{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_50017/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_50017","id":"gutenberg_50017","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/50017","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Yosemite Valley (Calif.)"],"text":"YOSEMITE\n           LEGENDS\n\n              BY\n       BERTHA H. SMITH\n\n\n       WITH DRAWINGS BY\n      FLORENCE LUNDBORG\n\n\n        [Illustration]\n\n\n    PAUL ELDER AND COMPANY\n   PUBLISHERS SAN FRANCISCO\n\n\n       Copyright, 1904\n  by Paul Elder and Company\n        San Francisco\n\n\n\n\n  [Illustration: The Valley in the Mist.]\n\n\n\n\n  [Illustration]\n\nThe Legends\n\n\n                                           Page\n  Yo-sem-i-te, Large Grizzly Bear             1\n\n  Po-ho-no, Spirit of the Evil Wind          11\n\n  Hum-moo, the Lost Arrow                    19\n\n  Py-we-ack, the White Water                 31\n\n  Tu-tock-ah-nu-lah and Tis-sa-ack           45\n\n  Kom-po-pai-ses, Leaping Frog Rocks         55\n\n\n\n\nThe Illustrations\n\n\n  The Valley                     _Frontispiece_\n\n  Mirror Lake                                 1\n\n  A Grizzly                   Facing page     6\n\n  Oaks                                       11\n\n  Po-ho-no in Bridal Veil     Facing page    14\n\n  The Lost Arrow                             19\n\n  Tee-hee-neh                 Facing page    26\n\n  Cloud's Rest                               31\n\n  Spirits of Vernal Falls     Facing page    38\n\n  El Capitan                                 45\n\n  The Spirit of Tis-sa-ack    Facing page    52\n\n  The Three Brothers                         55\n\n  The Patriarch's Prayer      Facing page    60\n\n\n\n\n  [Illustration: YO-SEM-I-TE\n    LARGE GRIZZLY BEAR\n    \"Ke-koo-too-yem, the Sleeping Water.\"]\n\n\n\n\nYo-sem-i-te, Large Grizzly Bear\n\n\nWhen the world was made, the Great Spirit tore out the heart of\nKay-o-pha, the Sky Mountains, and left the gash unhealed. He sent the\nCoyote to people the valley with a strong and hardy race of men, who\ncalled their home Ah-wah-nee, and themselves, the Ah-wah-nee-chees.\n\nThe Ah-wah-nee-chees lived the simple, savage life, which knows no law\nbut to hunt and kill and eat. By day the trackless forests rang with\nthe clamor of the chase. By the flaring light of their fires the\nhunters gorged themselves upon the fresh-killed meat, feasting far\ninto the night. They made war upon the tribes that lived beyond the\nwalls of Ah-wah-nee and never knew defeat, for none dared follow them\nto their rock-ribbed fastness. They were feared by all save the\noutcasts of other tribes, whose lawless deeds won for them a place\namong the Ah-wah-nee-chees. Thus the children of Ah-wah-nee increased\nin number and strength.\n\nAs time went by, the Ah-wah-nee-chees, in their pride of power,\nforgot the Great Spirit who had given them their stronghold and made\nthem feared of all their race. And the Great Spirit, turning upon them\nin his wrath, loosed his evil forces in their midst, scourging them\nwith a black sickness that swept all before it as a hot wind blights\nthe grain at harvest time.\n\nThe air of the valley was a poison breath, in which the death shade\nhovered darkly. Before the Evil Spirit medicine men were powerless.\nTheir mystic spells and incantations were a weird mockery, performed\namong the dying and the dead; and when at last the Evil One passed\nonward in his cursed flight, the once proud and powerful band of\nAh-wah-nee-chees was like a straggling pack of gaunt gray wolves.\nTheir eyes gleamed dully in their shrunken faces, and the skin hung in\nloose folds on their wasted bodies.\n\nThose who were able fled from the valley, which was now a haunted\nplace, eerie with flitting shadows of funeral fires and ghostly\nechoes of the funeral wail. They scattered among the tribes beyond the\nmountains, and Ah-wah-nee was deserted.\n\nA vast stillness settled upon the valley, broken only by the songs of\nbirds and the roar of Cho-look when Spring sent the mountain torrents\ncrashing over his head. The mountain lion and the grizzly roamed at\nwill among the rocks and tangled chinquapin, fearless of arrows; the\ndoe led her young by an open path to the river, where trout flashed\ntheir colors boldly in the sun. In the autumn the choke-cherries and\nmanzanita berries dried upon their stems, and ripened acorns rotted to\ndust upon the ground after the squirrels had gathered their winter\nstore. The homeless Ah-wah-nee-chees circled wide in passing the\nvalley.\n\nOver beyond To-co-yah, the North Dome, among the Mo-nos and Pai-u-tes,\na few of the ill-fated Ah-wah-nee-chees had found refuge. Among them\nwas the chief of the tribe, who after a time took a Mo-no maiden for\nhis bride. By this Mo-no woman he had a son, and they gave him the\nname of Ten-ie-ya. Before another round of seasons, the spirit of the\nAh-wah-nee-chee chieftain had wandered on to the Land of the Sun, the\nhome of happy souls.\n\nTen-ie-ya grew up among his mother's people, but the fire of a warrior\nchief was in his blood and he liked not to live where the word of\nanother was law. The fire in his blood was kept aflame by the words of\nan old man, the patriarch of his father's tribe, who urged him to\nreturn to Ah-wah-nee, the home of his ancestors, and gather about him\nthe people whose chief he was by right of birth.\n\nSo Ten-ie-ya went back across the mountains by a trail abandoned long\nago, and from the camps of other tribes came those in whose veins was\nany trace of Ah-wah-nee-chee blood; and, as before, the number was\nincreased by lawless braves of weaker bands who liked a greater\nfreedom for their lawlessness. Again, under the favor of the Great\nSpirit, the Ah-wah-nee-chees flourished and by their fierce strength\nand daring became to other tribes as the mountain lion to the wolf and\nthe coyote and the mountain sheep.\n\n  [Illustration: \"A monster grizzly that had just crept forth from\n    his winter cave.\"]\n\nAnd it chanced that one day while Ten-ie-ya and his warriors were\ncamped near Le-ham-i-te, the Ca\u00f1on of the Arrow-wood, a young brave\nwent out in the early morning to the lake of Ke-koo-too-yem, the\nSleeping Water, to spear fish. His lithe, strong limbs took no heed of\nthe rocky talus in his path, and he leaped from boulder to boulder,\nfollowing the wall that rose sheer above him and cut the blue sky\noverhead.