, arrows, shoes, and whatever was needed.

And so the people departed for the war, and the very day they left,
the mother of Pahtahnkum went and got clay to make the new dishes for
the men who should kill Apaches, for she foreknew that many would be
killed, and so she sang at her work. And a few of the people were
left at home, and one of these was an old man, and he passed near
where the mother (whose name was Koel-hah-ah) was making her pottery,
and heard her singing her song, and he said to the people: "It is
very strange that this woman who used to cry all the time is singing
now her boy has gone to the war. Perhaps she is like some wives, who
when their time of mourning is over are looking out for another man."

And the war-party went by near where Tawtsitka (Sacaton) now is, around
the mountain Chirt-kih, and west of the Sah-kote-kih, (Superstition)
mountains, and there they found tracks of the Apaches, and paused,
and the boy, Pahtahnkum, told them to wait there while he went forward
and found where the Apaches were.

And Toehahvs said: "I will go with you, so we can help each other
and be company, and you will feel that you have some strength, and
I will feel the same."

So Pahtahnkum and Toehahvs went out on their scout, and went up an
arroyo, or washout valley, In the mountains, and in making a turn
came suddenly upon some Apache children playing in the sand, and the
children saw them and ran up the valley to where the Apache houses
were. And the two scouts stood and looked at each other and said:
"What shall we do now! for if we go back the people will blame us
for letting the Apaches see us first."

And Pahtahnkum said: "You go back and step in my tracks, and I will
turn into a crow and fly up on this rock." And this was done, and
when the Apaches came they could see only the coyote tracks, and they
said: "There are no human tracks here. It must have been a coyote the
children saw," and they went back home. And then Pahtahnkum flew to
where Toehahvs was, and came down and took his human shape again.

And the band had been anxious about them, because they were gone
so long, and had followed their tracks, and now came near, and when
Pahtahnkum saw them, instead of going back to them, he and Toehahvs
turned and ran toward the Apaches, and all the band rushed after them,
and they took the Apache village by surprise, and conquered and killed
all the men, and then killed all the women, and scalped them all.

And because Pahtahnkum had been so brave, and had killed many, the
people brought all the scalps to him, and all the baskets, and bows
and arrows, and other things they had taken, and laid them around
him; and then they all stood around him in circles, the oldest in the
middle next to the boy, and the others, in the order of their age,
in circles outside. [7] And then Pahtahnkum began to yell, he was
so rejoiced, and he threw the scalps of the Apaches up into the air,
and then, after them, the other things, the bows and arrows, and all
things captured, because he wanted to make a cloud; for when an Apache
is killed it will rain.

And while this was happening, his mother was rejoicing at home,
knowing all that was happening to her boy.

So the people took everything the Apaches had, and a good many children
as captives, and they returned by the same road, and before they got
home they sent a messenger ahead.

And when they got home they presented all the property taken, and
all the weapons and all the captives to the mother of Pahtahnkum.

Now when the neighbors of those Apaches heard of this they formed a
big war-party, and followed Pahtahnkum's trail, but when they came
to the place called Taht-a-mumee-lay-kote they stopped, because they
did not know where to find water, and so they turned back, tho from
there they could see the mountains where Pahtahnkum lived.

And after Pahtahnkum had gone thru the prescribed purifications, and
the war-dances and rejoicing proper to the occasion, he again formed
a war-party, and again took the trail after the Apaches, only this
time he went to the other end of the Superstition Mts. And there
they saw the lights at night on a peak, where the Apaches lived,
and went up there and killed them, except the children, whom they
took for captives.

And then they went down into an open place in the desert, and there
placing Pahtahnkum and Toehahvs in the center, they again formed the
circles, with the older ones nearest the middle, and again brought
all their trophies to Pahtahnkum and Toehahvs, who threw them up with
rejoicing, as before.

And again the Apaches formed a war-party, and pursued them; and again
they, when they came to the low mountains south west of where Tawtsitka
now is, were frightened, as they looked over the desert, and said:
"This country is unknown to us, and we do not want to die of thirst,"
and again they abandoned the pursuit, and returned home. And because
the place where they made fires was found, these mountains are called
Aw-up Chert-taw to this day.

And again everything was given to Koelhahah, as before.

And once more, after the purification, Pahtahnkum formed a war-party;
and this time they went to the east, and there again found Apaches
at the place called Oy-yee-duck, or The Field, because there the
Apaches had cultivated fields, and here they fought the Apaches,
and defeated them; but they had hard work to kill one Apache, who was
very brave, and who kept his wife before him and his child behind him,
and as the Papagoes did not want to kill these they could not get at
the man. But finally Pahtahnkum killed a man near him, and some one
else killed the woman, and then Pahtahnkum killed this man and took
the little boy captive.

And again they went out to an open place, and formed the circles,
and rejoiced as before.

And a party of Apaches pursued them again and again were discouraged,
and turned back at the red bluff to the eastward, where they dug
a well, which place is still called Taw-toe-sum Vah-vee-uh, or the
Apache's Well.

And again, in due time, a war-party was formed, and this time it
went far east, and there was found a single hunter of the Apaches,
and this man they killed and cut up and mutilated as had been done
with Pahtahnkum's father, putting his flesh out as if to jerk it. And
they went south-east from there and again found a single hunter; and
him they scalped and placed his scalp like a hat on a giant-cactus,
for which reason the place is still called Waw-num, which means a hat.

And Pahtahnkum walked behind, for he was very sad, thinking of
his father.

And then Pahtahnkum returned home, having revenged his father, and
this was the last of his wars.

And once more the Apaches followed him, but stopped at a place near
the Superstition Mts. where, as there had been rain and the ground
was wet, they stopped to clean a field, See-qua-usk, or the Clearing,
but they gave it up and returned, not even planting the crop.

And his mother made a large olla, and a small flat piece of pottery,
like the plates tortillas are baked on. And she put all the Apache
hair in the olla, and placed the flat plate on top to cover it with
greasewood gum to seal it up tight. And then she went and found a cave,
and by her power called a wind and a cloud that circled it round.

And then she returned to her people, and, placing the olla on her
head, led them to the cave, and said. "I will leave this olla here,
and then when I have need of wind, or of rain, I can form them by
throwing these up, and so I shall be independent."

And after this Pahtahnkum was taken ill, and the people said it was
because he had not properly purified himself.

And he went to the tall mountain east of Tucson, and from there to
other mountains, seeking the cool air, but he got no better, and at
last he came to the Maricopa Mts., and died there, and his grave is
there yet.

And his mother died at her home.




    THE SONG OF KOELHAHAH ABOUT HER SON

    My poor child, there will be great things happen you!
    And there will be great news all over the world because of my boy.
    The news will go in all directions.




NOTES ON THE STORY OF PAHTAHNKUM

In this, in the smoking at the war-council, appears a curious
superstition concerning the effect of a man's smoking upon his
unborn child.

Another superstition appears in the idea that the killing of an Apache
and throwing up of his accoutrements or scalp would cause rain.

I have a boy's bow and arrows just like those described in this story,
bought of a Pima child.

War arrows were a yard long, with three feathers instead of two,
and tipped with flint or, later, with iron. But even a wooden arrow
would kill a deer.

Bows were made from Osage orange, cat-claw, or o-a-pot; or, better
still, from a tree called gaw-hee. Arrows from arrow-weeds. The Apache
arrows were made of cane.

The Pimas were formerly famous for archery, and the shooting of bird
on the wing, and of jack rabbits at full run while the archer was
pursuing on horseback, were favorite feats.

