{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_59968/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_59968","id":"gutenberg_59968","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/59968","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Archaeology & Anthropology","Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Indians of Mexico -- Social life and customs","Indians of North America -- Folklore","Indians of North America -- Social life and customs"],"text":"Produced by Turgut Dincer, Robert Tonsing, and the Online\nDistributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This\nfile was produced from images generously made available\nby The Internet Archive)\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n AMERICAN INDIAN LIFE\n\n\n BY SEVERAL OF\n ITS STUDENTS\n\n EDITED BY ELSIE CLEWS PARSONS\n ILLUSTRATED BY C. GRANT LA FARGE\n\n [Illustration]\n\n NEW YORK B. W. HUEBSCH, INC. MCMXXII\n\n\n COPYRIGHT, 1922, BY B. W. HUEBSCH, INC.\n PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA\n\n\n\n\n TABLE OF CONTENTS\n\n PAGE\n\n PREFACE 1\n\n INTRODUCTION 5\n _By A. L. Kroeber, Professor of Anthropology, University of\n California_\n\n\n PLAINS TRIBES:\n\n TAKES-THE-PIPE, A CROW WARRIOR 17\n _By Robert H. Lowie, Associate Professor of Anthropology,\n University of California_\n\n A CROW WOMAN\u2019S TALE 35\n _By Robert H. Lowie, Associate Professor of Anthropology,\n University of California_\n\n A TRIAL OF SHAMANS 41\n _By Robert H. Lowie, Associate Professor of Anthropology,\n University of California_\n\n SMOKING-STAR, A BLACKFOOT SHAMAN 45\n _By Clark Wissler, Curator of Anthropology, American Museum\n of Natural History_\n\n\n TRIBES OF THE MIDDLE WEST:\n\n LITTLE-WOLF JOINS THE MEDICINE LODGE 63\n _By Alanson Skinner, Assistant Curator, Public Museum,\n Milwaukee_\n\n THUNDER-CLOUD, A WINNEBAGO SHAMAN, RELATES AND PRAYS 75\n _By Paul Radin, Late of the Department of Anthropology,\n University of California_\n\n HOW MESKWAKI CHILDREN SHOULD BE BROUGHT UP 81\n _By Truman Michelson, Ethnologist, Bureau of American\n Ethnology, Smithsonian Institution_\n\n\n EASTERN TRIBES:\n\n IN MONTAGNAIS COUNTRY 87\n _By Frank G. Speck, Professor of Anthropology, University of\n Pennsylvania_\n\n HANGING-FLOWER, THE IROQUOIS 99\n _By Alexander A. Goldenweiser, Lecturer in Anthropology, New\n School of Social Research_\n\n THE THUNDER POWER OF RUMBLING-WINGS 107\n _By M. R. Harrington, Ethnologist, Museum of the American\n Indian, Heye Foundation_\n\n TOKULKI OF TULSA 127\n _By John R. Swanton, Ethnologist, Bureau of American\n Ethnology, Smithsonian Institution_\n\n\n TRIBES OF THE SOUTH-WEST:\n\n SLENDER-MAIDEN OF THE APACHE 147\n _By P. E. Goddard, Curator of Ethnology, American Museum of\n Natural History_\n\n WHEN JOHN THE JEWELER WAS SICK 153\n _By A. M. Stephen, Sometime Resident Among the Hopi and\n Navaho_\n\n WAIYAUTITSA OF ZU\u00d1I, NEW MEXICO 157\n _By Elsie Clews Parsons, Member of the Hopi Tribe_\n\n ZU\u00d1I PICTURES 175\n _By Stewart Culin, Curator of Anthropology, Brooklyn\n Institute Museum_\n\n HAVASUPAI DAYS 179\n _By Leslie Spier of the Department of Sociology, University\n of Washington_\n\n EARTH-TONGUE, A MOHAVE 189\n _By A. L. Kroeber, Professor of Anthropology, University of\n California_\n\n\n MEXICAN TRIBES:\n\n THE CHIEF SINGER OF THE TEPECANO 203\n _By J. Alden Mason, Assistant Curator in Anthropology,\n Field Museum of Natural History_\n\n THE UNDERSTUDY OF TEZCATLIPOCA 237\n _By Herbert Spinden, Lecturer in Anthropology, Harvard\n University_\n\n HOW HOLON CHAN BECAME THE TRUE MAN OF HIS PEOPLE 251\n _By Sylvanus G. Morley, Associate, Carnegie Institution of\n Washington_\n\n THE TOLTEC ARCHITECT OF CHICHEN ITZA 265\n _By Alfred M. Tozzer, Professor of Anthropology, Harvard\n University, and Curator Middle American Archaeology,\n Peabody Museum_\n\n\n PACIFIC COAST TRIBES:\n\n WIXI OF THE SHELLMOUND PEOPLE 273\n _By N. C. Nelson, Associate Curator of North American\n Arch\u00e6ology, American Museum of Natural History_\n\n ALL IS TROUBLE ALONG THE KLAMATH 289\n _By T. T. Waterman, Ethnologist, Museum of the American\n Indian, Heye Foundation_\n\n SAYACH\u2019APIS, A NOOTKA TRADER 297\n _By Edward Sapir, Head of Division of Anthropology,\n Geological Survey of Canada_\n\n\n NORTHERN ATHABASCAN TRIBES:\n\n WINDIGO, A CHIPEWYAN STORY 325\n _By Robert H. Lowie, Associate Professor of Anthropology,\n University of California_\n\n CRIES-FOR-SALMON, A TEN\u2019A WOMAN 337\n _By T. B. Reed and Elsie Clews Parsons. Mr. Reed is an\n Alaskan (Ten\u2019a) student in Hampton Institute_\n\n\n ESKIMO:\n\n AN ESKIMO WINTER 363\n _By Franz Boas, Professor of Anthropology, Columbia\n University_\n\n APPENDIX 381\n NOTES ON THE VARIOUS TRIBES\n ILLUSTRATOR\u2019S NOTES\n\n\n\n\n Preface\n\n\n\u201cShe always says she will come, and sometimes she comes and sometimes\nshe doesn\u2019t come. I was so surprised when I first came out here to find\nthat Indians were like that,\u201d the wife of the Presbyterian Missionary\nin an Indian town in New Mexico was speaking, as you readily infer, on\nher servant question.\n\n\u201cWhere did you get your impressions of Indians before you came here?\u201d\n\n\u201cFrom Fenimore Cooper. I used to take his books out, one right after\nthe other from the library at New Canaan, Connecticut, where I grew up.\u201d\n\nAt that time, during the youth of this New Englander past middle age,\nfew anthropological monographs on Indian tribes had been written, but\nit is doubtful if such publications are to be found in New England\nvillage libraries even to-day, and it is more than doubtful that if\nthey were in the libraries anybody would read them; anthropologists\nthemselves have been known not to read them. Between these forbidding\nmonographs and the legends of Fenimore Cooper, what is there then to\nread for a girl who is going to spend her life among Indians or, in\nfact, for anyone who just wants to know more about Indians?\n\nFrom these considerations, among others, this book was conceived. The\nidea of writing about the life of the Indian for the General Reader is\nnot novel, to be sure, to anthropologists. Appearances to the contrary,\nanthropologists have no wish to keep their science or any part of it\nesoteric. They are too well aware, for one thing, that facilities for\nthe pursuit of anthropology are dependent more or less on popular\ninterest, and that only too often tribal cultures have disappeared in\nAmerica as elsewhere before people became interested enough in them to\nlearn about them.\n\nNevertheless, the cost of becoming popular may appear excessive\u2014not\nonly to the student who begrudges the time and energy that must be\ndrawn from scientific work, but to the scientist who is asked to\npopularize his study in terms repugnant to his sense of truth or\npropriety. Hitherto, American publishers appear to have proposed only\nto bring Fenimore Cooper up to date, merely to add to the over-abundant\nlore of the white man about the Indian.\n\nIn this book the white man\u2019s traditions about Indians have been\ndisregarded. That the writers have not read other traditions from their\nown culture into the culture they are describing is less certain. Try\nas we may, and it must be confessed that many of us do not try very\nhard, few, if any of us, succeed, in describing another culture, of\nridding ourselves of our own cultural bias or habits of mind. Much of\nour anthropological work, to quote from a letter from Spinden, \u201cis not\nso much definitive science as it is a cultural trait of ourselves.\u201d\n\nFor one thing we fail to see the foreign culture as a whole, noting\nonly the aspects which happen to interest us. Commonly, the interesting\naspects are those which differ markedly from our own culture or those\nin which we see relations to the other foreign cultures we have\nstudied. Hence our classified data give the impression that the native\nlife is one unbroken round, let us say, of curing or weather-control\nceremonials, of prophylaxis against bad luck, of hunting, or of war.\nThe commonplaces of behavior are overlooked, the amount of \u201ccommon\nsense\u201d is underrated, and the proportion of knowledge to credulity\nis greatly underestimated. In other words the impression we give of\nthe daily life of the people may be quite misleading, somewhat as if\nwe described our own society in terms of Christmas and the Fourth\nof July, of beliefs about the new moon or ground hogs in February,\nof city streets in blizzards and after, of strikes and battleships.\nUnfortunately, the necessarily impressionistic character of the\nfollowing tales, together with their brevity, renders them, too,\nsubject to the foregoing criticism. Of this, Dr. Kroeber in the\nIntroduction will have more to say, as well as of his impression of how\nfar we have succeeded in presenting the psychological aspects of Indian\nculture.\n\nThe problems presented by the culture, problems of historical\nreconstruction, Dr. Kroeber will also refer to, but discussion of the\nproblems, of such subjects as culture areas, as the current phrase\ngoes, as diffusion and acculturation, will not be presented in this\nbook\u2014it is a book of pictures. But if the reader wants to learn\nof how the problems are being followed up, he is directed to the\nbibliographical notes in the appendix. If the pictures remain pictures\nfor him, well and good; if they lead him to the problems, good and\nbetter. Anthropology is short on students.\n\n E. C. P.\n\n\n\n\n Introduction\n\n\nThe old ethnology, like every science in its beginnings, was\nspeculative. The new ethnology is inductive. Fifty or sixty\nyears ago the attempt was first made to read the riddle of human\norigins and substantiate the answer by facts. One student after\nanother\u2014Spencer, Tylor, Morgan, and others\u2014thought out a formula\nthat seemed a reasonable explanation of how some activity of human\ncivilization\u2014institutional, religious, or inventive\u2014began, developed,\nand reached its present condition; and then ransacked the accounts of\ntravelers, missionaries, and residents among primitive tribes for each\nbit of evidence favorable to his theory. Thus the origin of marriage\nwas plausibly traced back to the matriarchate and ultimate promiscuity,\nof society to totemic clans, of the historic religions to a belief\nin souls and ghosts, of pottery to clay-lined basketry. Twenty-five\nyears ago this theory fabrication was in full swing; and in many\nnon-scientific quarters it still enjoys vogue and prestige.\n\nIt is plain that the method of these evolutionary explanations was\ndeductive. One started with an intuition, a rationalization, a guess,\nthen looked for corroborative facts. Inevitably, all contrary facts\ntended to be ignored or explained away. What was more, the evidence\nbeing adduced solely with reference to whether it fitted or failed to\nfit into the theory under examination, it was torn from its natural\nrelations of time, space, and association. This was very much as if a\nselection of statements, made by an individual on a given topic, were\nstrung together, without reference to the circumstances under which he\nuttered them and without the qualifications which he attached. By the\nuse of this method of ignoring _context_, a pretty good case might be\nmade out to show that the Kaiser was really a pacificist republican\nat heart, Huxley a devout if not quite regular Christian, and Anthony\nComstock a tolerant personality. Roosevelt could be portrayed as\neither a daring radical or as a hide-bound reactionary. Just such\ncontrary interpretations did emerge in the older ethnology. Totems,\nfor instance, were held by one \u201cauthority\u201d to have had their origin\nin magical rites concerned with food supply, by another in a sort\nof nicknames, by a third in a primitive, mystic adumbration of the\nconcept of society itself.\n\nGradually it began to be recognized by students that this method might\nbe necessary in the law-courts, where each party advowedly contends for\nhis own interests, but that in science it led to exciting wrangling\nrather more than to progress toward impartial truth. And so a new\nethnology modestly grew up which held for its motto: \u201cAll possible\nfacts first, then such inferences as are warranted.\u201d \u201cAll facts\u201d means\nnot only all items but also these items in their _natural_ order: the\nsequence in which they occur, their geographical relation, the degree\nto which they are associated.\n\nThe anthropologist no longer compares marriage customs from all over\nthe world as they come to hand. He realizes that marriage is likely to\nbe a different rite as it is practiced respectively among peoples, with\nand without civil government, or among nations that have come under the\ninfluence of a world religion or remain in a status of tribal ceremony.\nThe whole culture of the group must be more or less known before the\nhistory and meaning of an institution can become intelligible. Detached\nfrom its culture mass, a custom reveals as little of its functioning as\nan organ dissected out of the living body.\n\nEqually important for the interpretation of ethnic facts, are their\ngeographical associations, their distribution. Is a custom or invention\npeculiar to one people or is it shared by many distinct peoples\noccupying a continuous area? Such a question may seem trivial. But\nthe answer usually bears heavy significance. A unique institution, or\none found in various spots but in disconnected ones, is, other things\nequal, either of recent and independent origin in each locality, or\nit is a lingering survival of a custom that was once wide-spread. In\nshort, it represents the beginning or end of a process of development.\n\nOn the other hand, where we find an art or institution possessed in\ncommon by dozens or hundreds of tribes situated without any gaps\nbetween them on the map, it would be far-fetched to assume that each of\nthem independently evolved this identical phenomenon. Why presuppose a\nhundred parallel causes, each operating quite separately, when one will\nsuffice, in view of the fact that human beings imitate each other\u2019s\nmanners and borrow knowledge. We know that Christianity, gun-powder,\nthe printing press, were originated but once. Even with history wiped\nout, we could infer as much, from their universality among the nations\nof Europe.\n\nNow this is just the situation as regards primitive peoples. Their\nhistory _has_ been wiped out\u2014it was never preserved by themselves or\ntheir neighbors. But knowledge of the geographical occurrence of a\ncustom or invention, usually affords rather reliable insight into its\nhistory, sometimes into its origin. When the available information\nshows that Indian corn was grown by all the tribes from Chile and\nBrazil to Arizona and Quebec, it is evident that the history of native\nAmerican agriculture is as much of a unit, essentially, as the history\nof Christianity or of fire-arms. It is a story of _invention_ only\nat its outset, of _diffusion_ and amplification through its greater\nlength. When pottery is further discovered to possess almost exactly\nthe same aboriginal distribution as maize, it becomes likely that\nthis art, too, was devised but once; and likely, further, that it was\ninvented at about the same time as maize culture and diffused with it.\n\nBy evidence such as this, re\u00ebnforced by the insight gained from the\nstratification of prehistoric objects preserved in caves and in the\nground, native, American history is being reconstructed for some\nthousands of years past. The outline of this history runs about as\nfollows.\n\nEight, ten, or twelve thousand years ago, contemporary with the last\nphase of the Old Stone Age of Europe or the opening there of the\nNew Stone Age, man, for the first time, entered the New World. He\ncame from Asia across Behring Strait, a narrow gap with an island\nstepping-stone in the middle, and probably frozen over solidly in\nmidwinter. In race he was Mongoloid\u2014not Chinese, Japanese, or Mongol\nproper, but _proto-Mongoloid_; a straight-haired type, medium in\ncomplexion, jaw protrusion, nose-breadth, and inclining probably to\nround-headedness; an early type, in short, from which the Chinese, the\nMalay, and the Indian grew out, like so many limbs from a tree. This\nproto-Mongoloid stock must have been well established in Asia long\nbefore. This is morally certain from the fact that the proto-Negroids\nand proto-Caucasians were living at least ten to fifteen thousand\nyears earlier, as attested by their discovered fossils, Grimaldi man\nand Cro-Magnon man.\n\nWell, somewhere about 8000 B. C., then, bands of proto-Mongolians\nbegan to filter in through the easy, northwest gate of America. Others\npushed them behind; before them, to the south, the country was ever\nmore pleasantly tempting, and life easier. They multiplied, streamed\ndown the Pacific coast, wandered across to the Atlantic, entered\nthe tropics in fertile Mexico, defiled through Panama, and slowly\noverran South America. Separate groups of entrants into Alaska may\nhave brought distinct languages with them; or, if they all came with\none mother-tongue, their migrations to diverse environments and long,\nlong separations provided ample opportunity for differentiation into\ndialects, languages, and families. The history of speech in the Old\nWorld covered by records, is but little more than three thousand years\nold, just a third of the ten thousand years with which we are dealing\nin America. Multiply by three the difference between twentieth-century\nEnglish and ancient Sanskrit or one of its modern representatives such\nas Bengali, and there is just about the degree of speech distinctness\nthat exists between the American language families, such as Siouan and\nAlgonkin, Aztec and Maya.\n\nSo with the racial type. Fundamentally, one physical type stretches\nfrom Cape Horn to Alaska. Superficially, it is intricately\nvariegated\u2014here with round heads, there with long\u2014with short faces\nor hooked noses or tall statures or wavy hair, in this or that group\nof tribes. In fact, it might seem that during ten thousand years the\nvariety of climates and habitats might have succeeded in moulding\nthe Indian into racial types of even greater distinctness than we\nencounter; until we remember that he found the two continents empty,\nand was never subjected to mixtures with white or black or dwarf races,\nto mixtures such as were experienced by many of the peoples of the\neastern hemisphere.\n\nWhat the first immigrants brought with them in culture was rudimentary.\nThey kept dogs, but no other domesticated animal. They were not yet\nagricultural, and subsisted on what they wrested from nature. They knew\nsomething of weaving baskets and mats; clothed and housed themselves;\nprobably had harpoons and possibly bows; made fire with the drill; cut\nwith flint knives; and believed in magic, spirits, and the perpetuity\nof the soul.\n\nIn and about southern Mexico they prospered the fastest, became most\nnumerous, acquired some leisure, began to organize themselves socially,\nand developed cults of increasing elaborateness. They \u201cinvented\u201d\nmaize-agriculture and pottery; architecture in stone; irrigation; cloth\nweaving and cotton growing; the smelting and casting of copper, silver,\nand gold; a priesthood, calendar system, picture-writing, pantheon of\ngods, and sacrifices; and accustomed themselves to town life.