\n\nAs he reached the base of Scho-ko-ni, the cliff that arches like the\nshade of an Indian cradle basket, he came suddenly upon a monster\ngrizzly that had just crept forth from his winter cave. The grizzly\nknows no man for his friend; least of all, the man who surprises him\nat the first meal after his long sleep. The rivals of Ah-wah-nee were\nface to face.\n\nThe Ah-wah-nee-chee had no weapon save his fish spear, useless as a\nreed; yet he had the fearlessness of youth and the courage of a race\nto whom valorous deeds are more than strings of wampum, piles of pelt\nor many cattle. He faced the grizzly boldly as the clumsy hulk rose to\nits full height, at bay and keen for attack. With instinctive love of\nconflict roused, the young chief seized a broken limb that lay at his\nfeet, and gave the grizzly blow for blow.\n\nThe claws of the maddened brute raked his flesh. The blood ran warm\nover his glistening skin and matted the bristled yellow fur of the\ngrizzly.\n\nThe Ah-wah-nee-chee fought bravely. While there was blood in his body,\nhe could fight; when the blood was gone, he could die; but with the\ntraditions of his ancestors firing his brain, he could not flee.\n\nFurious with pain, blinded by the blows from the young chief's club\nand by the blood from the young chief's torn flesh, the grizzly\nstruggled savagely. He, too, was driven by the law of his breed, the\nuniversal law of the forest, the law of Indian and grizzly\nalike,--which is to kill.\n\nSuch a battle could not last. With a low growl the crippled grizzly\nbrought himself together and struck with the full force of his\npowerful arm. The blow fell short.\n\nUrging his waning strength to one last effort, the Ah-wah-nee-chee\nraised his club high above his head and brought it down with a heavy,\nwell-aimed stroke that crushed the grizzly's skull and sent him\nrolling among the boulders, dead.\n\nThat night as the Ah-wah-nee-chees feasted themselves on bear meat,\nthe story of the young chief's bravery was told, and told again; and\nfrom that hour he was known as Yo-sem-i-te, the Large Grizzly Bear.\n\nIn time the name Yo-sem-i-te was given to all the tribe of\nAh-wah-nee-chees, who for fearlessness and lawlessness were rivaled\nonly by the grizzly with whom they shared their mountain fastness. And\nwhen long afterward the white man came and took Ah-wah-nee for his\nown, he gave it the name by which Ten-ie-ya's band was known; and\nCho-look, the high fall that makes the earth tremble with its mighty\nroar, he also called by the name of the Large Grizzly Bear,\nYo-sem-i-te.\n\n\n\n\n  [Illustration: PO-HO-NO\n    SPIRIT OF THE EVIL WIND\n    \"And the oaks unfurl their soft green banners in welcome of the\n      coming summer.\"]\n\n\n\n\nPo-ho-no, Spirit of the Evil Wind\n\n\nThe white man calls it Bridal Veil. To the Indian it is Po-ho-no,\nSpirit of the Evil Wind.\n\nThe white man, in passing, pauses to watch the filmy cloud that hangs\nthere like a thousand yards of tulle flung from the crest of the rocky\nprecipice, wafted outward by the breeze that blows ever and always\nacross the Bridal Veil Meadows. By the light of mid-afternoon the veil\nseems caught half-way with a clasp of bridal gems, seven-hued,\nevanescent; now glowing with color, now fading to clear white sun rays\nbefore the eye.\n\nThe Indian, if chance brings him near this waterfall, hurries on with\nface averted, a vague dread in his heart; for in the meshes of the\nBridal Veil hides an eerie spirit, a mischievous, evil one--Po-ho-no.\nIn the ripple of the water as it falls among the rocks, the Indian\nhears Po-ho-no's voice. In the tossing spray he sees the limp forms\nand waving arms of hapless victims lured by the voice to their\ndestruction.\n\nThe Indian's mistrust of Po-ho-no dates back to a day of long ago, a\nbright blue day of early spring such as the children of Ah-wah-nee\nlove, when the valley has thrown off its white winter blanket, and\ndogwood blooms, and the oaks unfurl their soft green banners in\nwelcome of the coming summer. It was the time when deer begin to\ntrail, leaving the lowlands of the river for the higher ranges; and\nwhile the men hunted in the forest, the women went forth to gather\nroots and berries for the feast.\n\nThe Sun had come back from the south; and as he stood high in the\nheavens looking into the valley over the shoulder of Lo-yah, the\nSentinel, three women were tempted to stray from the others and wander\nalong a trail that led high above the valley to the spot whence the\nmisty spray of the waterfall flutters downward.\n\n  [Illustration: \"For in the meshes of the Bridal Veil hides * *\n    Po-ho-no.\"]\n\nThey talked with what zest women may whose simple lives give them no\nsecrets to hold or betray. They laughed as they filled their baskets,\nstooping to scrape the earth from a tender root, to strip the\nseed from a stalk, or gather grasses used in basketry; and their\nvoices were as the purling of lazy waters gliding over stones. They\nwere happy, for as yet they knew naught of the joy-sapping fever of\ndiscontent.\n\nOf a sudden the laughter ceased, and in its stead arose the mocking\nwail of Po-ho-no, Spirit of the Evil Wind. The youngest of the women,\nventuring near the edge of the cliff to pick an overhanging wisp of\ngrass, had stepped upon a rock where moss grew like a thick-woven\nblanket. She did not know that the soft, wet moss was a snare of the\nEvil One, and even as the others cried out in warning, Po-ho-no seized\nher and hurled her down among the rocks.\n\nA pair of helpless arms waving in despair; long, loose hair sweeping\nacross a face, half veiling one last look of terror--and she was gone.\nIf she uttered a cry, the sound was lost in the gleeful chatter of\nPo-ho-no and his impish host.\n\nThe two women left above dared not go near the treacherous ledge,\nlest they too come within reach of the vengeful Spirit. Afraid even to\ngive a backward glance, they hurried down the steep path to spread the\nalarm. Scarce was their story told before a band of daring braves\nrushed to the rescue of the maiden; but though they searched till\nnight among the rocks where the water swirls and leaps to catch the\nrainbow thrown there by the western sun, they found no trace of her.