The Apache well: I am told the old Arizona Indian wells were not
walled up, and the sides were at such a slant that the women could
walk down to the water and back with their ollas on their heads.

Wells are now obtained without great difficulty, but the water is
salty and often alkaline and none too cool.








STORIES OF THE FOURTH NIGHT


THE STORY OF THE GAMBLER'S WAR


And after this, for a long time, there was peace toward the Apaches,
but it happened, once, that two brothers of the country went to
gamble with the Awup, playing the game called waw-pah-tee in which
the gamblers guess in which piece of cane a little ball is hidden.

And one of the brothers, after losing all his goods, bet his brother
and lost him, and then bet the different parts of his own body,
leaving his heart to the last, and finally wagered his heart against
all his previous bets, saying it was worth more than they, and hoping
so to recover all, but he lost that also.

And when the game was ended the Apaches killed his brother, but
allowed him to walk away, and he returned to his own land.

But all the way he would see his brother's tracks, and whenever he
stopped to camp he would see his brother's body, where it lay, and
how he looked, lying there dead; and when he got home he felt so sad
he cried aloud, but no one paid any attention to him.

And when he got home his folks gave him food to eat, and water to
drink, but he would neither eat nor drink, feeling so sad about his
brother, and he took nothing for four days.

But on the fifth day he went out and sought the cool shade of trees
to forget his brother, and went upon the hills and stood there, but
he could not forget; and then, in coming down, he fell down and went
to sleep.

And in his sleep his brother came to him, and he seemed to know him,
but when he tried to put his arms around his brother he woke up and
found he was not there.

And he went home and ate, and then made this speech:--

"My pitiful relatives, I will pity you and you will pity me.

This spread-out-thing, the world, is covered with feathers, because
of my sadness, and the mountains are covered with soft feathers.

Over these the sun comes, but gives me no light, I am so sad.

And the night comes, and has no darkness to rest me, because my eyes
are open all night.

(This has happened to me, O all my relatives.)

And it was my own bones that I raked up, and with them made a fire
that showed me the opposite land, the Land of the Enemy.

(This was done, my relatives.)

The sticks I cut for the number of days were my own sinews, cut and
bound together.

It was my own rib that I used as an eev-a-dah-kote, or fire rubbing
stick.

It was my own bowels that I used for a belt.

And it was my scalp, and my own hair, that I used for sandals.

It was my own skull that I filled with my own blood, and drank from,
and talked like a drunkard.

And I wandered where the ashes are dumped, and I wandered over the
hills, and I found it could be done, and went to the shadows of the
trees and found the same thing.

On the level ground I fell, and the Sun, the Traveller, was overhead,
and from above my brother came down, and I tried to hug him, but only
hugged myself.

And I thought I was holding all sadness, but there was a yet stronger
sadness, for my brother came down and stood on my breast, and the
tears fell down and watered the ground.

And I tried to hug him, but only hugged myself.

And this was my desire, that I should go to the powerful woman,
and I reached her quietly where she lived.

And I spoke to her this way:

'You were living over there.

You are the person who makes a hoop for her gyihhaw from the Apaches'
bow, and with their arrows makes the back-stop, the oam-muck, and
with their blood you color the gyihhaw prettily; and you split the
arrow-heads and make from them the ov-a-nuck, and tie it in with the
Apaches' hair, weaving the hair to the left and then binding it on.'

And this way I spoke to her.

And then she gave me good news of the weakness of the Apaches and I
ran out full of joy.

And from there I rose up and reached the Feather-Nested Doctor,
Quotaveech, and I spoke to him this way:

'And you belong here.

And you make the ribs of your kee from the Apache bows, and you tie
the arrows across with the bow strings, and with the sinews of their
bows you tie them.

And with the robes of the Apaches, and with their head-wear, and with
their moccasins, you cover the kee instead of with arrow weeds.

And inside, at the four corners, there are hung locks of Apaches' hair,
and at the corners are the stumps of the cane-tube pipes, smoking
themselves, and forming the smoke into all colors of flowers--white
and glittering and gray and yellow.'

And this way I spoke to him, and he gave me the good news of the
weakness of the Apaches.

And I came down and went Southward to the other doctor, called
Vahk-lohn Mahkai and there I reached him.

And this way I spoke to him:

'And here is where you belong.

The Apache bow you make into the likeness of the pretty rainbow,
and the arrows you make into the likeness of the white-headed grass.

And the fore shaft of the arrows you turn into water moss, and the
arrows into resemblance of flat clay.

And the hair of the Apaches you make into likeness of clouds.'

And this way I spoke to him, and he told me the news of the weakness
of the Apaches.

And I ran out of the house, and went westward, and found the old
woman doctor, Tawquahdahmawks.

And I said to her:

'You belong here.

And you make the bow of the Apaches into the hoop of the game the
Aw-aw-bopp, the Maricopas, play, the rolling hoop that they throw
sticks after.

And their arrows you flatten up with your teeth, and wear around your
brows like a crown.

And the fore shafts of the arrows you have split, and painted red
with the Apache blood, and made into gainskoot, the dice sticks.

And the Apache hair you make into a skirt.'

And this way I spoke to her, and she told me the thought of the two
different peoples, the Awawtam and the Awup, that they were enemies,
and she told me this, and I went out from there and strengthened
myself four times.

And I spread the news when I got home, and set the doctor over it.

And there was the stump of the doctor's pipe standing there, and
smoking itself, and I imbibed it, and smoked it toward the enemy,
and the smoke changed into different colors of flowers, white,
glittering, grey and yellow, and reached the edge of the earth,
the land of the Apache, and circled around there.

And it softened the earth, and brought fresh grass, and fresh leaves
on the trees, so that the Apaches would be gathered together.

And my western famous enemy went and told his son to go to his uncle,
to see if it was so that there was plenty of grass and plenty of
things to eat there.

And his son went and said: 'My father sent me to find out about these
things,' and his uncle said: 'It is so what he has heard, that we have
plenty of things to eat, and all kinds of game, and that is what I eat.

You go back and tell the old man to come, so that I will be with
him here.'

So the boy went and told the old man this, and he got up and put on
his nose-ring of turquoise, and took his cake of paint, and his locks
of hair, and his pouch.

After he got everything together he started out and camped for one
night, and arriving at his destination the next morning, after the sun
rose, came to his brother and called him, 'Brother!' with a loud voice.

And the next morning the brother got up and went hunting, and found
a dead deer, and brought it home, and called it fresh meat, and they
ate it together.

But instead of eating deer they ate themselves up.

And their skins became like sick person's skin, and their hair became
coarse, and their eyes were sore, and they became lousy, and were
so weak that they left their hands beneath their heads when they
scratched themselves lying down.

And the brother's wife went and gathered seed to eat, and found it
easy to gather, without husks, and thought to enjoy eating it, but
when she ate it she ate her own lice, and her skin became as a sick
person's skin, her hair became coarse, her person lousy, her eyes sore.

And my enemy in the far east heard about food being so plenty to eat
there, and sent his son to ask his uncle if these reports were so.

And his father got up and took his war-bonnet of eagle-feathers,
and his moccasins, and, using his power, brought even his wind and
his clouds and his rainbow with him, and all his crops, for tho he
had plenty at home he thought to find more at his brother's place.

And, camping one night on the road, he came to his brother, after
sunrise, and called him 'Brother' with a loud voice.

And everything happened to this enemy from the east, and his brother,
and brother's wife, that had happened to the enemy from the west and
his brother and brother's wife.

And I found the Apache enemy early in the morning, lying asleep,
still needing his blanket, and covering himself up, and captured him
without trouble.

