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For behold! the youth of our nation
in these recent generations have become less sturdy than of old; else what
I relate had not happened.
To our shame be it told that not many generations ago there lived in Moki
a poor, ill-favored outcast of a young man, a not-to-be-thought-of-as-hero
youth, yet nevertheless the hero of my story; for this youth, the
last-mentioned in the numbering of the men of Moki in those days, alone
brought great grief on the nation of Zuņi.
And it happened that in Walpi, on the first mesa of the Mokis, there lived
an amiable, charming, and surpassingly beautiful girl, whose face was
shining, eyes bright, cheeks red like the frost-bite on the datila; whose
hair was abundant and soft, black and waving, and done up in large whorls
above her ears,--larger than those of the other maidens of her town or
nation,--and whose beautiful possessions were as many as were the charms
of her person.
What wonder, then, that the youths of the Moki towns should be enamored of
her, and seek constantly, with much urgent bespeaking, for the favor of
her affections_ Yet she would none of them. She would shake her head with
a saucy smile, and reply to every one, as well as to every recommendation
of one from her elders: "A hero for me or no one! Any one of these young
men may win my affections if he will, for who knows until the time comes
whether a man be a hero or not_"
So she made a proposition. She said to all the youths who came suing for
her hand Behold! our nation is at enmity with the Zuņis, far off to the
eastward, over the mountains. If any of you be so stout of limb and strong
of heart and brave of will, let him go to Zuņi, slay the men of that
nation, our enemies, and bring home, not only as proofs of his valor, but
as presentations to the warrior societies of our people, scalps in goodly
number. Him will I admire to the tips of my eyelashes; him will I cherish
to the extent of my powers; him will I make my husband, and in such a
husband will I glory!"
But most of the young and handsome suitors who worried her with their
importunities would depart forthwith, crestfallen, loving the girl as they
did, forsooth, much less than they feared the warriors of Zuņi,--so
degenerate they had become, for shame! Months passed by. Not one of those
who went to the maiden's house full of love came away from it with as much
love as want of valor.
At last this outcast youth I have mentioned--who was spoken to by none,
who lived not even in the houses of his people, but, all filth and rags,
made himself comfortable as best he could with the dogs and eagles and
other creatures captive of the people, eating like them the castaway and
unwholesome scraps of ordinary meals--heard these jilted lovers conversing
from time to time, exclaiming one to another: "A valuable maiden, indeed,
for whom one would risk one's life single handed against a nation whose
ancients ever prevailed over all men! No! though she be the loveliest of
women, I care not for her on those conditions." "Nor I Nor I!" others
would exclaim.
Overhearing this talk, the youth formed a most presumptuous resolution--no
other, in fact, than this: that he himself would woo the maiden.
All dirty and ragged as he was, with hair unkempt, finger-nails long, and
person calloused by much exposure, lean and wiry like an abused but
hardened cur, he took himself one night to the home of the maiden's
father.
"She-e!" he exclaimed at the entrance of the house, on the top.
And the people within called out: "Kwátchi!"
"Are ye in_" inquired the youth, in such an affable and finished tone and
manner of speaking that the people expected to see some magnificent youth
enter, and to listen to his proposal of marriage with their maiden.
When they called out "Come in!" and he came stepping down the ladder into
the lighted room, they were, therefore, greatly surprised to see this
vagabond in the place of what they expected; nevertheless, the old father
greeted him pleasantly and politely and showed him a seat before the
fireplace, and bade the women set food before him. And the youth, although
he had not for many a day tasted good food or consumed a full meal even,
ate quite sparingly; and, having finished, joined, by the old man's
invitation, in the smoking and conversation of the evening.
At last the old man asked him what he came thinking of; and the youth
stated that, although it might seem presumptuous, he had heard of the
conditions which the maiden of this house had made for those who would win
her, and it had occurred to him that he would be glad to try,--so little
were his merits, yet so great his love.
The old man listened, with an inward smile; and the maiden, though she
conceived no dislike for the youth (there was something about him, strange
to say, now that his voice had been heard, which changed her opinion of
him), nevertheless was quite merry, all to herself, over this unheard-of
proposal. So, when she was asked what she thought of the matter, merely to
test the seriousness of the young vagabond's motives, she made the
conditions for him even harder than she had for the others, saying: "Look
you, stranger! If you will slay single-handed some of the warriors of the
valiant Zuņis and bring back to our town, to the joy of our warriors and
people, a goodly number of their scalps, I will indeed wed you, as I have
said I would the others."