\nThe maiden's spirit had joined the forces of Po-ho-no, and could know\nno rest, nor be released from his hateful thrall, until by her aid\nanother victim was drawn to his doom. Here she must stay, hidden by\nthe mist from watchful eyes, beckoning always, tempting always, luring\nanother soul to pay the forfeit of her own release. Then, and then\nonly, would the spirit of the maiden be free to pass on to the home of\nthe Great Spirit in the West.\n\nSince that day of long ago many of the children of Ah-wah-nee have\nfallen prey to Po-ho-no, the restless Spirit of the Evil Wind, who\nwanders ever through the ca\u00f1on and puffs his breath upon the waterfall\nto make for himself a hiding-place of mist. Now every Ah-wah-nee-chee\nknows this haunt of the Evil One. By day they hurry past, and not one\nwould sleep at night within sight or sound of the fall lest the fatal\nbreath of Po-ho-no sweep over him and bear him away to a spirit land\nof torture and unrest.\n\n\n\n\n  [Illustration: HUM-MOO\n    THE LOST ARROW\n    \"In its stead they left a pointed rock lodged in the cliff.\"]\n\n\n\n\nHum-moo, the Lost Arrow\n\n\nTee-hee-neh was the fairest of the daughters of Ah-wah-nee, and the\nhappiest, for she was the chosen bride of the brave Kos-soo-kah.\n\nWhen she went forth from her father's lodge to bathe in the shadowy\ndepths of Ke-koo-too-yem, the Sleeping Water, her step was light as\nthe touch of a wind-swept leaf upon the rocks. When she stooped to\nlave her cheeks in the cool spray, her dark hair fell about her\nshoulders like a silken web, and the water mirror showed her a pair of\nlaughing eyes of the color of ripened acorns, and in them the soft\nlight of an Indian summer day. The sound of her voice was as the\npatter of rain on green leaves, and her heart was fearless and full of\nlove.\n\nNo other woman of the tribe could weave such baskets as grew by the\nmagic skill of her fingers, and she alone knew the secret of\ninterweaving the bright feathers of the red-headed woodpecker and the\ntopknots of mountain quail. Her acorn bread was always sweetest, the\nberries she gathered ripest, the deerskin she tanned softer than any\nother; and all because of the love in her heart, for she knew that\nKos-soo-kah would eat of her bread and fruit, would drink from the\nbaskets she wove, would wear upon his feet the moccasins she made.\n\nKos-soo-kah was a hunter, fearless and bold, sure with bow and spear,\nalways fortunate in the chase. In his veins ran the blood that surges\nhot when there are daring deeds to do, and of all the young chiefs of\nAh-wah-nee he had the greatest power among his people. Like the wooing\nof the evening star by the crescent moon was the mating of Tee-hee-neh\nwith Kos-soo-kah; and when the young chief gathered together robes of\nsquirrel and deerskin and of the skins of water-fowl, arrows and\nspear-heads, strings of coral and bear teeth, and gave them as a\nmarriage token to Tee-hee-neh's father, the old chief looked upon him\nwith favor.\n\nThis was their marriage. But before Tee-hee-neh should go with\nKos-soo-kah to his lodge there must be a great feast, and all day long\nAh-wah-nee was astir with signs of preparation.\n\nFrom many shady places came a sound like the tap-tap-tapping of\nwoodpeckers, where the older women sat upon smooth, flat rocks\npounding dried acorns into meal to make the acorn bread; and the\nyounger women went with their baskets to the meadows and woods for\ngrass seeds, herbs and wild honey.\n\nEarly in the morning Kos-soo-kah left his lodge and gathered about him\nthe strongest of the young braves to go forth into the forest and net\nthe grouse, and seek the bear and deer in their haunts, for this was\nthe man's share of the marriage feast. While his hunters strung their\nbows and fastened arrow-heads to the feathered shafts, Kos-soo-kah\nstole away for a last word with Tee-hee-neh, his bride; and when they\nparted it was with the promise that at the end of the day's hunt\nKos-soo-kah should drop an arrow from the cliff between Cho-look, the\nHigh Fall, and Le-ham-i-te, the Ca\u00f1on of the Arrow-wood. By the number\nof feathers it bore, Tee-hee-neh could tell what the kill had been.\n\nThe morning mists were still tangled in the pines when Kos-soo-kah and\nhis hunters began to climb the trail that cut into the heart of the\nforest. From a covert spot Tee-hee-neh watched her lover disappear\nthrough the cleft in the northern wall, where the arrow-wood grows\nthick; then she joined the other women and worked with a light heart\nuntil long shadows stretched across the meadow and warned her of the\nhour when she was to be near the foot of Cho-look to receive the\nmessage from Kos-soo-kah.\n\nFar over the mountains Kos-soo-kah laughed loud with a hunter's pride\nas he bound to his swiftest arrow all the feathers of a grouse's wing.\nSped by a hunter's pride and a lover's pride he leaped along the rocky\ntrail, far in advance of the youthful braves of his band who bore\namong them the best of the kill. Eagerly he watched the western sky,\nfearful lest the sun's last kiss should tinge the brow of Tis-sa-ack\nbefore he reached the cliff whence his bow should let fly the message\nto the waiting one below.\n\nThe frightened quail fluttered in his path unseen. A belated vulture,\nskimming the fading sky, seemed not to be in motion. So swiftly\nKos-soo-kah ran, the wind stood still to let him pass.\n\nHe reached the valley wall at last, his strength well spent but still\nenough to pull his bow to a full half-circle. Poised for an instant,\nthe feathered shaft caught on its tip a sun ray, then flew downward;\nbut though mighty and sure the force that sent it, no message came to\nthe faithful Tee-hee-neh.\n\nHour after hour she waited, the joy in her heart changing to a\nnameless fear as the blue sky faded gray, and the gray went purple in\nthe thickening dusk, and yet no sign, no sound of the returning\nhunters.\n\n\"Kos-soo-kah! Kos-soo-kah!\" trembled her voice in the stillness. Only\na weird echo answered, \"Kos-soo-kah.