\n\nGradually these amplifications of culture spread: slowly to the north,\nmore rapidly and completely to the south, into the similar environment\nof Colombia and Peru. Not all of the civilization devised in Yucatan\nand Guatemala, was carried into South America. Writing and time\nreckoning, for instance, never squeezed through the Isthmus, and the\nIncas got along with traditions and records of strings. On the other\nhand the South Americans, also growing populous and wealthy, added some\nculture elements of their own\u2014bronze alloying, the hammock, the Pan\u2019s\npipe, the balance scale, the surgical art of trephining the skull, the\nidea of a vast, compactly organized empire.\n\nIn Peru then, and in Mexico, two nearly parallel centers of\ncivilization grew up during thousands of years; sprung from the same\nfoundation, differentiated in their superstructures, that of Mexico\nevidently the earlier, and, at the time of discovery, slightly more\nadvanced. The Peruvian civilization, if we include with it those of\nwestern Colombia and Bolivia, rayed itself out through the whole\nsouthern continent, becoming feebler and more abbreviated with\nincreasing distance from its focus.\n\nThe South Mexican center similarly diffused its light through most\nof the northern continent. First its influences traveled to northern\nMexico and the Southwest of the United States\u2014Arizona and New Mexico,\nthe seat of the Cliff-dwellers. There they took new root and then\nspread northward and eastward\u2014altered, diluted, with much omitted.\nWe may compare Mexico to a manufacturing district, where capital,\ninventiveness, resources and industry, flourish in mutual alliance;\nthe Southwest to one of its outlets, a sort of distributing point\nor jobbing center, which imports, both for its own consumption and\nfor re-export; the articles of trade in this case being elements of\ncivilization\u2014inventions, knowledge, arts.\n\nThroughout, it was a flow of things of the mind, not a drift of the\nbodies of men; of culture, not of populations. And the radiation was\never northward, counter to the drift of the migrations which had begun\nthousands of years before, and which, in part, seem to have continued\nto crowd southward even during the period of northward spread of\ncivilization. It was much as in Europe fifteen hundred years ago, when\nGoth and Vandal and Frank and Lombard pounded their way southward into\nthe Roman empire, but the civilization of Rome\u2014writing, learning,\nmoney, metallurgy, architecture, Christianity, laws\u2014streamed ever\nagainst the human pressure, until the farthest barbarians of the North\nSea had become, in some measure, humanized.\n\nThus the Southwest learned from Mexico to build in stone, to grow\nand weave cotton, to irrigate, to obey priests, and in some rude\nmeasure to organize the year into a calendar. None of these culture\nelements traveled farther. But the maize-beans-squash agriculture,\npottery making, the organization of cult societies, the division of\nthe community into clans, reckoning descent from one parent only,\nsome tendency toward town life and the confederation of towns, all of\nwhich the Southwest had also acquired from Mexico, it passed on to its\nneighbors, notably to those of the Gulf States between Louisiana and\nGeorgia. Here, these institutions were once more worked over and, in\nthe main, reduced, and then some of them passed on northward, first to\nthe Mound-builders of the Ohio valley, and then to the Iroquois of New\nYork. From the Iroquois, in turn, some of their Algonkian neighbors and\nfoes were just beginning to be ready to learn certain betterments, when\nthe white man came and swept their cultures into memory.\n\nWe have thus, a series of culture centers\u2014Mexico, Southwest, Southeast,\nIroquois, Atlantic Algonkins\u2014of descending order of advancement, and\nsubsequent to one another in time. They constitute a ladder of culture\ndevelopment, and, although undated, represent a real sequence of\nhistory.\n\nOne area was but haltingly and sparsely infiltrated from the Southwest:\nthe North Pacific Coast, centering in British Colombia. In this mild\nand rich environment a native culture grew up that, in the main, went\nits own way. It did not attain to the heights of Mexico, scarcely even\nequaled the Southwest. Pottery and agriculture failed to reach it.\nBut out of its own resources, it developed, independently, a number of\nthe arts and institutions which the remainder of North America drew\nfrom Mexico: clan organization and cult societies, for instance, the\nbeginnings of a calendar and cloth weaving. And it added features, all\nits own: plank houses, totem poles, a remarkable style of decorative\nart, a society based on wealth. Here then we have a minor, but mainly\nindependent culture center of the greatest interest.\n\nIn a still smaller way, and without as great a freedom from southern\ninfluences, the tribes of the treeless Plains, in the heart of the\ncontinent, developed a little civilization of their own. This was\nfounded on what they had originally got from the Southwest and\nSoutheast, was remodeled on the basis of an almost exclusive dependence\non the buffalo, and underwent a brief and stirring efflorescence from\nthe seventeenth to the nineteenth century, after the Plains tribes\nhad got horses from the Spaniards. Here, then, grew up customs and\nappliances like the tepee, the travois, the camp circle, warfare as a\ngame with \u201ccoups\u201d as counters.\n\nSimilarly in the far north, along the shores of the Arctic, where the\nEskimo spread themselves. Here, almost nothing penetrated from Mexico,\nbut stern necessity forced a special inventiveness on the mechanical\nside and the way was near for the entrance of influences from Asia,\nsome few of which may have diffused beyond the Eskimo to the North\nPacific Coast tribes.\n\nSuch, then, are the outlines of the history of the native, American\nrace and civilization. It is a long and complexly rich story, only\npartly unraveled. Those who wish it in greater fullness will find it in\nWissler\u2019s _The American Indian_. Only enough has been sketched here to\nshow that modern anthropology is an inductive science with a minimum of\nspeculation; that it aims at truly historical reconstructions and is\nbeginning to achieve them; and that it lies in the nature of its tasks\nto distinguish and analyze the several native culture areas or local\ntypes of Indians before proceeding to conclusions based on combinations.\n\nTherefore it is, that many small items of ethnic knowledge acquire\nconsiderable importance. From the average man\u2019s point of view, it is\nof little moment that the Zu\u00f1i farm and the Yurok and Nootka do not,\nor that the former refuse to marry their dead wives\u2019 sisters and the\nlatter insist on it. At best, such bits of facts have for the layman\nonly the interest of idle curiosities, of antiquarian fragments. To the\nspecialist, however, they become dependable means to a useful end, much\nas intimate knowledge of the position of arteries and nerves serves the\nsurgeon.\n\nBut, just as the exact understanding of anatomy which modern medicine\nenjoys, bulks to infinitely more than any one anatomist could ever\nhave discovered, so with ethnology. No one mind could ever observe\nor assemble and digest all the cultural facts that are needed. Many\nworkers are busy, have been systematically busy for two or three\ngenerations. Though they may, now and then, enliven their toil by a\nscientific quarrel over this or that set of facts or interpretation,\nthey are inherently co\u00f6perating, laboring cumulatively at a great\njoint enterprise. Sometimes, they divide their interests topically:\none specializes on social customs, another on material arts, a third\nalong lines of religion. But, in the main, the cultural context is so\nimportant that it has been found most productive for each investigator\nto try to learn everything possible about all the phases of culture of\na single tribe, or, at most, of two or three tribes.\n\nTo do this, he \u201cgoes into the field.\u201d That is, he takes up his\nresidence, for a continuous period or repeatedly for several years,\namong a tribe, on its reservation or habitat. He enters into as close\nrelations as possible with its most intelligent or authoritative\nmembers. He acquires all he can of their language, reduces it to\nwriting, perhaps compiles texts, a dictionary or grammar. Day after\nday he records notes from visual observation or the memory of the best\ninformants available on the industries, beliefs, government, family\nlife, ceremonies, wars, and daily occupations of his chosen people. And\nwith all this, there flow in his personal experiences and reactions.\nThe final outcome is a monograph\u2014a bulky, detailed, often tedious,\nbut fundamental volume, issued by the government or a scientific\ninstitution.\n\nIt is from intensive studies such as these, that the stories which\nform the present volume have sprung as a by-product. Have sprung as a\nsort of volunteer crop, it might be said, under the stimulus of the\neditorial suggestion of Dr. Parsons. The monographs have a way of\nsticking pretty closely to the objective facts recorded. The mental\nworkings of the people whose customs are described, are subjective, and\ntherefore much more charily put into print. The result is that every\nAmerican anthropologist with field experience, holds in his memory many\ninterpretations, many convictions as to how his Indians feel, why they\nact as they do in a given situation, what goes on inside of them. This\npsychology of the Indian is often expressed by the frontiersman, the\nmissionary and trader, by the man of the city, even. But it has been\nvery little formulated by the very men who know most, who have each\ngiven a large block of their lives to acquiring intensive and exact\ninformation about the Indian and his culture.\n\nThere is, thus, something new, something of the nature of an original\ncontribution, in each of these stories; and they are reliable. To many\nof us, the writing of our tale has been a surprise and of value to\nourselves. We had not realized how little we knew of the workings of\nthe Indian mind on some sides, how much on others.\n\nThe fictional form of presentation devised by the editor has definite\nmerit. It allows a freedom in depicting or suggesting the thoughts and\nfeelings of the Indian, such as is impossible in a formal, scientific\nreport. In fact, it incites to active psychological treatment, else\nthe tale would lag. At the same time the customs depicted are never\ninvented. Each author has adhered strictly to the social facts\nas he knew them. He has merely selected those that seemed most\ncharacteristic, and woven them into a plot around an imaginary Indian\nhero or heroine. The method is that of the historical novel, with\nemphasis on the history rather than the romance.\n\nThere is but one important precedent for this undertaking,[1] and\nthat single-handed instead of collective, and therefore depictive of\none people only, the Keresan Pueblos. This is _The Delight Makers_ of\nBandelier, arch\u00e6ologist, archivist, historian, and ethnologist of a\ngeneration ago; and this _novel_ still renders a more comprehensive and\ncoherent view of native Pueblo life than any scientific volume on the\nSouthwest.\n\nThe present book, then, is a picture of native American life, in\nmuch the sense that a series of biographies of one statesman,\npoet, or common citizen from each country of Europe would yield a\ncross-sectional aspect of the civilization of that continent. France\nand Russia, Serbia and Denmark, would each be represented with its\nnational peculiarities; and yet the blended effect would be that of a\nsuper-national culture. So with our Indians. It is through the medium\nof the intensive and special coloring of each tribal civilization, that\nthe common elements of Indian culture are brought out most truthfully,\neven though somewhat indirectly.\n\nThere are only a few points at which the composite photograph, produced\nby these twenty-seven stories, should be used with caution, and these\ndisproportions or deficiencies are unavoidable at present. The first\nof them is religion. The book is likely to make the impression that\nsome sixty per cent, of Indian life must have been concerned with\nreligion. This imbalance is due to the fact that religion has become\nthe best known aspect of Indian life. Ritual and ceremony follow exact\nforms which the native is able to relate with accuracy from memory,\nlong after the practices have become defunct. Moreover, once his\nconfidence is gained, he often delights in occupying his mind with the\nmatters of belief and rite that put an emotional stamp on his youth.\nSocial usages are much more plastic, more profoundly modified to suit\neach exigency as it arises, and therefore more difficult to learn and\nportray. The mechanical and industrial arts have a way of leaving but\npallid recollections, once they have been abandoned for the white man\u2019s\nmanufactures; and to get them recreated before one\u2019s eyes is usually\nvery time-consuming. Thus, through a tacit coordination of Indians and\nethnologists to exploit the vein of most vivid productivity, religion\nhas become obtruded; and some excess must be discounted. Yet the\nover-proportion is perhaps all for the best. For the Indian is, all\nin all, far more religious than we, and the popular idea errs on the\nside of ignoring this factor. The stories are substantially truthful in\ntheir effect, in that the average Indian did spend infinitely more time\non affairs of religion than of war, for instance.\n\nOn the side of economics and government, the book is underdone. It is\nso, because ethnological knowledge on these topics is insufficient.\nIt is difficult to say why. Possibly ethnologists have not become\nsufficiently interested or trained. But economic and political\ninstitutions are unquestionably difficult to learn about. They\nare the first to crumble on contact with Anglo-Saxon or Spanish\ncivilization. So they lack the definiteness of ceremonialism, and their\nreconstruction from native memories is a bafflingly intricate task.\n\nAs regards daily life, personal relations, and the ambitions and ideals\nof the individual born into aboriginal society, in other words the\nsocial psychology of the Indian, we have done much better. In fact,\ncollectively we have brought out much that is not to be found anywhere\nin the scientific monographs, much even that we had not realized\ncould be formulated. This element seems to me to contain the greatest\nvalue of the book, and to be one that should be of permanent utility\nto historians and anthropologists, as well as to the public which\nis fortunately free from professional trammels. The exhibit of the\nworkings of the Indian mind which these tales yield in the aggregate,\nimpresses me as marked by a rather surprising degree of insight and\ncareful accuracy.\n\nOnly at one point have we broken down completely: that of humor. One\nmight conclude from this volume that humor was a factor absent from\nIndian life. Nothing would be more erroneous. Our testimony would be\nunanimous on this score. And yet we have been unable to introduce\nthe element. The failure is inevitable. Humor is elusive because its\nunderstanding presupposes a feeling for the exact psychic situation of\nthe individual involved, and this in turn implies thorough familiarity\nwith the finest nuances of his cultural setting. We could have\nintroduced Indian jokes, practical ones and witty ones, but they would\nhave emerged deadly flat, and their laughs would have sounded made\nto order. An Indian himself, or shall we say, a contemporary of the\nancients, may let his fancy play, and carry over to us something of his\nreaction: witness Aristophanes, Plautus, Horace. But the reconstructor,\nif he is wise, leaves the task unattempted. That prince of historical\nnovelists, Walter Scott, for the most part collapses sadly when he\ntries to inject into his romances of the Middle Ages, the humor\nthat marks his modern novels of Scotland; and so far as he salvages\nanything, it is by substituting the humor of his own day for the actual\nmedi\u00e6val one. _Hypatia_ is a superb picture of the break-down of Roman\ncivilization; but how silly and boring are its humorous passages! A\ngreater artist, in _Tha\u00efs_, and another in _Salammb\u00f4_, have wisely\nevaded attempting the impossible, and, at most, touched the bounds\nof irony. Where the masters have succumbed or refrained, it is well\nthat we scientists, novices in the domain of fiction, should hold off;\nthough we all recognize both the existence and the importance of humor\nin Indian life. This element, then, the reader must accept our bare\nword for\u2014or supply from his own discrimination and intuition.\n\n A. L. KROEBER\n\n\n\n\n AMERICAN INDIAN LIFE\n\n Takes-the-pipe, a Crow Warrior\n\n I\n\n\nHorses neighing, women scurrying to cover, the report of guns, his\nmother, Pretty-weasel, gashing her legs for mourning,\u2014that was\nTakes-the-pipe\u2019s earliest memory. Later he learned that his own father,\na famous warrior of the Whistling-water clan, had fallen in the fight\nand that his \u201cfather,\u201d Deaf-bull, was really a paternal uncle who\nhad married the widow. No real father could have been kinder than\nDeaf-bull. If anything, he seemed to prefer his brother\u2019s son to his\nown children, always petting him and favoring him with the choicest\nmorsels.\n\nWhen Pretty-weasel needed help in dressing a hide or pitching a\ntent, her sisters and cousins of the Sore-lip clan came as visitors,\noften bringing moccasins and gewgaws for their little clansman,\nTakes-the-pipe. One of the sisters stood out more clearly than the\nrest, a lusty wench who would pull Deaf-bull by the ear and pour water\non his face when he took an afternoon nap. He in turn would throw her\non the ground and tickle her till she bawled for mercy. Another salient\nfigure was the grandmother, old Muskrat, who used to croon the boy to\nsleep with a lullaby: \u201cThe dog has eaten, he is smoking. Haha, huhu!\nHaha, huhu!\u201d Whenever she came to the refrain she raised a wrinkled,\nmutilated hand, and snapped what remained of her fingers in the child\u2019s\nface.\n\nThe people were always traveling back and forth in those days. Now\nTakes-the-pipe was throwing stones into the Little Bighorn, then with\nother boys he was chasing moths in the Wolf Mountains. When he caught\none he rubbed it against his breast, for they said that was the way\nto become a swift runner. One fall, the Mountain Crow traveled to the\nmouth of the Yellowstone to visit their kin of the River band. All\nwinter was spent there. It was fun coasting down-hill on a buffalo-rib\ntoboggan and spinning tops on the smooth ice. Each boy tried to upset\nhis neighbor\u2019s with his own, and when he succeeded he would cry, \u201cI\nhave knocked you out!\u201d Takes-the-pipe was a good player, but once he\ncame home inconsolable because his fine new top was stolen, and another\ntime a bigger lad had cheated, \u201cknocking him out\u201d with a stone deftly\nsubstituted for the wooden toy. His mother comforted him saying, \u201cThat\nboy is crazy! His father is of the Bad-honors clan, that\u2019s why he acts\nthat way!