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LONG AGO TOLD

FOREWORD

Huh-kew ah-kah means, “that which was told long ago.”

For the privilege of presenting to my readers these legends of the Papago Indians—I am indebted, first of all, to Mrs. Will Kitt, of Tucson, Arizona.

For thirty years Mrs. Kitt has enjoyed a friendship with the Papagos. They have told her much of their ancient lore. As my friendship with Mr. and Mrs. Kitt offered opportunity, I heard a few of these old, old stories. They were to me so striking in the beauty of their conception and so significant in their relation to the character of these desert Indians that I was deeply impressed.

These beautiful, sometimes quaint, and often poetic imaginings were born of the desert in prehistoric times. They were first told many ages before a white man invaded the home-land of these people. They have been handed down from generation to generation by the story-tellers of the tribe. The Papagos have no written language. The white man’s laws and customs and religions are working many changes in their tribal thought and life. The telling of these stories to the assembled members of a community or a village is not now, as it used to be, an occasion of great importance. The old men and women who know the stories are becoming very few. I could not bear the thought that these legends which are so woven into the life and character of this little known tribe should be utterly lost to the world. I persuaded Mrs. Kitt to give them to me word for word as her Indian friends related them to her.

Some of the stories Mrs. Kitt wrote down in her own hand; others she retold to Mrs. Wright, who took them down in shorthand. A number of the legends were mere fragments; others were related in parts by a number of different story-tellers. My share in the work has been to select, piece together, eliminate tiresome repetitions, harmonize confusing elements, and make clear broken sentences and obscure construction.

Before I undertook to arrange the material turned over to me by Mrs. Kitt, I went to the Indians for their help. With Hugh Norris—a full-blood Papago, whose Indian name is Muh-leef Chee-awch—as our guide and interpreter, Walter Bailey, my friend and partner in the Cross Anchor Ranch, and I traveled through the Papago country. We visited the villages and scenes of these legends. In our camps in the Indian country, at the Cross Anchor Ranch, and in my studio here at home, these stories were read to the Indians. Upon their comments, criticisms and suggestions I have relied for accuracy. One of the legends not in Mrs. Kitt’s collection was related by an Indian in his native tongue. Hugh Norris translated, and my secretary took the story down in shorthand.

With my notes at hand I then edited and arranged the legends. Then again I went to my Indian friends for their final criticism. It was my purpose that not one word which was not approved by the Indians themselves should appear in these pages.

In this final review I was privileged to have the assistance of Hugh Norris and Richard Hendricks, two leading men of the Papago tribe. Perhaps I should say, in passing, that Mr. Norris is a strict Roman Catholic, while Mr. Hendricks is a devout Presbyterian, and that they both agree that Walter Bailey and I are in a fair way to become good Papagos. These gentlemen read the legends as I had arranged them, and worked with Mr. Bailey and me on the vocabulary. It should be noted in this connection that certain Papago words vary in different families or villages, or sections of the country. So true is this that the Indians themselves often designate the people of a certain section by the way in which they pronounce certain words.

I wish also to thank Mr. E. S. Stewart, Superintendent of the Papago Indian Reservation, in Sells, for his helpful kindness.

Above all I have sought to preserve the original beauty and meaning of these legends. I have added nothing. I have made no attempt to interpret. I have offered no comments. As far as my artistic ability permits, and within the limits of the English language, I have written these legends in the style and manner of the Indian speech. Nor must it be understood that these are all of the legends of the Papagos. I have endeavored merely to select a representative group.

The Papago Indians or, to give them the name by which they called themselves before the coming of the white men: Taw-haw-no Aw’-o-tahm—Desert People—are, without question, among the finest types of American Indians. They number to-day between four and five thousand. They are self-supporting, proud of the purity of their racial blood, brave, loyal and self-sacrificing.

W. J. McGee, of the Bureau of Ethnology, says: “It is of interest to note that the prehistoric Papago was a farmer, and derives his designation from this fact. The characteristic crop plant was the native bean, called pah or, in the plural, papah; and the same term was applied to the tribe by neighboring peoples. The Spaniards slightly corrupted the appellation, pronouncing it Papaho (the final vowel feeble and obscure) and spelling it, with some emphasis of the aspirate, Papago; the Americans retained this orthography, but pretty effectually concealed the original form of the tribal name by adopting the pronunciation indicated by their own orthoepy. The tribesmen themselves long ago accepted the name by which they were known among other tribes, adding the descriptive term, a atam—literally, Beansmen, i.e., Bean-people.

“You will be interested in noting also that the local tribesmen were among the earliest and most successful agricultural experimentalists of the Western Hemisphere. They are desert folk par excellence, and entered into the distinctive solidarity of desert life to a unique degree; they scoured the Sonoran plains for chance water holes as well as more permanent waters, carrying religiously hoarded seeds; they chased rainstorms seen from commanding peaks for scores if not hundreds of miles; and wherever they found standing or running water, or even damp soil, they planted their seeds, guarded and cultivated the growing plants with infinite patience, and after carefully harvesting the crop planted some of the finest seeds as oblations and preserved others against the ensuing season, so that the crop plants were both distributed and improved from year to year.”

The Taw-haw-no Aw’-o-tahm never kill anything except for food or in defense. In the old times when they were compelled to fight to protect their homes, their women and children, their fields and cattle, those engaged in battle were forced to undergo a four days’ purification ceremony before they were again received into the tribe. Lurid tales of scalp hunting; of fiendish torture; of bloody massacre; of midnight raids; of burning settlers’ homes; of rape and plunder, have no place in the annals of these gentle people. They have always been friendly to the race that has possessed the land. I wish I could say for my race that we have always been worthy of that friendship.

These Desert Indians are not so well known to the world as many other tribes. Because of their gentle, kindly, hospitable, industrious and home-loving character they have never been headlined in the newspapers of the nation; they have never figured in lurid Wild-West fiction. Everybody knows of the Arizona Apache. The Apache Indian wars in Arizona cost our Government over forty-two million dollars. Some of us, with unreasonable optimism, have hopes that in the dim and distant future when our Government can endure the financial strain, our Papago Indian friends may have roads on their reservation which will be reasonably adequate to their needs and enable them, without such hardship, to haul their wood and produce to market.

From our home near Tucson we see against the western sky the mountain ranges which mark the eastern boundary of the Papago Reservation. For more centuries than our histories record, these Desert People have occupied this section of the Southwest. Baboquivari Peak, which towers in solemn grandeur high above the main skyline of the range, is the home of Ee’-e-toy—the god of the Taw-haw-no Aw’-o-tahm. On this mountain, Wind Man—Huh-wuh-le Aw’-o-tahm—and his brother, Cloud Man—Choo-vahk Aw’-o-tahm—live when they are not traveling over the country to cool the burning lands or to carry chook—the rain—to the thirsty earth.

I once asked a wise old Indian: “Does Ee’-e-toy still live on Baboquivari? Does Great Spirit—Big Brother—Spirit of Goodness—still watch over your people?”

My friend answered with the saddest words I have ever heard from human lips: “It is very doubtful if Great Spirit watches over us now. The Indians have taken up with so many of the white man’s ways that it is very doubtful if Ee’-e-toy lives now on this mountain or takes care of us any more.”

This Great Spirit—this Spirit of Goodness who once ruled over everything—this Big Brother—this gentle, kindly god who laughs with little children and with whom the children love to play—to what land has Ee’-e-toy gone? I wonder! I wish I knew. I should love to live in that place.

There are few evenings when we do not watch the sunset from the roof of our desert house. When the sun is down and we are in the shadows of the nearer mountains, Baboquivari Peak still glows in the last of the sunlight. The light pales; the colors fade; the mystery and the beauty of the afterglow passes. The age-old home of Ee’-e-toy, god of the Taw-haw-no Aw’-o-tahm, is lost in the desert night. And against the shadowy mass of the hills we see the lights of a modern city. So the day of these legends is passing. The light of their meaning is fading.

To try to hold for even a little longer some of the color and feeling which have so touched these legends with beauty, has been for me a happy task. If the Spirit of Gentleness and Kindness, which for so many ages has been the guiding light of these Desert People, is reflected ever so dimly in these pages, I shall be glad.

I thank Mrs. Kitt for the service she has rendered in preserving these legends. I thank her for the part I have had in this work. To my Indian friends I am more grateful than I can express.

H. B. W.

Tucson, Arizona

(HUH-KEW AH-KAH)

You must understand first, nah’-wawch—which is to say, “friend”—that these legends of the Desert People must not be told in the summer-time when the snakes are out. If one were to tell these things of the long ago in summer when the snakes are out, that one would Kaw-koy’—the snakes—most surely bite. Only in the winter-time may these old, old tales be safely told.

In winter when Tahs—the sun—walks far from the earth and the ground is cold and hard; when the beans and wheat and pumpkins have been harvested and fields are bare, and the cold winds blow—then in their winter villages the Indians say to one of the old people who know the legends: “Tell us the huh-kew ah-kah—the things which were long ago told.”

And the old one who knows these legends answers: “In four nights come and I will tell.”

So the word goes out that the time for the story-telling is set.

And when the appointed evening is come the Indians—old men and women, young men and maidens, grandparents and children—gather in one of the village homes. And there, while outside are darkness, and cold, and wind and rain, and inside tie—the fire—koo’-ee tie—the mesquite fire—burns warm and bright, the story-teller tells these things which were so long ago told by the ancients of the tribe.

But the oldest and wisest of the Indians all agree that one may read these legends in the summer-time without fear. The Desert People have no law against reading the long ago tales in summer. The law is only that huh-kew ah-kah must not be told when Kaw-koy’—the snakes—are out.

THE BEGINNING OF ALL THINGS

(MAH-TAHM AE SAW-SHAWN-O-WAH)

The Great Spirit—god of Taw-haw-no Aw’-o-tahm, the Desert People—is by name Ee’-e-toy. Often he is called “Big Brother.” Often he is called “Spirit of Goodness.”

And Ee’-e-toy appears in many forms. He can make himself very large—as large as a mountain; or very small—as small as a fly. He is very gentle and laughs and plays with children. He is very kind. He is Goodness.

From his home high up in the lonely, cloud-wreathed mountain peak, Bahvo-kee-vu-lick, the brother mountain who watches over everything, Ee’-e-toy keeps guard over his desert land to see that all the “Little People”—the insects, birds, and animals—and the Indians live in peace.

And because Ee’-e-toy is Goodness, everybody loves him and wants to do exactly what he tells them. And because he is Goodness he must answer every living creature that calls to him for help.

But the Great Spirit—Ee’-e-toy—can be very terrible, too, when it is necessary for the good of his people.

Now, before the whole world was covered with water, Ee’-e-toy was busy making a hoah—which is a basket. And Ee’-e-toy covered his basket with the gum which one finds on the creosote or greasewood bush, and which keeps water out of things.

A flock of birds came flying by.

And when Oo-oo-fick—the birds—saw Great Spirit there at work making a basket they stopped because, as you know, no living thing can resist the Spirit of Goodness.

And the birds saw that Big Brother was very sad; so they asked the reason for his sadness.

Ee’-e-toy said he was sad because very soon the whole world would be under water and nearly everything would be killed.

Then Oo-oo-fick—the birds—asked Great Spirit how they could live through this time.

And Big Brother told them they must fly to the highest mountain and from the top of the mountain they must go very high up in the air and stay there.

Then Kom-e-ki-choot—the turtle—came. And Turtle asked Ee’-e-toy why it was that he felt so heavy and sad.

Ee’-e-toy answered that it was because of the coming of the great water which would wash everything away.

And Big Brother said he would paint Turtle’s feet so they would stick fast in the mud, and Kom-e-ki-choot could hide his head under his shell, so he would not be washed away.

Next, came Pee-tee-toy—the big black beetle which we call “pinacate.” And Pee-tee-toy told Great Spirit that he felt queer inside.

So Ee’-e-toy explained again about the coming of the big water and offered to paint Pee-tee-toy so he would be hard and could stick his head into the ground and not be washed away.

And all the Desert People say, “Hah-pah-mah-sah-mah huh-mooch,” which means, “It is the same now.” Even to this day, if you bother Pee-tee-toy—the pinacate—he sticks his head down into the ground.

Then Pahn—the coyote—came and watched Ee’-e-toy as Great Spirit worked making his basket.

And after a time Coyote wanted to know what Ee’-e-toy had been talking about to Birds and Turtle and Pinacate, and what was going to happen, and why Big Brother was so sad.

So Ee’-e-toy explained again how the whole world would soon be covered with water and nearly everything destroyed.

And when Pahn heard this he was frightened. And he asked what he should do to save himself.

Ee’-e-toy answered that Coyote must find a section of large cane or bamboo and clean out the inside and crawl into it and that he, Ee’-e-toy, would make it tight and dry and thus Coyote would float around on top of the water and be saved.

So Pahn brought a section of cane and Big Brother helped him. And after a time both Coyote’s bamboo and Ee’-e-toy’s basket were ready.

Then, when all things were ready, Ee’-e-toy sent a man into one of the villages. And Great Spirit gave this man to carry many bows and arrows.

But when he had passed through the village the man turned into a woman. And in place of the bows and arrows the woman carried a baby on her back.

When the woman had gone some distance away, she put the baby on the ground and started back toward the village. But before she reached the village she was again changed into a man.

The people, when they looked at the man and saw that he now carried nothing, asked him what had he done with all those bows and arrows.

The man did not know what to say so he told them he had left the bows and arrows on the road.

Then ah-ah-lee—the children—thought it would be nice to have those arrows. So they went out to find them. But all that the children found was a baby. And there was water all around the baby so they could not reach it. The children returned to the village and told the people.

One of the men of the village said he would go because it was not good to leave a baby alone that way, in the water. And when the man reached the place he saw the baby. But the baby was now swimming around in a big lake. The man returned to the village for help.

So a number of men went out to see if they could save the child. But the lake was very large now, and very deep.

And Ee’-e-toy came to the edge of the lake and struck with his stick and broke the bank, and the water of the lake and the water of the ocean rushed together.

Then Ee’-e-toy who, as you remember, can make himself very large or very small, went into the basket which he had made. And Pahn—the Coyote—went into his section of bamboo. Ee’-e-toy told Pahn to stay with him. And the water washed them away.

Now, Coyote did not follow Great Spirit as he had been told to do. Ee’-e-toy, in his basket, went toward the east. But Pahn, in his section of bamboo, went toward the west.

Soo-ah-tuck—the water—rose higher and higher.

All the villages were covered.

The Indians who lived near Kee-ho Toahk, which means “Burden Basket Mountain” (the same is called these days “Quijotoa”), saw the water coming and went up on a high part of the mountain where they thought they would be safe. But Kee-ho Toahk split and the people were all lost in the water.

Another place there were Medicine Men—Kooh-lan Aw’-o-tahm. And when these Medicine Men heard that the water was coming they led the people up into a very high mountain. And as the water rose the Medicine Men sang and made the mountain grow higher and higher.

Soo-ah-tuck—the water—rose and fell; rose and fell; until it had risen and fallen four times.

Then the Indians on the mountain were happy because everything in nature goes in fours and so they thought it was finished. And the people were busy—some cooking, some grinding corn, some eating.

Now, with the people on this mountain there was only one dog. And the Indians sent Kawx—which is dog—to see how high the water was.

Dog went to the edge of the mountain and looked down. Then he stretched himself and said: “Oh, the water is going down; the water will not rise again.”

And right then—at that very moment—as Kawx spoke, all the people on the mountain were turned to stone. Just as they were when Dog spoke—cooking or grinding or eating—they were turned to stone.

You can see them there to-day if you visit that place which is called Superstition Mountain.

And all the Indians say you must never permit a dog to speak to you, because if you do you will be turned to stone.

THE DESERT PEOPLE

(TAW-HAW-NO AW’-O-TAHM)

The whole world was covered with water. Ee’-e-toy was floating around in the basket which he had made.

And after a time Great Spirit came out of his basket and looked about. Everything was still covered with water. So Ee’-e-toy made himself larger and larger until soo-ah-tuck—the water—reached only to his knees.

Then while Ee’-e-toy was walking around in the water he heard some one call. At first he paid no attention. But when the call came the fourth time Great Spirit went to see who was shouting.

And so Ee’-e-toy found Earth Doctor—Juh-wutt Mah-kye. And Earth Doctor was rejoicing because he was the first one to come out after the water.

Great Spirit said this was not true and explained that he, himself, was first.

But Juh-wutt Mah-kye insisted that he was first.

Now Ee’-e-toy and Earth Doctor as they talked were standing in the south.

They started toward the west. And as they were going through the water, because there was yet very little land, they heard some one else shouting.

It was Pahn—the coyote—who was making all the noise.

Ee’-e-toy went toward the sound. But Great Spirit went one way and Pahn went another. So they passed each other.

And Coyote was shouting that he was the very first out of the water and that he was all alone in the world.

Ee’-e-toy called to Pahn and at last they came together. And Great Spirit explained to Coyote that he was not the first.

Then the three—Great Spirit, Earth Doctor, and Coyote, started north. And as they went over the mud Ee’-e-toy saw some very small tracks. He said: “There must be some one else around.” And then they heard another voice calling.

They went to the voice and found Pee-tee-toy, which, as you know, is the large black beetle, pinacate. And Pee-tee-toy told Ee’-e-toy that he was the very first to come out after the water.

Ee’-e-toy did not even answer him.

Then the four—Great Spirit, Earth Doctor, Coyote and Big Black Beetle, went on together, toward the north. You remember that everything in nature goes in fours.

Now the earth—juh-wutt—was not firm and still as it is to-day. It was shaking and quivering all the time. And it was hard for the four to travel. So Earth Doctor—Juh-wutt Mah-kye—threw himself down and stopped the shaking of the earth. And that was when we had our first land.

But the land was floating around in separate pieces. So Earth Doctor called to the Spider Men. And Tawk-e-toot Aw’-o-tahm—the Spider Men—came out of the floating ground and went all over the world spinning their webs and tying the pieces of earth together. And so we have it to-day—land and water.

Then Great Spirit wanted to find the center of the earth.

So he sent Coyote toward the south and told Big Black Beetle to go toward the north. And he said they must go as fast as they could and as far as they could and then return to him.

Pee-tee-toy—the beetle—was back quite a while before Coyote returned. So Ee’-e-toy knew that he had not found the center of the earth.

Then Great Spirit took Pee-tee-toy and Pahn a little farther south and again sent them off. And again Big Black Beetle came back before Coyote.

So Ee’-e-toy moved still farther toward the south.

On the fourth trial Pee-tee-toy and Coyote came back to Ee’-e-toy at exactly the same time. So Great Spirit knew he was exactly in the center of the world. Because the Spirit of Goodness should be the center of all things this was where Ee’-e-toy wished to be.

And this center of all things where the Great Spirit—Ee’-e-toy, Spirit of Goodness, Big Brother of the Taw-haw-no Aw’-o-tahm—dwells, is Taw-haw-no Aw’-o-tahm Juh-wutt—which means the Land of the Desert People.

After he had found the center of all things Great Spirit began making men out of soft mud—just as they are to-day.

And Ee’-e-toy told Pahn he might help. And Ee’-e-toy put all the men that he made in a row, while Pahn put those that he made in another row.

Now Coyote worked with his back toward Great Spirit. And as he worked making his mud men Pahn was laughing—laughing all the time. Always Coyote laughs at everything. Almost any night on the desert you can hear him laughing. And this is so because nearly always the Spirit of Mischief—Pahn—is in Coyote, which is why Coyote is called Pahn.

And after a time, Great Spirit, who was busy making his mud men, turned to see why Coyote was laughing.

Pahn had made all his men with only one leg!

At last, when they had made men enough, Ee’-e-toy told Coyote to watch and listen very carefully to see which of all the mud men would speak first. Then Ee’-e-toy went away and was alone.

Coyote, as he watched the mud men and listened, laughed and laughed. And after a time Pahn went to Great Spirit and said: “The men of mud are not talking. How could they speak? They are only mud.”

But Ee’-e-toy told Coyote to go back and listen carefully. He said the Spirit of Mischief—Pahn—which was in Coyote when he made his men of mud, would surely speak.

And this was true. The first of the spirits to speak in the mud men was the Spirit of Mischief. So these men were Apaches. And Awp—the Apaches—have always been mean and mischievous, just as Coyote made them.

Now, when all the mud men were alive, Ee’-e-toy gathered them together and showed them where each tribe should live.

The Apaches were given the mountains toward the east. The Hopis were sent to the north. The Yaquis were placed in the south. But the Papagos were told to remain where they were in that land which is the center of all things.

And there these Desert Indians have always lived. They are living there this very day. And from his home among the towering cliffs and crags of Bahvo-kee-vu-lick, the lonely, cloud-veiled mountain peak, their Big Brother, the Great Spirit, Ee’-e-toy, Spirit of Goodness, who must dwell in the center of all things, watches over them.

And all this happened on the First Day.

Because everything in nature goes in fours there were four days of the beginning of things for the Indians. But these four days were not as we speak. It may have meant four years or four periods of time.

On the Second Day Ee’-e-toy went to all the different tribes to see how they were getting along. And Great Spirit taught each tribe the kind of houses they should build.

First, Ee’-e-toy went to the Hee-ah-kim—the Yaquis—who live in the south. And he found it was very hot in the land of the Yaquis so he showed them how to dig into the side of a hill and make houses that would be cool.

Now when Great Spirit went south Gopher and Coyote followed him because, as you remember, everything must follow the Spirit of Goodness. And while Ee’-e-toy was digging into the side of the hill to show the Hee-ah-kim how to build their houses, Gopher and Coyote stood watching him. Then, when Juh-faw—the gopher—and Pahn—the coyote—saw what Ee’-e-toy was doing they, too, began to dig. And every minute or two, as they worked, they put their heads out of the holes they were digging to see how Big Brother did it.

Presently Ee’-e-toy stopped to rest. And when he saw what Juh-faw and Pahn were doing he laughed and said: “That is a good house.” And so the gophers and coyotes have lived that way ever since.

Then Ee’-e-toy went to the north. And Great Spirit was not pleased with all of the people in that part of the world. So he took the good ones and climbed high up the side of a mountain and showed them how to build houses where the bad ones would not come to hurt them. And these were the people we call the Cliff Dwellers and the Hopis, who live in that part of the world to-day.

And when Ee’-e-toy led these good people up the mountain they were followed by a great many birds, which is the reason why the Hopis use so many more feathers than the Papagos.

The rest of the people in the north Great Spirit just left to live under the trees.

Ee’-e-toy found that the Apaches were very lazy. So he showed them how to take the branches of trees and tie them together at the top, and spread them at the bottom, and cover them with brush. And to this day Awp—the Apaches—live in houses made that way.

When Ee’-e-toy returned to the land of the Papagos he found these Indians all working. And Great Spirit was pleased. So he showed the Taw-haw-no Aw’-o-tahm how to cut the branches of trees and set them in the ground in a circle and fasten them together so as to make a strong frame. Then he taught them to put brush of suk-koy—the creosote bush—over the frame, and over the brush to put mud. And that is why the Desert People have houses that are warm in winter and cool in summer.