And there I captured all his property, and took from him captives
and many scalps, and my way coming back seemed to be down hill,
and I strengthened myself and came to the level ground.

And when I came to the hollow where I drank, the water rippled from
my moving it.

And I appointed messengers to go ahead and tell those at home, the
old men and women waiting to hear of us, the good news of our victory.

And after sending on the messengers I went on, rejoicing, carrying
the consciousness of my victory over the Apaches with me; and arriving
home at evening I found the land filled with the news, even the tops
of the hills covered.

And I told my people to send word to our western relatives, and to
our southern relatives, and our eastern relatives, that the good news
might be known to all."

After this he called the people together for war, and the first
evening they camped a man prophesied, and said:

"Now we have heard our war-speech, and are on our way, and I foresee
the way beautiful with flowers, even the big trees covered with
flowers, and I can see that we come to the enemy and conquer them
easily.

And the road to the east is lined with white flowers, and the Apaches,
seeing it, rejoice also, with smiles, thinking it for their good,
but really it is for their destruction, for it is made so by the
power of our doctors.

And in the middle of the earth, between us and the enemy, stood the
Cane-Tube Pipe and smoked itself.

I inhaled the smoke and blew it out toward the East, and saw the
smoke rising till it reached the Vahahkkee of Light, and up still
till it reached the Cane of Light.

And I took that cane and punched it at the corner of the Vahahkkee,
and out came the White Water and the White Wasps, and the wasps flew
around it four times and then they went down again.

And then in the South I saw the Blue Vahahkkee, and the Blue Cane,
and I took the cane and punched it into the corner of the vahahkkee,
and there came out Blue Water and Blue Wasps, and the wasps flew
around four times, and then sank down again.

And in the West there stood the Black Vahahkkee, and the Black Cane,
and I took the cane and punched at the corner, and there came out
Black Water and Black Wasps, and the wasps flew around four times,
and then went in again.

And in the North stood the Yellow Vahahkkee, and the Yellow Cane,
and I took the cane and punched it at the corner, and there came out
Yellow Water and Yellow Wasps, and the wasps flew around four times,
and then went in again.

And on top of this vahahkkee was a Yellow Spider, and I asked him to
help me, and he stretched his web four times, and there found my enemy.

And there he bound his heart with his web, and bound his arms, and
bound his bow and his arrows, and left him there in the state of a
woman, with nothing to defend himself with.

And he pushed me toward where he had left him, and I captured him
very easily, and all his property, and all his children.

You, my relatives, may not like the noise of our rejoicing, but it
is only for a short time that we rejoice over the enemy."

And they camped out another night, and another one spoke, and he said:

"I was lying in ashes, and praying the distant mountains for strength,
and the far doctors for power.

And there was a Sun that rose from the east and followed the western
road.

And all the four-footed animals met together and called themselves
relatives, and all the birds met together and called themselves
relatives, and in this order followed the Sun.

And the Sun rose again, and brought me the See-hee-vit-tah Feather,
the Sunbeam, to wear on my head, and hugged me up to him.

And the Sun rose again, and brought the Blue Fog, and in the fog took
me toward the enemy.

But instead of taking me to the enemy it took me up into the sky,
to the Yellow Crow.

And the Yellow Crow, as a powerful mahkai, went down to the enemy
and divided their land four times, and slew the human beings, and
painted the rocks over beautifully with their blood.

And from there I went to the Yellow Spider, living on the back of
the mound at the North, and asked him to help me.

And he stretched his web four times, and found my enemy, and bound
him, and pushed me toward him, and I took him, and all his, captive,
and came home rejoicing.

So, my relatives, think of this, that there will be victory. You may
not like the noise of our rejoicing, but it is only for a short time
that we rejoice over the enemy."

And they went toward the mountains where the Apaches live, and camped
there, and there were empty Apache houses there, and one of them
spoke using himself figuratively as a type of his people:

"Perhaps these Apaches have gone from here to my house, and have
killed me and have dragged me thru the waters we passed coming here,
and have beaten me with all the sticks we saw on the road, and have
thrown ashes over me, and maybe these are my bones that lie here,
and this dry blood is my blood.

This has been done, my relatives, and there in the East is a Vahahkkee
of Light, and within it there is a Butcher-bird of Light.

And I asked the Butcher-bird for power, and he followed his Road of
Light, and touched the ground four times with his tail, and came to me.

And he went on the road that is lighted by a mahkai, and following
that reached my enemy.

And my enemy thought himself a good dreamer, and that his dreams were
fulfilled for good, and that he had a good bow with a good string,
and good cane arrows, but the Butcher-bird had already punched his
eyes out without his knowing it.

And all the animals and birds of the Apaches think they have good
eyes to see with, but the Butcher-bird has punched their eyes out
without their knowing it.

And the winds of the Apaches think they have sharp eyes, and the clouds
of the Apaches think themselves sharp-eyed, but the Butcher-bird has
punched their eyes out without their knowing it.

So he treated the enemy like that, and left him there as a woman,
and then pushed me toward him, and I went and captured him easily.

And I gathered all the property, and all the captives, and, turning
back, looked ahead of me and found the country all springy with water,
and wasps flying, and I followed them.

And ahead of me was a road with many flowers, and a butterfly that
beautifully spread itself open and led the way, and I followed.

And I brought the dead enemy home, and from there the news spread
all over my country.

So, my relatives, think of this, that there will be victory.

And you may not like the sound of our rejoicing, but it is only for
a short time that we rejoice over our enemy."




NOTES ON THE STORY OF THE GAMBLER'S WAR

In this we are given wonderful glimpses into the strange, fierce,
sad, extravagant poetry of the Indian speeches, which seem oftenest
inspired by the passion of revenge. Notice that in these stories,
if several speeches are given in any one story, they generally have
a quite similar ending, a sort of refrain: "So, my relatives," etc.

This story ends abruptly, and is, I think, manifestly only a
fragment. Following the speeches, which were mere boastful prophecies,
should have been an account in detail of the actual campaign, as in
the story of Pahtahnkum's war.








THE STORY OF NAHVAHCHOO


Ee-ee-toy was once wandering along when he found some moss that had
been left there ever since the flood, and he stood and looked at it,
wondering how he could make it into a human being.

And while he watched it the sun breathed on it, and it became not a
man, but a turtle.

And he wandered on again and found some driftwood, and while he stood
wondering how to make it into a human being, the sun breathed on it,
and it became a man, but he could not see its face, which was covered
as with a mask.

And the turtle and the masked man, thus created, went westward,
and came to a Blue Vahahkkee, and they went in and staid all night.

In the morning, when the sun rose, they were frightened at the blue
beams that shone thru the vahahkkee, and they left.

And after going a little way they came to a Black Road, and Black
Birds flew over them to keep them from being seen.

And they came to a Black Night. In that night was a Black Bow, which
stretched as if it were going to shoot them, so that they were afraid
to lie down all night.

And the next day they came to a Blue Road, and a flock of Blue Birds
flew over them, and all around, striking them.

After a while they came to a Blue Night, and in the night was a Blue
Bow, which stretched itself threateningly at them, as the Black Bow
had done the night before.

And they could not sleep for fear that night, either; and the next day
they came to a White Road, and a flock of White Birds followed them,
striking them.

And they came to a White Night, and in that night was a White Bow,
which threatened them as the others had done, so that again they
could not sleep.

And the next day they had a similar experience, only it was a Yellow
Road, with Yellow Birds, and a Yellow Night with a Yellow Bow.