\u201d\n\nTakes-the-pipe was still a little fellow when Deaf-bull made him a bow\nand arrows, and taught him to shoot. Now he ran about, letting fly\nhis darts against birds and rabbits. There was ample chance to gain\nskill in archery. The boys would tie together a bundle of grass and\nset it on a knoll, then all shot at this target, and the winner took\nall his competitors\u2019 arrows. Whenever Takes-the-pipe brought home a\nsheaf of darts, his father would encourage him, saying, \u201cYou\u2019ll be like\nSharp-horn, who always brings down his buffalo with the first shot.\u201d\nAnd when his son had killed his first cottontail, Deaf-bull proudly\ncalled Sliding-beaver, a renowned Whistling-water, feasted him royally\nand had him walk through camp, leading Takes-the-pipe mounted on his\nhorse and proclaiming his success in a laudatory chant.\n\nOne spring there was great excitement. The supply of meat was\nexhausted, yet the buffalo remained out of sight. Scouts were sent to\nscour the country in search of game, but in vain. At last Sharp-horn\noffered to lure the buffalo by magic. At the foot of a cliff he had the\nmen build a corral. He summoned Deaf-bull to be his assistant. \u201cBring\nme an old unbroken buffalo chip,\u201d he said. Takes-the-pipe found one,\nand together he and his father brought it to the shaman. \u201cSomeone is\ntrying to starve us; my medicine is stronger than his; we will eat,\u201d\nsaid Sharp-horn. He smoothed the earth in his lodge and marked buffalo\ntracks all over. He put the chip on one of the tracks and on the chip\na rock shaped like a buffalo\u2019s head, which he wore as a neck ornament.\nThis rock he smeared with grease. \u201cThe buffalo are coming, bid the men\ndrive them here,\u201d he said.\n\nDeaf-bull went out and issued the orders received from Sharp-horn. On\nthe heights above the corral, old men, women and children strung out in\ntwo diverging lines for the distance of a mile or two. The young men\nrode far out till they sighted the herd, got behind it and chased the\ngame between the two lines nearer and nearer to the declivity. They\ndrove them down into the corral. Some were killed in leaping, others\nstunned so they could be easily dispatched. That was a great day for\nTakes-the-pipe. He rode double with his father, and Deaf-bull was a\nperson of consequence. Had he not assisted Sharp-horn? Then, too, he\nwas a member of the Big Dog Society, and the Big Dogs were the police\nfor that season with power to whip every man, woman or child who dared\ndisobey Sharp-horn\u2019s orders.\n\nAfter the hunt, the meat-racks sagged with the weight of the buffalo\nribs, and the people made up for past want by gorging themselves with\nfat and tongues. One evening the Big Dogs held a feast and dance, the\nnext evening the Fox society, then the Lumpwoods, and so on. There\nwere promiscuous gatherings, too, where the valiant warriors rose to\ntell the assembled multitude about their exploits, while the old men\nexhorted the callow youths to emulate the example of their fathers and\nthe camp re\u00ebchoed the ancient warriors\u2019 songs:\u2014\n\n Sky and earth are everlasting,\n Men must die.\n Old age is a thing of evil,\n Charge and die!\n\nOn one of these occasions Takes-the-pipe was proudly listening to\nDeaf-bull\u2019s record. He would have been a chief, had he ever wrested a\ngun from an enemy in a hand-to-hand encounter; in every other essential\nhe more than passed muster. Three times he had crawled into a Piegan\ncamp and stolen horses picketed to their owners\u2019 tents; six times he\nhad \u201ccounted coup\u201d on enemies, touching them with his lance or bare\nhand; twice he had carried the pipe and returned with blackened face as\nleader of a victorious expedition.\n\nWhile Takes-the-pipe was listening spellbound to his father\u2019s\nnarrative, he felt a sudden pinch. He turned round to smite his\ntormentor only to face Cherry-necklace, a boy somewhat older than\nhimself. He was Sliding-beaver\u2019s son and that put a different\ncomplexion on the matter, for Sliding-beaver, like Deaf-bull, was a\nWhistling-water, so their sons might take what liberties they chose\nwith each other and enjoy complete immunity. At present, however,\nCherry-necklace had more important business than playing a trick on\nTakes-the-pipe. \u201cMagpie,\u201d he whispered, \u201cthey are playing magpie.\u201d Off\nboth boys dashed to a creek nearby, where some twenty lads were already\nassembled round a big fire. They smeared their faces with charcoal till\none could hardly recognize his neighbor. \u201cNow, we\u2019ll be magpies,\u201d they\nsaid, \u201cTakes-the-pipe is a swift runner, he shall lead.\u201d They scampered\nback to camp. The women, seeing them approach in their disguise,\nsnatched their meat from the racks to hide it inside their tents. But\nTakes-the-pipe had already fixed his eye on some prime ribs, pounced\nupon them and carried off his prize, followed by the other boys, each\nvanishing with what booty he could safely capture.\n\nIt was a great gathering about the fireplace by the stream. One of the\nlads strutted up and down as a crier and announced, \u201cTakes-the-pipe\nhas stolen the best piece!\u201d Then he and a few others who had won like\ndelicacies were granted their choice of the spoils, whereupon all\nfeasted. When they had done eating, the oldest boy declared, \u201cWe\u2019ll\nremain seated here. If anyone gets up, we\u2019ll rub our hands with this\ngrease and smear it over his body.\u201d So they sat still for a long\ntime. At last Cherry-necklace forgot about the warning and got up.\nIn an instant they were upon him like a pack of wolves. Here was a\nfine chance for Takes-the-pipe to get even for that pinch; he daubed\nCherry-necklace\u2019s face all over with the fat. Others followed suit and\nsoon his body glistened with grease. He leaped into the creek to wash\nit off, but the water glided off the fat.\n\n\n II\n\nThe people were moving along the Bighorn, with the long lodge poles\ndragging along the ground. Some dozen girls with toy tents were\ntransporting them in imitation of their mothers. Takes-the-pipe was\nriding with the Hammers, a boys\u2019 club patterned on the men\u2019s societies.\nThe members treated dogs or deer as enemies and practised counting coup\non them. Takes-the-pipe as one of the daredevils carried one of the\nemblems of the organization, a long stick with a wooden hammer-head\npivoted some two feet from its top. Suddenly an idea struck him.\n\u201cHammers,\u201d he cried, \u201clet us offer a seat on our horses to the girls we\nlike!\u201d No sooner said than done. He himself had had his eye on Otter\nfor some time, and presently the two were riding double.\n\nIn the evening when the women of the camp pitched their lodges, the\nHammer boys\u2019 sweethearts set up theirs a little way off. They played at\nmarried life. Takes-the-pipe sneaked into his mother\u2019s lodge, purloined\nsome meat, brought it near Otter\u2019s tent, and bade her fetch the food,\nwhich she then cooked for him. Other boys and girls did likewise. Thus\nthey played every day while on the march. Once Takes-the-pipe killed\na young wolf and brought a lock of its hair to the young folks\u2019 camp.\nHe pretended that it was an enemy\u2019s scalp and set it on a pole and all\nthe girls had to dance the scalp dance around it. There followed a\nrecital of deeds; the boys who had struck wolves were allowed to claim\ncoups against the Dakota, and those who had touched deer might boast of\nhaving stolen picketed horses.\n\nIt was a gay journey. But one evening when Takes-the-pipe had bragged\nof his mock exploits, Cherry-necklace suddenly appeared on the scene\nand taunted him before all his playmates, \u201cYou think you are a man,\nbecause you are as tall as Deaf-bull,\u201d he cried, \u201cyou are nothing\nbut a child fit to play with little girls. Have you ever been on the\nwar-path? _I_ went with Long-horse and struck a Piegan.\u201d Takes-the-pipe\nhung his head. It was only too true. Cherry-necklace was not so much\nolder, yet he had already distinguished himself and might recite his\ncoup in any public assembly. Takes-the-pipe had no answer for he knew\nnothing to fling back in his \u201cjoking-relative\u2019s\u201d teeth, but he resolved\nforthwith to join a war party at the earliest opportunity.\n\nNot long after this Shinbone let it be known that he was setting out\non a horse-raid against the Dakota. Now Takes-the-pipe had his chance.\nWell provided with moccasins by his clanswomen, he joined a dozen young\nmen starting afoot on the perilous adventure,\u2014perilous because, though\nShinbone was a brave man, this was his first attempt at leading a party\nand it remained to be seen whether \u201chis medicine was good.\u201d They walked\nfor four days. As Takes-the-pipe was the youngest of the company, he\nhad to fetch water and firewood, and one morning when he slept too late\nthey poured water all over him.\n\nWarily the party advanced. On the fourth evening Shinbone ordered them\nto halt on a little knoll. \u201cYonder are the Dakota lodges,\u201d he said,\n\u201cearly to-morrow morning we will go there.\u201d He took his sacred bundle,\nunwrapping a weasel skin stuffed with deer hair, and pointed it toward\nthe camp. \u201cThe Dakota are tired,\u201d he said, \u201cthey will sleep late.\u201d\nBefore dawn he roused the party. He appointed two young men as scouts.\nThey came back. \u201cWell,\u201d he asked, \u201chow is it?\u201d\n\n\u201cWhere you pointed, there are the Dakota lodges,\u201d they replied.\n\n\u201cIt is well,\u201d he said. He chose four others to drive all the loose\nhorses out of the camp. They left. They had not gone far when they were\novertaken by Takes-the-pipe. \u201cWhat are you doing? Go back. He did not\nsend _you_.\u201d\n\n\u201cI am going to the camp to cut a horse or strike a coup.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou are crazy! We are older than you and are still without honors. We\nare here to steal horses, not to score deeds. The one who is carrying\nour pipe is a new leader, he may not be very powerful and you will\nspoil his luck. Go back!\u201d\n\nBut though they threatened to beat him, Takes-the-pipe would not return\nand so all five approached the camp. There were the lodges ranged in a\ncircle. The inmates seemed plunged in sleep. Near the edge a herd of\nhorses were peacefully grazing. The scouts quietly stole up to them and\nbegan to drive them off toward the rest of their party. In the meantime\nTakes-the-pipe was getting his bearings in the strange encampment. He\ncast about for a picketed horse, but there was none to be seen. Then of\na sudden, chance favored him. Out of a little tent on the outskirts of\nthe circle a wizened old man came hobbling on a staff. Takes-the-pipe\nstole up behind him and dealt him a stunning blow. \u201cH\u0113ha!\u201d he\ncried, counting coup on the prostrate foe. Then he dashed towards his\nfriends, who had watched him from a little distance. As yet there was\nno alarm, but no time was to be lost. They mounted and drove the horses\nbefore them. When they reached Shinbone, the rest of the party got on\nhorseback. \u201cNow we will run!\u201d said the captain.\n\nThey had come and gone to the Dakota afoot and slowly enough; now they\nwere mounted, and traveled at top speed, for they knew that before\nlong the enemy would be in their wake. They rode on and on till they\ngot to the brink of a rapid stream. Here, some of their stolen horses\nturned back, but the greatest number they saved, driving them through\nthe ice-cold water, where they themselves felt as though they must die\nfrom the cold. They traveled that day and all through the night without\nstopping to eat. On the following morning they reached the Crow camp,\nsore and worn out, but with sixty head of horses. By rights they all\nbelonged to Shinbone, but after the fashion of a good leader, he was\ngenerous to his followers and let them have nearly half of the herd.\nTakes-the-pipe won three horses.\n\nHis parents rejoiced when they heard of his coup and his booty. His\nmother and her sisters at once prepared a magnificent feast, to which\nall the Sore-lip women contributed. On such occasions it behooved a\nyoung man to give lavish entertainment to his father\u2019s kin, so that\nhe might live to be an old man. So Deaf-bull invited all the eminent\nWhistling-water men, and Takes-the-pipe selected Sliding-beaver from\namong them, presenting him with a fine bay horse. Then Sliding-beaver\ntrudged through camp, leading Takes-the-pipe\u2019s horse and singing the\nyoung man\u2019s praises.\n\n\n III\n\nHe was rolling a hoop and another youth was hurling a dart at it when\nShinbone clutched him by the arm. \u201cCome, I\u2019ll make a man of you. You\nshall take the place of your elder brother.\u201d Takes-the-pipe knew what\nhe meant: a cousin of his belonging to the Fox society had fallen in a\nskirmish with the Dakota, and his fellow-members had been casting about\nfor a clubbable kinsman.\n\nNow a new sort of life began for Takes-the-pipe. He no longer roamed\nabout aimlessly or consorted with random companions. His fellow-members\nwere now his constant associates. Spare time was whiled away in the\nlodges of eminent Foxes, beating the drum and singing the songs of the\norganization. Now and then the younger members took jaunts to the hills\nwith their sweethearts. Again there was a philandering when the Foxes\nand their girls went berrying or up to the mountains to drag lodge\npoles to camp. Often enough a wealthy member had a herald invite all\nthe Foxes to his lodges, where they were feasted, and held a dance.\nThere, too, valiant men rose to expatiate on their prowess. The Foxes\nhad done well that year. Shinbone had struck the first coup of the\nseason, thus making his club take precedence of the rival Lumpwood\nsociety. By the rules of the game the Lumpwoods had lost the right to\nsing their own songs, and when they danced they were obliged to borrow\nthose of the Big Dogs, exposing themselves to the mockery of the Foxes.\nThat year Takes-the-pipe joined a number of war parties and succeeded\nin capturing an enemy\u2019s gun. Now he, too, would rise and tell about his\nmartial experiences.\n\nThe following spring there were great doings. The Foxes were electing\nnew officers in place of the last year\u2019s standard-bearers. Three or\nfour of the elders had had a council and now they came to the club\nlodge where all the members were gathered. Two of the emblems of\nthe society were straight staffs, two were hooked and wrapped with\notter-skin. Each was pointed at the bottom, for in sight of the enemy\nthe bearer was obliged to plant it into the earth, and stand his\nground regardless of danger or death, without budging an inch unless a\ncompanion plucked out the fatal lance. That was why the officers were\ncalled \u201cmen doomed to die.\u201d If they escaped unscathed by the end of the\nyear, they retired with all the honors of distinguished service; if\nthey died in battle, they were solemnly mourned by their fellow-members\nand other tribesmen; but if they failed in duty, they became the\npariahs of the camp.\n\nThere were not many young men eager to undertake so arduous an office.\nThe electors were passing round the circle, offering a pipe to likely\ncandidates, for to smoke it meant acceptance. Some of the faint-hearted\nones crouched behind others to escape notice and even some, who were\nforward enough on other occasions, shrank back. First the elders\nwent to the tried warriors. No trouble was expected with Shinbone,\nand as a matter of fact he readily consented. Next they came to\nLone-pine, Sliding-beaver\u2019s eldest son. He, too, smoked without sign of\nreluctance. But now the electors were beginning to cast about among the\nyounger fellow-members, for they were coming towards Cherry-necklace.\nCherry-necklace was no coward; he had shown his mettle in more than\none encounter. Yet he was very fond of having a good time. Would\nhe willingly accept appointment? No, he was squirming uneasily and\nrefused the pipe. Rather, he would have refused it, but Lone-pine, his\nbrother, seized him by the bang of his hair and forcibly made his lips\ntouch the pipestem. Thus Cherry-necklace too was \u201cdoomed to die.\u201d And\nnow the elders passed round once more in search of the last officer.\nTakes-the-pipe\u2019s heart began to beat. What if they asked him? It would\nbe an honor for one so young, but did he wish to die? They were coming\nstraight toward him. He seemed to hear the old song:\n\n Sky and earth are everlasting,\n Men must die.\n\nYes, if he died, what mattered it? He would yield without coaxing and\nshame Cherry-necklace. He eagerly clutched the pipe and became one of\nthe bearers of a hooked-staff.\n\nWhile the Foxes were holding their annual election, the Lumpwoods were\ngoing through a like procedure. A day or two later, a defiant call\nwas heard from their lodge. They were ready for the annual indulgence\nin licensed wife-stealing. Only the Foxes and the Lumpwoods took\npart in this pastime, the other societies being mere spectators. If\na Fox had ever had for his sweetheart a Lumpwood\u2019s wife, he was now\nprivileged to kidnap her from her rightful husband, who would only\nmake himself a laughing-stock if he interposed objections, let alone\nviolence. Takes-the-pipe remembered that Otter was now married to a\nLumpwood named Drags-the-wolf, so he went to the lodge and called her.\nDrags-the-wolf was game. He had the reputation of being very fond\nof his pretty, young wife, but he knew the proper way for a Crow to\nact. Instead of restraining her, he himself said, \u201cHe is calling you.\nGo!\u201d Takes-the-pipe brought her to his parents\u2019 lodge. His mother and\nsisters gave her a beautiful elk-tooth dress and other Sore-lip women\nfrom all over the camp brought her moccasins and beaded pouches. Then\nthe Foxes selected from their number an old man who had once rescued a\nwounded tribesman from certain death by dashing into the thick of the\nfray, and carrying him off on his horse. This man, for none other might\nventure, rode double with the kidnapped bride, all the other Foxes\nparading jubilantly behind and twitting their rivals with the capture\nof so handsome a Lumpwood woman.\n\n\n IV\n\nShinbone had come home from a war party with blackened face and taken\nthe rank of chief. No wonder, the people were saying. Had not the\nThunder-bird adopted him when as a young man he prayed and thirsted for\na revelation? Men must undergo suffering if they wanted supernatural\nblessing so that they could become great men among their people. Of all\nthe Crow chiefs, only Drags-the-wolf had been in luck: him the Moon\nvisited as he was peacefully slumbering in his tent and granted him\ninvulnerability and coups. The other distinguished warriors had had to\nmortify their flesh in order to gain favor.\n\nThat spring the herald proclaimed that Red-eye was going to hold a\nSun Dance. He had lost a brother and was hungering for revenge. What\nsurer way to attain it than to fast and dance before the sacred doll\ntill it became alive and showed him a scalped Dakota in earnest of\nvictory and vengeance? But Red-eye\u2019s announcement was a signal for\nall the ambitious youths to plan for a public mortification of their\nflesh at the same time in the hope of winning supernatural favor. So,\nwhile the pledger of the ceremony was dancing up and down with his gaze\nriveted on the holy image in the rear of the lodge, a dozen young men\nwere undergoing torture for their own ends. Some were dragging through\ncamp two buffalo skulls fastened to a stick thrust through holes cut\nin their backs. Others\u2014and Takes-the-pipe among them\u2014decided to swing\nfrom the lodge poles. So he begged Sharp-horn to pierce the flesh above\nhis breasts, run skewers through the openings, and tie the rods to\nropes hung from a pole. Thus attached he ran back and forth till he had\ntorn out the skewers. Yet when he had fallen to the ground faint and\nbloodstained no vision came for all his pains.