And when Big Brother had finished teaching the Papagos to make their houses there was quite a lot of mud left. He took this mud and made it round like a house and put it in the sun to dry. And he told the women they could make dishes that way.

So the Papago women make dishes of mud that very way to this very day, just as Great Spirit taught them.

Then Ee’-e-toy was tired and rested until the Third Day.

On the Third Day Great Spirit gave to each tribe a basket.

And when all the women were making baskets, Ee’-e-toy saw it would be best for them to mark their baskets that they might know to whom the different baskets belonged and for what each was to be used. So Great Spirit took some seed-pods of the plant ee’-hook—which we call devil’s claw—and showed the women how to weave the black fiber of ee’-hook into their baskets so that each pattern would be different, and by the patterns the baskets would be known.

Now while all the women were working so hard learning to make baskets, the birds were watching from a mesquite tree, very curious to know what Big Brother and the women were doing.

Then Oo-oo-fick—the birds—came down out of the mesquite tree and took some of the fiber with which the baskets were being made. And after talking a great deal they made a basket.

But the basket which the birds made would not stay on top of the branch of the mesquite tree—it slipped underneath.

At this, Oo-oo-fick laughed so hard that Ee’-e-toy noticed. And when Big Brother saw what the birds had done he was very much pleased and told them they might make baskets for their homes. And that is why the birds build their nests as they do.

To the Desert Indians Big Brother gave the kee-ho—which is burden basket—so they might carry heavy loads.

He showed the women where to gather the plants from which these baskets are made, and how to wet them and pound them until the tough fibers were like strings. These fiber strings he twisted together into a larger, stronger string. Then he taught them to make a circular frame of willow and over the willow frame to weave the strings of fiber like a spider’s web. Next, he pounded some bright-colored earth into powder and with it painted a pattern on the basket web. Then he showed them how to fasten four sticks from hah-shahn—the giant cactus—to the frame and draw the web of the basket to these; and two of the sticks were longer than the others, to serve as legs to keep the basket off the ground when it was not being carried. Last, he fastened to the two longest sticks a woven band to go over the woman’s head, and made a mat of braided grass to protect her back.

And just as Big Brother taught them the Papagos make their burden baskets even to this day.

Now, when Ee’-e-toy moved about, he was always followed by all living creatures because, as you know, everything must follow after Goodness. First came the men and the animals; then the women and children; then the dogs; and last of all came Coyote.

And when Big Brother had finished teaching the Desert People to make their burden baskets and was starting away, the burden baskets, too, felt the power of Great Spirit pulling them. So the burden baskets got up from the ground and began to walk on their two long sticks after Ee’-e-toy.

Pahn—the coyote—looked back and saw the baskets walking. And Coyote laughed. And the burden baskets, because they knew they were only baskets, were so ashamed that they fell down and have never walked since.

Then Ee’-e-toy gave the Indians their food: hoon, which is corn; pee-lee-kahn, the wheat; pah-fe, beans; and hah-lee, the pumpkin. And he showed them where each should be planted—certain fields for certain things.

But Great Spirit did not give his Desert People too much of any one kind of food. And sometimes he stops the water and prevents the rain. This is because Big Brother knows it is best that people work for what they eat and not have things too easy.

On the Fourth Day Ee’-e-toy made the sun—Tahs.

And Big Brother went with Tahs to show him the way—just as Sun travels to-day.

Now for a long time Tahs—the sun—walked close to the earth and it was very hot.

And Chook Aw’-o-tahm—the Rain Man—refused to follow his brother, Choo-vahk Aw’-o-tahm—the Cloud Man—over the land, and Huh-wuh-le Aw’-o-tahm—the Wind Man—was angry and only made things hotter and dryer.

All the desert world needed water. And the Desert People were thirsty and cross and so they quarreled. When Oo-oo-fick—the birds—came too near each other they pulled feathers. Tawpe—the cottontail rabbit—and Kaw-koy’—the snake—and Juh-faw—the gopher—could no longer live together. So Juh-faw became very busy digging new holes.

And when the animals had quarreled until only the strongest were left, a strange people came out of the old deserted gopher holes.

These were the Pee-ahp Aw’-o-tahm—Bad People—who were moved by the Spirit of Evil. They came from the big water in the far southeast and spread all over the land, killing the people as they came, until every man felt that he lived in a black hole he was so sad.

At last the Desert People cried out to Great Spirit for help.

And when Ee’-e-toy saw that Pee-ahp Aw’-o-tahm were in the land, he took some good spirits of the other world and made soldiers of them.

These good spirit soldiers chased the Bad People but could neither capture nor kill them. And because his good soldiers from the spirit world could not destroy the Bad People, who were moved by the Spirit of Evil, Ee’-e-toy was ashamed.

So Ee’-e-toy gave orders to chase the evil ones to the ocean.

When they reached the shore of what is now the Gulf of California, Great Spirit sang a song. And as Ee’-e-toy sang, the waters were divided and the Bad People rushed in to go to the other side. Then Great Spirit called the waters together and many of the Pee-ahp Aw’-o-tahm were drowned. But some reached the other side.

Great Spirit again tried to have his good soldiers kill these evil ones that had escaped the waters. But the soldiers would not. And Ee’-e-toy—Spirit of Goodness—felt so ashamed he made himself small and came back from the other side through the ground, under the water.

Many of his people returned with Ee’-e-toy but some could not. And these were very unhappy because the Pee-ahp Aw’-o-tahm who had not been destroyed were increasing.

Then Ee’-e-toy’s daughter said she would save these good Indians who were not happy.

She took all the children to the seashore where they sat down and sang together.

This is the song that Ee’-e-toy’s daughter and ah-ah-lee—the children—sang:

Kaw’-kawt—the sea gulls—heard the song and came down and studied Ee’-e-toy’s daughter and the children. Then Kaw’-kawt flew up and circled around and sang:

So the Indians took the white feathers that the sea gulls gave them and bound the feathers round their heads and crossed the water safely. And the Papagos keep those white feathers—stotah ah-ahn—very carefully even to this day.

Now some of the Bad People who escaped to the other side when the waters closed still live in that part of the world which we call Lower California. They are still very bad. Others who did not go into the water when Ee’-e-toy sang and the waters divided, turned into bugs. These still go around biting and stinging. And some of those who were not destroyed by the waters came back across the country to the Land of the Desert People. And when they reached the village which was then where the village of Santa Rosa is now, the Taw-haw-no Aw’-o-tahm were celebrating their deliverance.

And these Pee-ahp Aw’-o-tahm gave the Papagos a stone ball and told them that so long as they kept that ball they would be able to travel longer and faster than any other people. The Desert People have that stone ball even to-day.

So the Taw-haw-no Aw’-o-tahm—the Indians we call Papagos—lived in their land, which is the center of the world, and raised wheat and corn and beans and pumpkins. And they learned to make choo-eh—which is flour; and roasted wheat—which is pinole; and to make meal of hoon—the corn. They made baskets in which to store their food and were always a good people—always kind to each other.

Hah-pah-mah-sah-mah huh-mooch, which—as you know—means, “It is the same now.”

FIRE

(TIE)

How fire was brought from the sun.

For some time after Ee’-e-toy had made everything and fixed Tahs—the sun—in his road, the days were warm and every day was just the same. And that was good for making hoon—the corn—and pee-lee-kahn—the wheat—ripen.

But sometimes the nights were cold.

So the Indians thought about it. And they decided it would be nice to have more warmth when they wanted it. They tried to tell Ee’-e-toy but Big Brother was too busy to listen.

Then the Taw-haw-no Aw’-o-tahm—the Desert People—said they would have to help themselves.

And this is how tie—which is fire—was brought from the sun.

Early one morning before Tahs started on his journey across the world, Oofe—a woman—was sent with a basket to get some of Sun’s heat so that the people might keep it.

But Woman was too late. When she reached the east, where Sun has his home, Tahs was already well on his journey, very high in the sky, and very hot. He was so hot that when the people asked Oofe to go again the next day she refused.

The people said Woman was always slow anyway. So they sent Vee-ah-poy—a boy.

When Boy came back he said he was almost there in time but Sun was so hot he could not see.

The Indians thought this was just an excuse. But they decided it would be better to get the heat when Tahs came down at the end of his day’s journey. They wanted the heat for the night anyway.

Koor-lee Aw’-o-tahm—an old man—said he would go this time. And Koor-lee Aw’-o-tahm ran all day to get to the place where Tahs goes at night.

But when Old Man returned the next day he did not have any heat. He said that Sun, at the end of his journey, jumped into a big hole and the Indians would have to send some of the flying people to bring the fire.

An oriole who was listening said he would like to go. So next morning Oriole started off toward the east.

Oriole did not return home until it was very late. And he was all changed. Some of his feathers had turned to the color of the sun, and some were black. Oriole told the people that he had gone so close to Sun that his feathers began to burn and so he turned back and flew until he saw some water and dropped in.

And now you know why, even in these days, some of Oriole’s feathers are yellow and some are black.

Then several other birds were sent. But none could bring the heat. At last the Indians said the small birds were too weak. They must find a large one.

Neu-fee—a buzzard—was floating around in the sky and the people called him and told him he flew so well that it would be a small thing for him to go to Tahs and bring back some fire. Buzzard thought it would be very easy. So the next morning he started.

All the people felt sure this time. And they stopped work to watch for the return of Neu-fee with the heat.

It was about noon when they saw the black speck in the sky a great distance away. When he came nearer, the people saw that Buzzard’s feathers which had been brown were now all black. And when Neu-fee came down among them they saw that his head had no feathers at all and was all covered with blood.

Buzzard told the people how he had flown straight into the sun and how when he went to take some of it his head was so burned the feathers fell off, and all his other feathers were burned black.

The Indians did what they could for poor Neu-fee. But that is the way he is even to this day.

Then for a while, the people did not know what to do. But the nights were cold and they wanted the heat. And the stories told by those who had tried to bring the fire only made them want it more. At last they thought if they could find a bird who could fly at night perhaps he might slip through the hole into which Sun jumps at the end of his day’s journey and catch Tahs asleep or not so hot.

They looked around and saw Nah-kuh-muh-lee—the bat. They called Nah-kuh-muh-lee and asked him if he would try to slip through the hole and get some of Sun’s fire. Bat said he would try. And about sunset he started on his journey to the west.

Now Bat, when he went to bring heat from the sun, was covered with nice gray feathers. When he flew up in the sky no one could see him. So the people knew that this time they would surely have the fire.

And the Indians all stayed awake to watch for Nah-kuh-muh-lee to return with the heat. It was very dark that night. Suddenly they saw a light coming. As the light came down toward the earth it flashed far from side to side. And there was a great roar. And when the light reached the earth there was a bang.

Some of the people were frightened. Others said: “It is tie—the fire—it flashes like the sun.” And these ran as fast as they could to the place where the grass was burning, and a tree. And one of the men who ran to the fire took a stick that was burning and waved it up and down—east and west—so that the others would know what it was and not be afraid.

There was still much noise and the Indians called this noise pu-putck, which is thunder. The light they call wuh-pu-kuh, which is lightning.

And no one thought of Nah-kuh-muh-lee, who brought the fire, until next day. Then they began to look for him. They looked all around.

At last they found him hanging all limp to a tree. And poor Bat had not one feather left on his body. He was burned down to the skin. And he was so very much ashamed that no one could coax him to come out in the daytime.

Even to this day Nah-kuh-muh-lee—the bat—will not fly in the light because he has no feathers.

THE FOUR BROTHERS

(KEE-EEK E-WUH-PAHN-EH-KAHM)

One day Great Spirit was traveling with Tahs—the sun. And Ee’-e-toy looked back and saw a man and a woman following.

Great Spirit waited for the man and woman and showed them where Sun was to go, and explained that some of the paths traveled by Sun made things hot, and that other paths made things cold.

All that day the man and the woman journeyed with Ee’-e-toy and Tahs. And that night Great Spirit told the man and the woman they must always live with the Desert People and watch things and see if Sun was too hot or too cold. This did not seem to be very hard, so the man and the woman consented.

Now this man and woman had four sons. And the two oldest boys always played together and never had anything to do with the youngest two except to tease them. The mother had to watch all the time to keep the two little ones from being hurt. As the years passed the children grew more and more quarrelsome. The mother died. The father had no rest in his home because his sons were always quarreling.

There were many people on the earth now and they began complaining. Some thought there was too much sun and not enough rain. Others wanted clouds and no rain. Still others said every day was too much like all the other days.

The four brothers heard the people talking. And they planned how they would have things when the time came for them to take their father’s place.

At last the man grew tired of all the talking and arguing. He called his sons—Kee-eek e-wuh-pahn-eh-kahm—the four brothers—and told them that they might take his place and watch things and see if Sun was too hot or too cold. And each boy was to have his regular turn, for the same length of time, with just the kind of days he wished. The youngest boy was to be first.

Now the youngest of the four boys was a gentle child and when he started out with Tahs one morning, he stopped and looked at every bush. And the leaves of oo-oos—the bushes and all plants—became green and skoo-kahch which is beautiful.

This boy whistled and called to Oo-oo-fick—the birds. And Oo-oo-fick came in great numbers and sang and were very happy and began building nests. This boy loved the ground. He patted it and played with all the animals. And juh-wutt—the earth—put on a green cover—schoo-i-tuck, the Indians called it. Even to this day schoo-i-tuck means all-over blue like the sky or all-over green like the grass. If Sun came too close this boy called the Wind Man, and Wind Man brought his brother, Cloud Man, so it was not too hot. And all the people were happy. And this boy—the youngest of the four brothers—forgot that his time was up to have things as he wanted them.

And this time of the youngest of the four brothers is the time we of this day call “spring.”

Then this youngest boy met his brother—the one who always played with him. And it was this brother’s turn to have things the way he wanted them.

The youngest son showed this brother who always played with him all the things he had done.

They went to all the trees and looked at the birds’ houses. And because all the plants loved them, oo-oos—the trees and plants—gave them fruit.

Then the earth cover which had been schoo-i-tuck—which is all-over green—turned yellow. The two brothers became tired and went to sleep.

And the time of this second brother is the time which we of these days call “summer.”

And so the third brother’s turn to have the days as he wanted them came.

Now the third brother when he could not find his two younger brothers was angry. He sent Wind Man to find them. And when the two youngest boys were awake their angry brother drove them home—scolding, scolding all the way.

Huh-wuh-le Aw’-o-tahm—the Wind Man—heard this angry brother scolding. So Wind Man, too, scolded and screeched just as he does to this day when the time comes for this third brother to have things as he wants them.

Then this third brother took a stick and beat Wind Man because he was not working and Sun was too hot and there was no storm. So the wind went low and took up a lot of earth and tried to hide. And finally Wind Man dried up all the leaves and all the cover of the earth. The birds were frightened and hid and did not sing as they had for the youngest brother. And some of the people began complaining.

And the time of this third brother we of these days call “autumn.”

Then this third son went home and gave up his turn to the oldest of the four brothers.

Now this oldest of the four brothers was very hard and overbearing. He was always telling everybody what they must do. He went out and told Tahs that he was on the wrong road and ordered him to go another way. So Sun went on the path that is farthest from the earth.

Huh-wuh-le Aw’-o-tahm—the Wind Man—and his brother, Choo-vahk Aw’-o-tahm—the Cloud Man—were both working very hard. But because Sun walked so far away there was not enough heat. And the wind was cold and the clouds could not come down softly but were hard.

This oldest brother did not like the ground. He would not listen to it when it called to him. When he saw anything come out he stamped on it. That is why when this brother has things his way the ground is so hard and cold. Sometimes a tree or a plant tries to put out new leaves but always this boy kills them.

And the time of this oldest brother we call “winter.”

Then one day when this brother was racing over the earth hunting Wind Man, who was hiding from him, Great Spirit called him and sent him home. And Great Spirit went to the house of the father of the four brothers and called the youngest son to take his turn again.

Then Ee’-e-toy and the father of the four brothers talked things over.

And some of the people had complained about each son. But some of them had liked each one. So Ee’-e-toy said that from that time the four brothers should take turns and continue to do just as they had done at first.

And this, nah’-wawch—friend—is why we have the four seasons: spring, summer, autumn, and winter.

THE WHIRLWIND

(SEE-VUH-LICK)

In the very early times there was an Indian who had one daughter. And this girl was see-skoo-kahch—which is very beautiful. She was so beautiful that all men liked to look at her. The young men would come from all over the country to be near the house where the beautiful girl lived. And the men would play games and watch in order to see her.

This did not please the girl’s father. He did not want the men to be always looking at his daughter. So he made her stay in the house. If she went out he scolded her. And he was cross with the young men.

Now in those days Huh-wuh-le Aw’-o-tahm—the Wind Man—who has charge of the wind, was often in this village where the beautiful girl and her father live. And one day the boys and men surrounded Wind Man and teased him to catch the girl when she came out to get water and take her up in the air so that they might all see her.

Huh-wuh-le Aw’-o-tahm said that he could not do what the men asked because the girl’s father would be so very angry. But the men teased and coaxed a long time. And they promised to stand close around Wind Man and not let the girl’s father hurt him. So at last Huh-wuh-le Aw’-o-tahm consented.

Then they all watched.

The beautiful girl came out of the house to go to the well for water and Wind Man caught her. And Huh-wuh-le Aw’-o-tahm made a wind that was very strong and went round and round. This wind took the girl high up in the air. Her long hair was loosened. It wrapped around her. It caught the dust and leaves. And the dust and leaves were carried into the air with the girl.

And that, nah’-wawch, was See-vuh-lick—the whirlwind. It was the very first whirlwind there ever was on the desert.

The girl’s father came running out. And Wind Man let the girl down. The Indian men forgot their promise to protect Huh-wuh-le Aw’-o-tahm and ran away. And the father was so angry that he took a club and almost killed poor Wind Man. He beat Huh-wuh-le Aw’-o-tahm and pounded him and left him on the ground almost dead.

Wind Man’s brother, Choo-vahk Aw’-o-tahm—the Cloud Man—saw the whirlwind and was surprised. And Cloud Man went out to look for his brother, Huh-wuh-le Aw’-o-tahm.

Cloud Man found his brother, Wind Man, lying on the ground almost dead. And Choo-vahk Aw’-o-tahm—the Cloud Man—was very angry. He said that he and his brother would leave the place and never come back. So he helped his brother and they went away.

Now when Huh-wuh-le—the wind, and Choo-vahk—the clouds—had been gone some time, the ground became very dry and hard because, of course, there was no rain.

The people tried to plant their fields. But the fields dried up. The corn and wheat and pumpkins would not grow. The water holes were all dry. The rabbits and coyotes ate up all the plants and trees around the village. The birds went away. The cattle all died for want of water and food.

At last the men of the kee-him—which is village—went to the father of the beautiful girl and told him that he must find Wind Man and ask him to come back or they would all die.

At first the father said no. But the men begged hard. They explained that they had meant no harm. They had only wanted to see his beautiful daughter. If the girl had only come out with the other women they would not have asked Wind Man to take her up.

The girl’s father considered the matter four days. Then he consented to find Huh-wuh-le Aw’-o-tahm if he could.

All the men in the village joined the hunt for Wind Man.

At last they found him. He was living in a cave with his brother, Cloud Man, high up on the side of Bahvo-kee-vu-lick which, as you know, is the great mountain peak which looks over all the country of the Desert People.

And the Indians asked Wind Man to come back and bring his brother, Cloud Man, so that Chook—the rain—would not stay away.

But Huh-wuh-le Aw’-o-tahm refused. He had been treated very badly.

Then the chief of the village went to Wind Man and begged him to come back.

Wind Man still refused.

So at last the people sent the beautiful girl to ask Wind Man to come back.

And Huh-wuh-le Aw’-o-tahm told the girl he would return if she would promise to leave her house and go to a certain well so that the people might see her.

The girl promised.

Wind Man said he would come in four days.

The girl returned to the kee-him and told the good news. The people were happy.

Everybody watched Bahvo-kee-vu-lick.

When the Indians saw small clouds gathering about the mountain peak they began to prepare their fields and plant their crops. There was a big storm in the mountains. In four days Wind Man came and brought his brother, Cloud Man. Then Chook—the rain—came. And there was rain for two days. And all the people were very happy.

Now Wind Man did not go away after the rain. He stayed and watched at that well where the beautiful girl had promised to go so that the people might see her.

But the girl’s father was angry with her for promising Wind Man that she would go out so the people could see her. And the father told his daughter she must wait until every one was asleep before she went to the well for water.

When Huh-wuh-le Aw’-o-tahm found this out he was angry again. He said he would not break his promise to the beautiful girl but he would not live in that village any more. He said he would only come when it was very hot and the people had to have enough water to keep alive.

And this is why when you see See-vuh-lick—the whirlwind—on the desert, you know that summer has come. And this is why the hot wind must always come before the clouds and the rain.

Some of the very old Indians will tell you where the well is. And they say if you watch on a moonlight night you will see the beautiful girl. But the beautiful girl is now an old, old woman. She keeps coming to the well because she must. Always she must keep on coming to the well.

A CRUEL OLD WOMAN

(HAW-AW AUX)

One time, long ago, Tahs—the sun—came so close to the earth it was very hot. He came so near that the corn and wheat and all the plants dried up. There was no water left. The Desert People could make nothing grow. Even the food they had stored up was too dry and had no taste.

So the Indians held a council to decide what they should do. And they chose Tawk-e-toot—the spider—as their messenger to do something with the sun.

Now, every morning when Sun starts from his home in the east on his journey across the world, he makes four jumps. So Spider made the same four jumps. And at the end of the fourth jump Tawk-e-toot spun a large web. When Sun jumped off into this place the web caught him. And Spider, who was waiting, drew his web tight and caught Tahs by his legs and threw him down so that he hurt himself.

This made Sun very angry. He could not understand why any one should treat him this way. No one had ever hurt him before. The people had always loved him and sung to him.

So Sun went away to his house and left the earth all dull and cloudy.

After a while it grew very dark.

The people waited a long time. Then they had no food. And they could not see to plant.

So at last the Indians sent some of the Little People, who can see in the dark, to call a meeting to decide what to do. They decided to divide the time into four parts: two parts with big fires to give light so they could work in their fields, and two parts without fires for rest and sleep.

The people tried this plan and worked very hard. But the fires did not give light enough to make the seeds grow.

So the Indians called another meeting. And this time they sent a moth as their messenger to find Tahs and tell him how sorry they were. And how hungry they were because they could grow no food.

Moth went to the house of Sun which, as you know, is in the east on the other side of the world. And Moth told Tahs how sorry the Desert People were and asked him to come back because the Indians could grow no food no matter how hard they worked. There was not light enough in their fires.

Sun was well by this time and did not feel so angry. So he said that he would return.

Then Moth told Sun that the people would like to have him walk farther away so it would not be so hot and dry everything up.

Tahs agreed to do this. And Sun said that on his first jump in the morning he would have his niece go before him and kick a ball of red dust which would keep it from being so hot. And Sun said that on his fourth jump when he came down at the end of his day’s journey, he would have his nephew go before him and kick a red ball of dust so it would be cooler.

And this, nah’-wawch—friend—is why we have red clouds at sunrise and sunset.

Everything went well now. The Desert People planted their fields; Chook—the rain—came. The harvests were good.