The next day there was no danger any more, and they went on and came
to a mountain, Co-so-vah-taw-up-kih, or Twisted Neck Mountain, and
there the Nahvahchoo (masked man), having run ahead, left the turtle
behind, and when evening came sat down and waited for the turtle
to come up. But the turtle was too far behind, and when night came
stopped where he was, and made a fire, and made corn and pumpkins,
and roasted the corn and set the pumpkins around the fire, as the
Indians do, to scorch them before putting them in the ashes.

And Nahvahchoo heard the popping sound of the cooking, and came running
back, and tried to steal a piece of the fire to have one of his own,
but the turtle would not let him. And so the Nahvahchoo went off and
made a fire of his own, and corn and pumpkins of his own, and cooked
them as the turtle had done.

In the morning, after they had feasted on the pumpkin and corn, the
turtle, Wee-hee-kee-nee, sank down and went under the earth to the
ocean, and made that his home, and Nahvahchoo sank down and went in
the same direction, but not so far, coming up on the sea shore.

And Nahvahchoo went along the sea-shore, toward the east, till he came
to a great deal of driftwood, and many flowers, and handled all these,
and got their strength, and made his home in the east.

One day Nahvahchoo heard the earth shaking, and ran out of his house
to try and find where the shaking came from, and he went south and
did not feel it, and went west and felt it a little, and went north
and felt it more. And so he ran back and put on his mask, and took
his bow, and went north. And the first time he stopped and listened
he heard it somewhat, and the next time he heard it more, and the
third time still more, and the fourth time he came to where many
people were singing the song Wah-hee-hee-vee, and dancing the dance
Vee-pee-nim, in which the dancers wear gourd masks, on their faces,
pierced full of little holes to let the light thru.

And they were dancing, too, the dance Kawk-spahk-kum, in which the
dancers wear a cloth mask, like Nahvahchoo, with a little gourd,
full of holes, over the mouth-hole, to sing thru.

And they were dancing also the dance Tawt-a-kum, in which the dancer
wears a bonnet of cloth, and a mask like Nahvahchoo does.

And the people sitting around in these dances had little rods which
they rubbed upon notched sticks, in time to the singing and the
dancing.

At first Nahvahchoo was greatly excited by all this dancing, for all
these people seemed to do nothing else but sing and dance, and make
the rods and notched sticks and stand them up in bunches; but after
a few days he began to think of game, for he was a great hunter,
and he went out and found the tracks of a deer.

And measuring these with his arrow he laughed, covering his mouth with
his hand, and said: "This deer will not run very fast, I could catch
him myself." For a deer that measures a good way between his tracks
is long-bodied, and cannot run fast, while a deer that measures short
between tracks has a short body, and jumps quicker.

And he followed the deer, which heard him coming, and began to run,
and when Nahvahchoo saw by its tracks that it was running, he ran, too,
and getting on a hill saw the dust of its running away off; and he ran
after it, and when he came to the next hill it was close, and he ran
down, and killed it, and took it back to the singers, and they fell
ravenously upon it and ate it all up, not leaving him even the bones.

Nahvahchoo sat off a little way and watched them, and one of their
speakers addressed him, and said: "We know you, who you are. You
are a great doctor, and a great hunter, and a great farmer, and a
powerful man every way. And maybe you expected us to join in your
hunt and help you carry the game. But we want you to join us, and
become a singer, and you will have plenty of corn and beans to eat,
and you will find that such food will last, while, as you see, the
game, when you bring it in, lasts but a little while."

So Nahvahchoo staid with them and became a singer, and after a
while the people told him to go to a certain vahahkkee, and said:
"You will find something there with which you will be pleased. And
then go to the opposite one, and you will find that with which you
will be still more pleased.

And one of these vahahkkees was called See-pook (Red-bird) Vahahkkee
and the other was named Wah-choo-kook-kee (Oriole) Vahahkkee.--But
tho they told him to go to these they did not allow him to do so, but
one day he slipped away, when they were not looking, and opened one,
and saw in it many wonderful things, clouds forming and sprinkling
all the time; and in the other it was the same.

And one was covered with red flowers, and the other with yellow
flowers, and where they came together the mingling of red and yellow
was very pretty.

At the door of each vahahkkee was a corn-mill. And he stole one of
these and went west. But after a while he stopped and said: "I wonder
what is going to happen, for the east is all green and the west is
of the same color."

But he ran on, and the clouds came over him, and it began to sprinkle,
and then to rain, and then the water began to run, and get deeper
and deeper, and he said: "This is happening to me because I stole
this mill, but I am not going to let it go, I am going to keep it."

And he ran on and came to where he had separated from Weeheekeenee,
and went on and over Cosovahtawupkih, the Twisted Neck Mountain.

And on that mountain he felt rather faint, and put his hand in his
pouch and found a root and chewed it, the root Cheek-kuh-pool-tak,
and breathed it out, and it stopped raining.

And he went on to the Quojata Mountain, and sat there and took a smoke;
and then on to Ahn-naykum; and then to Odchee, where he left the mill;
and then to Kee-ahk Toe-ahk, where he also rested and took a smoke;
and then he went home.

And when Nahvahchoo arrived home he made a speech:

"Where shall we hear the talk that will make us drunk and dizzy with
the flowers of eloquence?

There was near the water the driftwood lying, and from above the sun
breathed down and a being was made.

And it was the beautiful daybreak that I took and wiped its face with,
and the remains of darkness that I painted its face with.

And there were all kinds of bird's feathers that I made a feather
bonnet from.

And there were joining wasps that came and flapped on the bonnet.

And there were many butterflies that flapped their wings upon the
bonnet, upon its feathers.

And it was from the rainbow that I made its bow, and from the Milky
Way that I made its arrow.

From a red skin it was that I made its saw-suh-buh, to cover its arm
for the bow-string not to injure it.

And it was a red kuess-kote that I made and put in its hair to
scratch with.

And it was the gray fog that I fastened in its shoulders for its
mantle.

And the strong wind it was that I used for its girdle, around its
waist.

In the middle of the earth lay a square water moss, and the sun
breathed on it and it turned into a creature, a turtle.

And from there the Driftwood-Being went west with it.

From there they went westward and watched the sun rise in the Blue
Vahahkkee, and were frightened, and returned.

From there they came to a Black Road, and Black Birds followed them,
and to a Black Night wherein a Black Bow frightened them.

And from there they came to a Blue Road, with Blue Birds following,
and to a Blue Night with a Blue Bow to frighten them.

And from there they came to a White Road with White Birds following,
and a White Night with a White Bow to threaten them.

And the next day it was a Yellow Road and Yellow Birds, and after
that a Yellow Night and a Yellow Bow.

And there was a square water full of ice, and he went around it
four times.

And there he found Seepook Vahahkkee, with its red flowers, and
Wahchookookkee Vahahkkee with its yellow flowers, and there he got
the everlasting corn-mill, and went westward and strengthened himself
four times.

And as he went westward there came a wind which felt good and
refreshed him, and pleasant clouds that sprinkled him with water,
and then there was rain, and the rattling of running water, and he
went on his road rejoicing.

And he reached the Twisted Neck Mountain, and there he felt faint a
little, and took from his pouch the root Cheekkuhpooltak, and chewed
it, and breathed it out, and was refreshed and went on.

And he refreshed himself four times and went on, and found Tonedum
Vahahkkee, the Vahahkkee of Light, and there he gave his power to
the people who were gathered together, and said: 'My relatives, I
want you to think of this, that our country will be more beautiful
and produce more, because you know our country will not hereafter be
what it has been'."

And he made another speech:

"It was after the creation of the earth, and there was a mud vahahkkee,
and inside of it lay a piece of wood burning at one end, and by it
stood a cane-tube pipe, smoking, and we inhaled the smoke, and then
we saw things clearer and talked about them.