\n\nHe wanted to become a chief like Shinbone, so he went on a mountain\npeak to fast. Without clothes save his gee-string and a buffalo robe,\nhe slept there overnight. He awoke early, the sun had just risen. He\ntook a piece of wood and put on it his left forefinger. \u201cSun,\u201d he\ncried, \u201cI am miserable. I am giving you this. Make me a chief!\u201d With a\nhuge knife he hacked off the first joint. The blood began to flow. He\nlost consciousness. When he came to, it was evening. His finger ached.\nHe tried to sleep, but the pain and cold kept him awake. Of a sudden\nhe heard a man clearing his throat and a horse\u2019s neighing came closer\nand closer. A voice behind him said, \u201cThe one whom you wanted to come\nhas arrived.\u201d He turned about. He saw a man on a bay horse; his face\nwas painted red and he wore a shirt with many discs cut out from its\nbody, yet hanging from it as though by a thread. From the back of his\nhead rose a chicken-hawk feather. The rider said, \u201cYou are miserable. I\nhave been looking for you for a long time but could never quite reach\nyou. I will adopt you as my child. Look! I am going to run.\u201d He began\nto gallop; the dust flew to the sky. Then the trees and shrubs all\nabout turned into Piegans began shooting at the horseman. Arrows came\nwhizzing by him and bullets flew round him and the enemies were yelling\nafter him, but he wheeled round unscathed. With his spear he knocked\ndown one warrior and counted coup on him. He rode up to Takes-the-pipe:\n\u201cThough you fight all the people of the world, dress as I do and you\nneed have no fear of death before you are a chief. That man I struck is\na Piegan; you have seen his country, go there, I give him to you. As I\nam, so shall you be; arrows will not hurt you, bullets you can laugh\nat. You shall be like a rock. But one thing you must not do: never eat\nof any animal\u2019s kidneys.\u201d\n\nWhen Takes-the-pipe got back to his people, he was very glad. Two\nthings remained to be done before he might call himself chief: one was\nto lead a victorious war party, the other to cut a picketed horse.\nHis vision enabled him forthwith to play a captain\u2019s part. He shot a\nchicken-hawk and took one of its feathers to be worn at the back of\nhis head on his expeditions. He prepared a shirt like the one he had\nseen and a spear that resembled exactly that borne by his patron. Then\nhe gathered his war party. His sisters and other Sore-lip women made\nmoccasins galore for him. He set out in the dead of night. For several\ndays they traveled north and west. On the Missouri they ran into a few\nPiegans in a hunting-lodge. They killed them all and took their scalps.\nThus they could return with blackened faces. One of the enemies had a\nthumbless hand, so the year was known ever after as \u201cthe winter when\nthey killed the thumbless man.\u201d\n\n\n V\n\nHe had been wounded in the knee. He could not understand it. He had\nbeen promised that his body would be like stone. He had worn his\nfeather at the back of his head, as in every fight since the time of\nhis vision, yet his kneecap had been shattered in a skirmish with the\nDakota. And it was an ugly injury. Red-eye had salved it with bear\nroot, but the cure-all had failed. Bullsnake, foremost of doctors,\nblessed by the buffalo, had waded into the river to wash his knee, but\nall in vain; he remained crippled. Then he knew that he had unwittingly\nbroken his guardian spirit\u2019s rule; there had been a feast before the\nfatal battle and then he must have eaten of the forbidden food.\n\nSoon there came surety. In a dream appeared the man on the bay horse\nand said: \u201cI told you not to eat kidney, you have eaten it. You shall\nnever be chief.\u201d Takes-the-pipe had now struck many coups and captured\nguns and carried the captain\u2019s pipe. His record surpassed that of any\nman of his age, but he lacked the honor of cutting a picketed horse.\nHow could he ever gain it now? Horse-raiders started on foot, and he\ncould only painfully limp across the camp.\n\nYoung women, drawn by his fame, often visited him in his tent, but\ntheir attentions soon palled on him. His mother tried to console him.\n\u201cOf all the young men you are the best-off; you have struck more coups\nthan the rest and own plenty of horses; the young women are crazy about\nyou. You ought to be the happiest man in camp.\u201d But he would watch the\nbustle of preparations for new raids that he could not join; he would\nride about of an evening and chance upon the foot-soldiers setting\nout from their trysting-place, and would look after them, wistful and\nenvious and sick at heart.\n\nSharp-horn, the aged sage, advised him to go for another vision;\npossibly the guardian spirit would relent. So Takes-the-pipe started\nout on horseback and rode far away towards the mountain where he had\nprayed before. At the foot he hobbled his horse and painfully climbed\nto the summit. He lay down, with outstretched arms, facing the sky.\n\u201cFather,\u201d he wailed, \u201cI am miserable, take pity on me.\u201d He lay there\nduring the night but at the first glimmer of dawn there was still no\nmessage from the mysterious powers. All day he stayed about the jagged\nbowlders without drink or a morsel to eat.\n\nLong after nightfall a muffled tread became audible and as it came\ncloser it was the tramp of a buffalo. Then a bull was standing over\nhim, scenting his breath and caressing his naked breast with shaggy\nfur. At last he spoke in Crow. \u201cI will adopt you my son. I have seen\nyou suffering from afar. What other Indians have prayed for shall be\nyours. Look at the inside of my mouth.\u201d He looked and there was not a\ntooth to be seen. \u201cSo long as you have teeth, my son, you shall not\ndie. You shall marry a fine, chaste, young woman and beget children and\nsee your grandchildren about you. When you die you shall be so old\nthat your skin will crack as you move from one corner of the lodge to\nanother.\u201d\n\nBut Takes-the-pipe shook his head and said, \u201cFather, it is not because\nI crave old age that I am thirsting; I want to be a chief like\nShinbone.\u201d\n\n\u201cMy son, what you ask is difficult. As I hurried to you from my home, I\novertook another person traveling towards you; perhaps you will still\nbe able to get what you desire.\u201d Takes-the-pipe sat up to ask further\ncounsel, but the bull was gone and nothing but a bleached buffalo skull\nwas gaping at him in the gloaming.\n\nAll next day he fasted and prayed on his peak, addressing now the Sun,\nthen the Thunder, then again the Morningstar. His throat was parched\nwhen he lay down at dark in his old resting place. He did not know\nhow, but of a sudden the darkness was lifted and the hilltop shone\nwith a gentle radiance. An old woman was standing at his feet, resting\non a digging-stick; she wore a splendid robe with horsetracks marked\non it in porcupine-quill embroidery. \u201cMy child,\u201d she said, \u201cyou have\nnot called me, nevertheless I am here. I heard your groans and started\ntowards you but another person passed me on the road. I am the Moon.\nWhen children fall sick, doctor them with this root; their parents will\ngive you horses. I will make you the wealthiest of all the Crows.\u201d\n\nBut Takes-the-pipe shook his head and answered, \u201cGrandmother, I am not\nsuffering to gain wealth, I want to become a chief like Shinbone.\u201d\n\n\u201cMy dear child, you are asking for something great. As I came hither,\nI saw another person starting to come here. Perhaps he has more power\nthan I, and can grant your wish.\u201d He was eager to ask her more, but\nher form faded into nothing and only the sheen of the waning crescent\nremained visible.\n\nAnother day he fasted and drank no water. He was now very weak, so that\nhe dragged himself about with the aid of a cane. Was there no power\nto help him in his distress? Night came as he lay wailing and peering\ninto the darkness, when a handsome young man stood before him. \u201cI was\nsleeping far away, you have roused me with your lamentations,\u201d he said.\n\u201cI have come to help you. You shall be my son. Do you recognize me?\nI am the Tobacco your old people plant every year. So long as they\nharvest me, the Crow shall be a great tribe. They have forgotten the\nway to prepare the seed, their crops will be poor. I will show you how\nto mix it before planting. Then you will make your tribe great and\nteach others and receive all sorts of property in payment.\u201d\n\nAnd Takes-the-pipe answered; \u201cFather, I am not suffering in order to\nplant tobacco and gain property, I want to be a chief like Shinbone.\u201d\n\nThen the man replied, \u201cMy son, everything else in the universe is easy\nfor me, only what you ask for is hard. That one who used to be your\nfather is very strong. \u2018Don\u2019t eat kidney,\u2019 he said. You have eaten it.\nI cannot make you chief. Listen, my son. All things in the world go by\nfours. Three of us have come to help you. We have been powerless. A\nfourth one is coming, perhaps he can do it.\u201d\n\nThe next day Takes-the-pipe could hardly crawl on all fours. His head\nswam. He seized his knife and chopped off another finger joint on his\nleft hand. Then holding aloft the bleeding stump he cried, \u201cFathers, I\nam giving you this. Make me a chief!\u201d\n\nSuddenly a huge figure came panting toward him, shaking a rattle and\nsinging a song. \u201cI am the last,\u201d said a big bear; \u201cthough I am heavy\nand slow, I have arrived.\u201d\n\nTakes-the-pipe called out to him joyfully, \u201cFather, I knew you were\ncoming. Cure my knee so that I can go out to cut a picketed horse and\nbecome a chief.\u201d\n\n\u201cMy son, the one who used to be your father is very strong. He does not\nwant you to be a chief. Well, I too am strong. If you are a man, I can\nhelp you. If you are faint-hearted, I am powerless.\u201d\n\n\u201cFather,\u201d said Takes-the-pipe, \u201cmake me great; make me greater than\nother men, and if I die what matters it?\u201d\n\n\u201cMy son, there are many chiefs in camp; of _your_ kind there shall\nbe but one. Tell me, have you ever seen the whole world?\u201d Without\nwaiting for an answer, the bear lifted him up. Mountains and streams\nand prairies and camps came into his vision. The berries were ripe and\nthe Crow camp loomed in sight and the Tobacco society were harvesting\nthe precious seed. Far away were hostile lodges. Then the leaves were\nturning yellow and the enemy were setting out to raid Crow horses.\nOne Crow all alone was riding towards them. \u201cMy son, do you see that\nhorseman with trailing sashes? They were trying to hold him back, he\nhas broken loose. He could not be a chief; he wants to die. He is a\nCrazy Dog. He speaks \u2018backward\u2019; he cares little for the rules of the\ncamp. Where there is danger, he is the foremost. Dress like him, act\nlike him, and you shall be great. The people will speak of you so long\nas there are Crows living on this earth. This I will give you if your\nheart is strong.\u201d\n\n\u201cThanks, father, thanks! What you have shown me is great; I will do it.\nI wanted to live and be a chief. It cannot be. There is no way for me\nto live; I shall die as a Crazy Dog.\u201d\n\nThen the bear vanished.\n\n\n VI\n\nThe people were gathered near the mouth of the Bighorn. There was\nmerriment in camp after a successful hunt. Suddenly was heard the\nbeating of a drum and the chanting of a strange song. All ran out of\ntheir lodges to see what was going on. Who is that man on the richly\nfitted-out horse? He approaches the center of the circle, shaking a\nrattle. Two sashes of deerskin, slipped over his head, descend to the\nground. Sliding-beaver is leading the horse, halting from time to time,\nand beating a drum. At the fourth stop he cried aloud: \u201cYoung women,\nif you would be this man\u2019s sweethearts, you must hasten, he is about\nto die!\u201d Then he beat his drum and addressed the rider: \u201cRemain on\nhorseback, do not dance!\u201d\n\nForthwith Takes-the-pipe dismounted and danced in position. Then\nbecause he did the opposite of what he was told everyone knew him for\na Crazy Dog pledged to court death. Straightway Pretty-weasel began\nto lament: \u201cI begged him not to do it; he has done it!\u201d But the other\nwomen cheered lustily, and Sliding-beaver sang his praises aloud as he\nslowly led him outside of the camp circle.\n\nThen for a while he appeared every evening, dancing and shaking his\nrattle. He would ride through camp like a madman. When a few were\ngathered eating some meat, he would walk his horse into their very\nmidst as if to run over them. Then they would cry out, \u201cTrample on\nus.\u201d And the Crazy Dog would turn aside and let them eat in peace. At\nnight the best-looking young women paid him visits; even married women\nwent there and their husbands did not mind it. Sometimes two or three\nwould come of a single night. Famous Whistling-waters came to tell him\nwhat a great thing he was doing. All the eminent warriors in camp,\nDrags-the-wolf, Red-eye, and Shinbone, were looking on him with envy.\n\nThe cherries had ripened and one day a woman offered him some. He said,\n\u201cWhen I decided to do this, the grass was sprouting. I did not expect\nto live so long, yet to-day I am eating cherries. Well, I will see\nwhether I can achieve what I wish.\u201d When they went hunting the next\ntime, he got some buffalo blood and mixed it with badger blood and\nwater. In the mixture he saw his image with blood streaming down his\nface. \u201cYes,\u201d he cried, \u201cI have seen it. What I am longing for is coming\ntrue!\u201d\n\nThe leaves were turning yellow when a tribesman caught sight of some\nDakota raiders. The young men drove them off and the enemy took refuge\nin the dry bed of a stream. There, the Crow warriors were going to\nattack them. They were getting ready when Pretty-weasel rushed into\ntheir midst, crying, \u201cBind my son! Don\u2019t let him go!\u201d They looked for\nhim. He was not to be found. All alone he was dashing toward the enemy.\nThey galloped after him. He was close to the coul\u00e9e, shaking his rattle\nand singing his song:\u2014\n\n Sky and earth are everlasting,\n Men must die.\n Old age is a thing of evil,\n Charge and die!\n\nHe rode straight up to the enemies\u2019 hiding-place. At the edge he\ndismounted. Several Dakotas were peeping out. \u201cThere is no way for\nme to live,\u201d he cried, \u201cI must die!\u201d He shot one foe and struck him\nwith his rattle. Then another Dakota shot him in the left temple, and\nTakes-the-pipe fell dead.\n\nThe Crow warriors caught up, and killed every man in the raiding\nparty. Pretty-weasel reached the spot and wiped the blood from her\nson\u2019s forehead. The men put him on a horse and brought him to camp.\nWailing, they went home. There the Sore-lip women clipped their hair\nand gashed their legs. The Whistling-water men rode up and down singing\nthe praises of the dead Crazy Dog. His fellow-Foxes propped up the\ncorpse against a backrest, knelt before it and wailed. Their officers\nran arrows through their flesh and jabbed their foreheads till the\nblood flowed in streams. Then they set up a scaffold on four posts,\nwrapped the body in a robe, and placed it on top. Beside the stage they\nplanted a pole. From it was hung his drum, and his sashes swept down as\nstreamers blowing in the wind. His rattle they put into his hand. Then\nthe camp moved.\n\n ROBERT H. LOWIE\n\n\n\n\n A Crow Woman\u2019s Tale\n\n\n\u201cA story, grandmother, a story!\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat, in the daytime, outdoors? And in the summer too? Don\u2019t you know\nthat we tell tales only of a winter night?\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, grandmother, those old rules are gone. Do tell us a story to keep\nus awake on this hot day.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, what shall it be? Shall I tell you how Old-woman\u2019s grandchild\nconquered the monsters that haunted the earth?\u201d\n\n\u201cNo, you\u2019ve told us that one many times. Tell us a new one.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, you shall hear one you have never heard before; a new story and\nyet a true one.\u201d\n\n * * * * *\n\nThere was a young Crow maiden named Beaver-woman who was as\ngood-looking as any girl the Crows had ever known. She was neither too\ntall nor too short, her waist was slim, and her nose was as straight as\na nose can be. She made the finest moccasins in all the tribe and knew\nhow to embroider them with the prettiest quill designs. Throughout the\ncamp there was no one for whom she did not have a kind word. The young\nmen respected her for they knew she would not romp with them as some\ngirls did, and those older ones who had been on the war-path were eager\nto take her to wife. Yet though one suitor after another came to offer\nhorses to her father, the beautiful girl refused them all. At length\nher parents grew impatient and scolded her. \u201cWhat are you waiting for?\nYour brothers have need of horses. Do you expect Morningstar to come\ndown from the sky and woo you?\u201d\n\nThen for the first time she spoke of her hopes. \u201cOne day when the grass\nwas sprouting, I went to the creek to fetch some water. There my eldest\nbrother\u2019s comrade, the one they call White-dog, spoke to me and courted\nme, then left with a war party. I have seen him in my dreams, returning\nwith booty. He is bringing home horses; he will offer you more than all\nthe other suitors together who have tried to buy me.\u201d\n\nThen one of her brothers laughed in derision, and another\ngood-naturedly, and still others kept their peace, while her mother\nmumbled, \u201cSome dreams have come true and some only mock one. I liked\nthe looks of the horses you refused.\u201d\n\nBut a few days later, when the cherries were ripe, White-dog came\nback with his party, driving eighty head of horses stolen from the\nSioux. Many he allotted to his followers and many he gave away to his\nfather\u2019s clansmen; but of the remainder he offered the twenty finest to\nBeaver-woman\u2019s parents. Then she was happy and said, \u201cMy dream has come\ntrue.\u201d Her parents, too, were very glad, and she went to live in her\nhusband\u2019s lodge.\n\nWhite-dog had an older wife named Turtle, whom he had inherited from\na brother killed in battle. Turtle did not like the newcomer, but\nWhite-dog would not allow her to abuse Beaver-woman. He was very proud\nof his young and beautiful wife. When the people moved camp, it was\nBeaver-woman who bore his buffalo-hide shield; and when he came back\nfrom the enemy with spoils, she was the one to dance with his bow or\nspear while Turtle and other women looked on with envy. There was one\nthing he prized even higher than her good looks, and that was her\nvirtue. Other men were having all sorts of trouble with their wives,\nbut he was sure of his. When he heard of a married woman eloping with\nher lover, he would say proudly, \u201cMy wife will soon be the only one who\nshall dare chop down the tree for the Sun Dance lodge\u201d; for only a wife\nwho had never erred was allowed to take part in this sacred rite.