Then, in a village near the Coyote Mountains, there was a woman who braided grass mats on which the Indians sleep. This woman was called Mah-mine-tah-tahm Oofe—which is to say: Woman-Who-Makes-Sleeping-Mats. She was a very swift worker. She could make four large mats in a day.

And one day while Woman-Who-Makes-Sleeping-Mats was working, the nephew of Tahs kicked the red ball so that it rolled onto the mat which the woman was braiding.

The woman quickly took the ball and hid it in her dress. And when Nephew-of-the-Sun came and asked her for the red ball the woman said she had not seen it.

Nephew-of-the-Sun said this seemed very strange because he had seen the red ball on her mat. And there on the mat was some of the red dust from the ball.

But the woman still denied having seen the ball.

So, after a time, Nephew-of-the-Sun grew angry and said, “All right, keep the red ball—but something terrible will happen to you, because the red ball belongs to Tahs.” Then Nephew-of-the-Sun went away.

The woman was frightened. She tried to call Nephew-of-the-Sun back. But she could not find the red ball.

On the eighth day after this, about noon, when all the animals were sleeping, Woman-Who-Makes-Sleeping-Mats too became very sleepy.

The woman thought this strange because she always worked all day without resting. She tried to get Choo-kuk-suh-vaht—the cricket—to keep her awake by singing to her. But Cricket could not keep her awake. She had to sleep.

And at sunset, when Woman-Who-Makes-Sleeping-Mats awoke, she found a tiny baby girl crawling on the mat which she had been braiding and from which she had taken the red ball which belonged to the sun.

Every four days this girl-baby grew very fast. In a short time she was as large as any of the children of the village.

She had very long finger nails. When she played with the other children she scratched them. She would make them bleed by tearing their skin. And this happened many times.

At last the mothers of the village children grew very angry. They took big sticks and whipped this strange child until she lay senseless.

And that night when Woman-Who-Makes-Sleeping-Mats went to look for the child she could not find her, although she was told exactly where the child lay.

Next day this strange girl-child was a large woman and she went away from the village to the mountains.

In the mountains she moved some great rocks and so made for herself a house. Here she lived. And she killed lions and deer and rabbits and other animals for food. For clothing she used the skins of animals. The bones and claws and teeth of the animals she killed she used for ornaments.

And this great giantess came to be called Haw-aw Aux—which is to say: bad, cruel old woman.

And Haw-aw Aux was very powerful in evil—a cruel, bad spirit—and all the Indians feared her.

LITTLE-WHITE-FEATHER

(AH-LEE-CHOOM STOAH AH-AHN)

In the old times, when it was summer and the water holes in the desert were all dried up, the Indians always went from their villages in the valleys to the foothills. In the foothills, near the big mountains, the Desert People could always find water for their horses and cattle and for themselves. In the foothills, too, Taw-haw-no Aw’-o-tahm would gather and cook the fruit of the cactus, making what we of these days call preserves, and see-toe-ly—which is syrup.

For many years, when the people of a certain village went to the Baboquivari foothills they were met by the wicked giantess—Haw-aw Aux—who lived in these mountains. And Haw-aw Aux, who was a powerful spirit of evil, made these Indians do just as she wished. Sometimes she took their very best cows for herself. Sometimes she would catch a young child and take it away with her. And although the mothers mourned and pleaded the child was never allowed to return.

And this wicked giantess had such a lot of hair that when she shook her head it was like a cloud. And the children were afraid of Haw-aw Aux. So it became the custom for one of the Indian women to stay with the children and watch them and try to keep them safe. But this was not easy to do when horses and cattle must be watered and wood gathered for the fires to keep the cactus syrup—see-toe-ly—cooking in the ollas. The older women were all very, very busy.

Among the Indians from this kee-him, or village, there was a young girl who sometimes helped with the fires and sometimes played with the children. This girl’s name was Tawn-naw-lee Eekui, which mean “Shining Falls.” Because she was always so happy this was her name. And Tawn-naw-lee Eekui said she was not afraid of Cruel-Old-Woman—the wicked giantess—and would take good care of the children. So Shining Falls was placed in charge of the children and told to keep them near the camp.

One day when Tawn-naw-lee Eekui and the children went up among some big rocks to play, Shining Falls slipped and fell. And Shining Falls was hurt so that she could not walk.

The children were frightened. Then they saw the cloud which was made by the black hair of Haw-aw Aux, and they began to scream.

Just then, Shining Falls saw Kom-e-ki-choot—a turtle. He was Kooh Koor-lee Kom-e-ki-choot—which is a large, old turtle. So Shining Falls called to Turtle and he came to her. And Shining Falls asked Turtle to take the children back to the camp. But Turtle must first send some one else with a message because Large-Old-Turtle would have to go so slowly with ah-lee-choo-choom ah-ah-lee—the little children.

Turtle called the children and started with them down an easy way toward the Indians’ camp.

Then Turtle saw Choo-mah-mike—a horned toad—and called, “Oh, Choo-mah-mike, go quickly and tell the women that little Shining Falls is hurt and I, Kom-e-ki-choot, am bringing the children home. And tell them they must come and help Shining Falls because she cannot walk.”

Horned Toad ran very quickly to the camp and told the news.

Some of the women went to meet Turtle and the children. Others went to help Shining Falls.

They found the girl just as the cruel giantess was lifting her up.

And Haw-aw Aux said to the women: “There is no place for the sick in your camp.” And she offered to take Shining Falls to a certain shelter made of sahuaro sticks.

So the women consented.

And the women brought a bed and some food and sat with Shining Falls some time.

Then the wicked giantess said it was very foolish for the Indian women to waste time there, because she was a Medicine Woman and would care for the girl, who was hurt and sick, and would make her well. She said she would make the songs that would cure Shining Falls.

And she went away and returned with a bag of feathers. Some of the feathers were gray, some were white, and some were red. And Haw-aw Aux put the gray feathers around the hurt foot. Then she slowly waved the red and white feathers over the girl’s face.

Slowly little Shining Falls’ eyes were closed.

When the Indian women saw this they decided to return to their work.

And the next day, when the women went to see Shining Falls, the girl was still sleeping.

And the next day when the women went to see her she was still sleeping. The women tried but could not awaken her. Then the women were frightened. But when they questioned Haw-aw Aux, Cruel-Old-Woman just laughed and hid in the black cloud of her hair.

But there was one thing which the evil giantess, Haw-aw Aux, did not know. The Indian women did not know it either. The thing they did not know was this: While Cruel-Old-Woman was singing and waving the red and white feathers over the girl’s face, she had dropped a white feather. It was ah-lee-choom stoah ah-ahn—which is little white feather. And Shining Falls had put her hand over it. As the girl lay sleeping she held the small white feather tight in her hand.

Little-White-Feather was crushed by Shining Falls’ sleeping hand.

So after a time Little-White-Feather became very tired from the weight of the girl’s hand, and cried out for help.

Several days later a number of white-winged doves—or, as some call them, “Sonora Pigeons”—were flying from the mountains back to the valley. And Aw-aw-kaw-koy—the white-winged doves—heard Little-White-Feather’s cry for help.

The cry for help was really a song, like this:

A white-winged dove said: “I believe that is one of my feathers.”

Now the law of the desert is you must always answer a call for help. So Aw-aw-kaw-koy—the doves—all circled down to see what the trouble was.

They found the bad old giantess, Haw-aw Aux, guarding the sick girl who was holding Little-White-Feather so tight in her hand. And the doves knew they could do nothing then. So they went up into a cave in the mountains to hold a council.

Now none of the White Feathered ones—the Aw-aw-kaw-koy—could think of a way to rescue their brother White Feather, who had called for help. But one of the doves said it was his feather who was in trouble and that something must be done.

Kom-e-ki-choot—the turtle—overheard this talk. And Turtle said the way to help Little-White-Feather was very simple. Cruel-Old-Woman watched the sleeping Shining Falls all day. But Haw-aw Aux, herself, slept at night. So the doves must find some of the white feathered people who were awake at night.

Then Turtle suggested that Choo-kutt—the owl—was sleeping in the cave and they had better ask him.

It was hard for the doves to wake Choo-kutt. But they pulled his feathers and pinched his toes until finally Owl blinked his eyes and yawned: “Whoo, whoo, whoo!”

Then the doves explained to Owl that one of the Sto-tah Ah-ahn—the White Feathers—was in trouble and that some one who could see at night must help.

Choo-kutt listened to the story.

Then Choo-kutt said he would try to steal the girl who held Little-White-Feather in her hand away from the wicked giantess.

You see, Owl, too, had many white feathers. But if Haw-aw Aux had used any of the Black Feather tribe, or the Blue Feather tribe, when she put Shining Falls to sleep, Owl would not be able to awaken her.

The doves took Owl to the place and showed him the sleeping girl.

And Cruel-Old-Woman was on guard.

But when the night was dark enough Haw-aw Aux went to sleep.

Then Owl flew softly to and fro over the face of Shining Falls, who held Little-White-Feather crushed in her sleeping hand. Very gently Choo-kutt fanned the unconscious girl with his wings. And Shining Falls opened her eyes and saw her friend Choo-kutt—the owl.

And this, nah-wawch’, is why, even to this day, when a sleeping person cannot wake up, the old Indians who know about these things, fan the sleeping one with a fan of owl feathers.

And Choo-kutt told Shining Falls to come very, very softly, and follow him. But Owl saw by the way the girl moved that she was not fully awake.

Haw-aw Aux, as you know, had used white and red feathers to put Shining Falls to sleep so Owl, who had no red feathers, could not fully awaken the girl. Shining Falls was not all asleep as she had been; neither was she all awake. So Choo-kutt decided to take Shining Falls to his cave or to her mother until they could find the other feathers.

Slowly the girl followed Owl until they reached some rough rocks near a deep water hole. Then she stepped on a rock which moved and there was a noise.

Choo-kutt cried out a warning.

But it was too late. The wicked giantess was awake. She heard. Her hair spread out like a black cloud. Poor Owl’s feet were all tangled in it. And Shining Falls fell into the water.

Now Shining Falls, who was neither all asleep nor all awake, lay in a place where the water was very deep. And she was not able to move much. But she still held Little-White-Feather in her hand.

Haw-aw Aux came to look for the girl. But Owl was free now. And Choo-kutt spread his wings and made the water dark so Cruel-Old-Woman could not see Shining Falls.

Then the wicked giantess went away.

Next day Aw-aw-kaw-koy—the white-winged doves—went to the Indian camp and called and called.

At last the mother of Shining Falls understood. And the mother of Taw-naw-lee Eekui followed the doves to the big water hole which is always full of water.

Owl was asleep now because it was day.

The mother of Shining Falls looked everywhere but could not see her child. She could not understand why the doves had brought her there.

Then the Indian woman heard the voice of her daughter. And the voice of Shining Falls was happy just as when she used to sing to the children. The mother looked carefully. And as the light came and went on the water she could see little Shining Falls smiling there. Sometimes the mother could see quite plainly. Then very faintly. But always her little girl, Shining Falls, laughed and whispered.

The Indians returned to their village in the desert valley for the winter.

But the next summer when the people brought their horses and cattle to the foothills the women visited again that deep water hole.

And even before they reached the water hole they could hear the voice of Shining Falls, very happy, singing to herself and laughing.

Even to this day you can hear her there.

And the voice of Shining Falls is so sweet and so soft that if you listen to it long you go to sleep. Sometimes even Aw-aw-kaw-koy—the white-winged doves—go to sleep.

The white-winged doves are always there at that water hole. You see, they have to be because Shining Falls still holds Little-White-Feather fast in her hand.

A FRIENDLY GIFT

(NAH’-WAWCH)

After a time, when she had killed all the animals in that part of the Baboquivari Mountains where she lived, the wicked giantess, Haw-aw Aux, was forced to look for some other kind of food. So she took a large burden basket and at night went down to the village and stood quite still in the midst of the houses. When she heard a baby cry she would go to that house and say very sweetly that she was an old grandmother and would like to take the little one and care for it so it would not cry. And Cruel-Old-Woman said this so nicely that the people believed her at first and gave up their babies.

Haw-aw Aux put the babies in her burden basket and carried them up the mountain to her home and emptied them into a cheuh-pah—which is a hole in the rock made to grind things in. Then she pounded the babies up as the Indians grind corn and ate them.

The wicked giantess continued doing this until all the small babies in the village were eaten. Then she began asking for the larger children. She always asked so sweetly for her dear grandchildren that it was hard for the Indians not to believe in her goodness. But when no child ever returned they felt that Haw-aw Aux must be killing them.

So when Cruel-Old-Woman came for the larger children the parents told the children to go. And the parents told the children what to do.

And ah-ah-lee—the children—did as they were told.

When Cruel-Old-Woman was carrying them away in her burden basket the children said: “Oh, Grandmother, please give us some rocks to play with. Please, Grandmother, give us some rocks.” And Haw-aw Aux gave them the rocks. Then the children said: “Please, Grandmother, go under the trees. We like to play with the leaves.” And when the wicked giantess, with her basket full of children, went under a tree a child caught a branch and climbed out. Then the other children in the basket asked for more stones to play with. And because of the rocks Cruel-Old-Woman did not notice; her burden basket did not grow lighter. In that way, one by one, the children escaped. So this time, when the wicked giantess arrived home she had nothing but rocks in her basket.

Haw-aw Aux was very angry. She went back to the village and complained.

The people were afraid and hid their children.

Then the Indians held a council to decide what they should do. And they decided to ask Ee’-e-toy who, as you know, is Spirit of Goodness, to help them against this wicked giantess who was such a powerful spirit of evil.

A messenger was chosen.

And Hah-e-choo ah-kahm—which is messenger—went far up into the mountain peak, Bahvo-kee-vu-lick, and found Ee’-e-toy resting in his home.

And Great Spirit listened to Messenger’s story.

Then Ee’-e-toy told Messenger to return and tell the people that he would help them. Ee’-e-toy said the people must prepare for a big dance, and that in four days he would come. And they must send some one to invite the wicked giantess, Haw-aw Aux.

Messenger returned to the village and told the Indians to get ready for a big dance and to send an invitation to Cruel-Old-Woman.

A very brave boy went up to the home of Haw-aw Aux and told her she was invited to come to the village for a big feast. Boy told her the Indians would dance and have a great deal to eat, and that Ee’-e-toy would be there.

Cruel-Old-Woman listened. Then she said, “Boy, you wait right here and I will get ready.”

Then the wicked giantess took her buckskin dress all covered with a fringe of lion’s teeth and the claws of wild animals. And as she began to comb her hair she sang. The rocks shook at the sound of her voice and her hair stood straight out and was so thick it made everything dark like a thunder-cloud.

Boy was too frightened to wait and ran down the mountain to his home.

When Boy reached his home the people had everything ready for the dance.

Ee’-e-toy was there singing. And Great Spirit sang that his people must gather wood and prepare to burn the wicked giantess, Haw-aw Aux. He sang that only fire could free them from Cruel-Old-Woman who was an evil spirit, and that he was going to help them.

Even to this day, every four years, the Desert People hold this feast. Every four years for four nights they sing and dance in commemoration of this feast when Big Brother—Spirit of Goodness—delivered them from the power of the wicked giantess, Haw-aw Aux—a spirit of evil.

So Ee’-e-toy was singing and making every one happy. All the people danced. And when Cruel-Old-Woman arrived from the mountain she danced too. When the people were tired they would stop dancing and would eat and sleep. But Ee’-e-toy and the wicked giantess never stopped.

And on the fourth day, as they danced, Haw-aw Aux fell over so sound asleep that she seemed dead.

Then Ee’-e-toy, who was watching, made himself very large. He threw the wicked giantess over his shoulder and started up the mountain to her home—calling to his people who were awake to bring the wood which they had ready.

The Indians took the wood which they had gathered and followed Big Brother.

When they reached the cave where Haw-aw Aux lived they piled the wood inside and Ee’-e-toy put the wicked giantess on top of the wood. Then they closed all the openings of the cave but one, and lighted a fire and went out and closed the last opening with a big rock and left Cruel-Old-Woman to burn.

And Ee’-e-toy told the people to be very careful and hold on to something because the evil spirit of Haw-aw Aux was so big and strong that when she jumped she would shake the mountain.

The heat soon awakened Cruel-Old-Woman and she bounded up with such strength that the whole world shook. Big rocks were loosened. But the people held to the trees. And Haw-aw Aux jumped so that she cracked the mountain and made a hole in it. She would have crawled out only Ee’-e-toy expected this and put his foot over the hole.

And you can see Great Spirit’s footprint there to-day. The place is in the Baboquivari Mountains near the Indian village called, in these days, “Poso Verde,” which means Green Well. And you can see the place where Ee’-e-toy and Haw-aw Aux danced.

The fire burned until the wood was gone.

Then Ee’-e-toy told the people it would rain for forty days and this would cool the cave so they could get into it. And Big Brother said that because Cruel-Old-Woman had eaten their children the Indians could eat her.

After the forty days the rain stopped. The people came back to the cave and cleaned out all the ashes and cut up the roasted body of Haw-aw Aux and gave the pieces to each other. Everybody had some. And everybody was pushing and talking and crowding.

Now in this kee-him—or village—there was an old woman who had lived so long that she was very feeble. And she was very wise. She was schoo-ah-mee-choo-tahm Aux oofe—which is to say, a very wise old woman. And when the people were eating the body of Haw-aw Aux this wise old woman was there with her two grandsons—Ah-lee-choom Mah-veet, which is “Little Lion,” and Ah-lee-choom Choo-too-me, which is “Little Bear.” But everybody passed Wise-Old-Woman by. No one gave her any of the meat although she held out her hands and asked for it.

When every one else was satisfied and had gone away, Wise-Old-Woman looked for some of the meat. There was nothing left but blood. She scraped up the blood and rolled it in the dirt and made two balls. And she called her two grandsons, Little Lion and Little Bear, to look at the balls which she had made of blood and earth.

And Wise-Old-Woman placed the balls on a big stone where her grandsons could find them and told her grandsons that in four days they must return and look at the balls again.

Then Wise-Old-Woman and her two grandsons went slowly back to their home which was far from all the other houses of the kee-him. The Indians of this village did not care very much for Wise-Old-Woman and her two grandsons.

In four days the boys, Little Lion and Little Bear, returned to the cave as their grandmother had said they should do. But in place of the balls of blood and dirt the boys found two large beautiful eggs.

The boys hurried home and told their grandmother about it. And Wise-Old-Woman said: “Yes, and in four days more you will find something better than the eggs.”

Four days later the two boys went again to the cave. And where the eggs had been they found two very queer looking birds.

When they went home and told their grandmother about the queer birds she said: “Wait four days more. Then go again and you will find something very fine.”

When Little Lion and Little Bear arrived at the cave four days later they found that the birds had grown very beautiful. But the boys left the birds there to grow four days more.

When they came the fourth time the smallest boy wanted the largest bird because of its beautiful tail. So he took the bird and placed it on his shoulder and the bird’s tail swept the ground. The other boy took the smaller bird. And they returned to their home which, as you know, was not very close to the other houses in the kee-him because the people of the village did not care very much for Wise-Old-Woman and her two grandsons.

Now it was the custom of the Indians in this village for all the men and boys to go on hunting trips. So after a time word came to Little Lion and Little Bear to get ready.

And when they prepared their bows and arrows the boys used feathers from their two birds. The feathers were see-skoo-kahch ah-ahn—which is very beautiful feathers. And the boys—Ah-lee-choom Mah-veet and Ah-lee-choom Choo-too-me—put some of the beautiful feathers on their heads and decorated themselves.

And Wise-Old-Woman told her grandsons over and over that they must not part with a single one of their beautiful feathers. She said that when she had asked for meat no one had given them any. So they must not give up a single feather no matter what might be offered for them.

The day of the hunt arrived and every one admired the very beautiful feathers very much. The other Indians offered many things to the boys for some of the feathers. But the boys refused to sell or trade one single feather just as their grandmother had told them.

Then many of the people were very envious.

And the next night the people of the village held a meeting. The envious ones decided to kill Wise-Old-Woman and her grandsons. They said Schoo-ah-mee-choo-tahm Aux Oofe and the two boys were alone in the world and were really of no importance. So these envious people thought they could get the beautiful feathers which they wanted so very much.

Now those who are both wise and kind often know the thoughts of others, and what others are doing, even at a great distance. And Schoo-ah-mee-choo-tahm Aux Oofe was one of these people who can hear everything and who know the things which are done even a great way off.

So Wise-Old-Woman heard the Indians at this council talking about what they would do to get the beautiful feathers. And she told her two grandsons to arise very early the next morning, long before the sun, and take the two beautiful birds and go the way the sun goes as far as they could. She said that after a while the boys would come to a very high mountain with many high steep bluffs and if the people overtook them they must throw the birds off these high mountain bluffs. They must not let the birds be caught.

The next day the envious people surrounded the house and killed Wise-Old-Woman as they had planned.

But the two boys, Little Lion and Little Bear, and the two beautiful birds were gone.

The envious people who wanted the beautiful feathers found the boys’ tracks and started after them.

And it was at this very time, while they were following Wise-Old-Woman’s two grandsons, that the Indians learned to track things. The Papagos of the years that are gone could follow the trail of anything anywhere. They could follow the tracks of the smallest animal over the hardest ground. But the Indians of these days are not so skillful. Much of the wisdom, much of the skill, and much of the art that Taw-haw-no Aw’-o-tahm—the Desert People—once had they do not have now.

So Little Lion and Little Bear, with their two beautiful birds, traveled west, just as their grandmother had told them. And the envious people of the village followed on their tracks.

And late one afternoon the boys came to the high mountains. The smaller boy, who was carrying the larger bird, was very tired. For a while he stumbled on. The way was rough. At last he called to his brother and threw the bird to him. Then he lay down. And the people caught up to him and killed him.

The other boy had to go very slowly now because he was carrying the two birds. The mountains were steep. It was growing late. He was very tired. The crowd of people was coming nearer and nearer. The people were almost near enough to kill him when he saw the high bluffs of which his grandmother had told him. With all his remaining strength the boy threw the birds over the bluffs. And the people killed him.

But the beautiful birds were free. They spread their wings and rose in the air, and the sun, which was just setting, shone on their bright feathers and all the sky was full of their colors—gold and blue and green.

The colors of the two birds were so strong that even to this day, as every one knows, the sunsets are often that way.

Now the people had left the body of Wise-Old-Woman in her house. And after her two grandsons were killed, Wise-Old-Woman came back to her body and sang a song: “Come to me, my Little Lion and my Bear.”

After she had sung awhile the boys came to her.

Wise-Old-Woman explained to her grandsons that she could not stay with them. And she said they must take her body and bury it in the sand of an arroyo near by and watch the grave. She told them that a plant would grow from her grave and that they must water and care for the plant because the leaves would be very good. And she told them other things they must do.

The two Indian boys, Ah-lee-choom Mah-veet and Ah-lee-choom Choo-too-me, did as their grandmother said.

And four days after the boys had buried their grandmother’s body a plant appeared over her grave. And this plant had large leaves. The boys picked these leaves and dried them as their grandmother, Wise-Old-Woman, had directed. Then they rolled the dried leaves and lighted them and had a very pleasant smoke which they liked very much.