In the West there was a Black Mocking Bird, and from him I asked
power, and he brought the news and spread it over all the earth,
and to every hill and every mountain and every tree, that the earth
would stand still, but it did not, it still moved.

(And you, Black Mocking Bird, take back your Black Winds, and your
Black Clouds, and stay where you are, and your relatives may sometimes
come to you for power.)

And in the South there was a Blue Mocking Bird, and I asked it for
power, and it stretched the news over all the earth, and over every
hill and every mountain, and to every tree, that the earth stood still,
but it did not, it still moved.

In the East was a Mocking Bird of Light, and I asked it for power,
and it stretched the news over all the earth, and to every hill,
mountain and tree, that the earth stood still, but it still moved.

And Above there was darkness, where lived the Feather Nested Doctor,
who is famous for his power, and I asked him for power, and he spread
the news, as the others had done, but the earth still moved.

And in the North lived a Yellow Spider, and I asked him for power,
and he stretched his news, and made his web, and tied the earth up
with it, and made a fringe like a blanket fringe at each corner,
and laid his arrows over it.

The fringe at the West corner he made black, and covered it with
the Black Vahahkkee to hold it down; and he put the blue fringe at
the South corner, and over it the Blue Vahahkkee to hold it down,
and he put the black arrows over the Black Vahahkkee, and the blue
arrows over the Blue Vahahkkee.

And in the East he put the Vahahkkee of Light over the fringe and
the arrows of light over it.

And after all this was done the earth stood still.

And after this is done you are carried away like a child, and are
set down facing the East, and your heart comes out towards it, and
can be seen going up and down till it reaches it.

And over the land your seed shall spring up and grow, and have good
stalks and many flowers, and have good wide leaves and heads of
good seeds.

And after the seed is ripe they will take it and put it away and
grind it with sunbeams, and the boys and girls shall eat and be happy,
and all the old men and women shall eat it and lengthen their lives."




NOTES ON THE STORY OF NAHVAHCHOO

The story of Nahvahchoo was celebrated till lately among the Pimas by
dancing games, resembling those described in this story, the players
wearing masks and gourds, and rattling notched sticks, one of them
impersonating Nahvahchoo himself.

In the reference to the earth's moving, in one of the speeches, one
might suspect a glimpse of true astronomical knowledge, but this is
likely only a poetic figure.

The "everlasting corn will" reminds a little of the old folk-lore
tale of the everlasting salt mill whose continuous grinding makes
the ocean salt.








THE STORY OF CORN AND TOBACCO [8]


There was a powerful mahkai who had a daughter, who, tho old enuf, was
unmarried, and who grew tired of her single life and asked her father
to bury her, saying, we will see then if the men will care for me.

And from her grave grew the plant tobacco, and her father took it and
smoked it and when the people who were gathered together smelled it
they wondered what it was, and sent Toehahvs to find out.

But, altho the tobacco still grew, the woman came to life again and
came out of her grave back to her home.

And one day she played gainskoot with Corn, and Corn beat her, and
won all she had. But she gave some little things she did not care for
to Corn, and the rest of her debt she did not pay, and they quarreled.

She told Corn to go away, saying; "Nobody cares for you, now, but they
care a great deal for me, and the doctors use me to make rain, and
when they have moistened the ground is the only time you can come out."

And the Corn said: "You don't know how much the people like me; the
old as well as the young eat me, and I don't think there is a person
that does not like me." And Corn told Tobacco to go away herself.

There were people there who heard them quarreling, and tho Tobacco
staid on, whenever she would be in a house and hear people laughing she
would think they were laughing at her. And she became very sad, and one
day sank down in her house and went westward and came to a house there.

And the person who lived there told her where to sleep, saying,
"Many people stop here, and that is where they sleep."

But she said: "I am travelling, and no one knows where I am, and if
any one follows me, and comes here, you tell them that you saw me,
that I left very early in the morning and you do not know which way I
went." And she told him that she did not know herself which way she
would go, and at night, when she went to bed, she brought a strong
wind, and when she wanted to leave she sank down and went westward,
and the wind blew away all her tracks.

And she came to the Mohaves and lived there in a high mountain, Cheof
Toe-ahk, or tall mountain, which has a cliff very hard to climb,
but Tobacco stood up there.

And after Tobacco had gone, Corn remained, but when corn-planting
time came none was planted, because there was no rain. And so it went
on--all summer, and people began to say: "It is so, when Tobacco was
here, we had plenty of rain, and now we have not any, and she must
have had wonderful power."

And the people scolded Corn for sending Tobacco away, and told him
to go away himself, and then they sent for Tobacco to come back,
that they might have rain again.

And Corn left, going toward the east, singing all the way, taking
Pumpkin with him, who was singing too, saying they were going where
there was plenty of moisture.

And the next year there was no water, and a powerful doctor,
Gee-hee-sop, took the Doctor's Stone of Light, and the Doctor's
Square Stone, and some soft feathers, and eagle's-tail feathers, and
went to where Tobacco lived, asking her to come back, saying "We are
all suffering for water, and we know you have power to make it rain,
And every seed buried in the ground is begging for water, and likely
to be burned up, and every tree is suffering, and I want you to come."

Then Tobacco said: "What has become of Corn? He is still with you,
and corn is what you ought to eat, and everybody likes it, but nobody
cares for me, except perhaps some old man who likes to smoke me,
and I do not want to go back, and I am not going!"

But Geeheesop said: "Corn is not there now, he has gone away, and we
do not know where he is." And again he asked Tobacco to come back but
she refused, but gave him four balls of tobacco seed and said to him:
"Take these home with you, and take the dirt of the tobacco-worm,
and roll it up, and put it in a cane-tube and smoke it all around,
and you will have rain, and then plant the seed, and in four days it
will come up; and when you get the leaves, smoke them, and call on
the winds, and you will have clouds and plenty of rain."

So Geeheesop went home with the seed balls, and tobacco-worm dirt, and
did as Tobacco had told him; and the smoking of the dirt brought rain,
and the seeds were planted in a secret place, and in four days came up,
and grew for a while, but finally were about to die for want of rain.

Then Geeheesop got some of the leaves and smoked them, and the
wind blew, and rain came, and the plants revived and grew till they
were ripe.

When the tobacco was ripe Geeheesop gathered a lot of the leaves and
filled with them one of the gourd-like nests which the woodpecker,
koh-daht, makes in the har-san, or giant-cactus, and then took a few
of these and put them in a cane-tube pipe, or watch-kee, and went to
where the people gathered in the evening.

And the doctor who was the father of Tobacco said: "What is this I
smell? There is something new here!"

And one said, "Perhaps it is some greens that I ate today that you
smell," and he breathed toward him.

But the mahkai said, "That is not it."

And others breathed toward him, but he could not smell it.

Then Geeheesop rolled a coal toward himself, and lit up his pipe,
and the doctor said: "This is what I smelled!"

And Geeheesop, after smoking a few whiffs, passed the pipe around to
the others, and all smoked it, and when it came back to him he stuck
it in the ground.

And the next night he came with a new pipe to the place of meeting,
but the father of Tobacco said: "Last night I had a smoke, but I did
not feel good after it."

And all the others said: "Why we smoked and enjoyed it."

But the man who had eaten the greens kah-tee-kum, the day before, said:
"He does not mean that he did not enjoy the smoke, but something else
troubled him after it, and I think it was that when we passed the
pipe around we did not say 'My relatives,' 'brother,' or 'cousin,'
or whatever it was, but passed it quietly without using any names."