\n\nAll went well until one spring soon after Beaver-woman had borne her\nfirst child. You young men have your dancing-clubs to-day, some of\nyou are Hot Dancers and others belong to the Big-Ear-Holes. That\u2019s\nthe way we Crows used to have it in the old days, only we had _real_\nsocieties, the Foxes and the Lumpwoods. They didn\u2019t just dance and\nfeast; they tried to be brave in war and each society sought to outdo\nthe other. But they fought in another way, too. Sometimes it happened\nthat a Lumpwood or a Fox had once had a mistress who afterwards married\ninto the other society. Then for a few days in the early spring he\nwas allowed to kidnap her. No matter how badly he felt about it, her\nhusband durst not protect her, it would have been a terrible disgrace.\nHe must never take her back so long as he lived, or the whole camp\nwould jeer at him for the rest of his days. Often a man might feel\nlike fighting, but he would control himself and say, \u201cShe is nothing to\nme, take her.\u201d Then the people would praise him, saying, \u201cThat one has\na strong heart.\u201d\n\nWell, one day in the spring, a hooting was heard in camp. The\nLumpwoods, headed by Red-eye, were ready to steal the Foxes\u2019 wives, and\nthe Foxes had answered the call of challenge. White-dog was not greatly\ninterested in these doings. He was lounging in his lodge, talking to\nhis younger brother, Little-owl, while Beaver-woman was crooning a\nsong over her baby. Of a sudden the tramping of feet was heard, the\ndoor flap was rudely lifted, and Red-eye\u2019s head was thrust through the\nopening. Beaver-woman faced him calmly. \u201cWhat\u2019s the matter?\u201d she asked.\n\nHe answered with a song:\n\n \u201cMy sweetheart is the one I love,\n I am taking her away.\u201d\n\n\u201cGo away, you\u2019re crazy,\u201d she said, \u201cI have never been your sweetheart!\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat, don\u2019t you remember what happened at the spring?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, you were going to hug me and I drenched you with water. Go away\nto your real sweetheart.\u201d\n\nBut now Red-eye had entered the lodge with two of his companions and\nwas about to lay hands on her. Then she knew that it was no jest, that\nhe was falsely claiming her as a one-time mistress and she screamed\naloud at her husband.\n\n\u201cHe is lying, you know he is lying! Help me!\u201d All this time White-dog\nwas sitting in the rear of the lodge, stiff and silent. He knew the\ncharge against his wife was false, and hatred filled him against her\nwanton accuser. He also knew that unless he fought for her now she was\nlost forever. But it was not a man\u2019s part to show resentment at such\ntimes. Just because no one in camp would believe in Red-eye\u2019s tale, he,\nWhite-dog, would be all the greater for having shown a strong heart. So\nwith stern face he turned to his wife and said, \u201cThey are calling you,\ngo.\u201d But as they seized her, up sprang Little-owl, White-dog\u2019s younger\nbrother, a gentle young man who loved Beaver-woman and had always shown\nrespect for her instead of teasing her as most brothers-in-law do with\ntheir brothers\u2019 wives. He picked up a large butchering knife from the\nground and rushed at Red-eye crying, \u201cYou lie, you lie!\u201d But now\nWhite-dog, too, leaped up and with his greater strength pinioned his\nbrother\u2019s arms behind his back. He wanted no scuffle when his wife was\nbeing kidnapped; it would have been a disgrace. Thus Red-eye dragged\nBeaver-woman away without interference.\n\nThe Lumpwoods had a grand feast and a dress parade on horseback, and\nBeaver-woman had to ride double with the greatest warrior in the\nsociety. They had dressed her up in the finest elk-tooth dress and\neveryone admired her good looks, but she was sad and could not hold\nback her tears. All the Foxes stood round about to see the spectacle,\nand among them was White-dog, looking on as if nothing had happened.\nFor he wanted to show what a strong heart he had.\n\nWhen the celebration was over, Beaver-woman had to live as the wife\nof Red-eye, whom she hated. One night she stole to White-dog\u2019s lodge\nand begged him to take her back. But White-dog got angry and bade her\ndepart. \u201cDo you believe he was ever my lover?\u201d she asked.\n\nHe answered, \u201cI do not believe it, but he has made the charge and\nseized you. Go back. I do not want people to sing songs in mockery of\nme.\u201d And when she lingered he thrust her out and struck her a blow,\u2014he\nwho had never beaten her before. Then she mournfully retraced her steps\ntowards her new home. But before she had gotten very far she felt a\nlight tap on her shoulder. She turned about and faced not White-dog but\nhis younger brother.\n\n\u201cThe people here are bad,\u201d said Little-owl, \u201ccome, let us two flee. By\nthe mouth of the Yellowstone there are Crows too, and down the Missouri\nare the villages of the Corn-eaters. I have relatives among both;\nlet us go and live with them.\u201d So in the same night they packed some\ndried meat and other necessaries and they started northward down the\nYellowstone without being detected in camp.\n\nBut on the second day\u2019s journey they were espied by a group of scouting\nCheyenne. Little-owl fought bravely but was killed and scalped.\nBeaver-woman with her baby became a captive of the hostile tribe, and\nthe leader of the party took her as his wife, when they got back to\nthe Cheyenne camp. Her new husband was a great warrior and treated her\nkindly, but he was an elderly man and she could not love him as she had\nloved White-dog. She grieved, too, for gentle Little-owl who had died\nfor love of her, and she longed to go back to her own people.\n\nAbout a year later another Crow woman was brought to camp as a captive.\nThat was a joyful day for Beaver-woman. Now she learned all the news\nabout her own people. She heard that Red-eye was dead, killed by\nlightning, and all the Crows said it was because he had abducted an\ninnocent woman. White-dog had not married again; he had even sent away\nTurtle, his elder wife. He was more famous as a brave than ever, for\nhe had struck several enemies and stolen two picketed horses from the\nSioux. The people talked about his recklessness and thought he would\nsurely become a chief.\n\nWhen Beaver-woman heard about her people, she was filled with a great\nlonging to go back to them. \u201cWe are not far from our own people,\u201d\nshe said, \u201clet us run back there together. My husband is setting out\nagainst the Sioux; then we can escape.\u201d So they made their get-away and\narrived in safety among their own tribe. Beaver-woman went straight\nto her first husband\u2019s lodge. She found him alone, smoothing an\narrow-shaft. \u201cThey told me that other man was killed by lightning; I\nhave come back,\u201d she said. But he hardly looked up.\n\n\u201cA man does not take back a kidnapped wife,\u201d he said, \u201cgo away.\u201d\nThen she saw that she had come in vain and, weeping, she went to her\nparents\u2019 home.\n\nWhite-dog had always had a strong heart. But now the people were saying\nthat he was positively foolhardy. When enemies were entrenched, he was\nthe first to lead the attack; when a hostile camp was to be entered,\nhe was the first to volunteer; he was always planning a raid against\nthe Cheyenne or Sioux. But one time a Crow party returned wailing:\nWhite-dog had fallen in a reckless charge and they were bearing his\ncorpse for burial among his people. His kinsfolk and the Foxes and\nall the tribe mourned his death, and the women in his family gashed\nthemselves with knives to show their grief. But none grieved more,\nor inflicted more cruel wounds upon herself than Beaver-woman, and\nfor a whole year she wore ragged clothes, and let her hair hang down\ndisheveled. Then, because she was still good-looking, men came once\nmore to woo her, and at length, because her brothers urged her, she\nmarried an oldish man and bore him children. And her children, as they\ngrew up, married and had children too. But all her life she could not\nforget those early days when White-dog came and took her as his wife.\n\n * * * * *\n\nThe old woman paused.\n\n\u201cThanks, grandmother, yours is a good story and a new one, too. What\ntimes! Aren\u2019t we happy now to live in peace, without being disturbed by\nSioux or Cheyenne and without the women being kidnapped by a society of\nour own?\u201d\n\nThe old woman straightened up and looked at the youth with a disdainful\nglance. \u201cYou boys who go to school don\u2019t understand anything. The\nlonger you stay there, the less sense you have. I once hoped to cut\ndown the sacred tree in the Sun Dance! I bore White-dog\u2019s shield when\nthe camp moved! I danced, holding his spear, with Turtle and all\nthe other women looking on in envy! Little-owl died for love of me!\nWhite-dog threw away his life because he could not take me back!\u201d\n\n ROBERT H. LOWIE\n\n\n\n\n A Trial of Shamans\n\n\nBig-dog was troubled; he knew he should not sleep that night.\nWhite-hip, blind old White-hip, had passed him with a taunt. He did not\nmind the old fellow\u2019s gibes, yet....\n\n * * * * *\n\nIt all happened long ago. White-hip was stretched out in his lodge one\nnight when a young kinsman named Shows-his-horse burst in upon him.\n\n\u201cThey say you are a great medicine man, take pity on me, I am in\ndistress.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, what ails you?\u201d\n\n\u201cAs I approached my tent this evening, a man came out, wrapped in his\nrobe. He has stolen my wife; I want revenge.\u201d\n\nThen White-hip said, \u201cYou are my younger brother; I will help you. Who\nis it that has stolen your wife?\u201d\n\nShows-his-horse replied, \u201cIt was Big-dog.\u201d\n\nThen White-hip shrank back and asked, \u201cAre you sure it was Big-dog? The\nnight is dark, you may have made a mistake.\u201d\n\nBut the young man answered, \u201cIt was still light when I saw him,\u2014a\nshort, stocky man with the wolf-tails at his heels plainly visible\ndragging along the ground.\u201d\n\nWhite-hip said, \u201cMy younger brother, it is wrong for a man to mind the\nloss of a woman. If your joking-relatives should hear of this, they\nwill sing songs in mockery of you. This is dangerous business. The\nThunder himself has adopted Big-dog as his child.\u201d\n\nThen Shows-his-horse flared up. \u201cThey told me you were a great medicine\nman, that is why I came to you in my grief. I see you are afraid; your\nmedicine is worthless.\u201d\n\nThen for a long time White-hip spoke not a word. At length he said, \u201cIt\nwill be very difficult, but my medicine is strong. Though the Thunder\nhimself be his father, I will lay him low.\u201d\n\n * * * * *\n\nIt happened that a few days later Big-dog set out on a war party\nagainst the Sioux. Then White-hip prayed to the sacred stone that\nwas his medicine. And Big-dog\u2019s war party was met by a superior force\nof Sioux that killed one of his followers and scattered the rest.\nThere was grief in the Crow camp and the people were wondering about\nBig-dog\u2019s first failure. But Shows-his-horse brought his three best\nhorses as a gift to White-hip, and slowly the news leaked out that a\ntrial of strength was on between the two great shamans of the tribe.\n\nSoon after this event White-hip, too, wanted to go on the war-path, and\nthe men who had been thwarted by Big-dog\u2019s failure were eager to join\nhim. But the very night they set out, Big-dog prayed to the Thunder:\n\u201cI do not want you to afflict my people; only he that leads them shall\nmeet with disaster.\u201d And it rained and stormed in the war party\u2019s path,\nand a tree, felled by lightening, grazed the captain\u2019s shoulder. Then\nthe braves were alarmed and insisted on turning back.\n\nThus, when either of the shamans had set out against the enemy, the\nother was sure to thwart him, till neither ventured on a war party,\nand the whole camp were wondering who should conquer in the end. At\nlast Big-dog could contain himself no longer. Once more he addressed\nthe Thunder: \u201cThese scars are from the flesh I cut as an offering to\nyou, these finger-joints were chopped to make you a present. You made\nme your child. That one is mocking me and you. He thinks his is the\ngreater medicine; smite him with blindness.\u201d\n\nAnd before the cherries had ripened, White-hip had lost his sight.\nThen Big-dog triumphed and the Crows all said that he was the greatest\nshaman they had ever had and that his medicine was the most powerful of\nall; and White-hip was deserted by all but his next of kin, and became\nso poor that for a while a rope served him for a belt.\n\nBut the blind man still had faith in his medicine and one day he thus\ninvoked it: \u201cHis father has made me blind and miserable. I do not care\nif you can make _him_ miserable too. He has three sons. Kill them all\nand make him live till his skin cracks from old age and force him to\nbeg his food from strangers.\u201d\n\nThen on the next war party Big-dog\u2019s eldest son was slain by the\nBlackfoot; and people began to say that perhaps White-hip had not been\nconquered for good. And a year later his second eldest son died from\nsickness. Then the Crows all said it must be White-hip\u2019s work. And\nbefore the leaves had turned yellow, the shaman\u2019s last son was drowned\nin the Yellowstone. Then some said that, for all that, Big-dog had won,\nfor he himself was well, while his enemy was blind. But others thought\nthat White-hip, despite his blindness, had shown himself superior.\n\nAnd as years passed, Big-dog grew infirm. He outlived his nearest kin\nand those more remote till no clansfolk remained. He would wander\nabout from lodge to lodge, feasting on what strangers offered him in\nsheer compassion. He would hear mothers whispering to their children,\n\u201cBig-dog was a great medicine man once and the whole tribe stood in awe\nof him, but White-hip had the greater medicine and laid him low.\u201d\n\nAnd just now White-hip had passed him with a taunt. He did not mind\nthe blind fellow\u2019s mockery, but one thought troubled and racked him\nand would not let him sleep at night: \u201cWhose medicine was really the\ngreater? Who had won?\u201d\n\n ROBERT H. LOWIE\n\n\n\n\n Smoking-star, a Blackfoot Shaman\n\n\nIt was one evening in summer, the time of the long day, when the\ntwilight is equally long, that I sat before the tepee fire of my host,\nSmoking-star. According to his own belief, he had seen the snows of\nnine times around his hands, or ninety years, as we count it. He was\nregarded as by far the oldest living Blackfoot, but his eye was bright\nand his memory good. That evening as we smoked in silence, I mused on\nthe cross-section of man\u2019s history this venerable life would reveal, if\nit could be read. I told him how I felt, and my pleasure if he would\ntell his story for me. He sat long and silently, as is the way of his\npeople; then rose, and with great dignity, left the tepee. Presently he\nreturned and when seated, said, \u201cThe Smoking-star, Mars, is high. He\nshines approvingly. I have long lived by his power. I believe He will\nnot be offended if I tell you the story of my life.\u201d\n\nSo runs the tale of old Smoking-star as near as my memory can follow:\n\n * * * * *\n\nMy father\u2019s name was Old-beaver, chief of the Small-robe band, to which\nband I still belong. My mother came from the Fat-roasting band, she was\nthe younger wife of my father, her older sister being the first, or\nhead-wife. A child always calls each of his father\u2019s women _mother_ and\nalso all the women married to father\u2019s and mother\u2019s brothers; just why\nthis is we do not know, but it is our way. My father was very kind to\nme, but my older mother was cross.\n\nI suppose I was born in a small tepee set up outside, for such is\nthe custom. Also I suppose that for a time my mother laid aside all\nornaments and affected carelessness of person. If anyone should gaze\nat her, she would say, \u201cDon\u2019t. My child will look like you; you are\nugly, etc.\u201d She was attended by women only, for men should not approach\nthe birthplace. Even my father was not permitted to enter and it was\nmany days before he saw me. In due time, I suppose, I was strapped to\na cradle board. Later, a name was conferred upon me by my father, he\nbeing a chief. Unless a man is great, he does not name his child, but\ncalls some man possessing these qualifications. Having once captured\ntwo guns from the Cree, my father told the story of that deed, or coup,\nand named me Two-guns. It is the belief that the qualities of the\nnamer and the name itself pass to the child; hence great importance is\ngiven to the name and the conferring of it is a solemn occasion. The\nblack-robe (priest) tells me it is much the same with your people.\n\nAlso, I suppose that when I got my first tooth, my grandmothers\nreminded my parents that it was time to do something. So a feast was\nmade, presents given, and prayers offered. This was, no doubt, repeated\nwhen I took my first step and when I learned to speak. But I do\nremember having my ears pierced. That is the first memory of childhood.\nI can still see a terrible looking old grandmother standing up before\nme, holding up a bone awl. I was never so frightened in my life. You\nhave seen how it is done at the sun dance, where some old woman cries\nout, \u201cI quilled a robe, all with these hands. So I have the power to do\nthis.\u201d Just like a warrior recounting a coup.\n\nMy real mother never reproved me, but when I began to run about, my\nolder mother did not like to have me meddling with her things. Often\nshe would make threats to me in a kind of song, as\u2014\u201cThere is a coyote\noutside. Come coyote, and eat up this naughty baby.\u201d Again, \u201cCome\nold Crooked-back woman; bring your meat pounder; smash this baby\u2019s\nhead.\u201d The woman referred to was a crazy cripple who terrorized the\nchildren because some of them teased her. I was very much afraid, so\nthat usually all my older mother need say was, \u201cSh-h-h!\u201d and mumble\nsomething about the coyote or the woman. I have noticed that among your\npeople, parents strike their children. That is not our way. If they\nwill not listen to advice, an uncle may be called upon to exercise\ndiscipline and if necessary he will punish, but whipping is the way of\nthe police societies. Once I saw the police whip a chief because he\nbroke the rules of the buffalo hunt.