This satisfied the youth, and, bidding them all pass a happy night, he
went forth into the dark.
Not quite so poor and helpless as he seemed, was this youth; but one of
those wonderful beings of this earth in reality, for, behold! as he had
lived all his days since childhood with the dogs and eagles and other
captive animals of the towns of Moki-land, so, from long association with
them, he had learned their ways and language and had gained their
friendship and allegiance as no other mortal ever did. No family had he;
no one to advise him, save this great family of dogs and other animals
with which he lived.
What do you suppose he did_ He went to each hole, sheltered nook, and oven
in the town and called on the Dogs to join him in council, not long before
morning of that same night. Every Dog in the town answered the summons;
and, below the mesa on which Walpi stands, on one of those sloping banks
lighted by the moon, they gathered and made a tremendous clamor with their
yelpings and barkings and other noises such as you are accustomed to hear
from Dogs at night-time. The proposition which the youth made to this
council of Dogs was as follows:
"My friends and brothers, I am about to go .forth on the path of war to
the cities of the Zuņis toward the sunrise. If I succeed, my reward will
be great. Now, as I well know from having lived amongst you and been one
of you so long, there are two things which are more prized in a Dog's life
than anything else. An occasional good feast is one of them; being let
alone is another. I think I can bring about both of these rewards for you
all if you will, four days hence, after I have prepared a sufficiency of
food for the party, join me in my warlike expedition against the Zuņis."
The Dogs greeted this proposition with vociferous acclamation, and the
council dispersed.
On the following day, toward evening, the youth again presented himself at
the home of the maiden. "My friends," said he to the family; "I am, as you
know, or can easily perceive, extremely poor. I have no home nor source of
food; yet, as I anticipate that I shall be long on this journey, and as I
neither possess nor know how to use a bow and arrow, I come to humbly
beseech your assistance. I will undertake this thing which has been
proposed to me; but, in order that I may be enabled the more easily to do
so, I desire that you will present to me a sufficiency of food for my
journey; or, if you will lend it to me, I shall be satisfied."
Now, the maiden's people were among the first in the nation, and
well-to-do in all ways. They most willingly consented to give the young
man not only a sufficiency of food for days, but for months; and when he
went away that night he had all that he could carry of meal, coarse and
fine, piki or Moki wafer-rolls, tortillas, and abundant grease-cakes,
which he well knew would be most tempting to Dogs.
On the fourth day thereafter,--for he had been making his weapons: some
flint knives and a good hard war-club,--at evening, he again called at
each of the holes and places the Dogs of the town inhabited, and he said
to all of them: "I shall leave forthwith on my journey, having provided
myself with a sufficiency of food for much feasting on the way. Like
yourselves, I have become inured to hardship and am swift of foot, and by
midnight I shall be half-way to Zuņi. As soon as the people are asleep,
that they may not pelt you with stones and drive you back, follow on the
trail to Zuņi as fast as you can. I will await you by the side of the
Black Mountains, near the Spring of the Nighthawks, and there I will cook
the provisions, that we may have a jolly feast and the more strongly
proceed on our journey the day following."
The Dogs gave him repeated assurances of their willingness to follow; and,
heavily laden with his provisions, the youth, just at dusk, climbed
unobserved down the nether side of the mesa and set out through the plains
of sagebrush, over the hills far east of Moki, and so on along the
plateaus and valleys leading to this our town of Zuņi. At the place he had
appointed as a rendezvous he arrived not long before midnight, lighted a
fire, unstrapped his provisions, and began to cook mush in great
quantities.
Now, after the lights in the windows of Moki began to go out--shutting up
their red eyes, as it were, as the maidens of Moki shut up their bright
eyes--there was tremendous activity observed among the Dogs. But they made
not much noise about it until every last Dog in town--as motley a crowd of
curs and mongrels as ever were seen, unless one might see all the Dogs of
Moki today--descended the mesa, and one by one gathered in a great pack,
and started, baying, barking, and howling louder and louder as they went
along over the eastern hills on the trail which the youth had taken.
By-and-by he heard them coming; te-ne-e-e-e they sounded as they ran;
wo-wo-o-o-o they came, baying and barking in all sorts of voices, nearer
and nearer. So the youth prepared his provisions, and as the nearest of
them came into the light of the fire, cried out: "Ho, my friends, ye come!
I am glad to see ye come! Sit ye round my camp-fire. Let us feast and be
merry and lighten the load of my provisions. Methinks we will all carry
some of them when we start out tomorrow."