And Tobacco's father said "Yes, that is what I mean."

(And from that time on all the Pimas smoked that way when they came
together, using a cane-tube pipe, or making a long cigarette of
corn-husk and tobacco, and passing it around among relatives.)

So Geeheesop lit his pipe and passed it around in the way to satisfy
the doctor.

And the people saved the seeds of that tobacco, and to day it is all
over the land.

And the Corn and the Pumpkin had gone east, and for many years they
lived there, and the people they had left had no corn, and no pumpkins;
but after a while they returned of themselves, and came first to the
mountain Tahtkum, and lived there a while, and then crossed the river
and lived near Blackwater, at the place called Toeahk-Comalk, or White
Thin Mountain, and from there went and lived awhile at Gahkotekih or,
as it is now called, Superstition Mountain.

While they lived at Gahkotekih there was a woman living near there
at a place called kawt-kee oy-ee-duck who, with her younger brother,
went to Gahkotekih to gather and roast the white cactus, and while
they were doing this Corn saw them from the mountain and came down.

And the boy saw him and said: "I think that is my uncle coming,"
but his sister said, "It cannot be, for he is far away. If he were
here the people would not be starving as now."

But the boy was right, it was his uncle, and Corn came to them and
staid with them while the cactus was baking. And after awhile, as he
sat aside, he would shoot an arrow up in the air, and it would fall
whirling where the cooking was, and he would go and pick it up.

Finally he said to the woman: "Would you not better uncover the
corn and see if it is cooked yet?" And she said: "It is not corn,
it is cactus."

Again, after a while, he said: "Would you not better uncover the
pumpkin and see if it is done?" And she replied: "It is not pumpkin,
we are baking, it is cactus." But finally he said "Well, uncover it
anyway," and she uncovered it, and there were corn and pumpkin there,
together, all nicely mixed and cooked, and she sat staring at it,
and he told her to uncover it more, and she did so and ate some of it.

And then he asked about the Tobacco woman, if she were married yet, and
she said, "No, she is not married, but she is back with us again, now."

Then he asked her to send the little boy ahead and tell the people
that Corn was coming to live with them again. But first the little
boy was to go to the doctor who was the father of Tobacco, and see if
he and his daughter wanted Corn to return. If they did he would come,
and if they did not he would stay away. And he wanted the boy to come
right back and tell what answer he got.

So the little boy went, and took some corn with him to the doctor,
and said: "Corn sent me, and he wants your daughter, and he wants to
know if you want him. If you do he will return, but if you do not he
will turn back again. And he wants me to bring him word what you say."

And the mahkai said "I have nothing to say against him. I guess he
knows the people want corn. Go and tell him to come."

And Corn said: "Go back to the doctor and tell him to make a little
kee, as quick as he can, and to get the people to help him, and to
cover it with mats instead of bushes, and to let Tobacco go there
and stay there till I come.

And tell all the people to sweep their houses, and around their houses,
and if anything in their houses is broken, such as pots, vahs-hroms,
to turn them right side up. For I am coming back openly; there will
be no secret about it."

So the little boy went back and told the doctor all that Corn had told
him to say, and the doctor and the people built the kee, and Tobacco
went there, and the people swept their houses and around them as they
were told.

And before sunset the woman came home with the corn and pumpkins she
had cooked at the mountain, but Corn staid out till it was evening.

And when evening came there was a black cloud where Corn stood, and
soon it began to rain corn, and every little while a big pumpkin would
come down, bump. And it rained corn and pumpkins all night, while Corn
and his bride were in their kee, and in the morning the people went
out and gathered up the corn from the swept place around their houses.

And so Corn and Pumpkin came back again.

The people gathered up all the corn around their houses, and all their
vessels, even their broken ones, which they had turned up, were full,
and their houses were soon packed full of corn and pumpkins.

So Corn lived there with his wife, and after a while Tobacco had a
baby, and it was a little crooked-necked pumpkin, such as the Pimas
call a dog-pumpkin.

And when the child had grown a little, one day its father and mother
went out to work in the garden, and they put the little pumpkin baby
behind a mat leaning against the wall. And some children, coming in,
found it there, and began to play with it for a doll, carrying it on
their backs as they do their dolls. And finally they dropped it and
broke its neck.

And when Corn came back and found his baby was broken he was angry,
and left his wife, and went east again, and staid there awhile, and
then bethought him of his pets, the blackbirds, which he had left
behind, and came back to his wife again.

But after awhile he again went east, taking his pets with him,
scattering grains of corn so that the blackbirds would follow him.

Corn made this speech while he was in the kee with Tobacco:

In the East there is the Tonedum Vahahkkee, the Vahahkkee of Light,
where lives the great doctor, the king fisher.

And I came to Bives-chool, the king fisher, and asked him for power,
and he heard me asking, and flew up on his kee, and looked toward
the West, and breathed the light four times, and flew and breathed
again four times, and so on--flying four times and breathing after
each flight four times, and then he sat over a place in the ground
that was cut open.

And in the West there was a Bluebird, and when I asked him for power
he flew up on his kee, and breathed four times, and then flew toward
the East, and he and Biveschool met at the middle of the earth.

And Biveschool asked the Bluebird to do some great thing to show his
power, and the Bluebird took the blue grains of corn from his breast
and then planted them, and they grew up into beautiful tall corn, so
tall its tops touched the sky and its leaves bowed over and scratched
the ground in the wind.

And Biveschool took white seeds from his breast, and planted them,
and they came up, and were beautiful to be seen, and came to bear
fruit that lay one after another on the vine--these were pumpkins.

And the beautiful boys ran around among these plants, and learned
to shout and learned to whistle, and the beautiful girls ran around
among these plants and learned to whistle.

And the relatives heard of these good years, and the plenty to eat,
and there came a relative leading her child by the hand, who said:
"We will go right on, for our relatives must have plenty to eat,
and we shall not always suffer with hunger.

So these came, but did not eat it all, but returned.

So my relatives, think of this, that we shall not suffer with hunger
always."

And Corn made another speech at that time to Tobacco's father:

"Doctor! Doctor! have you seen that this earth that you have made
is burning! The mountains are crumbling, and all kinds of trees are
burning down.

And the people over the land which you have made run around, and
have forgotten how to shout, and have forgotten how to walk, since
the ground is so hot and burning.

And the birds which you have made have forgotten how to fly, and have
forgotten how to sing.

And when you found this out you held up the long pinion feathers,
mah-cheev-a-duck, toward the East, and there came the long clouds
one after the other.

And there in those clouds there were low thunderings, and they spread
over the earth, and watered all the plants, and the roots of all the
trees; and everything was different from what it had been.

Every low place and every valley was crooked, but the force of the
waters straightened them out, and there was driftwood on all the
shores: and after it was over every low place and every valley had
foam in its mouth.

And in the mouth stood the Doctor, and took the grains from his
breast, and planted them, and the corn grew and was beautiful. And
he went on further, to another low valley, and planted other seeds,
and the pumpkin grew and was beautiful.

And its vine to the West was black and zigzag in form, and to the
South was blue and zigzag in form, and to the East was white and
zigzag in form, and to the North was yellow and zigzag in form.

So everything came up, and there was plenty to eat, and the people
gathered it up, and the young boys and girls ate and were happy, and
the old men and the old women ate and lengthened even their few days.

So think of this, my relatives, and know that we are not to suffer
with hunger always."

And the Dog-Pumpkin Baby lay there broken, after Corn went away,
but after awhile sank down and went to Gahkotekih, and grew up there,
and became the Harsan or Giant Cactus.