\n\nSoon I began to play with the older boys; in winter we spun tops on the\nice and in the snow, coasted the hills on toboggans made of buffalo\nribs, or just stood up on a dry skin, holding up the end. In summer\nthere were all kinds of games: racing, follow-the-leader, arrow games,\nthe wheel game, etc. I had a hobby-horse, made of a bent stick, with\na saddle and bridle, upon which I played running buffalo and going to\nwar. I even learned to play tricks upon old people. Sometimes we would\nbe playing where old women came to gather firewood and when one of\nthem had a great heap of wood on her pack line, she would squat with\nher back against the wood, the lines in her hands, and call for us to\nhelp raise the load; occasionally, we would assist until she reached\nher feet and then, with a quick push, send her sprawling with the wood\non top. Then we would run away to escape a beating. Again, as water\nwas carried in pails made of buffalo paunch, some boys would ambush\nthe path and shoot an arrow into the pail, letting out the water. But\nusually we let older people alone, for, if caught, we were severely\nhandled.\n\nWhen about six years old one of my grandfathers made me a bow; he\nprayed for me and said if I killed anything I should bring in the scalp\nto prove it. He told me the story of Scar-face and the dangerous birds.\nSome time after this I killed a bird, my first, and my father made a\nfeast, calling in many great men, who smoked many pipes, told of great\ndeeds and predicted that I would be a great warrior. The skin of the\nbird was put into my grandfather\u2019s war bundle.\n\nWhen we traveled my mother carried me on her saddle or put me on a\ntravois, hitched to a dog or some trusty old mare. But when I was old\nenough to ride alone, my father went on the war-path to the Assiniboin\ncountry and brought back six horses; one pony he gave to me. Before I\nlearned to ride it well, it was stolen by the Cree. At the same time\nmy older mother was killed and scalped while out picking berries. All\nthis made a deep impression upon me and I resolved to prepare for the\nwar-path and to take vengeance on the Cree, particularly for the loss\nof my pony. In the meantime my father gave me another pony.\n\nOne morning when I was about eleven years old, I was terribly\nfrightened to find a man from a police society standing at the door,\nshouting for me to come out at once. It was cold and stormy, but he\nordered me to the water for a plunge and when I stood on the bank\nwhimpering, he threw me headlong into the icy current. The older boys\nwere splashing about gaily, but it was hard for me. When I crept back\nto the tepee, shivering, my old grandmother began to sing a derisive\nsong about a would-be warrior who turned to an old woman. After that I\nwent daily to the bath and soon became hard and strong.\n\nThe next summer our people were camped on Milk River where buffalo\nwere plenty. The berries were just turning. One day while herding the\nhorses I fell to eating berries and that night became ill. The next\nday I was very sick and a doctor was sent for. Old One-ear came, a\nman all of us feared, sat by my bed, beat upon a drum, sang in a loud\nvoice, then turned down the robes that covered me, held a tube of bone\nagainst my breast and sucked violently. Then he arose and spat out\na grasshopper. Everyone said that I would soon be well, and I was.\nBut while I was too weak to go out, my grandfather came in and told\nme tales of the war-path and occasionally of the Lost Children, the\nWoman-who-went-to-the-sky, Morningstar, Scar-face, Blood-clot, and\nother tales. I came to take a deep interest in these tales and to think\nmore and more of going to war. When I could go out, my people were\nholding the sun dance and one evening I heard my father reciting his\ncoups, putting on the fire a stick for each. At last when there was a\ngreat blaze from so much wood, the people all shouted. It was a proud\nmoment for me and from then on I began to train for the war-path.\n\nBefore cold weather our people separated, as was their custom, and our\nband, with the Fat-roasters and the Many-medicines, made winter camp on\nthe Two Medicine River. It was a cold winter, but buffalo were plenty\nand we did not mind. In the spring my father led a war party against\nthe Crow. I knew nothing of it until they had gone, but even had I\nknown, he would not have taken me. I felt very sad and spent most of\nthe time sitting on a hill, meditating. One day, on coming to camp I\nheard the women and even old men wailing. I saw my mother before our\ndoor hacking her bare leg with her butchering knife. Then I knew what\nhad happened. The camp crier began to shout out that a runner had come\nin from a distant camp to say that Old-beaver and all his party had\nbeen killed by the Crows. When I met my old grandmother, with blood\nstreaming down her bare arms, the sight sickened me and I fled to\nthe hilltop and meditated further. As I thought of how coup had been\ncounted on my father, my anger grew and I vowed to take a Crow scalp at\nthe first opportunity.\n\nOur camp mourned long after this. It was also necessary to select a\nnew chief. One Good-runner was well thought of and was our choice, but\nan evil-minded fellow named Crow-eye sought the place. Finding that\nhe was in disfavor, Crow-eye secretly loaded a gun, entered the tepee\nof Good-runner and shot him down. Crow-eye\u2019s relatives put him on a\nhorse and sent him away for a few days, while they made presents to the\nrelatives of Good-runner. Well, in the end Crow-eye became chief, but\nit was a sorry time for us all.\n\nAs was the custom, my mother went to live with her people, or the\nFat-roasting band. My mother\u2019s brother now took an interest in me.\nHe gave me a gun. Guns were scarce in those days. My grandfather\nremembered when the first gun came to us and said that his father knew\nwhen the first horse came. I now spent much of my time with my uncle,\nthough I still looked upon the Small-robes band as my band. He helped\nme to buy a place in the Pigeon Society and every spring and summer I\ndanced with them and sometimes helped guard the camp at night when the\ngreat camp circle was formed.\n\nIt was during the summer following my father\u2019s death that I was taken\non my first buffalo hunt. Sometimes boys were severely whipped by\nthe police if found joining in running buffalo before they were old\nenough. But now my uncle took me with him. As guns were scarce, we\nkept them for war, and killed buffalo with arrows. When we rode at\nthe herd, I took after a young cow. She was very fleet, but at last I\ndrew alongside and sent an arrow into her. When she fell I stood by\nin awe. My relations praised me and my mother tanned the skin to make\na robe for me. I was now a hunter and always joined in the killing\nunchallenged.\n\nThat autumn my mother ceased to mourn and married a man in the\nLone-eaters band. After this I saw little of her, for they camped apart\nand I stayed with my uncle, but danced with my father\u2019s band, the\nSmall-robes. About this time my uncle explained to me the ways of women\nand the duties of a man, so I began to look forward to having a woman\nof my own. I began to practice on the flageolet and to seek meetings\nwith the girls of the camp on the path to the water hole; but I knew\nthat though I had become a hunter, I had yet to go to war and to become\na man. The opportunity soon came, for I was now about fourteen years\nold.\n\nOne day my uncle said, \u201cNow it is time for you to go to war. When the\nmoon is full, I shall lead a party to the Crow country. You can be the\nwater boy.\u201d You know how it was with us, a boy might be taken to war to\ndo errands. This is how he got his experience.\n\nMy uncle had a war bundle, or medicine, in which were a collar of\ncoyote skin, a bird to tie in his hair, some tobacco, a pipe, paints,\na whistle and a rattle. Every night we gathered in his tepee to sing\nthe songs of his bundle and to work out the plan for our raid. At\nlast, we were off, eight of us. Though still a boy, I was permitted to\ntake my gun, my bow, and a knife. As we were leaving the tepee my old\ngrandmother asked me not to go; she took my hand and began to wail, but\nI pulled away. At the edge of the camp stood my uncle\u2019s father-in-law.\nHe pled for all to return. Said he, \u201cI have many horses, more than you\ncan get from the Crow. Take what you want and stay at home. I am old\nand have not long to be with you.\u201d But we marched by in silence.\n\nPranks are usually played upon a boy on his first war excursion. The\nfirst night one of the warriors said, \u201cTake this pail and run down that\npath for water, it is far.\u201d I set out briskly only to step into a a\ndeep pool of ill-smelling mud. About this I was teased, and all manner\nof jokes were made. Of course, the warriors knew the pool was there.\nThey joked about my new paint, my new way of deceiving an enemy, my new\nperfume (love medicine), and so on. Finally one man in a very solemn\nmanner conferred a new name upon me\u2014Stinking-legs. From that time on,\nall of them called me by that name.\n\nBut by the next night we were in the open country and there was little\nhilarity. My uncle opened his bundle and performed the ritual for it,\nall of us singing in a low subdued tone. After this we traveled mostly\nby night and slept by day, though the warriors took turns scouting. On\nthe fourth day, a scout reported the enemy.\n\n\u201cNow,\u201d said my uncle, \u201cit is time to sing the \u2018tapping-the-stick.\u2019\u201d So\nwe all sat in a circle and my uncle began singing very softly, keeping\ntime by tapping lightly on the stock of his gun with the end of his\npipe-stick. He sang about a love affair and at the end named the woman.\nSo it went around the circle. The last man, next to me, sang, and\nthen named a young girl I was very fond of. Instinctively, I grasped\nmy knife, but then, Oh shame! I was not yet a warrior, for here no\none must resent. So I desisted, but I lay awake the rest of the day\nstruggling with my anger. This was all very foolish, for the man was\nonly teasing me; yet few men would venture to jest in such songs.\n\nThat night we stole out and found the Crow camp unguarded. So we took\nall the loose horses grazing outside and made off with them. Not even\na dog barked. When at a safe distance my uncle told us to follow a\nwarrior named Running-crane, that he and one man were going back to\nget scalps to pay for my father\u2019s death, that they would join us at\nthe rendezvous later. My uncle was accompanied by the man who sang\nabout my girl. On the third day my uncle overtook us, but he was alone.\nWhat became of his companion he knew not; he was never seen after they\nseparated to steal into the Crow camp. That was what came of jesting\nwith medicine songs. All holy things must be respected. But my uncle\nhad brought a scalp, a shield, and a gun. So we were happy.\n\nWhen we got home there was feasting and scalp dancing for all. Finally,\nmy old grandmother drew me out into full view, harangued the crowd upon\nmy greatness as a warrior and said, \u201cNow you must have been given a\nnew name. What is it?\u201d I hung my head for shame, \u201cOh!\u201d she said, \u201cmy\ngrandson is modest.\u201d\n\nThen my uncle came forward and told the story of the mud hole and\ncalled me, \u201cStinking-legs.\u201d Then merriment broke loose and for a long\ntime I was teased about it.\n\nTwo of the captured horses were allotted to me: one I gave to my\ngrandfather. Not long after my uncle told me it was time to seek power.\nThis meant that I must fast and sacrifice, seeking a vision. So I took\nmy other Crow horse to old Medicine-bear, a shaman, offered him a pipe,\nand made my request. My instruction took many weeks. I was introduced\nto the sweat house and other ceremonies, learned how to make the pipe\noffering, to cry for power, and so forth. At last all was ready and old\nMedicine-bear left me alone on a high hill to fast, dance, and pray.\nEach evening and morning he came and, standing afar off, exhorted me\nto greater efforts. By the third day I was too exhausted to stand.\nThat night I lay on my back looking up at the sky. Then I saw the\nSmoking-star.[2] And as I gazed it came nearer and nearer. Then I\nheard a voice, \u201cMy son, why do you cry here?\u201d Then I saw a fine warrior\nsitting on the ground before me, smoking my pipe. At last he said, \u201cI\nwill give you power. You are to take my name. You must never change it.\nAlways pray to me and I will help you.\u201d\n\nThe next morning when old Medicine-bear came and stood afar off I said,\n\u201cSomething has been given me.\u201d Then he prayed and took me home. In\ndue time he heard my story, composed a song for me, gave me a small\nmedicine bundle and announced my new name. I was now a man of power.\nMany young men offered to go to war with me, so I soon began to lead\nout parties. Many _coups_ I counted as the years passed, but all came\nby the power of the Smoking-star. Only once did this power seem to fail\nme on the war-path. I was alone and surrounded by the Cree. At last\nI called upon the Sun, offering to give him my little finger. Then I\novercame my enemies. So at the next sun dance I chopped off this finger\n(the left) and offered it to the sun to fulfil my vow. But this belongs\nto the second period in my life, of which I shall speak later.\n\nShortly after I saw the Smoking-star, I took a woman. My uncle and my\ngrandparents had often hinted of marriage. I was particularly fond\nof a girl in the Small-robe band, but could not court her openly\nbecause that was my band by right of my father, though I lived with\nthe band of my mother, the Fat-roasters. It is not good for a man to\nmarry in his own band where most of his relatives live, but he can\nfreely marry a woman of his mother\u2019s band, if not too closely related\nto her. I could have joined my mother\u2019s band, as my uncle urged, and\nthen married the girl, but that seemed to me like evading my duty to\nuphold the honor of my father and to take revenge for his untimely\ndeath. People would talk about it. So I courted a girl in my mother\u2019s\nband. As she was not closely related to me, there was no hindrance. Our\ncourtship was secret, as is often the custom; when I led out my first\nwar party she slyly passed me a pair of moccasins. I think no one knew\nof our attachment. You see my mother\u2019s people all looked upon me as\none of their band, though they should not have done so, and so looked\nelsewhere for my future woman. Long afterward I learned that they\nhad picked a woman for me from the Blood band, the widow of a young\nwarrior, a good woman some ten years older than I, but it turned out\notherwise.\n\nThe girl I courted was named Elk-woman. She and I were nearing twenty\nand it was time for her to marry, past time in fact. So her relatives\narranged to give her to a man of the They-don\u2019t-laugh-band. The\nrelatives of both parties had feasted and talked over the affair and\nwere about ready to exchange the first presents, when Elk-woman\u2019s\nrelatives first suggested the marriage to her. She asked for time to\nthink it over. That evening when I met her as usual in a secret place,\nshe told me the story and cried. Such a marriage was repugnant to her.\nI knew the man and had already come to dislike him. So that night we\nran away. I took my horse, gun, and bow. We rode double. We went far up\ninto the foothills of the mountains and made a secret camp.\n\nSome two weeks later my uncle trailed us and we had a talk. He said I\nhad done a very foolish thing; that all of my woman\u2019s relatives were\nangry and that the prospective husband vowed vengeance. However, as he\nhad himself made the man a present of a horse and smoked a pipe with\nhim, his anger was waning. He thought that since I had always adhered\nto my father\u2019s band I should go there to live. Anyway my father\u2019s\npeople would then protect me. In due time presents could be made to my\nparents-in-law. You see when a man takes a woman, he is required to\ngive many presents to her parents; this is called paying for her. So,\nI had stolen my woman because nothing had been paid. This would always\nstand against me in the minds of the people.\n\nThe next day we went back to my father\u2019s band. A poor old woman, an\naunt of my father, one of my grandmothers, as we say, took us in as\nwe had no tepee. No one seemed to take notice of us. When I hunted I\ntook some of the meat and left it by the door of my father-in-law,\nas was the custom. Finally, my uncle\u2019s relatives got together and\ncollected six horses, a few robes, a warrior\u2019s suit, and a great lot of\ndried meat. In solemn procession they paraded over to the camp of my\nparents-in-law. Then followed a feast and a reconciliation.\n\nNot long after this I happened to meet my mother-in-law in a path. No\none must see the face of his mother-in-law; if he does he must make\nher a present to cover her shame. This accident cost me my gun. It was\na grievous loss as we were still poor. My woman had not so much as a\ntravois-dog to bring wood.\n\nAt this point the narrator paused and began to fill his pipe. Presently\nhe said, \u201cThe Smoking-star is still overhead. We have reached the\nfork of the first trail; the boy becomes a hunter, goes to war, has a\nvision, he joins the Pigeons, then marries and takes his place among\nthe men of his band. So far he travels but one trail. Thenceforth it is\ndifferent with us, some become warriors, some medicine men, some are\nchiefs. It is well that we rest here a little while, before I go on.\u201d\n\nWhen the pipe was burned out the story began thus:\u2014\n\nSome time before I was married I bought into the Mosquito society when\nthey sold out to the Pigeons. It was this way with us: There were nine\nsocieties for men, of different rank as follows; Mosquitoes, Braves,\nAll-brave-dogs, Front-tails, Raven-bearers, Dogs, Kit-foxes, Catchers,\nand Bulls. Lower than all was a boy\u2019s society, the Pigeons. To enter\nthese societies you first bought into the Pigeons; that is, you gave\npresents to an older member who in return transferred his membership\nto you. Every four years each of the nine men\u2019s societies sold to\nthe next lower; so one might finally, if he lived to be an old man,\nbecome a member of the Bulls. These societies were spoken of as the\nAll-comrades. Each had its own songs, dances, regalia, and ritual. When\nthe whole tribe came together for the summer hunt and the sun dance,\nthese societies were called upon to guard and police the camp. Their\nparades and dances through the camp were very impressive. As all the\nmembers of a society were near the same age, these organizations are\noften called age-societies by the white people.\n\nIn time I passed through all of the societies and became a Bull. When\nin the Raven-bearers we gave a dance at a trading post where Fort\nBenton now stands and two strange white men watched us. One of them\ndrew a picture of us and afterwards the older man asked questions of me\nthrough an interpreter and wrote something in a book. I heard that he\ncame from across the great water as did the first white people, but I\nnever saw him again.[3]\n\nWhen with my comrades in the Bulls we sold out to the Catchers, I\nbecame one of the old men to sit in council and advise the people.\nThere are two leaders for each society. I was never a leader, because\nthe leaders of one always sold to the leaders of the lower, and it\nso happened during my life that the same two men lived to reach the\nBulls. So there was no chance for anyone else to lead. But we are now\nfar ahead of my story, I must begin with my life as one of the young\nmarried men.