And this was veef, which we of these days call tobacco.

Now, as you know, the people of the village had left Little Lion and Little Bear dead in the mountains, far away. And when the two boys were seen living in their house and working in their fields the people were puzzled. So the Indians called a council on a certain night.

And Little Lion and Little Bear were not told to come to the council. But they went. And they carried veef—the tobacco—rolled in their pockets as their grandmother had told them to do because it would bring them peace.

It was dark when the Indian men of the village gathered at the place. And the men felt strange to see the two boys whom they had killed, at the meeting.

Pahn—the coyote—who had come to the council, began to sniff. He said that he smelled something very, very good. And Coyote kept moving around until he found this good smell which was by Little Bear.

Little Bear lighted his roll of tobacco at the fire and offered it to the Indian who was sitting next to him.

The man refused.

Then Coyote crept up very close to Little Bear and spoke in the old language which Wise-Old-Woman, the boys’ grandmother, had used and which all of Ee’-e-toy’s people, even the smallest thing that lives, can understand. (That is, the Desert People, in the old days, could understand this language. Very few of the Indians can understand it now.) And Coyote said to Little Bear: “Offer it to the man again, but as you offer it say, ‘nah’-wawch.’ ”

So the boy again offered the tobacco to the Indian man who was sitting next to him, saying as he did so, “Nah’-wawch.”

And the man took the lighted tobacco roll from Ah-lee-choom Choo-too-me and answered, “Nah’-wawch.”

Then Coyote explained that when one offers a gift he must declare himself a friend and the friendly nature of the gift, or the gift will not be accepted. So nah’-wawch means, even to this day, a good friend, or a friendly gift.

The Indian who received the roll of tobacco from Little Bear smoked it and said it was good.

Then he passed it to the man next to him, saying as he did so, “Nah’-wawch.”

And so it went around to every one at the council. And the people decided that as the boys, Little Lion and Little Bear, had this very good plant—veef, which is tobacco—they would let them live in peace and raise it.

And this, nah’-wawch—which is to say, friend—was the beginning of the ceremony of the Peace Smoke, or as it is called by some Indian tribes, the Peace Pipe.

Taw-haw-no Aw’-o-tahm—the Desert People—do not smoke tobacco in pipes.

THE GIANT CACTUS

(HAH-SHAHN)

In a certain village there lived an Indian girl who did not wish to marry.

This girl would never listen to the women when they tried to teach her things. All she wanted was to play taw-kah all day long. Taw-kah is a game very much like shinny or hockey. It is played by the Indian women. And this girl was a very swift runner and such a good player that the people who bet on her would always win.

Finally the girl’s father and mother grew tired of her playing taw-kah all the time. So they married their daughter to a good man. And they made her a fine new house where she and her husband went to live.

But very soon the new house was dirty. There were never any beans ready for the husband when he came from the fields. Again the young woman was spending all her time playing taw-kah.

At last the young woman’s husband grew tired of the dirty house and of having to work all day and then prepare his own supper. So he went away and left her.

After a while the woman had a son.

The older women of the village thought that surely now this young mother would stop running about playing her favorite game. But the young mother filled a big gourd with milk and put it beside her baby. Then she fixed her hair with a bright feather and put beads around her neck and went out to play taw-kah just as she had always done.

But the women of the village did not like to play taw-kah with any one who always won. And they did not like to think of this young woman’s baby alone, crying. So the women of the kee-him would not play with this young mother. And she went over the mountain to another village where the people did not know her. She played taw-kah with the women of this kee-him and always won. And after a time she left this kee-him and went to a more distant village where she continued to win.

Now when this woman’s child was left alone he began to grow. He looked around the room and saw all the beads and feathers and baskets and ollas which his mother had won playing taw-kah. He saw the gourd full of milk. He drank the milk and grew larger and larger.

Then he arose and put a feather in his hair and took all the bright things which his mother had won and went outside the house.

When the women of the kee-him saw the boy they said: “Here is the boy without a mother.”

But the boy said: “No, I have a mother but she is playing taw-kah somewhere. Can you tell me where?”

The women could only tell the boy that his mother had gone away over the mountains.

So the boy started after his mother. He carried all the things which his mother had won from the other women. And as he traveled he gave these things to the people who gave him food. But the way was very long.

After a time the boy came to some cultivated fields which belonged to a man who had a great deal of wheat and was busy clearing out the weeds. And the boy asked his question again: Where could he find his mother?

And the man answered that he knew the boy’s mother well. He said she was always playing taw-kah and always winning; that she always wore a bright feather in her hair; and that she was in a kee-him on the other side of a black mountain.

So the boy started up the black mountain.

The trail was long. Sometimes Hoo-e-chut—a lizard—would stop long enough to laugh at him. Sometimes Oo-oo-fick—the birds—would fly very near and tell him not to be troubled.

Finally the boy reached the top of the black mountain and saw the village which lay below. There were some women playing taw-kah. And as the boy watched he saw a young woman who always won. And in this one’s hair there was a bright feather.

The boy went on down the mountain to the village. But he did not go into the kee-him. He stopped in an arroyo near where there were children playing. And the boy asked one of the children to go to the woman who was playing taw-kah—the woman who had a bright feather in her hair and who always won—and tell her that her son had come and wanted to see his mother.

The child carried the boy’s message.

But the woman answered: “I will come as soon as I win this game.”

The boy waited some time. Then he sent another child with a message to his mother.

But the boy’s mother had not yet won that game of taw-kah so she sent the same message back that she would surely come when she had won.

Again the boy waited. And the boy was hungry. So he sent the third child to his mother begging her to please come soon because he wanted to see her.

But this game of taw-kah was very long and the boy’s mother had to run very swiftly. So she answered the messenger, “Yes, yes, tell him I will come when I win this game.”

When the third messenger returned the boy was angry. And he asked the children to help him find the hole of Hee-ah-e—a tarantula.

When they had found a tarantula’s hole the boy asked the children to help him sing.

So ah-ah-lee—the children—formed a ring around the boy and began to dance and sing. And as the boy and the children danced and sang the boy sank into the tarantula’s hole. With the first song he sank as far as his knees. He asked the children to sing louder and to dance harder. And as they circled around him singing and dancing he kept on sinking into the ground.

When only the boy’s shoulders were above ground one of the children ran to his mother, who was still playing taw-kah, and told her she must come quickly because the strange boy was almost buried in the tarantula’s hole.

The mother dropped her taw-kah stick and ran as fast as she could. But the sun was in the mother’s eyes and she could not see to go very swiftly. And when she reached the arroyo there was nothing to be seen but a bright feather sticking out of a tarantula hole. And the sand was closing around the feather.

Then the woman began to cry.

And Pahn—the coyote—who was passing, came to see what all the noise was about.

The mother told Pahn that her son had just been buried in the tarantula’s hole. And she asked Coyote to help her dig her son out of the ground.

Coyote told the woman he thought he could get her son out. And he began to dig. And Pahn found that the boy was not very deep in the ground.

Now, Coyote was hungry with all his work, and he didn’t see why he should take this boy to a mother who had never done anything for her son. So he ate the boy. When the bones were well cleaned Coyote took them out of the hole and gave them to the woman with the bright feather. And Pahn said to the woman: “Some one must have eaten your son. This is all I could find.”

The woman with the bright feather looked at the bones. But the bones of her son were not very bright and so she had no use for them. She told Pahn to bury them again, which Coyote did.

Four days later something green came out of the ground on the spot where the boy’s bones were buried. In four more days this green thing was a baby sahuaro—ah-lee-choom hah-shahn. And this was the first sahuaro, or giant cactus, in all the world.

This giant cactus was a very strange thing. It was just a tall, thick, soft, green thing growing out of the ground.

All the Indians and all the animals came to look at it. Ah-ah-lee—the children—played around it and stuck sticks into it. This hurt Hah-shahn and he put out long sharp needles for protection so the children could not touch him. Then ah-ah-lee took their bows and arrows and shot at Hah-shahn. This made Giant Cactus very angry. He sank into the ground and went away where no one could find him and he could live in peace.

After Giant Cactus disappeared the people were sorry and began looking for him. They hunted over all the mountains near the village. They asked all the animals and birds to help them.

After a very long time Ha-vahn-e—the crow—wandered over Kee-ho Toahk, which means Burden Basket Mountain. And Crow told the people that he had seen a very large cactus where there was nothing but rocks and where no animals nor Indians ever hunted.

Kooh—the chief—called a council of all the animals and the people. And Kooh told the people to prepare four large round baskets. Then Chief gave Crow orders to fly back to the giant cactus. And Kooh told Ha-vahn-e what he should do when he arrived.

When Crow reached the giant cactus he found the top of Hah-shahn covered with fruit. The fruit was red and large and full of juice and sugar. Crow gathered the fruit as Chief had told him to do, and flew slowly back to the village.

The people were waiting.

And Crow put hah-shahn pah-hee-tahch—the cactus fruit—into ollas, which are large jars, and which were filled with water. Chief placed the ollas on the fire and from sunrise to sunset the fruit was kept boiling.

For four days this syrup—see-toe-ly—was cooked. Then Kooh—the chief—told all the people to prepare for a special feast—nah-vite ee—which is wine feast, or wine drinking. They were to have a wine which they had never had before.

Oo-oo-fick—the birds—were the quickest to get ready for the feast. They came dressed in red and black and yellow. Some of the smaller ones were all in blue. Then Kaw-koy’—the rattlesnake—came crawling in. And Kaw-koy’ was all painted in very brilliant colors.

The birds did not like it because Rattlesnake was painted so bright. They gossiped and scolded and were jealous. Rattlesnake heard Oo-oo-fick talking and rolled himself in some ashes. And that is why, even in these days, you will find the skin of Kaw-koy’ marked with gray. The gray markings are where the ashes were caked onto his new paint.

Choo-ah-tuck—the Gila monster—gathered bright pebbles and made himself a very beautiful coat. And Gila monster’s beautiful coat was very hard. You can see it to-day because he is still wearing it.

So all the people—Indians and animals and birds—gathered around and drank nah-vite—the wine. And nah-vite was very strong. It made some sing. Others it put to sleep. Others were sick.

Choo-hook Neu-putt—the night-hawk—who was dressed up in gray and yellow, did not wish to spoil his breast feathers so he brought a stick of cane to drink through.

All the Indian girls thought this very wonderful of Choo-hook Neu-putt and he received a great deal of attention. And Saw-aw—the grasshopper—who had borrowed Tawk-e-toot—the spider’s web—and with it had made himself beautiful new wings, was very jealous to see the attention given Night-hawk. Grasshopper felt he must do something to make the people notice him. So he pulled off one of his hind legs and stuck it on his head.

When Night-hawk saw Grasshopper with his new headdress he laughed and laughed and laughed until he could not stop laughing. He laughed so hard he split his mouth. And it is that way even to this very day. That is why the night-hawk never flies in the daytime. His mouth is so big and white and ugly that he has to fly at night so people will not see him. And that is why he darts past you so quickly in the evening.

Often in these days, too, you will see Saw-aw—the grasshopper—jumping around without a leg.

After a while, as they kept on drinking nah-vite, the birds all began to fight. They pulled each other’s feathers. And some had bloody heads—just as you see them to-day.

When Kooh—the chief—saw the fighting and the bloody feathers, he decided that there should be no more wine feasts or wine drinking like that. So when the wine was gone, Kooh very carefully gathered all the seeds of the giant cactus fruit and he called a messenger to take the seeds away off toward the rising sun.

The people watched Chief’s messenger take the seeds away off into a strange country and they did not like it. So they held a council. And Coyote said he would go after Chief’s messenger.

Coyote traveled very fast. He circled around the one who was carrying the seed and came back so that when he met the messenger it appeared that he was coming from the opposite direction. Pahn greeted Messenger and asked what it was that Messenger carried in his hands.

The one who had the sahuaro seed answered: “It is something Kooh wants me to carry away off.”

Coyote said: “Let me see.”

Messenger said: “No, that is impossible.”

But Coyote begged: “Just one little look.”

At last, after much coaxing, Pahn persuaded Messenger to open one finger of the hand which held the seed.

Then Coyote complained that he could not see enough and begged Messenger to open one more finger.

And so, little by little, Messenger’s hand was opened.

Then, suddenly, Coyote struck Messenger’s hand and the seeds of Hah-shahn—the giant cactus—flew into the air.

Huh-wuh-le—the wind—was coming from the north. And Huh-wuh-le caught up the seeds and carried them high over the mountain-tops and scattered them all over the south side of the mountains.

And this is why the sahuaro, or giant cactus, still grows in the Land of the Desert People. This is why Hah-shahn is always on the southern slopes of the mountains.

Ever since that time, once each year, the Indians have held nah-vite ee—the feast of the cactus wine.

EYE MOUNTAIN

(WEH TOAHK)

You remember that when Ee’-e-toy saved his people—Taw-haw-no Aw’-o-tahm, from Pee-ahp Aw’-o-tahm—the Bad People—by dividing the waters, some of the Bad People escaped.

Now these Bad People lived in the south. And they were very lazy. They were too lazy to plant their own fields so they came into the Land of the Desert People and tried to steal their crops.

And Taw-haw-no Aw’-o-tahm fought these Bad People and drove them away.

But after a time the beans and corn which the Bad People had stolen were all gone. And Pee-ahp Aw’-o-tahm were hungry again. They knew the Desert People were guarding their fields so they decided to try a new way to steal the crops.

Near the village, Koor-lee Paht Vaw-aw-kah, which means “Pond-of-old-man-who-is-dead,” and which we of this day call San Miguel, the corn in the fields was ready to harvest. And one morning Ha-vahn-e—a crow—who was sitting in a tree, saw the Bad People coming up out of the ground and begin cutting the grain.

Crow was so astonished he called, “Caw, caw, caw!” This made the people who were living on the edge of the field look up. When they saw their crop disappearing into the ground they cried out for help.

Oo-oo-fick—the birds—carried the call for help because the Desert People were always good to Tah’-ah-tahm, the Flying People, and never let them go hungry or thirsty. And very soon the Indians gathered and drove the Bad People back into the ground.

But the bean fields were trampled and the corn was badly damaged.

Then all the people near the village of Koor-lee Paht Vaw-aw-kah were told to come to a council so they could arrange for the protection of their fields. And everything that flies and all the animals came with the Indians to the council. And everybody promised to watch carefully so that the Bad People of the south should not again surprise them.

When Pee-ahp Aw’-o-tahm had eaten all the corn which they had stolen they were hungry again. So they began to think of the nice fields of the Desert People. They began to wish they could steal the harvest. But they did not know how to accomplish this because, as you know, the Indians and their friends, the Flying People and all the animals, were on guard.

Then a wise old bad man told Pee-ahp Aw’-o-tahm what to do.

Now when the Desert People held that council to arrange for the protection of their fields they were so excited that they called only the people who live above ground. So this wise old bad man told Pee-ahp Aw’-o-tahm to call all the people who live under the ground: Kaw-koy’—the snakes, Nah-nox-suh-lee—the scorpions, Hee-ah-e—the tarantula, Juh-faw—the gopher, Choo-ah-tuck—the Gila monster, and Choof—the jack-rabbit. And Bad People said they would give all these people who live under the ground good food and beautiful clothes if they would go through the ground to the fields of the Desert People and fight Taw-haw-no Aw’-o-tahm while Bad People stole the crops.

Choof—the jack-rabbit—did not like this plan. The Indians had always been good to Choof. And he did not want to fight them. But Jack-rabbit did not know what to do.

Some bees were sitting in a near-by tree. And Moo-moo-vah-lee—the bees—told Choof to run with all his speed to the Desert People and tell them how Pee-ahp Aw’-o-tahm were planning to steal their harvest. And the bees said they would tell Oo-oo-fick—the birds.

So Choof—the jack-rabbit—ran. He went in such a hurry that he took longer and longer jumps. And as he jumped longer and longer, his legs grew longer and longer. And that is why even in these days Jack-rabbit’s legs are so much longer than the legs of his brother rabbit, Tawpe—the cottontail.

When the Indians heard the bad news—that Pee-ahp Aw’-o-tahm were coming again to steal their crops—they held another council.

Everybody came.

And Oo-oo-fick—the birds—told their friends the Indians about a mountain which was not far from their village and quite near their fields.

The people went to this mountain. And on the side of the mountain they built three big walls of rock.

The walls of rock are there to this day.

Then all the women and children went up on top of the mountain behind the walls of rock. But the men stayed down to protect the fields.

Soon the Bad People of the south came.

The wasps, the scorpions, and the snakes were leading them. But Neu-neu-fee—the buzzards, and Schook Oo-oo-fick—the blackbirds—and all the larger birds were on guard. Neu-fee—a buzzard—would catch Kaw-koy’—a snake—and break his back. Tahd-dye—the roadrunner—watched for Nah-nox-suh-lee—the scorpions—and Moo-moo-vah-lee—the bees—fought Veeps—the wasps.

So at last the Bad People were driven away. And the Desert People returned to their village and their fields, and built houses and were very happy.

A great many of the Bad People had been killed in this fight. So it was a long time before they felt strong enough to fight again. But after a while they were very hungry. And Veeps—the wasps—carried word to them that the Indian women were filling their ollas and grain baskets with corn and beans and honey.

This time Pee-ahp Aw’-o-tahm waited until it was very dry and very hot. Then they started north.

And this time Saw-aw—the grasshopper—had listened to the plans of the Bad People.

And Saw-aw started to jump to reach his friends, the Desert People, first and warn them. And the harder and faster Grasshopper jumped, the longer grew his hind legs. Still he could not go fast enough. So he took two leaves and fastened them on and flew. Before he arrived he wore out one pair of leaves and put on another pair. And to this day Saw-aw—the grasshopper—still carries one large thin pair of wings, and another thick small green pair.

The people went to the mountain where they had fought before. But this time Toahk—the mountain—was covered with snakes and scorpions and Bad People.

Oo-oo-fick—the birds—had all gone away to a distant water hole so they were not there to help their friends, the Desert People. And many of the Taw-haw-no Aw’-o-tahm were killed. Among the killed were many women and children.

Toahk—the mountain—felt so bad when so many of his friends were being killed that he opened holes in the rocks so the Desert People could see through. That is why he is called Weh Toahk—which means Eye Mountain. And you can see the eyes in this mountain to-day, just as you can see the walls of rock.

At last Weh Toahk called to his brother mountain, Bahvo-kee-vu-lick, for help. And Bahvo-kee-vu-lick who, as you know, watches over everything, answered.

Wind Man, whose home is on Bahvo-kee-vu-lick, called his brother, Cloud Man, to help. And Cloud Man came down low over the fighting and made cradles for the Indian children. And Wind Man carried the children in the cloud cradles to Bahvo-kee-vu-lick where they were safe.

The fighting grew worse.

And Ee’-e-toy was ashamed of his people.

So Great Spirit spoke and heavy dark clouds came down over the mountain where they were fighting, so that no one could see.

In these big black clouds Huh-wuh-le—the wind—carried many of the Desert People safely to the valleys of Bahvo-kee-vu-lick.

And the Taw-haw-no Aw’-o-tahm were so bloody from fighting they stained the clouds and the mountains all red.

That is why, even to this day, about the top of the great mountain peak, Bahvo-kee-vu-lick, nearly always there are a few clouds. And these clouds are not white but are colored a little with blood—as you, nah’-wawch—may see for yourself.

THE FIELDS

(AW-OI-TUCK)

One summer, in the long ago times, the Indians went as usual to the foothills of the Baboquivari Mountains where there was water, and where the women could gather hah-shahn pah-hee-tahch—which is the fruit of the giant cactus. And with the people this summer there were four very wise old men.

The four wise old men sat on a rocky ledge on the side of the mountain. And they looked down over the valley which seemed to be almost under them—the mountain was so steep.

Now in those days the Desert People were many. The valley was full of green fields—fields of corn and wheat and beans and pumpkins. The land was very rich.

And one of the four wise old men who sat on the mountain side said it was too bad that the valley was so small. If they could only move the mountains back they would have room for many more good fields.

So the old men talked about it. And they decided to ask Great Spirit to help them.

They climbed up the side of the mountain peak, Bahvo-kee-vu-lick, until they found the cave where Ee’-e-toy lives. They stayed there in the cave with Ee’-e-toy a long time. And Great Spirit told the four wise old men what they must do.

When the four wise old men came down from the mountain they told the women to carry all the cactus fruit which they had gathered, down to the valley. Then they called all the Indians together. And they told the Indians they were going to hold a great feast. They said they were going to move the mountains back so there would be more room in the valley for fields.

So the women put hah-shahn pah-hee-tahch—the cactus fruit—on the fire. And when Tahs—the sun—came up they started cooking the fruit. They cooked it until Sun came down at the end of the journey. Then the four wise old men put hah-shahn pah-hee-tahch into ollas, which are big jars, and waited.

They waited four days.

After four days the four wise old men said they were ready. The people must come now and help them dance and sing.

The four wise old men sat in a row facing the mountains. All the other men danced around them. As they danced they sang one of the very old earth songs. And while the men were dancing and singing the women were busy passing hah-shahn nah-vite—which is the wine made from cactus fruit.

And when Sun came down at the end of the first day every one could see that the mountains did not look so hard.

That night some of the men slept. But the four wise old men did not sleep. All night they watched and sang.

When Sun came up the second day the four wise old men said they must all sing and dance very hard because that day the mountains would move. So they sang and danced very hard. And the women passed the wine.

And when Sun came down at the end of the second day everybody could see the mountains quiver.

That night they sang and danced all night.

The third day they sang and danced all day. And all day the women passed nah-vite—the wine.

And when Sun came down at the end of the third day the mountains were slowly moving.

That night the four wise old men watched and made the younger men keep on dancing and singing. The women passed the wine.

On the fourth day the four wise old men said that they must all sing and dance very hard. So they sang and danced harder. And all the time the women were passing hah-shahn nah-vite—the cactus wine.

And then they could see the mountains shake as they moved. The valley seemed to be growing bigger and bigger.

So the men sang and danced harder and harder. And the women passed the wine. And just before Sun came down at the end of the fourth day the mountains moved back so fast that the top of a peak fell off and rolled down and broke into big rocks.

This frightened the people so much that they stopped singing and dancing.

Now, as you know, among the mountains which moved was the peak named Bahvo-kee-vu-lick—which means drawn-in-at-the-middle. That was the name of this mountain because that was its shape. It was shaped like an hour-glass. But the mountain peak which we of these days call Baboquivari is not now drawn in at the middle. It was the top of the hour-glass which fell off when the mountains moved back.

And this is why the desert valley where so many of the Papago Indians live is now very much larger than it was at first and there is much more good land.

But you remember that Huh-wuh-le Aw’-o-tahm—the Wind Man, and Choo-vahk Aw’-o-tahm—the Cloud Man—lived on this mountain, Bahvo-kee-vu-lick. And when Wind Man and Cloud Man saw how much farther they had to travel after the mountains were moved, they did not like it. Cloud Man said he would not carry a bit more water then he did before the mountains were moved.

So while the valley where the Papagos live is much larger than it was, and there is a great deal of good land, the Indians have no more fields than they had at first. There is not water enough for more fields.