And the mother and grandfather could not find the Dog-Pumpkin Baby,
and called the people together, and Toehahvs was asked to find it,
and he smelled around where it had been, and went around in circles.

And he came to where the Giant Cactus was and thought it was the baby,
but was not sure, and so came back, and told them he could not find it.

And they wanted Nooee to go, and Toehahvs said to Nooee: "I did see
something, but I was not quite sure, but I want you to examine that
Giant Cactus."

So Nooee flew around and around and examined the Giant Cactus and
came back, and when the people questioned him said: "I have found it
and it is already full-grown, and I tell you I think something good
will happen to us because of it."

And when the Cactus had fruit the people gathered it, and made tis-win,
and took the seeds and spread them out in the sun.

And the Badger stole these seeds, and when the people knew it they
sent Toehahvs after the thief.

And Toehahvs went and saw Badger ahead of him in the road, and saw
him go out and around and come into the road again and come toward him.

And when they met, Toehahvs asked him what he had in his hand. And
Badger said "I have something, but I'm not going to show you!"

Then Toehahvs said: "If you'll only just open your hand, so I can see,
I'll be satisfied."

And Badger opened his hand, and Toehahvs hit it a slap from below,
and knocked the seeds all around, and that is why the giant cactus
is now so scattered.




NOTES ON THE STORY OF CORN AND TOBACCO

In the Story of Corn and Tobacco we touch the superstitions about rain,
the most desired thing in the desert. The mahkais used tobacco in
their incantations, both for curing sickness and for making rain. It
would appear that the Piman mind confused clouds of smoke and clouds
of vapor, and because tobacco made clouds it was probably supposed
to be potent in begetting rain. The Pimas told me that the Doctor's
Square Stone was used in the incantations for rain, and there appears
to have been a connection in Piman thought between feathers and clouds,
and therefore between feathers and rain, and it will be noticed that
when Geeheesop went to get Tobacco's help in making rain he took
feathers and both kinds of Doctor-stone.

This story seems to profess to give the origin of tobacco, giant
cactus and of tiswin.








THE STORY OF THE CHILDREN OF CLOUD


There was a woman who lived in the mountains, who was very beautiful,
and had many suitors, but she never married anyone.

And one day she was making mats of cane; and she fell asleep and a
rain came and a drop fell on her navel.

And she had twin babies, and all the men claimed them, but when the
babies were old enuf to crawl she told all the claimants to get in
a circle, and she would put the babies in the middle, and if they
crawled up to any man he would be the father.

But the babies climbed upon nobody, and she never married.

And when these twin boys were old enuf their mother showed them a
cloud in the east, and said: "That is your father, and his name is
Cloud, and the Wind is your uncle, your father's older brother."

But the children paid little attention, but when they got older they
asked their mother if they could go and see their father. And their
mother let them go.

And they went, and came to a house, and the man who lived there asked
them where they were going, and they said they were looking for their
father, whose name was Cloud.

And the man pointed to the next house, and said: "That man, there,
is your father."

And they went to that man, but he said: "It is not so. He is your
father. He is Cloud," and sent them back again.

But the first man sent them back once more to the second, who was
really Cloud.

And Cloud said, that time; "I wonder if it is so that you are my
children!"

And the boys said: "That is what they say."

And Cloud said: "I want you to do something to prove it."

Then the oldest boy thundered loud and lightened, and the other
lightened a little, and Cloud said, "It is true, you are my children!"

And before night Cloud fed them, and then went into his kee and shut
it up and left them outside all night. And it rained and snowed all
night, but they staid outside.

And in the morning Cloud came out, and said: "It is really so, that
you are my children."

And the next night he took them to a pond, where there was ice, and
left them there all night. And the next day, when he came there and
found they had staid in the water all night he said: "It is really
so--you are my children."

So Cloud acknowledged them for his children and took them into his
kee. And after awhile the boys wanted to go back to their mother,
and Cloud said: "You may go, but you must not speak to anybody on
the way. And I will be with you on the journey."

So the boys started, and cloud was over them, in the sky, shadowing
them.

And after a while they saw a man coming, and the younger boy said:
"We must ask him how our mother is."

But the older brother said: "Don't you remember that our father told
us not to speak to anyone?"

The younger said: "Yes, I remember, but it would not be right not
ask how our mother is."

So when the man came the boy asked: "How is everybody at home, and
how is the old woman, our mother?"

And then the cloud above them lightened and thundered, and they were
both turned into century plants.




NOTES ON THE STORY OF CLOUD

In Emory's report, before alluded to, also in Captain Johnston's,
we find variants of The Story of the Children of Cloud. Thristy Hawk,
the Maricopa, told Emory "that in bygone days a woman of surpassing
beauty resided in a green spot in the mountains, near where we were
encamped. All the men admired and paid court to her. She received
the tributes of their devotion, grain, skins, etc., but gave no love
or other favor in return. Her virtue and her determination to remain
unmarried were equally firm. There came a drought which threatened
the world with famine. In their distress, people applied to her, and
she gave corn from her stock, and the supply seemed endless.... One
day as she was lying asleep with her body exposed, a drop of rain
fell on her stomach, which produced conception. A son was the issue,
who was the founder of a new race which built all these houses"
(ruins, vahahkkees).

Johnston has it: "The general asked a Pima who made the house I had
seen. 'It is the Caza de Montezuma,' said he, 'it was built by the
son of the most beautiful woman, who once dwelt in yon mountain; she
was fair, and all the handsome men came to court her, but in vain;
when they came, they paid tribute, and out of this small store she
fed all the people in time of distress, and it did not diminish;
at last, as she lay asleep, a drop of rain fell upon her navel, and
she became pregnant, and brought forth a boy, who was the builder of
all these houses."

The seeneeyawkum gives her twins but knew nothing of any story of
their children or of these buildings, the vahahkkees.








THE STORY OF TCHEUNASSAT SEEVEN


Stcheuadack Seeven wanted to gamble with Tcheunassat Seeven, who lived
at Kawtkee Oyyeeduck, and sent a man with an invitation to come and
play against him, and bring all his wives.

And Tcheunassat Seeven said: "I will go, for my wives are used to
travelling, and we will take food, and will camp on the road, and
day after tomorrow, about evening, we will be there."

So the messenger went back with this word, and in the morning
Tcheunassat Seeven got his lunch ready, and he and his wives started;
and the first night camped at Odchee, and the next day came to the
little mountain, near Blackwater, called Sahn-a-mik, and they crossed
Ak-kee-mull, The River, the Gila, there, and Tcheunassat Seeven told
his wives to wash their hair and clean themselves there, and then he
told them to go ahead to Stcheuadack Seeven while he took his bath. And
while he bathed they went on and came to Stcheuadack Seeven's house,
where he was singing and his wives dancing.

Then the wives of Tcheunassat Seeven did not ask for invitation, but
went right in and joined the dance, and went to Stcheuadack Seeven and
took hold of his hand in the dance, pushing each other away to get it.

And Stcheuadack Seeven thought from this that he would get all of
Tcheunassat Seeven's wives away from him.

Tcheunassat Seeven, after his bath, cut a piece of oapot wood and
sharpened it, and split the other end into four pieces, and bent them
over and tied the ends of crow's feathers to them, and stuck it in
his hair, and dipped his finger in white paint and made one little
spot over each eye, which was all the paint he used, and then he went
and watched his wives dancing and taking Stcheuadack Seeven's hand.

And Stcheuadack Seeven asked them if that was their husband, and
they said: "Yes, he is our husband. He is not very good-looking,
but we care so much for him."