\n\nAfter I came back with my woman to live in my band, old Medicine-bear\noften sat in our tepee. (My woman soon tanned skins from my hunting and\nmade a large fine tepee of our own.) He wished me to become a shaman\nlike himself. You see I had experienced a real vision, few men who\nfasted received such power as came to me. I had the power to become a\nshaman, but I held to my vow to be a warrior. I was poor. So I led war\nparties against the Cree, Assiniboin, Snake, and Crow. Many horses and\nguns I took. Coups I counted and took three scalps from the Crow. But I\nmeditated often upon the powers in the air, water, and earth. They are\nthe great mysteries. Everything is done by them. About this time two\nthings happened to me that turned my thoughts from war.\n\nOur chief led a party against the Cree and invited me to go. The chief\nwas jealous of me. As I told you, he was a bad man, but I could not\nrefuse. Medicine-bear, the shaman, went with us to give us power. When\nwe reached the Cree country I was ordered out as a scout. It was dark.\nAs I went along I saw a tepee all by itself. I went up to it quietly\nand looked in. There was no one in the tepee except a man, his wife,\nand a little child. The little child could just walk and was amusing\nitself by dipping soup from the kettle with a small horn spoon. The man\nand his wife were busy talking and paid no attention to the child. Now\nthe child looked up and saw me peeping through the hole, toddled over\nto the kettle, dipped up some soup in the spoon and held it to my lips.\nI drank and the child returned to the kettle for more. In this way the\nchild fed me for many minutes. Then I went away. As I went along to\nmy own party, I thought to myself, \u201cI do not like to do this, but I\nmust tell my party about this tepee. When they know of it, they will\ncome and kill these people. This little child fed me even when I was\nspying upon them, and I do not like to have it killed. Well, perhaps\nI can save the child; but then it would be too bad for it to lose\nits parents. No, I do not see how I can save them, yet I cannot bear\nto have them killed.\u201d I sat down and thought it over. After a while,\nI went back to the tepee, went in, and sat down. While my host was\npreparing the pipe, the child began to feed me again with the spoon.\nAfter we had smoked, I talked to the man in the sign-language, told him\nall about it, how I had come as a scout to spy upon them, how I was\nabout to bring up my war party, but that they had been saved by the\nlittle child. Then I directed the man to go at once, leaving everything\nbehind him in the tepee.\n\nThe man was very thankful and offered to give me a medicine bundle and\na suit of clothes; but I refused, because I knew that my party would\nsuspect me. Then the man suggested that he might place the bundle near\nthe door, behind the bedding, so that when the war party came up and\ndashed upon the tepee, I would be the first to capture the bundle.\n(All the important property of the tepee is always kept at the back,\nopposite the door, and, when a war party rushes in, the swiftest runs\nto this place.)\n\nThen I reported to my chief, telling him that I had discovered a camp\nof the enemy but that I had not been up to it or seen anyone. He\nstarted out at once, all of us following. When we had surrounded the\ntepee, we gave a whoop and rushed upon it. I kept behind and while\nthe others were busy counting coup upon the things in the back of the\ntepee, I seized the bundle by the door. The chief was angry, but said\nnothing. When we were again in camp old Medicine-bear began to unwrap\nhis war medicine pipe to make a thank offering for our success. Then\nthe chief faced me and denounced me as a traitor, accused me of warning\nthe enemy and secreting the medicine bundle. My anger rose, I drew my\nknife, but at that moment old Medicine-bear sprang between us, holding\nthe holy pipe in both hands. This is the custom, no one can fight over\na holy pipe. The shaman made us each take the pipe and vow to put away\nour anger and hold our silence. So it was.\n\nNever have I forgotten that little child. Some great power was guarding\nit. Its medicine was strong. Many times have I prayed to that power and\nsometimes it helped me, but I do not yet know what power it is. Yet\nsomehow I took little interest in war, the child\u2019s medicine did that to\nme.\n\nThe next year I felt sad and gloomy. So I decided to go to war anyway.\nI led out a party of my own against the Crow. The fourth night I went\nout to scout. It was cloudy and rather dark. As I was stealing along a\nmarshy place, a star rose out of the earth and stood before me. It was\nthe Smoking-star. Something in me said, \u201cFollow.\u201d Then the star led\noff slowly; gradually it took me to the back trail and then swiftly\nfaded away, as it moved toward my woman\u2019s tepee at home. I sat down and\nprayed. In my mind the Smoking-star was telling me to go back.\n\nWhen dawn came I returned to my party. I told my story. All agreed\nthat we should go home for the signs were against us. When I got into\nour camp I saw many people standing about my woman\u2019s tepee and heard\na doctor\u2019s drum. My son, my first born, was very ill. Three doctors\nhad been called, one after the other. I gave them all my horses. As\nis their way, when they feared the sick one would die, they departed.\nAt last, I went out to the top of a hill to cry to the Smoking-star.\nSurely, I thought, he would help me, but clouds overcast the sky and\nthere was no answer to my appeal. That morning the boy died.\n\nIn the afternoon the body was wrapped in a robe and placed in a tree\nnear our camp. As he died in the tepee, we could not use it again so we\nplaced it at the foot of the tree. I cropped my hair and mourned many\ndays. Now I was poor. All my horses went to the doctors. My woman\u2019s\ntepee was gone and once again we lived with our poor old grandmother in\nher little ragged tepee; but in a few days my woman\u2019s relatives gave\nher another tepee and after a time we again accumulated horses.\n\nAbout this time Medicine-bear became a beaver bundle owner. My\nmisfortunes turned my mind more and more to the mysteries of the powers\naround us and I began to learn the songs and the teachings of the\nbeaver men. The ritual for the beaver bundle is long and difficult.\nThere are more than three hundred songs to be learned before one\ncan lead the ceremony of the beaver. In the bundle are the skins of\nbeavers, otters, and many kinds of birds and water animals. With each\nof these there are songs, for each brought some power to the man who\nfirst saw it in a vision. My people did not plant corn, as did the\nMud-houses (Mandan and Hidatsa), but the beaver men planted tobacco.\nAt the planting and the gathering of the tobacco, the beaver bundle\nis opened and the ritual sung. The garden and the plants are sacred,\nfor tobacco must be offered to all the powers of the earth, and of the\nwater. A beaver man must keep count of the days, the moons, and the\nwinters. For this he keeps a set of sticks like those sometimes found\nin a beaver\u2019s house. At all times he must be ready to tell the moon and\nthe day; he must say when it is time to go on the spring hunt, to hold\nthe sun dance, etc. Then he must watch the sun, moon, stars, winds, and\nclouds so that he may know what the weather will be. If he is holy and\ngood, he will have visions and dreams of power and so become a shaman.\n\nSo after my son died I often sat with the beaver men. In time I learned\nmany of the beaver songs and became chief assistant to Medicine-bear in\nthe ceremonies. When I was an old man, Medicine-bear died; it was the\nyear before I sold out of the Bull society (the year we saw the first\nsteamboat). Then I became the leading beaver man, as I am still.\n\nWhen I first began to study the beaver medicine, I spent hours on\nthe hilltops and near the waters, meditating and watching the birds,\nanimals, and the heavens. Yet such solemn thoughts did not occupy all\nmy time as a young married man.\n\nThere was much sport in the winter camps. Many men played the wheel and\narrow game and again the hand game. These were the favorite gambling\ngames. The first was for two players, but the latter permitted team\nplaying. Some men gambled away all their belongings and even their\nwomen. I never went so far. Once I remember two young men played the\nwheel game until one lost all his possessions except his moccasins and\nhis breechcloth, finally losing these, to the great merriment of the\nwhole camp.\n\nMy band had a great reputation for jokes. In this I was a leader. Once\nin the spring we fooled a man named Bow-string. This man had a favorite\nrace horse which he guarded very carefully, picketing him outside\nhis tepee. One day I dressed myself to look like a Crow, and while\nBow-string was inside playing the hand game, untied his horse and led\nhim off up the hills across the creek. Then a confederate gave the\nalarm. All ran out to see a Crow going off with the horse in broad day.\nOf course, everyone knew the trick, but Bow-string. Care had been taken\nto send all the other horses of the camp out to pasture with a herder.\nSo Bow-string took a gun and set out with a pursuing party, afoot.\nEverybody in camp appeared to be greatly frightened, women screamed,\nand all the dogs began to bark. As the supposed Crow, I sprang upon the\nhorse, waved a defiance and dashed over the hill.\n\nOnce out of sight I rode quickly around the hills and got back to camp\nafter the pursuers had passed over the ridge. After a fruitless search\nfor the trail, the party came back, Bow-string looking very sad. But\nthere stood his horse tied as before! Then there was great uproar and\njesting.\n\nA favorite trick of mine was often played upon visiting strangers,\nespecially upon dignified old men. I would invite the guest to my tepee\nto feast with a few of my friends. Then I would pretend to quarrel\nwith my woman and we would fall to fighting. The others would try to\nseparate us and so all begin to struggle, taking care to fall upon and\nthoroughly muss up the puzzled visitor.\n\nOur people were fond of liquor, which could be had when we went to\nthe trading posts in summer. At such times there was much fighting.\nWe all wanted liquor because we believed that some mysterious power\ncould be had in that way. Some men had visions while drunk, that made\nthem shamans or doctors according to the powers that were given them.\nSometimes I drank liquor too. Once when my woman was drunk also, we\nquarreled and I threatened to tomahawk her smallest child, but she\nsnatched a burning stick from the fire and thrust the glowing end\nagainst my neck; you see the scar. After that I did not drink much. I\nwas glad when the Great Father stopped the trading of liquor, it did us\nmuch harm.\n\nOnce a year in summer all the bands of our tribe camped together. A\ngreat circle of tepees was formed and the societies had charge of the\ncamp. At this time the sun dance was held. It was very sacred and\nlasted many days. No man was wise enough to know how all parts of it\nwere conducted, so many medicine men were needed for the different\nrituals. Some men would vow to torture themselves at this time. I\nonce gave a finger to the sun, but that is not the real sacrifice.\nThose who made the vow have holes cut in the skin of their breasts and\nshoulders, through which sticks are thrust and cords attached. The ends\nof these cords are fastened to the center pole in the sun dance lodge,\nwhere these devotees dance and cry for power until they tear themselves\nfree or fall in a swoon: I never made this sacrifice. I was afraid, for\nit is very holy. Yet many times have I given bits of my skin to Natos\n(the sun) as the scars upon my body show. These were not given in the\nsun dance, but when I was fasting alone in the hills.\n\nA good and virtuous woman may often save the lives of her relatives by\nmaking a vow to take the tongues at the sun dance. My woman did this\nin the year known as \u201cGambler-died-winter\u201d (about 1845, according to\nmost tribal counts). Her brother was about to die. So she went outside,\nlooked up at the sun, and said, \u201cI will take the tongue at the sun\ndance.\u201d Her brother got well. If she had not been a pure and good\nwoman, he would have died. In due time old Medicine-bear, the beaver\nbundle man, was given a horse and called in to prepare her for the\nordeal. During the spring a hundred buffalo tongues were sliced and\ndried. Only true women are permitted to slice them. If a woman cuts\nher finger or cuts a hole in her slice, she is turned out because she\nhas not been true to her husband. At the proper time in the sun dance,\nas the sun is setting, the women who have vowed to take the tongues go\nforward and in turn, take up a piece of tongue and holding it up to the\nsun, declare their purity. It is the duty of any man, who knows the\nclaim to be false to come forward with a challenge. My woman was not\nchallenged. Everyone knew her to be pure and good.\n\nOnce she was the holy woman to give the sun dance. It was in the\ndeep snow winter (about 1851) that she became ill. Many people were\nstarving, for the buffalo had drifted far before the snowstorms. Then\nmy woman addressed the sun, saying that she would give the sun dance,\nnext year. Soon the people found buffalo and she got well.\n\nA woman cannot give the sun dance alone, her man must also be good and\nbrave. Both must fast four days and sit in the holy tepee. The holy\nnatoas bundle must be opened and the woman wear its sacred headdress,\nwith the prairie turnip and carry the digging-stick used by the\nWoman-who-married-a-star. That winter we were camped on the Missouri.\nThe following summer we went to Yellow River to give the sun dance.\n\nNow, it is our way, that the woman who vows to give the sun dance\nmust buy a natoas bundle. The power and right to the ritual thus come\nto her. For this, many horses, robes, and dried meat must be given.\nWhen we came to bring our bundle all the people of our band and our\nrelatives in other bands were called upon to help us by gifts. After\nthe sun dance we kept the natoas bundle in our tepee and cared for it\nas the ritual required. My woman was now a medicine woman. She did not\nsell her bundle. In the Blood-fought-among-themselves winter she died\n(about 1858). I put the bundle in her robe, set up her tepee on a high\nhill and left her there. That is our custom.\n\nShe was a good and true woman. After that I went to live with my son,\nas you now see. I never took another woman because the Smoking-star\nappeared to me in a dream and forbade it.\n\nIn the course of time everyone came to look upon me as a shaman. No\none will now walk before me as I sit in a tepee. In my presence all\nare dignified and orderly and avoid frivolous talk. Four times in my\nlife the Smoking-Star has stood before me. All visions are sacred, as\nare some dreams, but when a vision appears the fourth time, it is very\nholy. Even a shaman may not speak of it freely. Many times have I gone\nto lonely places and cried out to the powers of the air, the earth,\nand the waters to help me understand their ways. Sometimes they have\nanswered me, but all the truly great mysteries are beyond understanding.\n\nIn the year of the Camp-at-bad-waters-winter the Bull society sold\nout as I have said. That was the end of that society; there were but\nthree of us left when we sold to the Catchers and those to whom we sold\nsoon died. The ways of the white man were coming among us and many\nthings were passing away. I was now an old man, fit only for sitting in\ncouncil. I could no longer run buffalo, no longer go to war. So we have\ncome to the last fork in the trail. I have smoked many pipes. I have\nsat in many councils, I have made many speeches to restrain our young\nmen from rash and unjust actions. We are near the end. The Smoking-star\nwill soon pass down in the west. Soon it will lead me to the sand hills\nwhere my spirit will wander about among the ghosts of buffalo, horses,\nand men. Your way is not our way, but you have loved us. Perhaps your\nspirit also may return to wander with us among the sand hills of our\nfathers. I pray that it may be so. Now, it is finished.\n\n * * * * *\n\nThoughtfully I left that fireside to find my blankets. As I passed\nout through the night, I saw the \u201cSmoking-star\u201d sinking in the west.\nIt shone to me with a new light. The next winter my old friend passed\ninto the beyond. His body was laid on a tree scaffold near the favorite\nhaunts of his band on Two Medicine River.\n\n CLARK WISSLER\n\n\n\n\n Little-wolf Joins the Medicine Lodge\n\n I\n\n IN THE LODGE OF THE MASTER\n\n\nMatcikineu, Terrible-eagle, sat dozing in the dusk in his round,\nrush-mat wigwam. The fire smouldered, but random drafts, slipping in\nthrough the swinging mat that covered the door, encouraged little\ndancing flames to spring up, and these illumined the far interior of\nthe lodge, so that it was possible to observe its furnishings down to\nthe mustiest cranny.\n\nAround the inner circumference of the wigwam, ran a broad rustic bench,\nsupported by forked sticks and thickly strewn balsam boughs on which\nlay bearskin robes. The inner wall of the home was hung with woven reed\nmats, bearing designs in color, of angular figures and conventional\nfloral motifs. Over Terrible-eagle\u2019s head, on smoke encrusted poles,\nswung several mat-covered, oval bundles, festooned with age-blackened\ngourd rattles, war clubs, and utensils and weapons of unusual portent.\nThese were his sacred war and hunting bundles, packets of charms whose\nuse and accompanying formul\u00e6 he had obtained personally from the Gods,\nwhile fasting, or purchased at a great price from others more fortunate\nthan he. For Terrible-eagle was a renowned war leader, a hunter,\nand the greatest of all M\u00e4tc Mit\u00e4w\u00fbk, Masters of the Grand Medicine\nSociety, a secret fraternal and medical organization, to which, in one\nform or another, nearly every Indian of influence in all the Great\nLakes and Central Western region belonged.\n\nThe door covering was quietly thrust aside and An\u00e4m, a wolf-like dog,\ntrotted in to curl up by the fire, while after him, first dropping a\nload of faggots from her shoulders, stumbled W\u00e1bano-mit\u00e4mu, Dawn-woman,\nwife of Terrible-eagle, who crouched down grumbling to enter the lodge,\nand turned on her time-gnarled knees to drag the kindlings in after her.\n\nRoused by the noise, Terrible-eagle stretched and yawned, then reached\nover his head and took down a calabash-shell rattle, which he began\nto shake gently, while Dawn-woman shoved aside the birch-bark boxes\nthat cluttered the floor, stirred up the fire in the round, shallow\npit where it was glowing, and set among the hot embers a large, round,\ndeep, pointed-bottomed kettle of brown earthenware, the base of which\nshe screwed into the ashes by a quick, circular twist of the rim. Into\nthis kettle she poured some water from a birch-bark pail; and, when it\nbegan to simmer, added a quantity of wild rice, smoked meat, and dried\nberries, which she stirred with an elaborate wooden-spoon paddle.\n\nThe random swish of Terrible-eagle\u2019s rattle now began to articulate\nitself in the form of a tune, the motif of which might have been\nborrowed from the night babblings and murmurings of a woodland brook.\nIt rose like the prattle of water racing down stony riffles; it fell to\nthe purring monotone of a little fall burbling into a deep pool.\n\nThen, suddenly, Terrible-eagle raised his voice in song\u2014a song without\nmeaning to the uninitiated\u2014yet a song potent with the powers of\nManitous, and ancient as the pine forests.