MORNING STAR

(SEE-ERLEE-KOOK HOO-OOH)

Ahm hoo-huh’-pie—which is to say “once upon a time”—a boy and a girl were left all alone. Their father and mother and all their people were dead. They lived in the southern part of the Desert People’s land. And they felt very lonely there where everything made them think of their father and their mother. So they moved north to a village called Oos-kurk—which means “Stick Standing.” Oos-kurk was not very far from where Casa Grande or, as the Indians say it, Vah-ah-kee, is to-day.

The boy had no fields. He went hunting. He was gone all day. The girl after grinding her corn would go out to find plants for cooking and drying, and to gather seeds.

And the girl was skoo-kahch choo-heah—which means she was a very beautiful girl.

But because this brother and sister were alone and had no people and seemed sad, the Indians of this village said they were bad.

Now in this kee-him, or village, there was a man of very great influence. He had power over the people. He had very large fields. And this big man of the village fell in love with this girl who was so beautiful and so different from all the other girls in that part of the country.

But the girl was always working or out in the desert gathering plants. So the man could not see her very often.

Then one day Big Man called Pahn—the coyote—to help him. Coyote, you remember, is called Pahn because so often Pahn, the Spirit of Mischief, is in him. And Big Man gave Coyote some beads and told him to go to the beautiful girl and slip the beads on her wrist and tell her about him.

The next morning Coyote went to the house where the brother and sister lived. The girl was cooking. Pahn tried to slip the beads over her hand but only made her burn herself. This made the girl cross. She scolded Palm and told him she wanted no beads nor husband nor bother with a coyote.

Coyote carried his beads back to the great man of the village and told him what the beautiful girl had said.

Big Man was angry. You see he was used to having his own way. That was why he was a great man and so powerful over the people. And the man told Coyote he must go to the girl the next day and tell her to take the beads or he would kill both her and her brother.

The next morning Coyote took the beads and went again to the house where the girl and her brother lived. And this time Pahn found the girl with her kee-ho, or burden basket, ready to go and gather plants. She would not even stop to listen to Coyote but went away.

When Big Man heard this he was very angry. He went to Huh-wuh-le Aw’-o-tahm—the Wind Man—and asked his help.

And when the beautiful girl was alone on the desert gathering plants, Huh-wuh-le—the wind—came and found her. With a loud whoop Huh-wuh-le caught the girl up and took her to the top of a very steep little mountain which stands all alone in that part of the country.

This mountain is the one which we of these days call Picacho. As every one knows, it is not very high, but it is so steep that no one has ever climbed to the top.

In the evening the girl’s brother returned to the house and found it empty. He waited and waited. Then he grew anxious. He went to the village and told the people. And the people all came out to help him find his sister.

The next day the Indians tracked the girl out to the mesa where she had gone to gather plants. They found her burden basket half filled with plants. But right there the tracks stopped.

That night the people called a council to decide what to do. No one seemed able to suggest anything.

Then Coyote spoke up and told of coming near Picacho and hearing a noise like a woman crying. And this was very bad trouble because, as you know, nobody could climb that mountain. The girl could not come down.

At last the girl’s brother decided to ask Ee’-e-toy to help. He prepared a messenger—Hah-e-choo Ah-kahm. Messenger was dressed in white with eagle fathers on his head.

And Hah-e-choo Ah-kahm was received by Ee’-e-toy.

Ee’-e-toy listened to the story and said he would help. So Great Spirit took some seeds of the gourd and went with Messenger to the steep mountain. And Great Spirit planted the gourd seeds under a big rock at the foot of the mountain and began to dance and sing.

This is the song which Ee’-e-toy sang:

As Ee’-e-toy sang he danced. As he danced the gourd vines grew. Before the end of the day the vines had reached the top of the mountain. And the beautiful girl climbed safely down.

The girl’s brother was waiting.

The brother offered to pay Messenger. And he wanted to pay Ee’-e-toy. But all that was asked of him was a bob cat skin to hold arrows.

Brother and sister returned to their home.

Before many days Coyote appeared with another message from the great man of the village.

This time the girl’s brother was lying in the house. He heard Pahn. And the brother called out to his sister to get rid of that no-account coyote because he might have the mange from hanging around kitchens so much.

This made Coyote very angry. He said the girl must marry Big Man or the man would come with his friends and kill both the girl and her brother. Then Coyote went away.

The brother and sister talked things over.

The beautiful girl said she did not want to marry the great man of the village—she did not want to marry any one. She said that if trouble came she would go away to see-ah-lick tahm-kah-chim—which is the eastern sky. The beautiful girl said she would stay up there in the eastern sky and would show herself only to those people who rose early in the morning to do their work. She said she would smile at those people who rose early in the morning and make them glad.

The brother said he, too, would rather live in the air. But the brother said he would like to come back sometimes to the earth. He said he would like to come with a bounce and shake things up so that the people would know he had returned.

When Coyote went back to Big Man and told his story, Big Man was very, very angry. He went out and called all his friends together.

Then early one morning the great man and his friends, armed with bows and arrows, started for the brother and sister.

The girl saw them coming and called to her brother. But her brother did not seem to care very much.

The man and his friends came nearer. And the beautiful girl saw there was no hope. So she hurried off toward the eastern sky as she had said she would do.

Big Man and his friends came to the house.

The man called. The brother came out. Everybody aimed their arrows at him. But as the arrows flew he jumped up in the air. And they did not hit him. Then the people mocked him. They asked where his feathers were. They said that he should have wings.

But the people noticed that when the girl’s brother came back to the earth, the earth trembled.

Three times the people shot their arrows at the brother of the beautiful girl. Three times he jumped and returned to earth. And each time when he came down the ground trembled.

The fourth time Big Man and his friends shot their arrows the girl’s brother jumped and went up and up into the sky. And this time he did not return.

So when you are in the Land of the Desert People if you look toward the east in the early morning you will see this beautiful Indian girl smiling at you from the sky. The Indians call her See-erlee-kook Hoo-ooh—which is “Morning Star.”

And sometimes—not often—you will feel the ground shake. We would say it was an earthquake. But the Desert People know that Morning Star’s brother has come back to earth for a little.

OLD-MOTHER-WHITE-HEAD

(AUX CHOOH STOAH MAWH)

Once, in the very early times, a young Indian of the Hee-ah-kim—which is the Yaqui tribe—came north with a hunting party into the land of the Desert People.

And this young man of the Hee-ah-kim fell in love with a girl of the Taw-haw-no Aw’-o-tahm.

They were married.

And the girl left her people and went with her husband far south to the land of the Hee-ah-kim.

Now the mother of this girl who married and went away with the Yaqui man, was a little, brown, dried-up old woman. Her hair was quite white. And she did not keep her head covered as the other Indian women did. So the Indians laughed at her. And the people called her Aux Chooh Stoah Mawh—which means, in white people’s talk: Old-Mother-White-Head.

The girl was Old-Mother-White-Head’s youngest child. And although the years passed the girl’s mother missed her daughter and wanted her.

Every day at sunset the mother would go to a certain mound of rocks where she would call the spirit of her child whom she loved so very much.

One evening when Old-Mother-White-Head returned from calling the spirit of her daughter she was restless and strange. She burned the beans for the evening meal. So her husband, who was older than she and very lame, scolded her. Then her husband asked why she was so troubled. At first Old-Mother-White-Head would not answer her husband. For a long time she was very still. Then she told him that their daughter, who lived in the south, was in trouble and needed her.

Of course the old man laughed at her. But just the same he was worried. He, too, had loved this youngest child very much.

The next night when Aux Chooh Stoah Mawh returned from the mound of rocks where she always went to call the spirit of her daughter, she was very sad.

The father asked, “What is it? What news?”

Old-Mother-White-Head said she could not find her daughter that night.

Then the father and mother were both very sad. They sat together watching the stars and thinking of their little one as she had played around them.

A few days passed.

Then Old-Mother-White-Head came from the mound of rocks and said that her little girl had called her. She said she ought to go to her daughter.

But the old man said it was impossible for her to go. She did not know the country of the Hee-ah-kim. She did not know the language. She was a very old woman. The way was very long.

Again the days passed.

And an evening came when Old-Mother-White-Head sat late upon her pile of rocks. The sun had been down a long time when she came in and stirred the fire and began the evening meal.

Her husband saw that she was hurrying. The old man asked her why she was so late and why she hurried so.

She said that now she knew what their daughter’s trouble was. Their girl in the land of the Hee-ah-kim was sick and alone and wanted her mother to come and get her little son.

Old-Mother-White-Head said their daughter had tried to send the message as usual but it did not seem to carry. So she had sent it by a slower way. She had sent the message to her mother by Schook Oo-oo-fick—a blackbird. And Blackbird had stopped to gossip at every green field along the way.

The old mother said she would go to her daughter and her little grandson. She said she would start the next morning before the sun came up. She would have to arrange things that night.

So, after their evening meal, Old-Mother-White-Head went to the home of a neighbor and asked to have her lame old husband cared for while she was away. Then she sent a man to the homes of her other children to tell them she was going to find their sister, and they must come to their father when they could.

The next day when Oo-oo-fick—the birds—awoke early in the morning, they saw a little brown and bent old woman going along toward the south. And the little old woman had no cover on her head so that her white hair stuck out all over.

Oo-oo-fick laughed. And the birds called: “Oh, Mother-White-Head, give us something for a nest.”

The little bent and brown old woman laughed with her friends the birds and answered: “Surely, little ones, come and get what you want.”

All the birds and animals and Ah-lee-choo-choom Aw’-o-tahm—the Little People—loved this little bent and brown woman with the white head because she had not forgotten how to talk to them.

Old-Mother-White-Head knew the language which Taw-haw-no Aw’-o-tahm—the Desert People—used to know in the long ago days—the language which all of Ee’-e-toy’s people, in the old days, understood. In these days this language is remembered by only a few of the very oldest of the Indians.

And Old-Mother-White-Head must have grown very tired before she reached the country of the Hee-ah-kim. And sometimes she must have been very hungry. Ah-lee-choo-choom Aw’-o-tahm—the Little People—told afterwards how they fed her with honey. She asked her way of the blackbirds. She asked her way of the coyotes. All the Desert People helped her because she was known to them all.

And when the little bent and brown old woman came to the country of the Hee-ah-kim she could not talk to the people. But a jack-rabbit and a blackbird offered to lead her. In this way she at last reached the place where her daughter lay sick.

And great was Old-Mother-White-Head’s joy when she held her little bright-eyed grandson in her arms.

But the old grandmother’s joy was turned to grief when her daughter told how the Yaquis, her husband’s people, were only waiting her death to take the boy into a camp and teach him to live by killing and fighting as was their custom. And the sick girl asked her mother to take the child back to the country of the Taw-haw-no Aw’-o-tahm—her people—where he would be raised to be gentle and kind.

Old-Mother-White-Head promised with her tongue to do as her daughter asked. But inside, the little, bent, and brown old grandmother felt very tired and afraid. She knew what a long, long way she must go.

And her daughter told her she must hurry. She must go that very night. And she must hide the boy.

So Old-Mother-White-Head put her little grandson in her daughter’s burden basket and started out. But when she was ready to go she looked long at the boy’s mother—her daughter—the child she loved so well.

It was a very dark night.

At first, Aux Chooh Stoah Mawh, with her little grandson hidden in the burden basket, wandered around, in and out of the village. So that the few Indians who saw her thought she was after wood and did not stop her.

Perhaps the little, bent and brown old grandmother’s eyes were too old to see well. Perhaps there was water in them. She could not see the star which should guide her. So when she was away from the village she stopped and called to the Desert People for help.

At first no one noticed her call. Then Kah-so—a fox—came running. Then Sue-uh—a wolf—answered from the bushes.

The little grandson had never heard a wolf talk before and he cried with fear. But Old-Mother-White-Head quieted the child and explained to Wolf that she must get to her people with the child, and that she was old and very tired.

Then Koor-lee Pahn—an old coyote—came. And Koor-lee Pahn was from the land of the Desert People—Old-Mother-White-Head’s country. And Coyote turned on Wolf and called him names. He said Sue-uh—the wolf—smelled like Oo’-peo—a skunk—and acted like Kaw-koy’—a snake—trying to frighten his own people.

Very slowly Koor-lee Pahn led the little, bent and brown old grandmother on her way.

Coyote did not lead her to the low land and the river which was the way she had started. He showed her the way through the foothills. In the daytime she rested and slept. At night she went on, carrying her grandchild, and led by Koor-lee Pahn—the old coyote.

At last they came into the mountains.

Then they came out of the mountains into a flat land. And Old-Mother-White-Head was glad because she thought she was near her home.

But Coyote told her she was still in the land of the Hee-ah-kim, and that it would be very hard to hide from them because they were searching everywhere for the child she had taken.

When Koor-lee Pahn told her this, the little, bent and brown old woman sat crouched upon a stone with her little grandson clasped tight in her shriveled old arms. She knew that alone she could never reach the land of her people, the Taw-haw-no Aw’-o-tahm.

So deep inside of herself Old-Mother-White-Head called to the desert for help. She called to all the desert people—to all of Ee’-e-toy’s people. It was a long call and before she had finished Coyote slipped away to look for food.

And after a while Old-Mother-White-Head heard a voice. She knew it was Ee’-e-toy answering her call. And Great Spirit told her to go on. She must not rest. She must travel in the daytime and not at night. She must always go in the arroyos and washes which are made by the rains.

Old-Mother-White-Head looked around. All the country seemed very hard and flat. But soon Coyote found the beginning of a wash where the waters of the rain had cut the earth just a few inches at first, then a foot, and very soon almost three feet. So the little, bent and brown old grandmother with her grandson started on as Ee’-e-toy had told her.

As she traveled in the arroyos and washes, Coyote stayed on the bank above her. Schook Oo-oo-fick—the blackbirds—would give her warning when a band of the Hee-ah-kim was coming. When the Yaquis were near she would sink down close under the bank of the wash and remain very still until some of her friends, the Desert People, told her it was safe to go on.

It was very hard for the poor old grandmother because she was very tired and the child was heavy.

Sometimes Ee’-e-toy would come walking along on the bank of the arroyo in which Old-Mother-White-Head was traveling. And Ee’-e-toy would be no bigger than her little grandson.

And the little, bent and brown old grandmother told Great Spirit all about her daughter, and how every evening from the mound of rocks at home she had talked to her. And Ee’-e-toy always told Old-Mother-White-Head not to be afraid. Her grandson should reach his own people. She should be happy always.

So she went on and on.

The bands of the hunting Hee-ah-kim seemed to be everywhere. So Ee’-e-toy walked in front of Old-Mother-White-Head. And the ground sank under Great Spirit’s feet and made an arroyo in which the little old grandmother traveled on and on and on.

Then one morning Old-Mother-White-Head felt very weak. She could hear the voices of the Yaquis who were searching for her. She raised her head above the banks of the wash.

The Hee-ah-kim saw her white hair. They cried out and started toward her.

She called to Ee’-e-toy to come. And Ee’-e-toy started toward her. As Ee’-e-toy came he sang the earth song.

Old-Mother-White-Head saw the banks of the wash on either side coming closer and closer. She raised the child in her old brown arms. And the blackbirds, who had been resting in a mesquite tree not far away, came down like a black cloud and hid her. Ee’-e-toy took the boy and grew very, very large and went away.

The blackbirds flew in the faces of the Hee-ah-kim and circled and dived and whirled around Old-Mother-White-Head. For a while the Yaquis could not see the ground for fluttering birds. But at last the signal was given and Schook Oo-oo-fick—the blackbirds—wheeled and flew away.

Then the Hee-ah-kim looked for the little, bent and brown old woman with the white head. But two withered brown sticks and a few white hairs were all they could find.

Then the Hee-ah-kim gave up and started home.

Old-Mother-White-Head was glad when she felt the cool soft earth about her. And she chuckled when she heard her friends, the blackbirds, scolding above her. She was so very tired it was good to rest and sleep.

That evening at sunset Ee’-e-toy wakened the little, bent and brown old grandmother and told her that her grandson was safe in her home village where he would grow up to be a good man.

This made Old-Mother-White-Head very happy. And she said she would like to stay always right there where she was. But she said she would like to be beautiful.

Ee’-e-toy laughed.

Then Ee’-e-toy told the little, bent and brown old woman that he would let her rest there as she had asked. And Ee’-e-toy told her that once each year she should be more beautiful than any other thing.

Then Great Spirit touched her arms, which were like withered brown sticks. And where Ee’-e-toy’s finger rested there came a soft white bud. This bud grew larger. Slowly it opened into a beautiful flower—the most beautiful flower that grows in all the desert lands.

Once each year, just as the sun goes down, this wondrously beautiful flower opens on its brown, withered, stick-like stalks. And the night air of the desert is heavy with its fragrance. When the sun comes up the next morning the flower dies.

And this is the night-blooming cereus or, as some people call it: Queen of the Night. Its fragrance is so distinctive that the Indians call it Kaw’-koy Oof, which is Ghost Smell.

And so once each year when her time comes the little bent and brown Old-Mother-White-Head is more beautiful than any other thing. Just as Ee’-e-toy promised.

THE CONTEST

(UH-CHEE-CHOO-VE)

Now Ee’-e-toy told his people—Taw-haw-no Aw’-o-tahm—what was the right thing for them to do. Great Spirit told the Desert People that if they would do as he said and follow him he would help them in every way.

And in a certain village Great Spirit selected four old men to help him look after the people. Ee’-e-toy said the four old men must stay right there at that village and keep the people from doing wrong.

And after a time Great Spirit came again to that village to see how the people were behaving.

The four old men told Ee’-e-toy what the people were doing.

Ee’-e-toy said: “You must not let them do those things. What they are doing is wrong. If the people keep on doing this way they will have to be punished some day for the wrongdoing.”

And Great Spirit told the four old men to try and change the people from their wrongdoing. Ee’-e-toy said: “We will keep trying to change the people four days. Then we will make some arrangement to stop their wrongdoing.”

As you know, the “four days” does not always means four days as we speak of it. It may mean four years, or periods of time.

And the kee-him where this happened was the village called Kah-kie Che-muck. In the old times Kah-kie Che-muck was a big village where Santa Rosa is now.

Then Ee’-e-toy sent a messenger to find out how the people at all the other villages were getting along and how they were behaving themselves.

And Messenger found that the people in the other villages were doing worse, even, than the people who lived in Kah-kie Che-muck.

And in one of these other villages there was a certain Medicine Man who knew why Ee’-e-toy’s messenger was going around to all the villages. And this Medicine Man called the people of that kee-him together and told them that Great Spirit’s man was coming to see how they were behaving.

This Medicine Man said: “I believe we Medicine Men have more power and more knowledge than Great Spirit has. I believe we can do better than Ee’-e-toy himself can do.” And this Medicine Man told the people to show Ee’-e-toy’s messenger how bad they could be. He said: “We will see what Great Spirit can do to us.”

So Great Spirit’s messenger found the people of that kee-him very bad.

And Messenger told the chief of the village that the people of that kee-him were so bad he thought there was no use to go any farther. Nobody could be any worse than they were.

And Messenger was getting ready to go back to his own village, Kah-kie Che-muck, and tell Ee’-e-toy what he had found the people doing.

Then the Medicine Man who was going to show that Medicine Men had more power than Ee’-e-toy, took a bird and made it into the form of a child. And this child asked Messenger if he might go home with him.

Messenger said the child could not go.

But the Medicine Man said: “Yes, you must take this child.”

When Messenger was back in Kah-kie Che-muck, his own village, Ee’-e-toy came.

And Messenger told Great Spirit how he had found the people on his travels. Messenger said: “They are doing worse, even, than the people are doing here in our own village.”

Ee’-e-toy said: “What did you do with the child you brought home?”

The man said he did not bring a child. He had left the child outside the village.

Ee’-e-toy said: “I know all about this child. I know all about why that Medicine Man sent this child with you. This child is to show that Medicine Men have more power and more wisdom than I have.”

And Ee’-e-toy told the man to go and bring the child into the village. Ee’-e-toy said: “I will see if Medicine Men have power to stop the punishment that I am going to send on the people because they have done so much wrong.”

The man went back to the place where he left the child.

The child was sitting under a little tree. And the ground was muddy all around him. When the man tried to walk up to the child he stuck in the mud. He tried on all sides—north, west, south, and east—to go to the child. But he could not. Then he told the child to come with him into the village.

The child said: “I am not going into the village. I know all about what Ee’-e-toy told you.”

So the man went back to the kee-him and told Ee’-e-toy.

Great Spirit sent the man the second time to bring the child.

And while the man was gone for the child, Ee’-e-toy said to the people: “I am going to punish you people. I am going to send a great flood to clean you off the earth because you are so bad. I am going to put other people here—people who will listen to me and live the way I want them to live. I tell you now what I am going to do so you can have a chance. You think your Medicine Men have more power and more knowledge than I have. But I tell you your Medicine Men cannot save you. I tell you if you do not save yourselves by doing right the land will be flooded and kill you all.”

Then the man who had gone to bring the child which was sent by the Medicine Man to try Ee’-e-toy’s power, came back. And the man told Ee’-e-toy that the mud around the child was worse. He said there was no chance now to get near the child.

And Great Spirit sent the man the third time to bring this child that was showing the power of the Medicine Men.

Again the man returned to Ee’-e-toy and said the child would not come to Great Spirit. He said he could not bring the child. He could not go near it because of the mud and water.

And Ee’-e-toy sent the man back the fourth time to bring the child.

And while the man was gone this time, Pahn—the coyote—came to Ee’-e-toy and asked how he could save himself if the flood came as Ee’-e-toy had said.

Great Spirit told Coyote: “There is a Medicine Man over in the next village. Go and ask him what to do. He says Medicine Men have more power than I have. Maybe that Medicine Man can save you.”

And the people asked Ee’-e-toy to give them some advice as to what they should do so they would not be drowned.

Ee’-e-toy said: “I have given you advice as to what I want you to do. But you refuse to do it. I am tired. I cannot give any more advice to anybody. You will have to find out some way to save yourselves.”

Then the man who had been sent the fourth time to bring the child, came back to the village. And the man told Ee’-e-toy that he could not bring the child. He said there was water now all about the child.

So the people began to fear that the flood which was to punish them had begun. They ran to Ee’-e-toy and begged him to save them.

Ee’-e-toy said: “Do not worry about this water. This is not the water that is going to flood the land. What is done around that child is just the power of the Medicine Men who want to see what I am going to do about it. These Medicine Men have no power to flood this country. They bring that little bit of water around that child to scare you people and to make you think they have more power and more wisdom than I have. But your Medicine Men are not going to scare me.”

Then Great Spirit said: “I am going to go around and see for myself how the people are getting along. I am going to be sure whether this flood which I will send to destroy all you people is really needed to be done. I ought to have gone around to see for myself in the first place, instead of sending a messenger who goes and listens to a Medicine Man and does what the Medicine Man says.”

So Ee’-e-toy himself went to all the villages.

And the Medicine Man who sent the child to show that the power of Medicine Men was greater than the power of Ee’-e-toy called all the Medicine Men from every village to have a meeting and talk about this thing that Great Spirit said he was going to do.