\"\n\nPerhaps they had wandered far, and Kos-soo-kah could not reach the\ncliff till the night shadows had crept out of the valley, and over the\ntops of the mountains. Perhaps even now he was returning down the\nCa\u00f1on of the Arrow-wood. This she whispered to a heart that gave no\nanswering hope.\n\nShe would go forward to meet him, and hear from his lips the message\nwhich the arrow failed to bring. As she hurried along the narrow\ntrail, clinging to the slanting ledges, pushing aside the overhanging\nbranches, she called and called, \"Kos-soo-kah!\"\n\nNow and again she stopped to listen for the sound of voices, or of\nfootsteps, but only the cry of a night bird or the crackling of dry\ntwigs stirred the still air.\n\n  [Illustration: \"Crouching there * * she called again,\n    'Kos-soo-kah!'\"]\n\nTrembling with uncertainty and fear, she reached the top of the sharp\nascent. There by the light of the stars she saw fresh footprints in\nthe loose, moist earth. Her heart told her they were his; her\nquick eye told her they went toward the cliff, but did not return.\nCrouching there beside them, she called again, \"Kos-soo-kah!\" Not even\nan echo answered the despairing cry.\n\nSlowly she crept forward, following the fresh trail to the edge of the\nwall. She leaned far over, and there on a mound of fallen rock lay her\nlover, motionless, nor answering her call. Tight in his grasp was the\nspent bow, the sign of a promise kept.\n\nAs she looked, there came again to Tee-hee-neh's mind the dull roar of\nrending rock, the low moan of falling earth, that ran through the\nvalley at the sunset hour. Now she knew that as Kos-soo-kah drew his\nbow to speed the messenger of love, the ground beneath his feet had\ngiven way, carrying him with the fatal avalanche.\n\nThe girl's heart no longer beat fast with fear. It seemed not to beat\nat all. But there was no time for grief,--perhaps Kos-soo-kah had not\nceased to breathe. On the topmost point of rock she lighted a signal\nfire, and forced its flames high into the dark, flashing a call for\nhelp. It would be long, she knew, before any one could come; but this\nwas the only chance to save Kos-soo-kah.\n\nHours passed. With feverish energy she piled dry branches high upon\nthe signal fire, nor let its wild beckonings rest a moment. At last\nold men came from the valley, and the young braves from the mountains\nbearing with them the carcasses of deer and bear.\n\nWith their hunting-knives they cut lengths of tamarack, and lashed\nthem together with thongs of hide from the deer killed for the\nmarriage feast. By means of this pole they would have lowered over the\nedge of the cliff a strong young brave but that Tee-hee-neh pushed him\naside and took his place. Hers must be the voice to whisper in\nKos-soo-kah's ear the first word of hope; hers the hand to push aside\nthe rocks that pinioned his body; hers the face his slowly opening\neyes should see.\n\nThey lowered her to his side; and, loosing the cords that bound her,\nshe knelt beside him, whispering in his ear, \"Kos-soo-kah!\" No sound\ncame from the cold, set lips. The wide-open eyes stared unseeing at\nthe sky. Tee-hee-neh knew that he was dead.\n\nShe did not cry aloud after the manner of Indian women in their grief,\nbut gently bound the helpless form with the deerskin cords and raised\nit as high as her arms could reach when the pole was drawn upward;\nthen waited in silence until she was lifted by the willing hands\nabove.\n\nWhen she found herself again at Kos-soo-kah's side, she stood for an\ninstant with eyes fixed upon the loved form, there in the cold,\nstarless dawn of her marriage day; then with his name upon her lips\nshe fell forward upon his breast. They drew her away, but the spirit\nof Tee-hee-neh had followed the spirit of Kos-soo-kah.\n\nThe two were placed together upon the funeral pyre, and with them was\nburned all that had been theirs. In Kos-soo-kah's hand was the bow,\nbut the arrow could not be found. The lovers had spirited it away. In\nits stead they left a pointed rock lodged in the cliff between\nCho-look, the High Fall, and Le-ham-i-te, the Ca\u00f1on of the Arrow-wood,\nin token of Kos-soo-kah's fulfilled pledge. This rock is known to the\nchildren of Ah-wah-nee as Hum-moo, the Lost Arrow.\n\n\n\n\n  [Illustration: PY-WE-ACK\n    THE WHITE WATER\n    \"The moon floated high above Cloud's Rest.\"]\n\n\n\n\nPy-we-ack, the White Water\n\n\nSince the peaks of Sky Mountains were little hills, the\nAh-wah-nee-chees have lived in the deep, grassy valley the white man\nknows as Yo-sem-i-te. Eastward of To-co-yah, the Acorn Basket Rock,\nlive the Mo-nos; and for a thousand years the sachems of the\nAh-wah-nee-chees and the sachems of the Mo-nos smoked the pipe of\npeace together.\n\nIn the autumn when the Great Spirit swept through Ah-wah-nee with a\nbreath of frost, painting the leaves all scarlet and gold and brown,\nscattering tufts of snow-white cloud across the blue sky, and weaving\na web of bluish haze among the green pine tops, the Ah-wah-nee-chee\nbraves prepared for the last great hunt of the year. The feast of the\nmanzanita berries was past, and the feast of acorns, and after the\nautumn hunt came the feast of venison.\n\nAs the time of the feast drew near, runners were sent across the\nmountains, carrying a bundle of willow sticks, or a sinew cord or\nleaf of dried grass tied with knots, that the Mo-nos might know how\nmany suns must cross the sky before they should go to Ah-wah-nee to\nshare the feast of venison with their neighbors.\n\nAnd the Mo-nos gathered together baskets of pi\u00f1on nuts, and obsidian\narrow-heads, and strings of shells, to carry with them to give in\nreturn for acorns and chinquapin nuts and basket willow, which do not\ngrow on the farther side of Sky Mountains and which the Great Spirit\nhas given in plenty to the children of Ah-wah-nee.\n\nAt the feast the great chiefs sat side by side and the smoke of their\npipes curled into a single spiral in the air. And when all were gorged\nwith food, they danced about the fire chanting the mighty deeds of\ntheir ancestors, or sat upon the ground playing the ancient hand game,\nhe-no-wah, staking their arrows and their bearskin robes, their wampum\nand their women upon the hand that held the hidden willow stick.