Thereupon he liberally distributed mush, tortillas, and paper
bread,--inviting the hot, tired Dogs to drink their fill from the spring
and eat their fill from the feast. The Dogs, being very hungry, as Dogs
always are--and the more so from the memory of many a long fast--fell to
with avidity (and you know what that means with Dogs); and the Short-legs
and Beagles would not have fared very well had the youth not considered
them and held back a good supply of provisions against their tardy
appearance.
Finally, when all were assembled and had eaten, if not to their
satisfaction--that was impossible--yet to their temporary gratification, a
merry, noisy, much-wriggling crowd they became. Some lay down and rested,
others were impatient for the journey; so that even before daylight the
youth, making up his bundle of provisions, again set forth at a swift
trot, followed by this pack of Dogs which ran along either side of him and
strung out on the trail the length of a race-course behind him.
Before night, see this valiant youth quietly hiding himself away in one of
the deep arroyos around the western end of Grand Mountain, and the
foot-hills of Twin Mountain, near which, as you know, the trail from Moki
leads to our town. He is giving directions to the Dogs in a quiet manner,
and feeding them again, rather more sparingly than at first that they may
be anxious for their work.
He says to them: "My friends and brothers, lay yourselves about here, each
one according to his color in places most suited for concealment,--some
near the gray sage-bushes; and you fellows with fine marks on your backs
keep out of sight, pray, in these deep holes, and come in as our reserve
force when we want you. Now, lie here patiently, for you will have enough
work to do, and can afford to rest. Tomorrow morning, not long after
sunrise, I shall doubtless come, with more precipitation than willingness,
toward your ambuscade, with a pack of Dogs less worthy the name than
yourselves at my heels. Be ready to help me; they are well-nurtured Dogs,
and doubtless, if you like, you will be wise enough to make much of this
fact."
The Dogs were well pleased with his proposition, and, in louder voices
than was prudent, attested their readiness to follow his suggestion, going
so far as to assure him that he need have no fear whatsoever, that they
alone would vanquish the Zuņi nation--which, they had heard from other
Dogs, was becoming rather lazy and indifferent in manly matters, Dogs and
all.
The night wore on; the youth had refreshed himself with sleep, and
somewhat after the herald-stars of the morning-star had appeared, he
stealthily picked his way across our broad plain, toward the hill of Zuņi;
and out west there, only a short space from the sunset front of our town,
he crouched down on a little terrace to wait.
Not long after the morning-star had risen, a fine old Zuņi came out of his
house, shook his blanket, wrapped it round him, and came stealing down in
the daylight to the river side. After he had presented his morning
sacrifice toward the rising sun, he returned and sat down a moment. He had
no sooner seated himself than the wily, sinewy youth with a quick motion
sprang up, pulled the poor man over, and with his war-club knocked his
brains out, after which he leisurely took off the scalp of the one he had
slain.
He had barely finished this operation when he heard a ladder creak in one
of the tipper terraces of the town. He quickly tucked the scalp in his
belt, pulled himself together, and thrusting the body of the dead man into
the bottom of a hole, which was very near, crouched over it and waited.
The footsteps of the man who was coming sounded nearer and nearer.
Presently he also came to this place; but no sooner had he reached the
terrace than the Moki youth leaped up and dealt him such a blow on the
head that, without uttering a sound, he instantly expired. This one he
likewise scalped, and then another and another he served in the same way,
until, there being four slain men in the pit, he had to drag some out of
the way and throw them behind the dust-heap. Just as he returned another
man sauntered down to the place.
The youth murdered him like the rest, and was busy skinning his scalp,
when another who had followed him somewhat closely appeared at the hole,
and discovering what was going on, ran toward the town for his weapons,
shouting the war-cry of alarm as he went. Picking up the scalps and
snatching from the bodies of the slain their ornaments of greatest value,
the Moki youth sped off over the plain.
In less time than it takes to tell it, the people of Zuņi were in arms;
dogs barked, children cried, women screamed,--for no one knew how many the
enemy might be,--and the Priests of the Bow, in half-secured armor of
buckskin, and with weapons in hand, came thundering down the hill and
across the plains in pursuit of the fleeing youth and in readiness to
oppose his band. Long before this crowd of warriors, now fully awake and
wild with rage, had reached the spot, the youth plunged into the arroyo
and called out to his Dogs: "Now for it, my friends! They will be here in
a minute! Do you hear them coming_"
"Oh, ho!" softly barked the Dogs; and they stiffened their claws and
crouched themselves to spring when the time should come.