This Medicine Man said that with their power the Medicine Men would save the people from the punishment which Ee’-e-toy said he would do to them. He said if Great Spirit sent the water the Medicine Men would find some way to stop it.

And Great Spirit asked the people to try to be better because he did not like to punish them.

But the people who had listened to their Medicine Men just laughed at Ee’-e-toy. Women and children and everybody believed that their Medicine Men had more power than Great Spirit. So they laughed at Ee’-e-toy and told him he could not do anything to them even if he wanted to.

Ee’-e-toy told the people: “I am sorry to see the way you act and make fun of me. I wish you people were otherwise than you are now, so I would not have to send the water to destroy you. It hurts me to kill you. But you will be better off dead than living as you are, doing the things that you do.”

Then Ee’-e-toy called a meeting at Kah-kie Che-muck of all the chiefs and the leading men of all the villages.

And Great Spirit told the chiefs and leaders of all the villages to try and get their people to behave. He said: “I have taken my hands off the people. The Medicine Men have no power to save them. There is only one thing they can do to save themselves: You must work with the people up to the last minute and try to make them do right so I will not have to kill them all.”

The chiefs and leading men said to Ee’-e-toy: “How can we do what you say? When we try to tell the people to do right they laugh at us. They say it is none of our business to try and stop them from the way they are living.”

Four days and four nights the chiefs and leading men of all the villages talked it over and tried to figure out how they were going to make the people do better than they had been doing. They talked about how they should live and what they should do and what they should not do.

And the chiefs and leading men said to Ee’-e-toy: “Even if you must destroy the people you can save us. Why are you throwing us chiefs and leaders in with all the other people to punish us just like all the rest?”

Ee’-e-toy said: “You chiefs and leaders are just as bad as your people that you are supposed to lead and help to live right.” Ee’-e-toy told these chiefs and leaders that because they were doing wrong the same as their people, they had to be punished just like any others.

So the leading men and the chiefs said to Great Spirit: “If you are going to punish us just like all the rest we are going to stand in with the people and the Medicine Men. We are going to help the Medicine Men and the people fight you.”

Then Ee’-e-toy talked to these leading men and the chiefs. Great Spirit tried to show them how they would be better off dead than living with those who were acting so bad.

At last the chiefs and leading men said to Ee’-e-toy: “Why not turn this whole thing over to us. You have taken your hands off the people. Take your hands off us chiefs and leaders. Keep yourself out of this and let us manage it.” They said to Ee’-e-toy: “You can see that it is growing worse day after day and night after night. The people are getting so they hate you. You just let us alone. It may be that without you around the people will listen to us.”

Ee’-e-toy said: “All right. I will take my hands off and let you alone. I will let you go the way you wish. I will let you manage your people as you like. But you will find it worse than what it is now because I have power to help you lead the people to do right.”

And Ee’-e-toy said to the chiefs and leading men: “I will go away and let you alone but if you want to call me back any time to help you, I will be ready to come.”

So Great Spirit took his hands off the people and their chiefs and leading men, and went away and left the Taw-haw-no Aw’-o-tahm alone.

Now as soon as Ee’-e-toy went away there was a strange sickness. It was a sickness that killed people—old and young. The chiefs and leaders went to a Medicine Man and asked him what kind of sickness it was. The Medicine Man worked on it one night. Then he said: “This sickness is put on the people by a Medicine Man who has an evil spirit.”

So the leading men and chiefs and the people of all the villages held a council. And it was decided that as soon as they found out what Medicine Man put on the sickness they would kill him.

After a time they blamed the sickness on a certain Medicine Man. And they went to kill him.

But this Medicine Man said: “Wait. I am going to tell you just how this sickness happened. You people told Ee’-e-toy to take his hands off and let you alone. You told Great Spirit you could get along better than when he had the power over you. And Ee’-e-toy told you, ‘All right’—he would do what you asked. But as soon as Ee’-e-toy took his power off from you he gave a power to a young man to bring this sickness. So this sickness is really sent by Great Spirit himself. Ee’-e-toy is doing this with you to see how you will stop it. You people ought to know better than to kill a Medicine Man for this sickness. The sickness will go on just the same. Ee’-e-toy gave this young man power to bring this sickness because he knew you would try to kill some Medicine Man for it. If you people kill your Medicine Men you are doing just what Ee’-e-toy wants you to do. Great Spirit knows the Medicine Men have more power and more knowledge than he has. He wants you to kill all the Medicine Men because he knows they will stop the flood he is going to send and save you from the punishment.”

Then the people said: “This man is right. Our Medicine Men have power to save us from the flood which Ee’-e-toy will send. If we kill them as Ee’-e-toy wants us to do we will have no way to save ourselves from the punishment which Great Spirit is going to do to us.”

Then the people said: “Ee’-e-toy himself is the one to be killed.”

So the people and the Medicine Men prepared to kill Ee’-e-toy as soon as he came to the village.

They watched four days and four nights.

But Ee’-e-toy did not come.

Then the Medicine Men and the people sent some men to go up to Ee’-e-toy’s cave on Baboquivari Mountain to see if they could find him there.

And Great Spirit was at home in his cave.

Four men went into the cave and took hold of Ee’-e-toy and started to bring him out. But as they went toward the mouth of the cave the opening grew smaller and smaller. And when the men who had hold of Ee’-e-toy were close to the entrance to the cave the opening was so small they could not get through it. They called to the people outside and told them they could not get out.

The people on the outside said if they could not bring Ee’-e-toy out, to kill him right there.

So they did.

To this day, if you go in that cave and stand in the bottom of it, the mouth of the cave will be a little opening that you cannot get through.

Four days passed.

Some people said to the men who went into the cave: “We thought you killed Ee’-e-toy.”

The men said they did kill him.

These people said: “Well, he is up there at his cave. We went by his cave and we heard a noise and there he was walking around in there. Ee’-e-toy is just as much alive as you are.”

After this the people were afraid of Great Spirit. When he came to a village no one would see him or have anything to do with him. The people of that kee-him would all go away because they did not want to see him.

And the Medicine Men told the people that Ee’-e-toy had power to send any kind of sickness he wished. They said if Ee’-e-toy should come and say, “You will die to-morrow”—you will die to-morrow. So the people did not want to be near Great Spirit. Even the leading men and the chiefs did not want to be near him.

Then, after a time, Ee’-e-toy came back to the village, Kah-kie Che-muck.

And Great Spirit called a meeting of every person in the kee-him—men, women, and children.

The chief of the village said to Ee’-e-toy: “What do you come around here for?”

Great Spirit said: “I came back to Kah-kie Che-muck to find out if you people are any better so I will not have to punish you. I came here because I love you. I hoped you would change and do good. I do not want to punish you.”

But the people laughed at Ee’-e-toy and they mocked him and asked what he could do.

Then Great Spirit answered: “I have said all I am going to say. You believe your Medicine Men that they have more power than I have. They say they can save you from the punishment of water which I will send. In four days you can look for your punishment to come.”

Four days after Ee’-e-toy left Kah-kie Che-muck a man went out a little way from the village to hunt jack-rabbits.

And about the time that Tahs—the sun—was coming down the man saw something run through the greasewood.

The thing went into a hole.

The man looked into the hole.

Then the man dug into the hole far enough to reach in with his hand. But when he tried to put his hand back in the hole it was all covered up with dirt again.

He dug out some more dirt. And he put in his hand again to pull out whatever it was that he had seen go in there.

Then there was a great roaring noise.

A badger that was in the hole ran out. And Badger stopped and came back and looked in the hole. Then Badger ran off.

The man sat there.

The roaring came again.

Then a strong wind came out of the hole. And the wind smelled like the ocean air.

The chiefs and leading men of Kah-kie Che-muck, and all the people, heard the roar of the thing that was in the hole. The noise was like the noise of the ocean.

And the people all came together in a meeting. They talked about it. Some said that it must be a storm of some kind coming. And after a time one man said: “You remember that Ee’-e-toy told us we must look for our punishment in four days after he left.” The man said: “I am afraid this noise is the punishment that has come to us.”

The meeting was held all night. And just before morning came the chief said: “We want two or three of you young men to go toward that noise and see what it is and come back and tell us.”

So when it was light enough to see, four of the young men of the village went to the hole where the noise was coming from.

There was a strong wind coming out of the hole. And water came out of it like the waves of the ocean. The water came out and went back, then shot out again.

The four young men returned to the village and told the chiefs.

The leading men said: “Our punishment has started. Ee’-e-toy told us we would all be drowned if we did not live as he wants us to live.”

And the leading men said: “Our Medicine Men claim they have more knowledge and more power than Great Spirit. Our Medicine Men must now use their power to stop this water which Ee’-e-toy has sent to punish us.”

Then the chiefs and leaders called upon the Medicine Men all over the country. They said to the Medicine Men: “Our punishment has started. You people are mostly the cause of it. Now use the knowledge and the power which you claim to have to stop it. If you are stronger than Great Spirit, as you claim, you can save us from this punishment which Great Spirit sends.”

The Medicine Men said: “All right. We will see what we can do.” And the Medicine Men told the people they must offer up everything that was most dear to them. Everybody must bring the things they valued most and put the things in a very large olla. An olla, as you know, is an earthen jar. Then they would set the olla with the offerings in the hole, and the water would stop.

And every one who brought things to put in the olla had to start from the west and run four times. Then start from the south and run four times. Then start from the east and run four times. Then start from the north and run four times. Then the one who was making the offering put what he had to offer in the olla. And the Medicine Men put the olla with the offerings in the hole.

And this stopped the wind and the roar of the ocean and the water as the Medicine Men said it would.

But four days after this, about a mile west from where the water first broke out, the ground began to get moist.

Then the ground was muddy.

Then the wind began to blow and the water began to seep out.

Finally the water started to run again.

The people again told the Medicine Men they must find some way to stop the water and the wind.

The Medicine Men, who claimed they had more power than Great Spirit, tried it three nights. Then the Medicine Men had to say they could not find a way to stop the water.

So the people knew that Great Spirit was stronger than all the Medicine Men.

And the people did not know what to do.

Then, after a time, one man who was not a chief or a leading man, but just a common man, said: “You people remember when that Medicine Man wanted to show how Medicine Men have more power and more knowledge than Great Spirit, he sent back a child with Ee’-e-toy’s messenger. And you remember when Ee’-e-toy sent a man to bring the child into the village the man could not bring the child because of some water. Ee’-e-toy could not get the child because of that water which the Medicine Men sent to show their power.”

And the man said: “I have been thinking about these things. All of the things which happened when the Medicine Man sent that child to try Ee’-e-toy’s power might give us some kind of an idea of what to do now. Because the Medicine Man used a child to bring that water which they brought to show their power, I think that if we offer up some of our children it might stop this water which Great Spirit has sent. I think we must make this great sacrifice to save all the people from this punishment which Ee’-e-toy has sent to us because we would not live as he said but followed our Medicine Men. We told Ee’-e-toy to go away and let us alone. And Great Spirit told us that our Medicine Men would not be able to save us from the great flood which he would send. Our Medicine Men have shown they can do nothing to stop this water. Great Spirit told us we must find a way to save ourselves. I think the only way for us to save ourselves from this punishment is by this great sacrifice.”

Then the leaders and the chiefs called all the people—men, women and children, and everybody—and told them that they were going to offer up some children and see if that would stop the water.

They said the people must not refuse to offer up their children because it might be the saving of all the men, women and children and old people in the world.

They said they would offer four children: two girls and two boys.

Now the Desert People love their children very much. But to save all the people in the world from this terrible punishment which was sent because they had not obeyed Great Spirit, the people said they would make this sacrifice.

And the children to be offered up were chosen, and the chiefs and leaders told the parents.

The parents of the children said: “It shall be done.”

And the children gave themselves willingly.

Early in the morning the chiefs and leaders went to the place.

The noise of the water was louder and louder. And the wind came stronger and stronger.

And when they looked around for the four children that were to be offered up, there were only three. One child was missing.

So a man was sent to bring the child.

Now one of the women whose child was going to be offered had risen very early that morning and had put her child on a sleeping mat and rolled it up in the sleeping mat and stood it up against the house. And when the men came to ask where the child was, the woman said she did not know. She said the child got up and went away. She said she was waiting for the child to come back so she could take the child to the place of sacrifice.

Then all the people got together and looked for the missing child. But they could not find it.

So, after a time, the chiefs and leaders told another woman they would have to offer up her child.

This woman said: “If that is your wish it will be all right.”

They told the child and the child was willing to give himself to save all the people.

Then the chiefs and leaders took the four children up to the water.

They painted the children with all kinds of colors—red, white, and black, and all colors.

And as soon as they began to prepare the children the wind began to go down. The roar of the water sounded farther and farther away.

When the children were ready a boy was placed standing at the west. A boy stood at the east. A girl stood at the north. A girl stood at the south. Then the chiefs and leaders sang and danced around the children.

And while the chiefs and leaders were singing and dancing the children slowly sank down in the water and the mud.

As the children sank down in the water and the mud the roar of the water sounded fainter and fainter. The wind went down. The water came slower and slower. And when the children had disappeared in the mud and water, all but their heads, the wind and the roaring and the water stopped.

Then rocks were brought and a low wall was made around the children. The wall was just a little higher than the children’s heads. Larger rocks were put over the walls to cover the children. On top of this the people placed offerings. And at last all was covered up with dirt.

A little fence of mah-lawk—the ocotillo—was made around the mound of rocks. There were four doors in the fence: a door to the east, a door to the south, a door to the west, and a door to the north.

When all was finished the Medicine Men got up from where they had been sitting on some flat rocks. And the Medicine Men wanted to throw the rocks they had been sitting on away. They wanted to throw the rocks away because they had failed to stop the water.

But the chiefs and leaders said, “No. We want those rocks where you Medicine Men were sitting left there as a remembrance. You Medicine Men said you had more power and more knowledge than Great Spirit. So leave those rocks where you tried your power against Ee’-e-toy and could not save the people from their punishment, as a remembrance that Great Spirit is stronger than Medicine Men.”

And ocotillos were put around each one of the rocks the Medicine Men sat on when they tried their power again Ee’-e-toy. One ocotillo was put on the east, one on the west, one on the north, and one on the south.

Then the chiefs and leading men said that the ocotillo fence around the mound over the children, and the ocotillos around the flat rocks where the Medicine Men sat, must be renewed every two or every four years.

And it has been carried on that way to this very day. It has been done for many generations. Sometimes in two years and sometimes in four years, just as the ocotillos happen to look. So the ocotillos are always fresh. And the place is always cared for.

And every time when the fence is renewed the oldest leading men of the village sing a prayer. The old men say: “We renew this fence to remember what was going to happen to us because we did not live as Great Spirit said. And we do this to remember how it was worked that we were saved from our punishment. We will renew this fence to the end of the world. Each young generation that comes will renew this ocotillo fence as a remembrance of what might happen if the people do not live as Ee’-e-toy says.”

And after this ceremony of renewing the ocotillo fence the chiefs and leading men have a meeting with all the people. And the people are taught what was going to happen to those who lived in the old times because they did not mind their god. So the people are afraid to do anything wrong because they know what came pretty near happening to those who made fun of Great Spirit and laughed at his power.

The Indians, when they go near this place where the children are buried, never speak aloud. They only whisper. And everybody is very careful not to disturb anything in that place.

You may go to this place if you behave as you should. But the Indians do not want everybody to come. They want only those who understand the meaning of the mound of rocks and the ocotillo fence.

Now, at this time when the water was stopped, the woman who refused to offer her child laughed at the people. But when she unrolled the sleeping mat in which she had hidden her child, the child was not there. There was nothing in the sleeping mat but some foam of the ocean.

The woman said: “I would not give my child to save the people, and now I have lost it.”

CRADLES

(NAH-NAH-KEUH)

In the long ago times there was an Indian man and woman who loved their baby very, very much.

The mother took good care of her little one. She kept the baby with her all the time. Even when this woman went to work in the fields she took her baby with her. She never left it in charge of some one else at home.

The other babies of the village grew strong and fat and cried and pulled things. But this baby never cried. All day it lay in its cradle and slept or smiled but never cried.

This Indian mother arranged the ropes for her baby’s nah’-keuh—or cradle—most carefully. Over the ropes she put her softest blankets. She had extra ropes and extra blankets. The little form in the nah’-keuh looked like a big cocoon. And the baby in its cradle always swung where it was nice and shady.

But with all this mother’s care her baby seemed to grow smaller. When the cold days came it slept more and more. It smiled less often. And the mother, in those days, never smiled at all. She was afraid.

Then one morning the parents found that their baby was not breathing.

So the mother wrapped the little form in its brightest blankets. And the father called his neighbors to help him. And the parents and their friends carried the baby to the mountain where the dead are put in their rock homes.

They did not need much brush and stones to cover such a little thing.

Now a good Indian does not show how he feels. Especially if one is sad it must not be shown. The Great Spirit—Ee’-e-toy—who is the Spirit of Goodness, and the Big Brother of the Taw-haw-no Aw’-o-tahm, manages everything. So to feel very bad about anything is to oppose the Spirit of Goodness. But this mother had eaten nothing all that day. In her throat there was something big and hard which she could not swallow. As she went up the mountain with her friends she kept stumbling. And this worried her husband. He was afraid she would let the water come in her eyes.

The baby was so small they could not place it kneeling as the Desert People place their dead. So they laid the little form on its bright blankets and very carefully covered it with branches of suk-koy—the creosote bush, and of koo’-ee oos—the mesquite tree. Then they picked up the big rocks.

But now the mother could not see. She was looking at the sun. She did not want to be a weak Indian but she could not watch them throw those big rocks on the little mound of brush. She turned and started down the mountain toward the village. She walked very fast and stumbled often.

When the woman reached her house the first thing she saw was one of the cradles which she had made for her baby. The cradle was swinging from the branches of a mesquite tree. And for this nah’-keuh she had used a brown blanket. She snatched the cradle down and folded the blanket and pressed it against that thing which hurt so inside. And she went away from the house. She did not want to be there when the others came back.

The trail led down to the water among the cottonwoods. The woman could not see where she was going. But she did not care.

There were many trees down there by the water. But most of the leaves had come off because summer was gone. And it was almost dark because Tahs—the sun—was down.

The woman was still holding the brown cradle blanket close against her breast.

Then it seemed to her she heard a baby’s weak voice. She looked and just beyond the water there was a tiny brown cradle swinging from the low branches of a tree.

The woman dropped her own cradle blanket and ran to the nah’-keuh from which the baby’s voice had come. She took the cradle in her arms. But her arms only held some dry brown leaves that were swinging from a spider’s thread.

Then the woman heard another baby cry. This cry came from among some low bushes. But when she reached the place there were only more dry leaves. The leaves were curled into tiny cradles. But the cradles were empty.

The woman stood puzzled.

From right and left, and all around, she heard the cries of little babies. But when she looked she found only dead leaves. And the leaves were thick under her feet. The noise of the dead leaves was almost as loud as the cries of the babies.

The woman put her hands over her face.

Then, after a time, the woman heard some one speak very, very softly. And she knew without looking that it was Ee’-e-toy who was speaking to her.

Ee’-e-toy said: “The babies are here, my sister. They are the babies who have left their mothers, just as your baby has left you, to live with me. These tiny, brown curled leaves are the cradles in which the little ones go to sleep when they are tired. These babies who have left their mothers are very happy with me. And they do not like you to feel as you do. That is why they are crying now in their tiny brown leaf-cradles. Are you different from all the mothers?”

And the woman raised her head from her hands and smiled. And from all around her came the sound of babies laughing.

Then the woman took her own brown cradle blanket and went back to the village.

She found the neighbor women busy in her home. The ground was swept and cleaned. The fire was burning under the cooking olla.

A friend called to her not to go so close to the fire; the smoke would make her eyes bad. But an old Indian woman who looked at her sharply said, “She has talked to Ee’-e-toy.”

And always after this the woman’s eyes seemed to be looking a great way off. Sometimes you see eyes like that, big and quiet but looking beyond—farther and farther. Then you may know that person has talked to Ee’-e-toy.

THE RAINBOW

(KEE-AW-HAWT)

Once upon a time or, as the Desert People say it: ahm hoo-huh’-pie, there were two families. And this was a very long time ago. It was the time of mah-tahm ae saw-shawn-o-wah—which means the beginning of all things.

These two families lived near each other. They always went together to plant the fields and to gather the cactus fruit, and to the mountains for acorns.

There were many children.

And there was a boy of one family who always played best with one of the little girls of the other family.

Time passed. The children grew up. The boy was big and tall and strong, and slow in everything he did. The girl was skoo-kahch choo-heah—a beautiful girl.

So the time came when the girl’s parents began to look around to find a husband for her.

They found several whom they thought were good—young men who had fields and who came dashing into the village on young wild horses and were always ready to race or to work as the occasion demanded.

The girl’s mother asked her about it one day. The girl said she did not want to marry any one but the boy who had always played with her. Then there was trouble.

The girl was told all the things about the boy which she already knew. He was slow and lazy. He would rather sit in the shade and watch the birds than join the other men in their games. His people did not have much. If she married him she would have to stay in her own home and that was not fair to her brothers.

So it was settled that she must marry some one else.

The girl went out and found the boy. And they sat in the shade and talked and watched the butterflies and were so happy together they almost forgot that they were going to be separated.

The preparations for the wedding began.

The boy looked away at the distant mountains which were almost hidden in the haze of the desert. He thought how very soon the girl would be on the other side of those far-away mountains and he could not call to her nor see her. Then the sun was not so bright and it was hard to smile.

The boy and the girl talked about it. And she promised to always remember him and to send him some message.

But how could she send the message when she was the other side of those mountains which were so far away?

They thought of many things to use for signals and many ways to send a message. They gathered bright rocks and tried to let the sun shine on them so the light could be seen at a distance. But the bright rocks would not do. They could not use koops chuh-kee-tah—the smoke signals—because the mountains would be in the way. They talked to Oo-oo-fick—the birds—about it. The birds felt sorry. But the birds said they could not possibly go over those far-away mountains more than once a year.

The time was passing very quickly.

All the baskets and ollas were filled with food for the wedding feast.

The girl had not seen the boy for several days.

Then one morning the boy came and his face was bright.

The girl slipped away from the metate where she was grinding corn and joined him outside the house.

He was carrying a small basket. He led her to a hill where they often walked. Then he opened his basket. The girl cried out with pleasure. The basket was full of feathers. And the feathers were more beautiful than any the girl had ever seen.

These beautiful feathers—see-skoo-kahch ah-ahn—were green and blue and red and yellow. And they were so bright they looked as if they were burning.

The boy told how he had gone far to the South to a Medicine Woman and had explained to her their trouble. Kooh-lan Oofe—the Medicine Woman—had given him these beautiful feathers which were from a bird that was lost. The bird was sometimes called “Sunset Bird.” And Medicine Woman had told him how to use the feathers.

Kooh-lan Oofe said the boy and the girl must each take some of the feathers. And when they were far apart and there was a big storm they would think of each other. Then when the sun came out after the storm they would go into the sunshine and wave the feathers and the bright colors would shine from one to the other. It would not matter how far apart they were, or that the mountains were between them, because the message would be in the sky where Sun travels.