\n\nNot only in their pastimes were they friends. When the Great Spirit\nwafted a soul to the happy land in the West, the runners went again\nacross the Sky Mountains and the tribes gathered together to join in\nthe funeral dance and mingle their voices in the funeral wail. In\ngrief, as in joy, they were friends,--for a thousand years.\n\nBut the law of the mountain and the forest is not a law of peace, and\nit was the will of the Great Spirit that they should not dwell always\nin harmony.\n\nThe Ah-wah-nee-chees numbered more men than women; and from time to\ntime bands of young braves, in the flush of primal strength, swept\nthrough the country with the ungoverned madness of a bullock herd,\ncarrying away women from the villages they raided.\n\nWhen the Mo-no men came to Ah-wah-nee to the feasts of the manzanita\nberry and of acorns and of venison, they brought their women with\nthem. These mountain women were pleasing to the eye, erect as the\nsilver fir that grows upon the mountain side, clean-limbed and free\nof motion as the panther; and more than all others were they coveted\nby the Ah-wah-nee-chees, who chafed under a friendship that thwarted\ndesire.\n\nAnd the story is told that at a certain feast of venison Wa-hu-lah, a\nMo-no maiden, stirred the fancy of a young warrior of Ten-ie-ya's\nband. Spring, the love season of Nature's children, had passed the\nyoung warrior many times since he came to manhood, and he had not\nheeded her soft whisper. But never before had he seen Wa-hu-lah, the\nMo-no maiden.\n\nNow, through all the time of feasting, he watched eagerly for the love\nsign in Wa-hu-lah's eyes; but he saw there only the depth and the\ndarkness and the mystery of a pool hidden in the heart of a forest of\npines, which no ray of sunlight pierces.\n\nLove was dead in the heart of Wa-hu-lah. On her face could still be\nseen dim traces of mourning, lines of pitch and ashes not yet worn\naway, though there had been two seasons of grass and flowers since her\nvoice rose in the funeral wail beside the pyre of her dead lover. She\nhad not died as the dove does when her mate is gone; but she could not\nforget, and as she sat among the feasters sorrow throbbed in her heart\nlike the ceaseless whirr of a grouse's wing. The Ah-wah-nee-chee\nwarrior sought in vain for an answering sign, and when the days of\nfeasting were over Wa-hu-lah went away with her father.\n\nDay and night the Ah-wah-nee-chee thought of his love; the face of\nWa-hu-lah was ever before his eyes; and he knew that he must follow\nher and bring her to his lodge. But already the snow-clouds resting on\nthe peaks of Sky Mountains were scattering their burden, soft and\nwhite as the down of Tis-sa-ack's wings. Valley and forest lay\nlifeless under a thick blanket, and the trails were choked with snow.\n\nThe Ah-wah-nee-chee's love smouldered through the winter months, with\nnaught but the memory of Wa-hu-lah's sad, unanswering eyes to feed\nupon. Far away, in the wig-wam of her father, Wa-hu-lah nursed her\ngrief.\n\nAt last spring came, with soft, straying winds that breathe of new\nlife. Birds sang in the trees as they built their nests; squirrels\nchattered softly among the rocks; Too-loo-lo-we-ack, the Rushing\nWater, babbled of the joys of summer; and Yo-wi-we dashed from the\nheights to carry the message of love brought by the sun from the\nsouthland to all the valley.\n\nWhile yet the trails were heavy with melting snows, the\nAh-wah-nee-chee warrior stole away from his lodge one night and set\nhis face toward the rising sun, yonder to the eastward of To-co-yah;\nand ere the day god had wrapped himself in his flaming cloud blanket\nin the far-off West, the Ah-wah-nee-chee was smoking the peace pipe\nwith the chief of the Mo-nos, Wa-hu-lah's father.\n\n  [Illustration: \"The white spirits of the water threw themselves\n    around the maiden and hid her in a shroud of spray.\"]\n\nBefore the sun again strode the bald peaks of the Sky Mountains, he\nwas gone; and when the women came forth to make ready the morning\nmeal, the old chief saw that Wa-hu-lah was not among them; and he knew\nthat the spirit of the peace pipe had been violated.\n\nWa-hu-lah made no struggle when she found herself borne along in the\narms of her captor. Her heart beat like the heart of a hunted thing\nthat feels the hunter near and cover far away, but her face showed no\nsign. It was useless to resist; but had the Ah-wah-nee-chee looked\ninto the still, sad depths of her eyes, he would have seen there a\nglittering spark, the fire of a woman's lasting hate.\n\nAlong the heavy trail he toiled, and not until he reached the kinder\npaths that Spring had cleared did he let Wa-hu-lah's feet rest upon\nthe ground. Then she walked before him, silent, submissive, but with\nthe spark still glowing in her downcast eyes.\n\nSilent, submissive, she followed as he led the way to the place he\nhad prepared for her,--a woodland bower, pine carpeted, roofed with\nboughs of oak and alder, the couch of branches spread with deerskin.\n\nSilent, submissive, she ate of the food he brought her, fresh bear\nmeat and acorn bread, and grass roots fattened by the melting snows.\n\nSilent still, but with submission changed to defiant purpose, she\nwatched him go away and take his place among the braves of his tribe\nwho ate as the women prepared their food. Hunger possessed him and he\ngave no thought to caution. At another time his quick ear might have\ncaught the sound of twigs snapping under the pressure of a moccasined\nfoot; now it heard only the hiss of meat thrown upon live coals.\n\nThe moon floated high above Cloud's Rest and the valley was full of\nlight, yet none saw the dark figure that crept stealthily, warily,\ninto the shadow of the crouching chaparral, keeping with the wind that\nblew from, not toward, the camp-fire. Once only Wa-hu-lah paused, and\nturned to see that she was not discovered; and from her eyes shot one\nswift look that would have killed, could looks deal death. Then she\nsped forward on the trail that led from Ah-wah-nee, with its\nblossoming dogwood and azalea, its buckthorn and willow, to the snows\nof the higher mountains, the home of her people.\n\nSwiftly she ran, frightened by the night shapes that danced before her\nin the path, nor daring to slacken her pace or give a backward glance.