Presently on came the crowd of warriors, now feeling that they had but a
small force, if indeed more than one man to oppose. And they came with
such precipitation that they took the gray and dun and yellow-shaded Dogs
for so many rocks and heaps of sand, and were fairly in the midst of those
brutes before they became aware of them at all. Death and ashes! what a
time there was of it!
The youth fell in with his war-club, the Dogs around, behind, and in front
of them howling, snarling, biting, tearing, and shaking the Zuņis on every
hand, until every one of the band was torn to pieces or so mangled that a
few taps of the club of the youth dispatched them. Those who had followed
behind, not knowing what to think of it all, frantically ran back to their
people,--the shame-begrimed cowards!--while the youth, with abundant
leisure, went on skinning scalps, until, perceiving much activity in the
distant town, concluded it would be wise to abandon some few he had not
finished.
So, catching up his pack of provisions and his bloody string of scalps
(which was so long and thick he could hardly carry it, and which dragged
on the ground behind him), he trotted over the hills, followed by some of
the Dogs--the others remaining behind, feeling more secure of
swiftness--to take advantage of the ample feast spread before them.
When the youth and the Dogs who followed him, or afterward joined him, had
again reached the great spring by the Black Mountains, leaving those who
pursued far behind, they stopped; and, building a fire of brush and
pine-knots, the youth cooked all the provisions he had. "Thanks this day,
my friends and brothers!" he cried to the Dogs. "Ye have nobly served me.
I will feast ye of the best." Whereupon he produced the grease-cakes and
the more delicate articles of food which he had reserved as a reward for
the Dogs. They ate and ate, and loud were their demonstrations of
satisfaction. Then the youth, taking up the string of scalps again,
attached them to a long pole, which, to keep the lower ones from dragging
on the ground, he elevated over his shoulder, and, striking up a song of
victory, he wound his way along the trail toward Moki.
The Dogs, crazy with victory and much glutted, could not contain
themselves, but they bow-wowed with delight and yelped and scurried about,
cutting circles dusty and wide around their father, the conquering youth.
They hurried on so fast that by-and-by it was noticeable that the Beagle
Dogs fell in the rear. "By the music of marrowbones!" exclaimed some of
the swifter of foot; "we will have to slacken our pace, father."
Said they, addressing the youth: "Our poor brothers, the Short-legs, are
evidently getting tired; they are falling far in the rear, and it is not
valorous, however great your victory and however strong your desire to
proclaim it at home, to leave a worn-out brother lagging behind. The enemy
might come unawares and cut off his return and his daylight." Most
reluctantly, therefore, they slackened their pace, and with shouts and
yelps encouraged as much as possible the stump-legged Dogs following
behind.
Now, on that day in Moki there had been much surprise expressed at the
absence of the Dogs, except those which were so young or so old that they
could not travel; and the people began to think that some devil or all the
wizards in Mokidom had been conjuring their Dogs away from them, when
toward evening they heard a distant sound, which was the approaching
victors' demonstration of rejoicing, and clear above all was the song of
victory shouted by the lusty youth as he came bringing his scalps along.
"Woo, woo, woo!" the Dogs sounded as they came across the valley and
approached the foot of the mesa; and when the people looked down and saw
the blood and dirt with which every Dog was covered, they knew not what to
make of it,--whether their Dogs had been enticed away and foully beaten,
or whether they had taken after a herd of antelope, perhaps, and
vanquished them.
But presently they espied in the midst of the motley crowd of Curs the
tall lank form of the vagabond youth and heard his lusty song. The youths
who had been jilted by the maiden at once had their own ideas. Some of
them sneaked away; others ground their teeth and covered their eyes,
filled with rage and shame; while the elder-men of the nation, seeing what
feats of valor this neglected youth had accomplished, glorified him with
answering songs of victory and gathered in solemn council, as if for a
most honored and precious guest, to receive him.
So, victorious and successful in all ways, the outcast dog of a youth who
went to Zuņi and returned the hero of the Moki nation right willingly was
accepted by this beauteous maiden as her husband after the ceremonies of
initiation and purification had been performed over him.
Ah, well! that was very fine; but all this praise of one who had been
despised and abused by themselves, and, more than all, the possession of
such a beautiful wife, wrought fierce jealousy in the breasts of the many
jilted lovers; making those who had looked askance at one another before,
true friends and firm brothers in a single cause--the undoing of this
lucky vagabond youth. Nor were they alone in this desire, for behold!
copying their lucky sister, all the pretty maidens in Moki declared that
they would marry no one who did not show himself at least in some degree
heroic, like the youth of the dog-holes who had married their pretty
sister.