So when the girl went away to her new home on the other side of the far-away mountains she took her feathers. She kept the feathers very carefully. And guarded them.

And the first time Choo-vahk Aw’-o-tahm—the Cloud Man—brought the rain the girl thought of the boy. And she took her beautiful feathers and was ready for the sunshine which would follow the rain.

The sunshine came and the girl went out. And when Sun shone on the feathers which she held in her hand the colors rose and rose into the air. Then, as the girl looked, she could see the same colors coming toward her from beyond the mountains. And the girl was very happy because she knew that the boy was signaling to her.

And this, nah’-wawch, is why we always feel so glad when we see the rainbow. The bands of beautiful colors carry the love of this boy and girl across the sky.

And sometimes, as you know, kee-aw-hawt—the rainbow—comes in two parts. This is because sometimes the girl feels so happy she waves the feathers in both hands.

BUTTERFLIES

(HAH-HAW-KEE-MAH-LEE)

One day Ee’-e-toy came to a certain kee-him—or village—to see if his people had water enough after the long summer heat.

A crowd of Indian children were playing. And Ee’-e-toy stopped and listened to the happy music of their voices. He watched them laughing and playing. A long time Big Brother watched and listened to ah-ah-lee—the children.

Then Ee’-e-toy saw a very old woman carrying a load of wood on her head. The old woman was not so happy as the children.

A very old coyote—Koor-lee Pahn—came and looked at the children. And Koor-lee Pahn’s fur was not good, so Big Brother knew that Old Coyote was not happy like the children.

Seeing the old woman and the old coyote made Ee’-e-toy sad.

And because Big Brother’s heart was heavy he could not walk very fast. So he went to the shade of some cottonwood trees to rest. The leaves of the cottonwood trees had turned yellow but they still made a shade.

As Great Spirit sat there under the trees he thought of the children at play. He thought how different they would be when they grew old. He thought of some young calves he had seen that morning and how they would change as they grew older. He thought of a young colt he had seen kicking up its heels with joy, and how it would change into an old horse. He thought of the flowers and how their colors faded and they withered as they grew old.

And Ee’-e-toy thought he would like to have something around him that would not change as it became old. He wanted something that would not change and grow heavy like the cows and horses, nor wrinkled and bent like the old men and women, nor dry and colorless like the flowers. Great Spirit wanted something that would always stay happy and beautiful like the children.

As Ee’-e-toy was thinking these things under the cottonwood trees, he looked up. He saw the yellow leaves. He saw the blue sky through the leaves. He saw the shadows under the yellow leaves. He looked down and saw streaks and spots of sunlight dancing around on the ground just as the Indian children had danced. Then Great Spirit laughed. He had found just what he wanted.

Now Great Spirit always carries a bag. With this bag he makes things.

And Ee’-e-toy reached up and gathered a great handful of the yellow leaves and put them in his bag. Then he gathered some of the dark shadows that were under the leaves, and put the shadows in his bag. Then he stooped and picked up the sunbeams from the ground and put the sunbeams in with the yellow leaves and the shadows. Then he put some brown leaves in his bag. Then he put in some tiny white flowers. Then Ee’-e-toy looked in his bag and decided he needed more yellow leaves. And this time he reached so high that as he caught the leaves he caught some pieces of blue sky. So the bits of blue sky went into the bag with the leaves and other things.

Ah-ah-lee—the children—saw Ee’-e-toy under the cottonwood trees. And the children came to play with Big Brother.

But Big Brother threw his bag on the ground and lay down and put his head on it. And soon Ee’-e-toy and the children were all fast asleep in the cool shade of the cottonwoods.

After a while Ee’-e-toy awoke.

And Big Brother laughed as he looked at the sleeping children, and thought of what he had in his bag.

Then Ee’-e-toy called to the children. And when they were all awake he told them to watch. And Great Spirit opened his bag and shook it. And out fluttered the big yellow leaves and the spots of sunshine, and the brown leaves, and the tiny white flowers, and the bits of shadow, and the small pieces of blue sky. They were all alive. They floated through the air for a moment or two, then danced away into the sunlight. And all the children danced after them.

Ee’-e-toy stayed in the shade of the trees and was glad that at last there was something beautiful and gay which would never change and never grow ugly as it grew old.

And this, nah’-wawch, was the birth of Hah-haw-kee-mah-lee—the butterflies.

After a time the children and the butterflies came back to Ee’-e-toy. And the children were singing a new song. The children ran and danced as they sang. And the butterflies circled above them.

This is the song which the children sang as they danced with the butterflies:

Ee’-e-toy listened for the song of the butterflies.

But Hah-haw-kee-mah-lee—the butterflies—did not sing.

There were some birds resting in the tree above where Ee’-e-toy was sitting. And when the butterflies did not sing Oo-oo-fick—the birds—laughed.

The birds had been very jealous when they first saw Hah-haw-kee-mah-lee come out of Ee’-e-toy’s bag. The butterflies were so beautiful. But now when the butterflies had no song Oo-oo-fick laughed and sang and laughed.

Then Ee’-e-toy began to laugh.

And all the children laughed.

You see, when Big Brother made the butterflies he went to sleep. And all the children went to sleep. So the poor butterflies were given no song. Their beauty is always bright. They do not change as they grow old. But they have no song.

RUN LIGHTLY

(MUH-LEEN SOWAH-KAHM)

It was the hottest year Taw-haw-no Aw’-o-tahm—the Desert People—had ever known. It was the hottest time of that year.

For many weeks the Indians and the animals had looked at the sky to find just one cloud which would show that Choo-vahk Aw’-o-tahm—the Cloud Man—was alive. There was not a cloud.

The water holes had been dry for a long time. The Desert People had gone far away to find water. The coyotes had followed the Indians. The wolves and foxes had gone into the mountains. All the birds had left. Even Kah-kie-choo—the quail—who seldom leaves his own land, was forced to go away.

Kaw-him Choof—a lame jack-rabbit—had found a little shade. It was not much. There was just enough to keep him from burning. The tips of his ears and his tail were already burned black.

You can see this particular jack-rabbit marked that way even to this day.

As Kaw-him Choof lay panting in his little bit of shade he was wondering how he could manage the few days’ journey to a cooler place.

Then he saw Neu-fee—a buzzard—flying over him.

Now it is the law of the desert to live and let live. The animals forget this law sometimes when their stomachs are full and there is water. But when the earth burns the law is always remembered. So Jack-rabbit did not move when he saw Neu-fee circling down over him. Buzzard knew the law of the desert as well as he did.

Neu-fee flew in circles, lower and lower. When he was low enough he called to Jack-rabbit.

And Neu-fee said he had seen something very queer farther back in the desert. He said that when he was high up over that part of the desert which was burned bare, he saw on the ground a black place which seemed to be in motion. He had circled down hoping it was water. But it was only a great crowd of Ah-lee-choo-choom Aw’-o-tahm—the Little People.

The Little People, as you know, are the bees and flies and insects of all kinds.

Buzzard said these Little People were swarming around something on the ground. And Neu-fee said Jack-rabbit must carry the news because it might help some one.

It is a law of the desert that you must always help any one in trouble.

Jack-rabbit said what Buzzard had seen was very strange. Little People usually leave early when the water goes. And Jack-rabbit said he would carry the news.

But Jack-rabbit, whose ears and tail were burned black, being lame, could not travel very well. So he found a coyote and told him what Neu-fee—the buzzard—had seen.

Pahn—the coyote—was puzzled too. And he said he would carry the message on to the Indians.

After traveling a long way Coyote reached a village where there was a little water.

And while Pahn was hunting a drink an old Indian saw him. This old man, Koor-lee Aw’-o-tahm, still talked the speech which all of Ee’-e-toy’s people understood. So Coyote told him what Buzzard had seen in that part of the desert which was so badly burnt.

Old Man told the people of the village. And that night the people held a council to decide what they should do. They feared that some one had been left behind in the burning desert.

In the morning Koor-lee Aw’-o-tahm and a young man started back over the desert with water. They traveled only a little way after Tahs—the sun—came up. Through the heat of the day they rested. When Sun came down in the west they went on.

The first day there were koo’-ee oo-oos—the mesquite trees. But the mesquite trees had very few leaves. And the leaves were dry.

The next day it was hotter. There were no trees of any kind, only suk-koy—the greasewood bushes. And the greasewood bushes were almost white from dryness.

The third day they found nothing but a few dry sticks of mah-lawk—the ocotillo, and some prickly pears—nah’-fe. From these plants all color and moisture were gone.

The fourth day there seemed to be nothing left at all but rocks. And the rocks were very hot.

The two men did not drink the water which they carried. They mixed only a little of the water with their pinole, or parched ground wheat, which is the food of the desert Indians when they are traveling. While they were mixing their pinole on the morning of the fourth day, Old Man looked up and saw Coyote running toward them. And Coyote was calling for help.

Coyote had listened at that council in the village before the old man and the young man started on their journey across the desert. And Pahn had decided that anything important enough to take men back to the burning lands was worth examining. When Coyote’s stomach was full of food and water his curiosity was very active. So Pahn had gone ahead of the two men to find out for himself what it was that Buzzard had seen and Jack-rabbit had told him about. And Coyote now was running for his life. The Little People—the bees and wasps—were after him.

The old man called to Moo-moo-vah-lee—the bees, and to Veeps—the wasps—to tell him the trouble.

The Little People were very angry, but they stopped.

The Little People said the two men must go with them and keep Coyote away.

But there was no danger from Coyote now. He was too busy rubbing his nose in the earth.

So the two men followed Ah-lee-choo-choom Aw’-o-tahm—the Little People.

After a time the men saw a queer cloud made up of the flying ones. They looked down and saw the ground covered with moving specks. And the moving specks were ants of all kinds—big, little, brown and black.

The word of the coming of the men became known. The cloud of Little People spread out and parted. Then the men saw a woman lying with her eyes closed. The woman was being fanned by hundreds of bees. And Moo-moo-vah-lee—the bees—were singing very softly.

At first the men were afraid. They knew that while the Little People are very, very wise, they are also very quick tempered. But Old Man listened to the song which the bees were singing. And the song of the bees was a prayer for help for this woman who was their friend. So the two men went to the woman and gave her water.

The woman moved and spoke. But the men could not understand what she said. She did not open her eyes. They gave her pinole and water. Then they raised her up and began the return trip to the distant village.

Many of the Little People went away. But there was always a swarm of bees or wasps to guard the woman. And when the woman spoke they flew to her.

It was necessary to travel at night, the heat was so great.

And they went very slowly because the woman walked with her eyes almost closed and leaned heavily on the two men.

On the fourth day of their journey to the village where there was water, the woman would not rest. She pointed to the sky and began to dig holes in the ground. And the bees were very much excited. They sang—“Rain, rain, rain!”

In two more steps of Tahs—the sun—the clouds appeared. Then the rain came.

The woman kept digging holes. And the holes were filled with water. The two men filled their water baskets and were glad. But the happiest of all was juh-wutt—the earth.

When the rain was over the two men wanted to go on to their village.

The woman would not go. She pointed to the water holes she had made.

So the two men left the woman some pinole and went back to their people.

After a time the hot season was past and the Indians returned to their own country.

When they came to the place where the two men had left the strange woman they found many houses.

And this kee-him, or village, had been built by people from the south. These people said they had come to be near the great medicine woman of the Taw-haw-no Aw’-o-tahm.

The old man was curious and asked where this Medicine Woman lived.

The people of the village took him to a house made of the sticks of the ocotillo and covered with mud. There were two rooms in this house. The inside room was dark and there was a noise in it. The noise was a kind of buzzing.

When Kooh-lan Oofe—which is Medicine Woman—came out, the old man saw it was the woman whom the Little People had saved.

And this great Medicine Woman’s name was Muh-leen Sowah-kahm—which means “Run Lightly.” This was her name because when she wished to send a message she would always say: “Run lightly, my thoughts, and return to me with the message or the thing which I wish to know.”

Muh-leen Sowah-kahm told the old man that she had been among the strangers in the south and had returned alone to join her own people, the Taw-haw-no Aw’-o-tahm. She had found her home-village deserted. All the Desert People were gone. There was no water left. She did not know the trail her people had followed. The animals had gone too. And all of the birds.

So the woman, who was left alone in the burning land, sent up the prayer for help. And the prayer-song which she sang was one which none of Ee’-e-toy’s people dare ignore.

Moo-moo-vah-lee—the bees—were the first to come.

The bees went for help and brought Veeps—the wasps, and Kaw-kaw-me-kahm—the beetles, and Taw-tawn-ye—the ants, and all of the Little People who had not yet left the burning land.

The woman said the Little People had told her to go to sleep and they would watch.

That was all she knew.

When Muh-leen Sowah-kahm finished telling her story she went into the dark back room of her house. And when she came out again the bees were thick all over her. The Medicine Woman told the old man that now she took care of the bees.

While Muh-leen Sowah-kahm and the old man were talking some Indians came carrying a child. The child seemed asleep or dead. The people said she had been that way for a long time. They laid the child on the ground in the outer room of the Medicine Woman’s house.

Muh-leen Sowah-kahm took a gourd which had pebbles in it that rattled. She took some small, soft white feathers. And she took a little white powder. Then she sat down at the head of the child and began to sing.

The Indians could not understand this Medicine Woman’s song because she used the old, old language which is the one Ee’-e-toy gave his people in the beginning. All the animals understand this language. But only a very few of the old men and women remember it.

And as the Medicine Woman sang she rattled the gourd which had on it the marks of soo-ah-tuck—the water, and of wuh-pu-kuh—the lightning.

For a long time Muh-leen Sowah-kahm sang alone. But when the people who were sitting around had learned the song, they sang with her.

And the Medicine Woman took some of the white feathers and passed them softly over the child’s mouth and nose. She passed the feathers back and forth, back and forth. Sometimes she passed the feathers down over the child’s chest. Then again she passed them back and forth across the child’s face.

And the face of the child changed. The child’s body moved.

Medicine Woman gave a silent command to the child’s mother. The mother brought water.

The child drank.

Every one looked very pleased.

Then Muh-leen Sowah-kahm rested. She told the people to go home. She said the child would be all right. But the child must stay with her that night. The Medicine Woman said she would call to the animals that night and find the right one to help.

All night the village heard the sound of the Medicine Woman’s gourd. All night they heard her song.

The next morning when the old man went to the house of Muh-leen Sowah-kahm, the Medicine Woman was feeding the child. The child was sitting up.

And that day the child’s people took her home.

Now this is all that is known of Muh-leen Sowah-kahm. She was one of the greatest of all the Medicine Women in all the Land of the Desert People. She lived to be very, very old. And she taught her songs to a few men.

Some women tried to learn the songs. But the buzzing of the bees joined with the song in the heads of the women and made them afraid. Because they were afraid the women would not let the sleep come. The sleep was necessary in order to know all the powers which one does not see, and which are used in healing.

The Indians would take a new baby many miles to this great Medicine Woman. And Muh-leen Sowah-kahm would sing over the baby. She would sing over it with the white feathers of goodness which would help guard its spirit from meanness. And she would feed the baby a little of the very fine white meal which would make its body strong.

But sometimes this great Medicine Woman would refuse to sing. Then the people knew there was no hope to keep the child.

If the people grew angry and tried to make Muh-leen Sowah-kahm sing over such a child, the Medicine Woman would scold. She would ask them what right they had over Tahs—the sun, and juh-wutt—the earth—and all of Ee’-e-toy’s gifts. Then she would go into the dark inner room of her house. And Moo-moo-vah-lee—the bees—would begin to roar with anger.

The people would go away.

THE FLOWERS

(HY-CHO-HUH-O-SICK)

A man and a woman and a baby lived in the foothills of the Baboquivari Mountains.

In summer many Indians came to these foothills and lived near this family. But when summer was gone these people, whose homes were in the village in the valley, all returned to the flat country.

There were many rocks in this place in the foothills. There were many wild animals. When it was cold and stormy the wild animals would come to the house and ask for food.

The man had fields and cattle. But the fields and cattle were nearer the village in the valley. So the man would often stay with friends in the village and not come back to his home. This left the woman very much alone with her baby.

One night when the women put her baby in its nah’-keuh, which is a cradle made by folding a blanket over two ropes, she heard a coyote cry.

It was not Coyote’s usual cry.

He called again. Then the woman knew Coyote was in trouble and needed help.

She went out to look for him.

It was very dark. At first the woman could not see. But when her eyes grew larger she saw over by the water a large old coyote lying on his side. And Kooh Koor-lee Pahn—which is large old coyote—called to the woman to help him. He had slipped on a rock while he was getting a drink. The rock had turned and caught his leg.

The woman moved the rock. Then she gave Kooh Koor-lee Pahn some food.

And after that the coyote, who was now Koor-lee Kaw-him Pahn—which is old lame coyote—stayed quite close to the woman’s house.

And every evening when the woman was alone Old Lame Coyote would give her the news of the desert and the mountains: there was honey in a certain place, Old Gray Fox and his family had gone up to their cave, the men were going to plant a certain field, the wolves had carried off a young calf, and the coyotes had stolen it from them.

Now every evening, before it was too cold, this woman whose husband did not come home, would go and sit very quietly in the blue-gray light that comes after Sun is down.

And when the woman sat that way in the blue-gray light Old Lame Coyote did not talk to her. Koor-lee Kaw-him Pahn knew she wanted the message and talk from her own people in the village.

Sometimes the woman felt very heavy inside. And she would close her eyes and wish that the light would always be red, as at sunrise—red and bright and happy and warm—and not turn blue-gray and cold.

And sometimes when the messages from her people would not come, and she knew they were not thinking of her, she would talk to her baby and Old Lame Coyote. She would tell them how she loved the red light of the mountains more than any other and wished that everything was that color.

One of those nights, when the woman could not hear from her people in the distant village, Coyote told her that her baby was not going to stay with her. Koor-lee Kaw-him Pahn had been high up on the mountain and had heard the Medicine Men talk.

The woman was very sad.

Then Old Lame Coyote told her to listen carefully.

The woman listened.

At first she heard only the wind in the trees. Then quite close she heard a low, soft chuckle.

She looked and saw that her own baby was fast asleep in its cradle.

She listened again. And she heard many children laughing.

Then Koor-lee Kaw-him Pahn told the woman that many, many children were playing all around her. He said there were many more children near her than there were in all the villages. And these children were all very, very happy.

And after a time the woman could hear the children almost every night. They were so happy, and laughed and played so much, that she almost felt sorry for her own child that had to lie on its back and cry a great deal.

The woman’s husband returned from the village. But the woman did not tell her husband their child was going away. She only asked him to stay a little while with her and their baby and not to go back at once to his fields and cattle near the village.

The man only laughed. He said summer would come soon and there would be many people near her. He promised to return home if Old Lame Coyote should come for him. And that was the best the woman could do.

The man went away again to stay with his friends in the village in the valley.

A few days after this the child went to sleep and did not wake again.

The mother sat all alone by her dead baby.

After a while she heard Old Lame Coyote call. And the woman knew she must have been sitting there by her dead baby a very long time because her husband was coming up the trail. Koor-lee Kaw-him Pahn had gone to the distant village for him.

The woman gathered together the child’s cradle and all the things which she had used for the baby. And the man and the woman carried these things with the little body up the side of the mountain.

When they came to the place the man put down the little body. The woman put the things which the baby had used down by it. They laid bushes over the body and the things. And over all they piled the rocks.

The man noticed that the child’s tiny moccasins—ah-lee-choom tee’-wah—were not covered by the rocks. But he did not say anything about it.

That evening when the blue-gray light came and filled all the cañons and hollows, the woman went out alone. Her husband wanted to scold a little so he started to follow her. But Old Lame Coyote stopped him.

It was late when the woman returned. She was carrying her baby’s moccasins. And there was a string tied to ah-lee-choom tee’-wah—the little moccasins.

The next day the man went away to the village.

When the man was gone Old Lame Coyote felt free to examine things. So he followed the string that was tied to the child’s moccasins. And the string went from the tiny moccasins to the child’s grave.

That night the woman sat alone waiting and listening. But there was no baby laughter.

Then the woman complained to Old Lame Coyote that the children did not come. And Koor-lee Kaw-him Pahn told her the string, which went from the baby’s moccasins to the place where the little one was buried, was surely broken. Old Lame Coyote said of course her baby would want its moccasins and if the string were not broken it would follow the string and find them.

So next morning the woman and Old Lame Coyote went together to the baby’s grave on the side of the mountain.

They found that the string had been broken and carried away.

The woman felt very bad.

While they were sitting there, Tawk-e-toot—a spider—came along. And Spider offered to make a string that would not break.

So Old Lame Coyote and the woman went home.

When Tahs—the sun—came down at the end of his day’s journey, Tawk-e-toot—the spider—appeared. And Spider tied the silver thread which he had made to the baby’s moccasins. The silver thread went from ah-lee-choom tee’-wah—the little moccasins—to the grave on the side of the mountain.

The woman felt that now her baby would surely find his way. So she went to sleep.

In the night the woman heard Old Lame Coyote. She asked what was the trouble.

Koor-lee-Kaw-him Pahn answered that a pack rat had stolen one of the child’s moccasins. But he said he would guard the other.

Old Lame Coyote sat for a long time watching and waiting for that rat. Rats were sneaking, mean things. They had no honor. They would not fight. And it was at this very time that the pack rat learned to carry things away.

At last Old Lame Coyote heard a noise. It was not Rat. That was certain.

Then Koor-lee Kaw-him Pahn turned and saw a crowd of children. Some were tiny little things. Some were larger. And the children were carrying the woman’s baby. And the baby was gurgling and chuckling and laughing as happy babies do. They were all coming straight down the spider’s silver string which led from the baby’s grave on the mountain to the little moccasin which Pack Rat had not carried away.

The baby put on the moccasin that was left. Then the children scattered and began to play.

And every place where the baby’s little bare foot touched the ground, the ground turned red.

The children noticed this very soon. They pointed to the red spots and laughed.

The baby said it was because his mother loved that color.

Then the other children took off their moccasins. And wherever the bare feet of the children touched the ground there was color. The colors were yellow and red and pink and white and blue, and all colors. Some of the spots were small. Some were large. Nearly all were fragrant.

When the sky in the east began to turn pink the children all joined hands and ran away.

Old Lame Coyote watched them go and smiled. He knew that they were very happy. So Koor-lee Kaw-him Pahn—the old lame coyote—put his head down on his paws and went to sleep.

When the woman came out that morning she looked at the ground and was happy. She had heard the children in her dreams and knew that they were near. And now she saw that the children had left their footprints for her.

Some people call these footprints of the happy spirit children, flowers. But the Indians who are wise know what they really are. The Desert People know why the desert flowers are so sweet and why they are so many different colors even when they are very close together.

DRAGON-FLY

(VAHAH-KEE-MUH-LEE)

In the very early times there was an Indian family of many children.

The youngest girl in this family was named See-tawn-nawt, which is “Bright Light.” And she was skoo-kahch, which is beautiful. Even when she was ah-lee-choom choo-heah, which is a little girl, See-tawn-nawt was skoo-kahch.