\nBut scarce had she passed through the spray thrown across the trail by\nPy-we-ack, the White Water, when she heard wild shouts rising from the\nhalf-darkness below, shouts that told her the Ah-wah-nee-chees knew\nthat she was gone, had started in pursuit. Behind her on the trail her\nfootprints lay naked on the yielding earth, and she knew that here in\nAh-wah-nee the men of Ten-ie-ya's band knew every path that she might\nchoose, every tree and rock where she might find a hiding-place.\nAlready the race was won.\n\nNearer they came, her Ah-wah-nee-chee captor and a score of braves\nwho joined with boisterous shouts this chase that had no need of\ncunning since for a weak prey there was no escape.\n\nAmong the trees they caught uncertain glimpses of the fleeing figure,\nbut at last Wa-hu-lah bounded into a clear, broad stretch of moonlight\nwhere the trees fall back to let the river widen to a calmer course\nafter its reckless plunge from the cliff above.\n\nThe pool that shines emerald bright by day lay still and black with\nthe pale gold moon upon its breast. Straight for its bank Wa-hu-lah\nran, and as her foot touched the rocky ledge, her pursuers sprang with\na cry of triumph into the open. Not a moment did the maiden dare to\nlose. Stooping, she unloosed the canoe that floated in the shadow of\nthe ledge, a canoe used by the Ah-wah-nee-chees in crossing the\nEmerald Pool.\n\nStepping into the shallow bark, Wa-hu-lah pushed it from the shore,\nand with quick strokes drove it toward the middle of the stream,\nwhere she knew the water ran swift and deep and strong.\n\nLike some strange night bird the canoe skimmed the surface of the\npool, the girl erect, defiant, her long black hair tossing, winglike,\non the wind. Drawn by the current it glided on, dark and silent,\ntoward Py-we-ack, where the water with a second leap dashes itself to\ndeath upon the rocks.\n\nAlong the shelving bank the baffled Ah-wah-nee-chee ran, but swifter\nran the dark and silent figure in the stream; and even as the young\nchief plunged into the icy water in one last effort to reclaim his\nstolen bride, the boat slipped over the edge of the cliff and went to\npieces on the rocks, where the white spirits of the water threw\nthemselves around the maiden and hid her in a shroud of spray.\n\nThus Wa-hu-lah proved herself faithful to her Mo-no lover, and the\nAh-wah-nee-chee was cheated of his bride.\n\n\n\n\n  [Illustration: TU-TOCK-AH-NU-LAH AND TIS-SA-ACK\n    \"Along the edge of the river and over the meadows * * one can\n      now find tiny white violets.\"]\n\n\n\n\nTu-tock-ah-nu-lah and Tis-sa-ack\n\n\nSince the world was young Tu-tock-ah-nu-lah, the Rock Chief, had\nguarded Ah-wah-nee, the home of the children of the sun. For his\nwatch-tower he chose a storm-tried rock on the northern wall of the\nvalley, and from this far height defied all the powers of evil.\n\nIn the spring he besought the Great Spirit to send rain that the wild\ncorn might hang heavy with tasseling grain, the berries cluster thick\non the branches of the manzanita, and the fish abound in the waters of\nthe river. In the summer he fattened the bear and deer, and in the\nautumn he wandered through the mountains driving them from their\nhaunts that the hunter might not return empty-handed from the chase.\nThe smoke of his pipe spread like a soft haze through the air,\nsheltering the women from the sun when they went forth to gather\nacorns and wood for winter.\n\nHis form was like a spear, straight and strong; and he reared his head\nhigh above the clouds. In his arm was the strength of an untamed\ngrizzly; and his voice was like the sound of Cho-look, the great fall\nthat thunders down from the north, starting deep echoes from crag and\ngorge. When the sunlight danced upon the water, the Ah-wah-nee-chees\nwere happy, for they knew that Tu-tock-ah-nu-lah smiled; when the sky\nwas overcast, they trembled, fearful of his frown; when his sighs\nswept mournfully through the pines, they, too, were sad. The children\nof Ah-wah-nee loved the mighty Rock Chief who dwelt above them in his\nlonely lodge.\n\nOne morning, as his midnight watch drew to a close and the first pale\nglint of day shone on his forehead, he heard a soft voice whisper,\n\"Tu-tock-ah-nu-lah!\"\n\nHis eyes burned with the passion fire as a fair vision rose before\nhim, yonder on the granite dome of the southern wall. It was the form\nof a maiden, not of the dark tribe he loved and guarded, but fairer\nthan any he had seen or known in dreams. Her face had the rosy flush\nof dawn, her eyes took their color from the morning sky, and her hair\nwas like strands of golden sunlight. Her voice was low as a dove call\nwhen she whispered Tu-tock-ah-nu-lah's name.\n\nFor a moment she lingered, smiling; but even as the Rock Chief leaped\nfrom his tower in answer to her call, she glided across the rounded\ndome and faded from his sight, leaving her throne shrouded in a snowy\ncloud. Piqued by the mystery of her flight, Tu-tock-ah-nu-lah followed\nthe sound of her rustling garments, wandering all day over the\nmountains; but the pine trees wove a blue mist about her, hiding her\nfrom his eyes. Not until he returned to his citadel at night did he\nsee her face again. Then for an instant she appeared upon her throne,\nher pale brow tinged with the rose glow of the sun; and he knew that\nshe was Tis-sa-ack, the Goddess of the Valley, who shared with him the\nloving care of the Ah-wah-nee-chees.\n\nEvery morning now at dawn Tu-tock-ah-nu-lah left his tower and sped\nacross the valley to meet the lovely goddess of his heart's desire.\nThrough the day he hovered near her, gazing upon the fair form, always\nhalf hidden by billowing cloud, trying to read an answering love in\nher wide blue eyes. But never again did he hear the voice that came to\nhim across the valley in the stillness of that one gray dawn.\n\nTu-tock-ah-nu-lah's passion grew day by day, as summer ripens the\nfruits of springtime budding; but Tis-sa-ack had no joy in his love.\nHer heart was heavy with a great sorrow, for she saw that the Rock\nChief was blind to the needs of his people, that he had forsaken those\nwho looked to him for life.