Tcheunassat Seeven watched the dancing awhile and then stepped back
a little and took out his rattle and began to sing. And at once
everybody crowded around him, and all his wives came back to him,
and finally all Stcheuadack Seeven's wives came and contended for
his hand, as his wives had been doing with Stcheuadack Seeven.

And this went on into the night, all dancing and having a good time,
except Stcheuadack Seeven, who walked around looking at his wives
dancing.

And finally he sent a message to the most beautiful of his wives (who
had a beautiful daughter) and told him to tell her: "I am sleepy,
and I want you home now, and I want all my wives to go into the house."

And she said: "I will come. I will tell my daughter, who is over there,
and then we will come home."

But she did not tell her daughter, and did not come home, and
Stcheuadack Seeven waited awhile, and then found his messenger and
asked him: "Did you tell her?"

And the messenger said: "I did."

And he said: "Tell her again that I am waiting outside here, and I
want her to come to me and we will go home."

Then the messenger told the woman again, but she did not come, and
Stcheuadack Seeven wandered around outside till morning.

And near morning Tcheunassat Seeven sang a beautiful song, and began
to move toward his own home, dancing all the way, and all the women
going before him.

And he did this till morning, and then stopped, and went home, taking
all his own wives and all of Stcheuadack Seeven's wives with him.

And Stcheuadack Seeven went home, when he saw this, and took his
beautiful cloak all covered with live butterflies and humming-birds,
and lay down, covering himself with it.

But four days after, Stcheuadack Seeven told the messenger to take this
beautiful cloak to Tcheunassat Seeven, and ask him to send back that
beautiful wife and her daughter, and to keep the rest of the wives;
and to keep the cloak and use that to marry more wives.

But Tcheunassat Seeven said to the messenger: "Tell him I do not
want his cloak. I have one just like it, and I have all I want, and I
will not send back any of his wives. It was his wish that we should
gamble, and if he had been the better singer and had won my wives I
would not have asked for any of them back."

And now Tcheunassat Seeven appeared as a beautiful person, with long
hair and turquoise ear-rings, and he said: "He need not think I always
look as I did when I came to his dance. That was only to fool him."

The beautiful daughter of the beautiful wife grew up, and Tcheunassat
Seeven married her, too, and she had a baby.

And when Stcheuadack Seeven heard of it, he said: "I am going to
punish him." And he made a black spider and sent it thru the air.

And in the evening when the mother wanted to air her baby's cradle,
she took it out, and then the black spider got in the baby's cradle
and hid himself, and when the baby was put back the spider bit it,
and it began to cry.

And its father and mother tried to pacify it, but could not, and when
they took it out of the cradle, there they found the black spider.

And Tcheunassat Seeven sent word to Stcheuadack Seeven to come and see
his grand-child, which was about to die, but Stcheuadack Seeven said
to the messenger: "What is the matter with Tcheunassat Seeven? He is
a powerful doctor. Tell him to cure the child. I will not come. The
bite of a black spider is poisonous, but it never kills anybody. Tell
him to get some weeds on Maricopa Mountain and cure the child." And
he sent the messenger back again.

And Tcheunassat Seeven said: "How can I get those weeds when I do
not know which ones are right and there are so many! I cannot go."

And he did not go, and the child died.




        A SONG OF TCHEUNASSAT SEEVEN

        There stands a dead vahahkkee
        On top of it there runs back and forth the Seeven
        And he has a robe with yellow hand prints on it.




        THE LARK'S SONG ABOUT HIS LOST WIFE [9]

        My poor wife!
        In the West she seems to be bound by the song of the Bamboo.








THE LEGEND OF BLACKWATER


A little off from the road between Sacaton, and Casa Grande Ruins
there is, or was in the old days, a mysterious pool of dark water,
which the Indians regarded with superstitious awe.

They said it was of fathomless depth, that it communicated with
the ocean, and that strange, monstrous animals at times appeared in
it. There are Indians still living who declare they have seen them
with their own eyes.

I visited this famous place once with my interpreter, Mr Wood. After
galloping a while thru a mezquite forest we suddenly emerged upon
its legendary shores. Alas, for the prosaic quality of fact! It was
but a common-place water-hole, or spring-pond, a few rods across,
with bogs and bulrushes in its center.

The unkindness of irrigation ditches, withdrawing its waters, revealed
that like most bottomless pools of story it was very shallow indeed.

It was nearly dry.

Its name of Blackwater has been given to the nearby surrounding
district.

This was the only trace of the common Indian superstition of water
monsters I found among the Pimas.



                              Koo-a Kutch

                                The End








ERRATA


In this book of Pima legends, various errors with regard to Indian
words have occurred which will be corrected in a second edition. These
are principally as follows:

The rule was made that all Indian words should be printed the first
time in italics, with hyphens to facilitate pronunciation; afterwards
in roman type, without hyphens. This rule has many times been violated.

There is a lack of uniformity in the spelling, etc., of many of the
Indian terms. Thus the name of the old seeneeyawkum has been spelled in
different ways, but should always be Comalk Hawkkih. The name of the
Creator should always be Juwerta Mahkai. The name of his subordinate
should be Eeheetoy. Gee-ee-sop should be Geeheesop. Cheof should be
Cheoff. Vah-kee-woldt-kee, as on page 8, should be Vahf-kee-woldt-kih
as on page 112. Sah-kote-kee, on page 183, should be Sah-kote-kih,
and Chirt-kee should be Chirt-kih. On page 224, vahs-shroms should
be vahs-hroms. Tcheuassat Seeven (page 237) should be Tcheunassat
Seeven. Stchenadack Seeven (page 238) should be Stcheuadack
Seeven. Scheunassat Seeven, on page 239, should be Tcheunassat
Seeven. In the story of the Turquoises and the Red Bird (page 99)
the name of the chief who lived in the Casa Grande ruins should have
been spelled with a u, instead of a w, to secure uniformity; also the
Indian name of the turquoises. The name of the Salt River Mountain,
wherever it occurs, should always be Moehahdheck.








NOTES


[1] Many doubt that the Indians of North America knew anything about
the diamond, but my interpreter insisted that the Doctor-stone was
the diamond, therefore I have taken his word for it. Perhaps it
was crystal.

[2] What the Pimas call the haht-sahn-kahm is the wickedest cactus in
Arizona. The tops of the branches fall off, and lie on the ground,
and if stepped on the thorns will go thru ordinary shoe leather and
seem to hold with the tenacity of fish-hooks, so that it is almost
impossible to draw them out.

[3] "To swallow charcoal" implies the swallowing of meat so greedily
it is not properly cleansed of the ashes of its roasting.

[4] The reference to the "gun" shows clearly that this song was made
after the advent of the white man.

[5] This word was not translated--probably archaic and the meaning
forgotten.

[6] This song is evidently imperfect, for in the context it is said
that before this fight they sang about the beads, sah-vaht-kih,
but there is no mention of them here.

[7] The reason why the older people went inside the circle was to
protect the younger ones from the impurity of anything Apache, and
they went inside as more hardened to this.

[8] Read before the Anthropological Society of Philadelphia, May
11, 1904.

[9] This is a Pima flute-song, a record of which I obtained for my
phonograph while in Arizona. It has no direct connection with the
legends; but illustrates the Story of Tcheunassat Seeven a little,
as it is about a woman, the wife of an Indian named the Lark, who is
led away by the seductive singing of another Indian named the Bamboo;
the Indians having an idea that women were most easily seduced by
music. The Pimas, when they speak English, calling the wild cane
bamboo.







End of Project Gutenberg's Aw-Aw-Tam Indian Nights, by J. William Lloyd



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