Another family of the Desert People lived not far away. The youngest boy of this family was about the age of Bright Light. He was called Choo-muck-heet Hah-guk, which means “Victorious Conqueror.” His people gave him that name because he was large for his age and was always walking over his playmates and having his own way.

Choo-muck-heet Hah-guk and Bright Light were always together. And if the boy liked his own way the girl liked her way even more. Usually she had it.

Bright Light’s mother and father and sisters all petted her. She grew up very spoiled.

As the boy, Choo-muck-heet Hah-guk, grew older he grew very ugly. His arms and legs were very long. His face was very thin. His hair was not thick and shiny like the other boys. His hair never would stay smooth. He could not ride like his brothers. He was not strong. His father always gave him the easiest work in the fields. Even when he did not work so hard as his brothers he would return from the fields very tired and would rest while the others played.

And Choo-muck-heet Hah-guk hated all this. If any one suggested that he was not strong he was ready to fight.

But there was one thing which this boy did better than any one else. Better than any one else he could make the music come from the baskets.

He would always choose the two sticks very carefully. In one stick he would carefully make notches. Then placing one end of the notched stick on a basket he would move the other stick up and down over the notched one.

He learned to make the music of running water. He learned to make the whisper of the little desert things at night. Sometimes he just made one sad. Sometimes he would say he was making a song of the sunlight.

As the girl, See-tawn-nawt, grew up, she did her share of the work. She learned to make baskets and to weave mats. She learned to cook and to grind hoon—the corn, and pee-lee-kahn—the wheat. But Bright Light was not fond of working in the fields. So, because she usually had her own way, her sisters did the field work. She stayed more in the house.

And Bright Light loved to have Choo-muck-heet Hah-guk make music for her.

As the boy and the girl grew older they were still very good friends.

Then the men began coming around the girl. Bright Light’s mother scolded her for always having such a crowd.

When Bright Light’s sisters were married there were big feasts. There was much dancing. And See-tawn-nawt was the gayest of all the Indian girls.

Choo-muck-heet Hah-guk became jealous. He thought: what right have all these men to be dancing and playing with my girl?

And he told Bright Light what he thought.

Bright Light told him that she did not belong to him or any one else—yet.

And so they had a very nice quarrel.

See-tawn-nawt said when she chose her man he must be big and strong and very handsome and the best rider of all the tribe.

That was enough. Choo-muck-heet Hah-guk went home and stayed there.

And Bright Light missed the music of the baskets. Sometimes in the evening shadows she would creep near enough to hear the boy play.

But the music was always sad these nights.

Summer came and the water holes on the mesa dried up. The Desert People drove their cattle and horses to the foothills near the mountains. In the foothills close to the mountains the springs are always fresh. The clouds give running water to the upper cañons before the sun has a chance to dry it up.

This year Choo-muck-heet Hah-guk was given charge. His brothers were busy in the fields.

The women went to the foothills with Choo-muck-heet Hah-guk and the horses and cattle to gather and cook the fruit of the giant cactus.

So the young man and Bright Light became good friends again.

And the camp was very peaceful.

The girl’s mother scolded See-tawn-nawt and told her Choo-muck-heet Hah-guk would make a good husband. The mother said her daughter would lose this boy, and every one else, if she kept on dancing like the butterflies.

But Bright Light just laughed and danced away.

Then the Indians decided to hold nah-vite ee—the wine festival—up in the foothills camp.

The message went forth and the people gathered. All the people of the village came. Some came from the neighboring villages. There were many young men. And the young men all looked with pleasure on Bright Light as she hurried around the camp.

Choo-muck-heet Hah-guk tried to always be near the girl he loved.

But See-tawn-nawt would laugh at him and mock him. She would ask if ever there was a man so ugly. Sometimes she called him Long-legs and said his eyes were too large for his legs.

The first night of the feast was spent in dancing and singing, and drinking nah-vite—which is the wine made from the cactus fruit.

Choo-muck-heet Hah-guk could not dance. He had to make the music for the others. He had to play and play as long as they wanted to dance.

But at last the Wine Spirit came. The Indians began to go to sleep. The singing and dancing stopped. Choo-muck-heet Hah-guk was free.

He went up the cañon in the moonlight.

The rocks were large and it was hard climbing. But he climbed on until he reached a deep water hole where there was always the soft whisper of the moving water. The trees and brush sheltered this place. The moonlight came in big and little patches. These spots of light upon the rocks were like the marks on a giant Gila monster.

The young man was very tired and sad. All that evening See-tawn-nawt had laughed at him and mocked him. And she had smiled at all the other young men around her.

So Choo-muck-heet Hah-guk stretched himself on a big rock.

He listened to the water talking. And he thought how happy he would be if he could only stay with Bright Light always.

Then he grew a little mean in his thoughts. He remembered how ugly he was. Bright Light admired big strong men. Why had Ee’-e-toy made him so ugly? He was sleepy. The sound of the water was in his ears. The bushes were covered with sweet flowers. Yet he felt hard toward everything. And that was not good.

Choo-muck-heet Hah-guk remembered these hard thoughts were not good. He remembered just as he was going to sleep. So he made a prayer which was almost a song. He thought over his prayer deep inside of himself. As he thought over it his prayer came stronger and stronger. When his prayer was strong enough he began to sing.

That is the way prayer-songs are made.

The young man asked Great Spirit to change him into something so beautiful that he might be with this girl he loved, and that she might love him always.

Then Choo-muck-heet Hah-guk slept.

Now the tiny insects and the beetles and bugs heard the young man’s prayer. And the Little People—Ah-lee-choo-choom Aw’-o-tahm—did not like it.

The news traveled fast and they held a council. The Little People said: “Here is a man—a brother of Great Spirit—who is not satisfied. Ee’-e-toy must listen to him.”

So Ee’-e-toy came among the Little People. And Big Brother had made himself smaller than the very smallest one. He listened to the talk. He thought for a while.

And Ee’-e-toy suggested to Kaw-kaw-me-kahm—the beetles—that they take this young man into their family.

The beetles said no. They did not want Choo-muck-heet Hah-guk. His legs were too long.

Then Ee’-e-toy asked Juh-wutt Vahp-tawpe—the earthworms.

The worms said no. They did not want this young man in their family because his eyes were too large.

Nah-kum-muh-lee—a bat—came down for a drink. And Ee’-e-toy said he would put Choo-muck-heet Hah-guk into the bat family. But Bat did not like the young man’s hair.

Then Ee’-e-toy was cross. He said to these people: “You are all very particular. I will answer this young man’s prayer and make you all admire him.” And Ee’-e-toy reached up and took two hands full of silver moonlight with some cobwebs gleaming in it. With the silver moonlight and the cobwebs he made some long graceful wings. He touched the sleeping man’s body and it became the color of the rocks.

Next morning when the world woke, Choo-muck-heet Hah-guk was lying on his face. He felt fresh and happy and very light. He could see all around without moving his head. He saw the beautiful wings on his back. He did not know what had happened. He thought he would go to the water so he could see himself. He tripped and fell off the rock and went sailing through the air on his wings. This was fine. He looked in the water and saw his slender, beautiful body. He took a good long look. Then he started for camp.

The first person Choo-muck-heet Hah-guk saw was Bright Light. She was making the fire.

The young man called.

The girl looked up. At first she could not see him. Then she saw and cried out, “Oh, how beautiful!” and started after him.

They had a merry chase.

The girl’s mother had to call her home and scold about the breakfast.

And after this See-tawn-nawt had no interest in the young men of the camp. When they asked her she said she would have no man who was not as swift and as beautiful as Vahah-kee-muh-lee—the dragon-fly.

THE OWLS

(CHOO-CHOO-KUTT)

In the long ago time there was an Indian man who lived in a certain village with his old mother and three old aunts. And this man married a woman who had three sisters, a mother, and a grandmother.

The man and woman had only one child.

The child grew up to be soo-keek choo-heah, which is a happy girl. Her father’s three old aunts, and her mother’s three sisters were all without husbands. So the girl always had some one to watch her and amuse her. If her aunts were all busy then her father’s mother, or her mother’s mother, or her mother’s grandmother would look after her.

With a father and a mother, six aunts, two grandmothers and a great-grandmother, this little girl was very well cared for.

One summer, when the girl was almost as tall as a greasewood bush, something passed over the village and all the young things became sick. Many died.

The child became sick.

Her aunts built a hut for her because an Indian who is sick must never stay with those who are well. And this sick-house which the girl’s aunts built was larger than most sick-houses. It was large because there were so many people to care for her.

The girl lay in the sick-house several days.

Then she asked to be taken under the stars.

She lay very quiet. She seemed to grow weaker and weaker. At times she seemed almost to stop breathing.

One night the great-grandmother came to watch over the sick girl. And Great-grandmother thought the child dead. So she began to cry as old people do. She cried, “Oow, oow!”

Great-grandmother’s voice was weak because she was a very old woman. But the other grandmothers heard. And the other grandmothers began to wail, “Oow, oow! Our child is dead. Oow, oow!”

The three sisters of the girl’s mother looked at the child and they began to cry, “Oow, oow—oow, oow!”

The three old aunts of the child’s father lived on the other side of the village. But they heard the wailing. And the three old aunts got up out of their beds and came out under the stars and cried, “Oow, oow—oow, oow!”

Ee’-e-toy was in a distant village but he heard the cries. And Ee’-e-toy came to find out why his people were making so much noise.

When Great Spirit came near the sick-house where the girl lay, the child’s father ran to meet him. And the father began to tell Ee’-e-toy about the sickness which had come to the children of the village and how his only child was dead. But before the father could finish telling Ee’-e-toy, the child’s mother came running and crying, “Oow, oow, my child is dead!” Then the father’s three old aunts came crying, “Oow, oow!” The mother’s three sisters came crying, “Oow, oow!” The grandmothers joined in the wailing, “Oow, oow—oow, oow!” There was so much noise on the desert that Ee’-e-toy could not think. The sound went up and down his back.

Great Spirit said, “What will stop this?”

The father said, “Oh, Big Brother, give me the life of my child.”

Ee’-e-toy said, “Yes, I will give you the life of your child. Your child shall not die.” And Ee’-e-toy said, “These old women shall not die either. These old women shall continue to wail, ‘Oow, oow!’ They shall wail like birds—not when people die, but in the night at the moon.”

After a time the sick child became well.

More time passed.

And the great-grandmother now was very old. She was very thin. Her hair was white. Her nose was bent down to her chin. She could not walk without a stick. She had no teeth. She could not hear.

One evening the girl’s father found Great-grandmother sitting very still with her chin resting on her knees. She had no breath.

The news was carried.

Everybody remembered how Ee’-e-toy had said that these old women should not die. And the people of the village were a little frightened. But the men gathered the stones and the women gathered the brush for the burial.

The men carried the old great-grandmother to the burial mountain.

They put her down and began to pile the rocks around her. But they thought she was very small. And each time when some one brought a rock the old great-grandmother seemed smaller.

They stopped bringing rocks.

Great-grandmother raised her white head. Her eyes were very large and blinking. She moved a little.

This frightened the people and they stepped back.

Great-grandmother hopped to a big stone. Then she opened two big wings and flew to a mesquite tree. And the people all heard her voice—not weak now, but strong: “Oow, oow!”

The Indians remembered what Ee’-e-toy had said and they went home very quiet.

The girl’s grandmother—her father’s mother—grew very weak.

She begged to be left out-of-doors and not taken into the sick-house. So they left her under a big mesquite tree and carried her food to her.

One day when the girl carried the evening meal to her grandmother under the mesquite tree, she could not find the little old woman.

The girl looked everywhere.

At last she heard something in the tree. She looked up and saw a big bird with a big white head.

And as the girl looked the big bird wailed, “Oow, oow!” and flew away.

The girl told her father and mother and they remembered what Ee’-e-toy had said.

But the father and mother would not tell the girl when she questioned them. They sent her over to the other part of the village where her father’s three aunts lived.

The aunts were now very old women. They could not walk much so the girl was in the habit of visiting them.

The girl came to the house of her aunts and looked in.

There was no one there.

She called.

No one answered.

Then she started for the place where her aunts went for water.

When she came near the water hole she heard the voices of her aunts wailing, “Oow, oow!”

The cry was repeated three times.

The girl looked and saw the three old women—only now the three old women were three great big birds. The birds were at the edge of the water hole drinking.

After a little they flew away.

Then, one day the girl was brushing her other grandmother’s hair. This grandmother was the mother of the girl’s mother.

And the girl called her mother and said: “Look, grandmother’s hair is just like the hair of chickens, only finer and whiter.”

It was so. The old woman’s head was covered with soft white feathers.

And very soon this grandmother would not come into the house at night. And then, one day, they could not find her. But they saw a large white bird sitting on top of the house. The bird stayed until night. Then it cried, “Oow, oow, oow!” and flew away.

The people of the village were often awakened now by big birds which flew at night and cried: “Oow, oow—oow, oow!”

The Indians would say: “There go the old women.”

Three other old women of the child’s family were left. They were the three sisters of the girl’s mother. And they became very old and very feeble.

The people talked of when they would fly away.

The old ones did not seem to mind the talk. They just blinked their eyes.

And when Ee’-e-toy called them they went flapping their wings and wailing, “Oow, oow, oow!”

If you go far enough into the country of the Taw-haw-no Aw’-o-tahm you will come to the place where this village of the owls was. And even in these days there are many owls in this place because this was the first place where there were any.

Choo-choo-kutt—the owls—have always been friendly birds. The Indian children love to hunt them when they are asleep in the daytime. And the children always say to Choo-choo-kutt—the owls: “Oow, oow, Grandmother!”

THE YELLOW HAND

(SOAHM NAWFE)

A long time ago there was a large village where San Xavier Mission is now. In those days before the Mission was built a man who lived in this village had fields and worked very hard. He was always managing to get fields from some one else who did not work so hard.

Sometimes the man’s wife scolded a little. She would say it was nothing but work for both of them. She would say they already had more than they needed. They had more than their only child, a girl, would need.

But the man kept on working and trading until he had the very best land in all the valley. He had the best horses. He had the greatest number of cattle.

Then this man began collecting yellow stones.

His wife scolded more and more. She said it was time to choose a husband for their daughter. She said he was always too busy to go with the other Indians on hunts or to the feasts. She said the people of the village did not like him and were afraid of him.

Then, one day, a strange man appeared from the south. Stranger rode a burro. He went to the place where the man was working and emptied a sack of rocks. Then Stranger and the man pounded some of these rocks and washed them and burned them.

This took a long time. So the man brought Stranger to his house for food.

The wife and daughter served them. The mother was very cross and scolded a great deal. Stranger watched the girl.

When Stranger left the woman asked her husband what he had traded this time.

The man only laughed and showed her a handful of yellow stones.

Now the woman had decided upon a husband for her girl. But the man would not listen to her. He would not pay attention to anything she said. She was very sad. She went about her work worried and quiet.

And then, one morning, the woman looked far to the south and saw something moving.

She watched.

What she saw was a number of burros with big baskets on their sides. The burros with the baskets came to the house. The stranger who had been there before was driving the burros.

Stranger asked the woman for her husband.

The man came from his fields.

Stranger was emptying the baskets which were filled with rocks.

When the baskets were all unloaded the man came to the house. He told his wife he had a husband for their girl. He said the girl must get her things together and go with Stranger.

The mother wept and begged. She did not want to give up her girl to a stranger from a strange land.

But her husband was already pounding the rocks which Stranger had brought and paid no attention to her.

The next day the girl started south with her husband.

The father was pounding the rocks which Stranger had brought to him.

The mother went scolding about her work. She felt very heavy and queer inside.

Time passed.

The man no longer worked in his fields. He spent all his time pounding his rocks and washing them and burning them.

The stranger came again with his burros loaded with rock. He emptied the baskets of rock and went away.

And all the people in the village knew now that the man had traded his girl for a pile of rocks.

They laughed at him and left him alone.

The woman was very sad these days. She complained that her husband was turning to rock.

When the man had almost finished one pile of rock the stranger would arrive from the south with more. This would make the man work harder than ever.

The woman did not know what her husband did with the small yellow stones which he got out of the rock. She thought he put them in a hole in the ground.

Often the woman had to carry her husband’s meals out to the place where he was working. All day long he would pound, pound at the rocks. The pile of the rocks he had crushed was larger than three houses.

And the woman noticed that the man’s hands were always covered with yellow dust.

After a time the wife became old and very tired. She refused to work in the fields. The man did nothing but pound rocks. So others plowed and planted the fields and gave the man and his wife a certain portion.

The summer rains came.

The man refused to leave his rocks. He worked all day. He worked at night by the light of a big fire. He was wet with the rain many times. He began to cough very hard. His wife begged him to rest. She said: “If you do not rest the deer will come.”

The woman said this to her husband because the belief was that a certain sickness was brought by a deer. When one who is sick in this way coughs, there is no hope for that one to get well. The deer that brings this sickness is a blacktail deer. And when the Desert People eat blacktail deer-meat they are very careful. If you cough when you are eating the meat of this deer you will cough until you die.

But even the fear that the deer would come did not stop this man from working at his rocks. Day after day he sat in the rain and pounded and pounded the rocks for which he had traded his daughter.

And the woman noticed that even the rain had not washed the yellow dust from one of his hands.

Then, one morning, when the woman looked out, her husband was not pounding rocks. She went to him and found that he was dead.

The woman called the people living nearest and they began preparing for the burial ceremony. The woman brought out all the blankets and things which the man had.

While they were wrapping the dead man in the blankets his right hand fell off.

The woman picked up the hand and it was very yellow and heavy and hard, just like a rock.

When all was ready the body was taken to the burial hill. The hand was placed beside the body and everything was covered with the brush and stones as the custom is.

And that night some kind women stayed with the woman in her house because she was now all alone.

The woman and her friends had been sleeping for some time when they heard a sound of pounding.

It was near the house.

The wife of the dead man was very tired and very sleepy. She was only half awake. She said: “It is only the old man at his rocks,” and went to sleep again.

But the other women were frightened and could not sleep.

The pounding continued until morning.

In the morning the woman was awake enough to know that her dead husband could not be working at his rocks. So she went out to find who had made the sound of pounding. She found no one and came back to the house puzzled.

The next night the sound was heard again.

The next night it was heard again. And the sound of pounding seemed to be growing louder.

The people of the village began to whisper. They began to keep away from the woman.

This made the woman angry. She made up her mind to find out who was making the noise. So when night came and she heard the pound, pound, pound, she went to the rocks which her husband had been breaking up when he died.

As she went near the pile of rocks the sounds grew fainter. When she moved farther away the pounding grew louder.

Then the woman decided to visit her husband’s grave.

It was very dark.

As she came nearer the burial mound the sound of the pounding became louder. It was too dark to see. She decided to go home and wait until it was day.

Early the next morning the woman and some friends went to the place where Man-Who-Pounded-Rocks was buried.

There was no noise. But there was a very restless spirit around.

The woman could not understand it. She walked all around the mound of brush and rocks looking at it and wondering. Then she saw something bright. She stooped and looked carefully. It was the yellow hand of her husband which had broken off.

The woman’s friends who were with her thought the coyotes had been after the hand. But she knew better.

They took the yellow hand to the house.

One of the woman’s friends kept watching the yellow hand. She picked up the hand and several little pieces of yellow rock fell out. The woman quickly slipped the pieces of yellow rock out of sight. She thought no one saw her.

But the wife of the dead man had seen.

The woman and her friends talked about what they should do. They decided to put the yellow hand in the ground.

They placed the hand in an old olla and went out not far from the house and dug a hole and put the olla in and covered it.

That night the woman was very tired and went to sleep early.

But she did not sleep long. She heard a sound: tap, tap, tap!

She went to the door. There was no one there.

She came back into the house and thought she must have been mistaken.

A few minutes later the sound was repeated. This time the woman felt sure it was the yellow hand.

She started to go to the place where they had buried the hand. She had only gone a little way when she stumbled over something. She felt in the dark to see what she had stumbled over. It was the yellow hand.

The woman sat down to think. She did not know what to do. There seemed to be no one for her to ask.

Then, as the woman sat there, some Little People, who work day and night in the summer, passed by.

The woman called. And the message was carried quickly to all the Little People that a human being wanted their help.

The woman sat on the ground waiting. She was very still in the dark, with her ears keen for the word which would come.

The Little People will not always help but when they are willing the advice is always very good.

After a time, in the darkness, the woman heard, or felt, or understood what she was to do.

She knew now that her dead husband’s yellow hand had returned for the little pieces of yellow rock it had loved so much. The sound of pounding in the night was the yellow hand working at the rocks as the man was working when he died. The woman knew that if this yellow hand was left where others could find it, those who found it would feel that same love for these little pieces of yellow rock. So the woman must hide the yellow hand far away where no one would ever find it. And she must find all the pieces of yellow rock which the hand wanted, so it would never come back again.

When it was morning the woman went to her friend who had kept the pieces of rock which fell from the yellow hand and asked for them.

At first the friend said she had not taken the pieces of yellow rock. But later she gave them up.

Then the woman went to the place where her husband had broken so many rocks. She hunted until she found all of the little yellow pieces.

When it was late in the day the woman took the yellow hand and the pieces of rock she had taken from her friend, and those she had found where her husband had worked, and put them all in her blanket. Then she started up the steep side of the mountain.

The way was very rough and very steep and very hard. The woman was old and tired.

She sat down in the dusk to rest. She thought she would rather throw the yellow hand far from her and go back to her house and her supper.

As the woman sat there thinking and feeling tired, Taw-tawn-ye—an ant—ran over her hand. And Taw-tawn-ye, the ant, stopped. So the woman thought the ant might have a message for her. And she was very still and listened very hard. She listened with the inside ears.

Taw-tawn-ye reminded the woman of the advice his people had given her. He told her to remember what troubles would happen if she left this yellow hand where the people could find it.

Then the woman thought of all her lonely years. She thought of her only daughter traded for rocks. And she knew she could not let any one else live this way.

She wrapped her blanket around her and slept until the morning light made things clear.

Then she took up the yellow hand and the pieces of yellow rock and hid them somewhere on the mountain.

When she had done this the woman returned to her home and lived in peace and happiness with all the people. She never again heard the sound of the yellow hand pounding rocks.

Now this mountain where the woman hid the yellow hand and pieces of yellow rock, is called Schook Toahk, which means Black Mountain. It is not far from San Xavier Mission.

But you need not try to find this golden hand and the gold that is hidden with it. Many people have looked for the place where this gold is hidden. But the gold has never been found.

The Indians are afraid to look for the yellow hand. They know that to do so would bring trouble and sickness and death.

And this is why Taw-haw-no Aw’-o-tahm—the Desert People—will not tell you if they know where there is gold. They would rather die before they would tell.

Gold has always brought trouble for the Indians.

This was the very first that the Indians knew about gold.

This was the beginning of all their trouble.

Hah-pah-mah-sah-mah huh-mooch—it is the same now.

Tee’-o-shah toysh moy-kah

BE WITH GOD

Mis-spelled words and printer errors have been corrected. Where multiple spellings occur, majority use has been employed.

Punctuation has been maintained except where obvious printer errors occur.

[The end of Long Ago Told (Huh-Kew Ah-Kah)--Legends of the Papago Indians by Harold Bell Wright]