\n\nThe sun burned his way through the sky, and no rains fell to cool the\naching earth. Tu-tock-ah-nu-lah paid no heed to the withering leaves\nof the wild corn, the shrunken streams from which the fisherman turned\nwith empty nets, the shriveling acorns that fell worthless to the\nground. He neither knew nor cared that the hunter, after weary days\nin the mountains, came to his lodge at night with arrows unused, to\nmeet the anxious glance of starving women and hear the wailing cry of\nhungry children.\n\nThe Ah-wah-nee-chees called upon the Rock Chief in vain. He did not\nhear their cries; he thought only of his love. The harvest moon looked\ndown into the valley and saw the dark form of Famine skulking there.\nThen it was that Tis-sa-ack's love was swept away by an overwhelming\npity; and as she lay upon her couch she cried out to the Great Spirit\nto send the rain-clouds that bear life to all things of the earth.\n\nAnd even as she prayed, there came an answer to her prayer. With a\nvoice of thunder the Great Spirit gave commands to the spirits of the\nair. With a barbed shaft of lightning he rent the granite dome where\nTis-sa-ack prayed; and from the cleft rock came a rush of water that\nfilled the dry basin of Wai-ack, the Mirror Lake, and sent a\nwandering stream through the thirsty fields.\n\nNow the withered corn-stalks raised their drooping heads, flowers\nnodded among the waving grasses and offered their lips to the wild\nbees, and the acorns swelled with sap that crept upward from reviving\nroots. The women went joyously into the fields to gather the harvest,\nand the men no longer returned with empty pouches from the forest or\nfished by the riverside in vain.\n\nThe chief of the Ah-wah-nee-chees ordered a great feast, and all faces\nwere turned in gratitude to the dome where Tis-sa-ack dwelt. But\nTis-sa-ack was gone. She had sacrificed her love, her life, for the\nchildren of Ah-wah-nee. Through her they had suffered; through her\ntheir sufferings had ceased; and that all might hold her memory dear\nshe left them the lake, the river and a fragment of her throne. Upon\nthe bosom of Ke-koo-too-yem, the Sleeping Water, her spirit rests,\nwandering sometimes of a summer evening to the Half Dome, there to\nlinger for a moment as the sun slips over the western wall of the\nvalley.\n\n  [Illustration: \"Her spirit, * * wandering * * to the Half Dome,\n    there to linger for a moment.\"]\n\nAs she flew away a soft down from her wings fell upon the earth; and\nwhere it fell, along the edge of the river and over the meadows\nstretching toward Tu-tock-ah-nu-lah's watch-tower, one can now find\ntiny white violets, whose fragrance is the secret of a loving spirit,\na breath of happiness to all who gather them.\n\nWhen Tu-tock-ah-nu-lah found that Tis-sa-ack was gone, a great sadness\ncame upon him. Day and night his sighs swept through the pine trees.\nHe puffed gloomily at his pipe until his tower was hidden in a cloud\nof smoke. At last, thinking to follow and find his lost love, he went\naway; and lest he be forgotten, he carved with his hunting-knife the\noutlines of his face upon the wall of his fortress, which the white\nman has named El Capitan.\n\nAs he turned sadly from his lodge, Tu-tock-ah-nu-lah perceived that\nthe air was filled with a rare and subtle perfume, blowing from a\nstretch of meadow fringed with tamarack. Thinking it the breath of\nTis-sa-ack, he followed on and on, forgetful of the arts of\nE-ee-ke-no, who dwells among the water-lilies in the lake which the\nThree Brothers hold in the hollow of their hands.\n\nE-ee-ke-no had long loved the Rock Chief, but Tu-tock-ah-nu-lah\nscorned her unsought love, which turned through jealousy to bitter\nhate. Now as she saw him go away in search of Tis-sa-ack, she threw\naround him the mystic fragrance of the water-lily, which, gentle as a\ncaress, is deadly to all who win the hatred of E-ee-ke-no.\n\nOn and on across the meadow fringed with tamarack, among the wild\nflowers and the waving grasses, Tu-tock-ah-nu-lah wandered, following\nblindly the transformed spirit of E-ee-ke-no until he disappeared\nforever in the depths of the lake.\n\n\n\n\n  [Illustration: KOM-PO-PAI-SES\n    LEAPING FROG ROCKS\n    \"Forever and forever the Three Brothers sit looking over each\n      other's shoulders from the north wall of Ah-wah-nee.\"]\n\n\n\n\nKom-po-pai-ses, Leaping Frog Rocks\n\n\nForever and forever the Three Brothers sit looking over each other's\nshoulders from the north wall of Ah-wah-nee.\n\nThe Indians likened these peaks to frogs sitting back upon their\nhaunches ready to leap, and called them Kom-po-pai-ses, the Leaping\nFrog Rocks. This the white man did not know when he named them the\nThree Brothers.\n\nThe story of the Three Brothers is history, not tradition. It has to\ndo with the coming of the white man to Ah-wah-nee, and the downfall of\nTen-ie-ya, the last chief of the Ah-wah-nee-chees.\n\nAcross the plains that billow away toward the sea, Ten-ie-ya watched\nthe approach of the white stranger, having always in mind the words of\nthe old man who was his counselor when he left the land of his Mo-no\nmother and returned to Ah-wah-nee to rule over his father's people.\n\nThe patriarch had heard the call of the Great Spirit, bidding him to\nthe happy land of the West, and had told Ten-ie-ya many things. This,\nlast of all:\n\n\"Obey my word, O Ten-ie-ya, and your people shall be many as the\nblades of grass, and none shall dare to bring war into Ah-wah-nee. But\nlook you ever, my son, against the white horsemen of the great plains\nbeyond; for once they have crossed the western mountains, your tribe\nwill scatter as the dust before a desert wind, and never come together\nagain. Guard well your stronghold, O Ten-ie-ya, lest you be the last\nof the great chiefs of Ah-wah-nee.\"\n\nThe faded eyes had the light that comes when the call of the Great\nSpirit sounds very near, and the feeble hand of the patriarch trembled\nas he raised his pipe above his head, and said:\n\n\"Great Spirit, I pray be good to my son, the chief of the\nAh-wah-nee-chees. Toward the pines, north, cold wind treat him kindly;\ntoward the rising sun, east, great sun shine upon his lodge in the\nearly morning; toward the place where the sun goes in winter, south,\nbless my son; toward the land of the setting sun, west, waft on the\nbreezes a peaceful sleep. And, lowering my pipe, I say, kind mother\nearth, when you receive my son into your warm bosom, hold him gently.