It therefore came about that the whole tribe of Moki, so far as the young
men were concerned became a company of jilted lovers, and all the maidens
became confirmed in their resolutions of virgin maidenhood.
The jilted lovers got together one night in a cautious sort of way (for
they were all afraid of this hero) and held a council. But the fools
didn't think of the Dogs lying around outside, who heard what they said.
They concluded the best way to get even with this youth was to kill him;
but how to kill him was the problem, for they were cowards. "We will get
up a hunt," said one; "and make friends with him and ask him to go, paying
him all sorts of attention, and ask him to instruct us in the arts of war,
the wretch! He will readily join us in our hunting excursion, and some of
us will sling a throwing-stick at him and finish the conceited fellow's
days!"
Now, the Dogs scrambled off immediately and informed their friend and
brother what was going on.
He said: "All right! I will accept their advances and go with them on the
hunt."
He went off that night to a cave, where he had often sought shelter from
the wind when driven out of the town of Walpi, and thus ha-d made
acquaintance with those most unerring travellers in crooked places--the
Cave-swallows. He went to one of them, an elderly, wise bird, and,
addressing him as "Grandfather," told him what was going on.
"Very well," said the old bird; "I will help you." And he made a boomerang
for the youth which had the power to fly around bushes and down into
gullies; and if well thrown, of course, it could not be dodged by any
rabbit, however swift of foot or sly in hiding. Having finished this
boomerang, he told the youth to take it and use it freely in hunting. The
youth thanked him, and returning to his town passed a peaceful night.
When he appeared the next morning, the others greeted him
pleasantly--those who happened to see him--to which greetings he replied
with equal cordiality. They were so importunate with the priest-chiefs to
be allowed to undertake a grand rabbit-hunt that these fathers of the
people, always desirous of contributing to the happiness of their
children, ordered a grand hunt for the very next day. So everybody was
busy forthwith in making throwing-sticks and boomerangs.
The next day all the able-bodied youth of the town, selecting the hero of
whom we have told as their leader, took their way to the great plain south
of Moki, and there, spreading out into an enormous circle, they drove
hundreds of rabbits closer and closer together among the sagebrush in the
center of the valley. Some of them succeeded in striking down one--some of
them three or four--but ere long every one observed that each time the
youth threw his stick he struck a rabbit and secured it, until he had so
many that he was forced to call some boys who had followed along to carry
them for him.
Already inflamed by their jealousies to great anger, what was the chagrin
of this crowd of dandies, now that this youth whom they so heartily
despised actually surpassed them even in hunting rabbits! They gnashed
their teeth with rage, and one of them in a moment of excitement, when two
or three rabbits were trying to escape, took deliberate aim at the youth
and threw his boomerang at him. The youth, who was wily, sprang into the
air so high, pretending meanwhile to throw his boomerang, that the missile
missed his vital parts, but struck his leg and apparently broke it, so
that he fell down senseless in the midst of the crowd; and the people set
up a great shout--some of lamentation, some of exultation.
"Let him lie there and rot!" said the angry suitors, catching up their own
rabbits and making off for the pueblo. But some of the old men, who
deplored this seeming accident of the youth, ran as fast as they could
toward the town--fearing to raise him lest they should make his hurt
worse--for medicine.
When the youth had been left alone, he opened his eyes and smiled. Then,
taking from his pouch a medicine unfailing in its effects, applied it to
the bruised spot and quickly became relieved of pain, if not even of
injury. Rising, he looked about and found the rabbits where,
panic-stricken, the boys had dropped them and fled away. He made up a huge
bundle, and not long before sunset, behold! singing merrily, he came
marching, though limping somewhat, through the plain before the foot-hills
of Moki, bearing an enormous burden of rabbits. He climbed the mesa,
greeted every one pleasantly as though nothing had occurred, took his way
to his home, and became admired of all the women of Moki, young and old,
as a paragon of valor and manhood.
It became absolutely necessary after that, of course,--for these
faint-hearted dandies tried no more tricks with the youth,--for anyone who
would marry a Moki maiden to show himself a man in some way or other; and,
as the ugliest and most neglected of children generally turn out sharpest
because they have to look out for themselves, so it happens that to this
day the husbands of Moki are generally very ugly; but one thing is
certain--they are men.
Reflect on these things, ye young ones and youths.
Thus shortens my story.
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