\nLet the howl of the coyote, the roaring of the bear and the\nmountain-lion, and the sound of winds swaying the tops of the pine\ntrees, be to him a sweet lullaby.\"\n\nBecause of these last words of the dying seer, Ten-ie-ya guarded his\nmountain retreat as a she-bear guards the refuge of her young. With\nvague foreboding he saw the white horsemen coming nearer. They took\nthe land that the Great Spirit had made for the people of his race.\nThey burrowed into it like moles, and washed the sands of its rivers,\nsearching for something yellow and shining that the Indian neither\nknew was there nor cared to know. They grazed their horses and their\ncattle upon the broad stretches that had been the Indian's\nhunting-ground since time began. They even went so far, these\npale-faced strangers, as to steal Indian women for their wives. And\nalways they made their camps nearer and nearer to Ah-wah-nee.\n\nWhile the vigor of youth remained, Ten-ie-ya did not fear these men of\nan alien race. He only hated them. With his band of lawless Grizzlies\nhe stole forth in the night and drove away their horses to kill for\nfood; and as they feasted, drunk with the taste of warm blood, their\nspirits were made bold, and the deep gorge rang with shouts of\ndefiance.\n\nBut Ten-ie-ya grew old, and the white horsemen of the plains, now\nstrong in number, were at the very walls of Ah-wah-nee. The words of\nthe dying patriarch were ever in his ears, and he knew that the evil\nday was come.\n\n  [Illustration: \"Toward the pines, north, cold wind treat him\n    kindly.\"]\n\nAt last the white men climbed the western mountains, offering gifts in\nthe name of the Great Father, their chief; and when they went away\nthey led Ten-ie-ya captive to their camp. The young braves fled\nfrom Ah-wah-nee, across To-co-yah, the North Dome, to the home of\nthe Mo-nos. It was well that Ten-ie-ya should go to the plains, they\nsaid; but they were young and could find plenty in the mountains; they\nwould not go to be herded like horses in the white man's camp.\n\nThough he appeared to yield, the spirit of Ten-ie-ya was not broken.\nLike a wild beast in captivity, he chafed under restraint. With the\ncunning of his race, he watched his chance; and when it came, he\nreturned to his stronghold in the Sky Mountains, bearing in his heart\na fiercer hate for the white man, a hate made keener by defeat, a hate\nthat burned for revenge.\n\nBut an evil spell seemed cast upon the children of Ah-wah-nee. They\nwere scattered, and they did not rally round their chief. Again the\nwhite horsemen climbed the western mountains, this time without gifts.\nBut day and night signal fires had burned upon the mountain tops; and\nwhen the messengers of the Great Father entered Ah-wah-nee they found\nthe valley deserted, save for five dark figures that darted like\nshadows from tree to rock at the base of a jagged spur of the northern\nwall.\n\nFeeling themselves secure because of the swollen river that lay\nbetween, the five scouts came into the open when discovered, and\nmocked the strangers; then disappeared up the side of a cliff so\nstraight and pathless that no white man could follow. By fair promises\ncarried to them by an Indian guide they were induced to come into\ncamp, and three of them were found to be sons of Ten-ie-ya.\n\nIt does not speak for the faith of white men that one of the brothers\nwas killed while held as hostage until the aged chief should come in\nand deliver himself to the messengers of the Great Father; and that\nonly an uncertain aim saved another who tried to escape through the\nCa\u00f1on of the Arrow-wood, where his father was hiding. When he saw it\nwas useless to resist further these fearless, faithless horsemen of\nthe plains, who had stolen his lands and his women, who would not let\nhim live in peace in his mountains, Ten-ie-ya came down from\nLe-ham-i-te, the Ca\u00f1on of the Arrow-wood, by a trail that led into the\nvalley through the branches of a giant oak.\n\nThe first sight that met the gaze of the twice-conquered chieftain was\nthe dead body of his youngest son. He spoke no word, but lines of\nsorrow appeared in the hard, old face; and secretly, in the heart of\nthe night, he had the young chief's body carried away--none knew\nwhere. Once more he tried for his liberty; once more was captured.\nThen in a passion of grief and rage, he turned his bare breast to his\ncaptors, and cried:\n\n\"Kill me, white chief, as you have killed my son, as you would kill\nall my people if they would but come to you. You have brought sorrow\nto my heart. For me the sun shines no more. Kill me, white chief, and\nwhen I am dead I will call my people, that they shall come and avenge\nthe death of their chief and his son. My spirit will follow your\nfootsteps forever. I will not leave the spirit world, you will not see\nme, but I will follow you where you go and you will know it is the\nspirit of the old chief, and you will fear me and grow cold. This is\nthe message of the Great Spirit.\"\n\nBut Ten-ie-ya's hour was not yet come. He was to die, for an act of\ntreachery, at the hands of the Mo-nos, his mother's people. Even so,\nthe prophecy of the seer was fulfilled, for the white horsemen of the\nplains had crossed the western mountains, the tribe was scattered,\nnever to come together again, and Ten-ie-ya was the last great chief\nof the Ah-wah-nee-chees.\n\nBecause his three sons were captured at its base, the triple peak in\nthe northern wall was given the name Three Brothers.\n\n\n\n\n   THIS EDITION OF YOSEMITE LEGENDS WAS\n     DONE FOR PAUL ELDER AND COMPANY\n  AT THE TOMOY\u00c9 PRESS, SAN FRANCISCO, IN\n    THE YEAR NINETEEN HUNDRED AND FOUR\n\n            [Illustration]\n\n\n\n\nTranscriber's Note\n\nThis book uses a double asterisk, * *, as an ellipsis.\n\nCaptions for full-page illustrations originally appeared on their own\npage, with the illustration on a separate page. The captions have been\nmoved to follow the illustration to which they relate.\n\nThe frontispiece has been moved to follow the title page. Other\nillustrations have been moved where necessary so that they are not in\nthe middle of a paragraph.","title":"Yosemite Legends","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":8623}