\n\n \u201cNi m\u00e1nituk, h\u00e4wat\u00fbkuk, k\u00ea\u2019n\u00ea\u00e4min\u00fbm.\u201d\n\n \u201cYou, my gods, I am singing to you!\u201d\n\n\u201cLook you, old fellow,\u201d cried Dawn-woman, squatting beside her cooking,\n\u201cwhy do you sing that sacred song? There is no need to rehearse the\nchants of the Manitous when ice binds the rivers, and snow blankets the\nland! When new life dawns with the grass blades in the spring, then we\nwill need to refresh our memories; not now, while the gods sleep like\nbears.\u201d\n\n\u201cSilence, old partner! You do not know everything! Even now there comes\none seeking the knowledge of the path our brethren and fellows have\ntrod before us. Listen!\u201d\n\nThe lodge was hushed with the heavy silence of the Wisconsin forest in\nmidwinter. Then came the crunch and squeak of approaching snowshoes\nslipping over the crusted drifts.\n\n\u201cN\u2019hau, Dawn-woman! Prepare the guest place, spread robes behind the\nfire, dish out a bowl of soup! Some one of our people desires to enter!\u201d\n\nThe noise ceased before the doorway, and Terrible-eagle, now hunched\nbefore the fire, paused before dropping a hot coal on the tobacco in\nhis red stone pipe, to bid the guest to enter. \u201cYoh!\u201d came the hearty\nresponse, and a tall, dark warrior, bareheaded save for a fillet of\notter fur around his brows, ducked under the doorway and silently\npassed round the fire, on the left, to the guest place, where he\nseated himself, cross-legged, on a pile of robes. He was clad in a\nplain shirt of blue-dyed deerskin, deeply fringed on the seams, in\nflapping, leather leggings, high soft-soled moccasins, and a leather\napron handsomely embroidered with colored porcupine quills wrought\nin delicate, flowered figures. He bore no weapon, and on his swarthy\ncheeks two round spots of red paint were seen in the firelight.\n\nAfter the newcomer had eaten a bowl of steaming stew with the aid of a\nhuge, wooden ladle, he lay back among the robes, puffing comfortably\non a long-stemmed pipe with bowl of red stone, filled and lighted for\nhim by the old man. As the cheerful odor of tobacco and kinnikinick\npermeated the lodge, the stranger began to speak. He informed the old\npeople that his name was Muhw\u00e4s\u00ea, Little-wolf, of the Wave clan of the\nMenomini, that he had come all the way from M\u00e4tc Suam\u00e4ko, the Great\nSand Bar village on the Green Bay of Lake Michigan; that the young\nmen had opened their war bundles, and danced preparatory to going to\nwar against the Sauk, but that the Sauk had heard the news and fled\nsouthward. He ended with all the gossip and tittle-tattle of his band.\n\nIt was not until Dawn-woman slept, and the stars were visible in the\nwinter sky through the smoke hole of the lodge, that Little-wolf went\nout abruptly, and returned bearing a huge bundle which he dumped on the\nfloor at the feet of Terrible-eagle, and silently took his place on the\nlounge once more.\n\nWith trembling hands the old man undid the leathern thongs and\nunwrapped the bearskin with which the bundle was enclosed, and spread\nbefore him an array of articles that brought an avaricious sparkle to\nhis red-rimmed eyes.\n\n\u201cNim\u00e1, n\u00e9kan! Well done, my colleague!\u201d he exclaimed. \u201cThese are\nvaluable gifts, and in the proper number. Four hatchets, four spears,\nand four knives of the sacred yellow rock (native copper), four belts\nof white wampum, and four garments of tanned deerskin, embroidered with\nquillwork, with much tobacco. Surely this gift has a meaning?\u201d\n\n\u201cGrandfather! You to whom nothing is hard,\u201d replied the visitor. \u201cIt\nis true that I am nobody. I am poor\u2014the enemy scarcely know my name.\nYet I am desirous of eating the food of the Medicine Lodge, as all the\nbrethren have done who have passed this way before me!\u201d\n\n\u201cN\u2019hau, my grandson! I shall call together the three other Pushw\u00e4w\u00fbk,\nor masters, for their consent. What you have asked for, may seem as\nnothing to you\u2014yet it is Life. These songs may appear to partake of\nthe ways of children\u2014yet they are powerful. I understand you well; you\ndesire to imitate the ways of our own ancient Grand Master, M\u00e4\u2019n\u00e4bus,\nwho was slain and brought to life that we might gain life unending!\nGood! You have done well. In the morning I shall send invitation-sticks\nand tobacco to summon the leaders here, that your instruction may begin\nat once!\u201d\n\n\n II\n\n THE INSTRUCTION\n\nIt was an hour after sunset. In the rear of the lodge sat\nTerrible-eagle and three other old men, with Little-wolf at their left.\nBefore them lay the pile of valuable gifts, and, on the white-tanned\nskin of an unborn fawn, stood the sacred towaka or deep drum, hollowed\nby infinite labor from a short section of a basswood log, holding two\nfingers\u2019 depth of water to make its voice resonant, and covered with a\ndampened membrane of tanned, buck hide. Across its head was balanced a\ncrooked drumstick, its striking end carved to represent a loon\u2019s beak.\nBefore the drum, was placed a wooden bowl in the shape of a minature,\nlog canoe heaped with tobacco, and four gourd rattles with wooden\nhandles which shone from age and usage. A youth tended the fire and\nkept the air redolent with incense of burning sweet grass and cedar.\nDawn-woman and An\u00e4m, the dog, guarded the door.\n\nExtending his hands over the sacred articles before them,\nTerrible-eagle began a prayer of invocation, calling on the mythical\nhero and founder of the Medicine Lodge, M\u00e4\u2019n\u00e4bus, on the Great Spirit,\nthe Sun, and the Thunder-birds; on the good-god Powers or Manitous of\nair and earth, and also upon the Evil Powers who dwell in and under the\nearth and water and hidden in the dismal places of the world, to appear\nin spirit and accept the tobacco offered them and to dedicate the fees\npresented to the instructors.\n\nWhen the prayer was ended, all those gathered in the wigwam ejaculated\n\u201cHau,\u201d and three of the elders smoked and listened while Terrible-eagle\nbegan the instruction by relating the history of the origin of the\nMedicine Lodge. Taking the drumstick in his hand, Terrible-eagle gave\nfour distinct strokes on the drum, and recited in a rhythmic and solemn\ntone, hushing his voice to a whisper when it became necessary to\nmention a great Power by name.\n\nHe told how M\u00e4tc H\u00e4w\u00e4t\u00fbk, the Great Spirit, sat alone in the heavenly\nvoid above the ever extending sea, and willed that an island (the\nworld) should appear there; how he further willed that there\nshould spring up upon this island, an old woman who was known as\n\u201cOur Grandmother, The Earth.\u201d He recited how the Earth Grandmother\nconceived, supernaturally, and gave birth to a daughter. How the Four\nwinds, desiring to be born as men, entered the daughter\u2019s body and lay\nas twins in her womb, and how, when the hour of their birth came, so\ngreat was their power, they burst their mother, making women forever\nafter liable to death in travail.\n\n\u201cThen,\u201d related Terrible-eagle, \u201cour Earth Grandmother gathered up the\nshattered pieces of her daughter, and placed them under an inverted,\nwooden bowl, and prayed, and on the fourth day, through the pity of the\nGreat Spirit, the fragments were changed into a little rabbit, who was\nnamed M\u00e4tc W\u00e1bus, or the Great Hare, since corrupted into \u2018M\u00e4\u2019n\u00e4bus,\u2019\nwho was to prepare the world for human habitation.\n\n\u201cThe rabbit grew, in human form, to man\u2019s estate, when he was given,\nas a companion and younger brother, a little wolf, but the Powers\nBelow, being jealous, slew the wolf brother. Then, M\u00e4\u2019n\u00e4bus in his\nwrath attacked the Powers below, and, as he was the child of the Great\nSpirit, they could not resist him. In fear the Evil Powers restored his\nyounger brother to life, but, since he had been dead four days, the\nflesh dropped from his bones and he stank, and M\u00e4\u2019n\u00e4bus, in sorrow,\nrefused to receive him, and sent him to rule the dead in the After\nWorld, at the end of the Milky Way in the Western Heavens. Hence, human\nbeings may not come back to life on the fourth day.\n\n\u201cAt their wits\u2019 end to appease M\u00e4\u2019n\u00e4bus, the Evil Ones called on the\nPowers Above who are of good portent. They erected a Medicine Lodge\non the high hilltops, oblong, rectangular, facing east and west. The\nPower of the Winds roofed it with blue sky and white clouds. The pole\nframework was bound with living, hissing serpents instead of basswood\nstrings, the food for feasting was seasoned with a pinch of the blue\nsky itself. Then the Powers entered. The gods of Evil took the north\nside where darkness and cold abide; the Good Powers Above sat on\nthe south. Then they all stripped off the animal natures with which\nthey were disguised, and hung them on the wall of the Lodge, and all\nappeared in their true forms, as aged persons.\n\n\u201cIn council, guided by the admonitions of the Great Spirit, they\ndecided to give to M\u00e4\u2019n\u00e4bus the ritual of the Lodge, with its\nsecret\u2014long life and immortality for mankind\u2014as a bribe to cease his\nmolestation. But M\u00e4\u2019n\u00e4bus refused to receive their message, until Otter\nvolunteered to fetch him. Then M\u00e4\u2019n\u00e4bus came, and was duly instructed\nand raised, by being slain and brought to life again, thus showing the\ngreat potency of the Powers who owned the Lodge.\n\n\u201cThis very ceremony, just as it was given M\u00e4\u2019n\u00e4bus, and later\ntransferred to us, his uncles and aunts, with its rites, formulas,\nand medicines, is the same,\u201d concluded Terrible-eagle, \u201cas we perform\nto-day, as all the brethren and fellows have done who have passed\nthis way before us, since the Menomini came out of the ground, in the\npast.\u201d As he ended the old man struck the drum four times, crying, \u201cMy\ncolleagues, my colleagues, my colleagues, my colleagues!\u201d\n\nWhen Terrible-eagle had concluded his part, there was a recess for\nrefreshment and relaxation, which lasted until each had smoked, then\nanother old pushw\u00e4o or master took up the work. He it was who related\nto the candidate the identity of the Powers Above and Below who had\ngiven the Medicine Lodge to mankind, through M\u00e4\u2019n\u00e4bus. There were, he\nsaid, four groups of Evil Powers, who sat on the north side of the\nLodge. First were the Otter, Mink, Marten, and Weasel; second the Bear,\nPanther, Wolf, and Horned Owl; third the Banded Rattlesnake, the little\nPrairie Rattlesnake, the Pine Snake, and the Hog-nosed Snake. The\nfourth group was composed of lesser birds and beasts. The Upper World\nwhich had not offended M\u00e4\u2019n\u00e4bus, was not so well represented, and was\ncomposed of various predatory birds, such as the Red-shouldered Hawk\nand the Sparrow-hawks. These sat on the south side, and, in ancient\ndays, human Lodge members had been seated according to the nature of\ntheir medicine bags.\n\nThe skins of any of these animals might be used as containers or sacks\nfor the secret nostrums of the craft, but the Dog and Fox, which were\nformerly associated with the Wolf, had, by their cunning and their\ncustom of eating filth and carrion, become too closely associated with\nwitchcraft, and were now tabu.\n\nThe old master then told the candidates that each of these animals had\ndonated some special power to aid mankind. Thus the Weasel gave cunning\nand ferocity in war and the chase, the Snapping-turtle, probably one of\nthe vague fourth group of Evil Powers, had given his heart, which beats\nlong after it is torn from his bosom, to grant long life. Each animal\nhad four songs sung in his honor during the session of the Lodge, said\nthe elder, and the third instructor would teach these to the candidate.\n\nThe old master informed his pupil that in his opinion the Medicine\nLodge and its rites were found far to the east, in the country by\nthe Great Sea Where the Dawn Rises, for he had once met a party of\nwarriors, from the far off Nottoway or Iroquois, who spoke of a society\nand its ritual, given them by the animals, which had for its object\nlong life and immortality for men.\n\nDawn-woman now fetched steaming rice and fat venison, marrow-bones and\ndried berries, and the little party feasted. The hour was very late,\nyet none thought of sleep. After the feast, the third elder did his\npart.\n\nHe selected a calabash rattle, and, sometimes rattling, sometimes\ndrumming an accompaniment, taught the songs of the Lodge to Little-wolf.\nThere were songs of opening and songs of closing, as well as\nthe animal songs, each repeated four times, the sacred number, and\neach in groups of four. Each was made obscure and unintelligible to\neavesdroppers by the addition of nonsense syllables. Some, indeed,\nwere so ancient, and so clouded by vocables, that nothing but their\ngeneral meaning was remembered even by the brethren. These passed\nfor songs in a secret, magic language. Some chants were in other\nlanguages, particularly Ojibway, and all ended with the mystic phrase\n\u201cwe-ho-ho-ho-ho,\u201d which meant \u201cso mote it be.\u201d The songs had titles,\nbut these names too, were magic, and often gave no inkling of the\nmeaning or wording of the song, and most of them avoided naming the\nanimals or gods to which they referred, except by circumlocution, or\nby merely mentioning some prominent characteristic or attribute of the\ncreature.\n\nThere were songs for the \u201cshooting of the medicine\u201d\u2014an act which was so\nsecret and mysterious that the candidate was as yet kept in the dark\nas to its meaning\u2014and others for dancing, for thanksgiving and for\ndedication.\n\nWhen the third elder had ended his synopsis of the songs, which the\ncandidate had later to purchase and learn at leisure, the fourth and\nlast past master took him in hand. His part, he said, was short, yet\nimportant. He showed the candidate certain articles which would be\nceremonially given to the candidate at the proper time and place. Among\nthese articles was the tanned skin of an otter, the nostrils of which\nwere stuffed with tufts of red-dyed hawk-down, the under surfaces\nof the four feet and tail being adorned with fringed rectangles of\nblue-dyed doe leather, embroidered with conventional flower designs in\ncolored porcupine hair and quills. This was to be the medicine bag of\nthe new member. Through an opening, a slit in the chest of the otter,\none could thrust a hand, and find in the little pouch made by the skin\nof the left forefoot of the animal, a small sea shell, called the\nkon\u00e4p\u00e4m\u00eek, or medicine arrow, by which the essence of all the sacred\nobjects contained in the bag was ceremonially \u201cshot\u201d or transferred to\nthe bodies of the Lodge brethren during the performance of the ritual.\n\nThree other medicines the otter-skin contained. There were sacred, blue\nface-paint, the color of the sky; a mysterious brown powder holding a\nseed, wrapped in a packet with a fresh water clamshell; and another\nmixture of pounded roots called \u201cReviver,\u201d or Apis\u00e9tchikun.\n\nThe clamshell was a sacred, ancient cup, in which the accompanying\npowder and seed were placed with a little water, and given to all\ncandidates to drink. The mystic seed was supposed to be the badge\nof the Medicine Lodge, and was to remain in the candidate\u2019s breast,\nforever, even until he had followed the Pathway of the Dead along the\nMilky Way. The \u201cReviver\u201d was a powerful drug for use at all times when\nlife ebbed low, through sickness or magic.\n\n\u201cThese then,\u201d said the last instructor, \u201care the ways and sacred things\nof M\u00e4\u2019n\u00e4bus, given us Indians to have and use, as long as the world\nshall stand!\u201d\n\nSo saying, he in turn retired, and the party rolled in their blankets\nto sleep before the sun could look in through the smoke hole of the\nwigwam.\n\n\n III\n\n THE INITIATION\n\nIt was the season when buds burst, and the young owls, hatched while\nthe snow was yet on the ground, were already taking their prey. The\ndiscordant croaking of the frogs came as a roar from the marshlands.\nThe arbutus was blooming.\n\nPerched on the top of a warm, sunny knoll, was an oblong, dome-roofed\nstructure of poles, covered with bark and rush mats. It was oriented\neast and west, and its length, a full hundred feet, contrasted oddly\nwith its breadth of twenty.\n\nIt was the evening of the fourth day of the Mit\u00e4wiwin, or Medicine\nceremony. The preceding three days and nights had been spent by the\nfour masters, led by Terrible-eagle, in preparing Little-wolf within a\nroom, formed by curtaining off one end of the lodge proper; in giving\nhim his ceremonial sweat bath of purification; and in hanging the\ninitiation fees, four sets of valuable goods\u2014clothing, robes, weapons,\ncopper utensils\u2014on the ridgepole at the eastern end of the lodge; and\nin dedicating them.\n\nAs the sun set, the four old men and the candidate entered the lodge,\nfollowed by the men and women of the tribe who were already members of\nthe society. Going in at the eastern door, the procession filed along\nthe north side, and passing once regularly around, the people seated\nthemselves on the right of the door, with the candidate on the west\nside of them, next to Terrible-eagle.\n\nThe night having largely passed in quiescence and instruction, towards\ndawn an officer of the lodge approached Little-wolf, and stood before\nhim, facing the east. Thrusting his hand into his medicine bag he drew\nforth his sacred clamshell cup and the powder containing the seed,\nwhich he compounded into a drink, while he sang a song called \u201cWhat\nOtter Keeps.\u201d\n\n \u201cI am preparing the thing that was hung [the little seed],\n And that which was hung shall fall!\u201d\n\nWhen he had finished, and Little-wolf had swallowed the draft, this\nofficer retired, and another came forward and took his place, singing.\nAs he ended, he stooped over, coughed and retched violently until he\ncast forth a sea shell, which he held in the palm of his hand, and,\nchanting, displayed to the east, west, south, and north, after which\nhe caused Little-wolf to swallow it, that it might remain in his body\nforever: the symbol of immortality, and the badge of a lodge member.\nWhen this had been accomplished the assistant gave place to a third,\nwho sang his four songs and painted the candidate\u2019s face with the\nsacred, blue paint. Then a fourth and last assistant came before the\ncandidate and the masters, bearing an otter-skin, medicine bag, which\nhe laid at Little-wolf\u2019s feet, while he sang four songs concerning\nOtter, the most famous of which was entitled Yom Mit\u00e4wakeu, or \u201cThis\nMedicine Land,\u201d but which held no reference to otters whatever!\n\nNow the old men conducted the candidate, four times regularly around\nthe lodge, while they related to him somewhat of the story of the\nancient Master M\u00e4\u2019n\u00e4bus, whom he now represented. On the last circuit\nTerrible-eagle led him to a seat near the western end of the lodge,\nand there placed him, facing the east; remaining with the candidate\nstanding behind, and holding his shoulders.\n\nThe men and women seated around the walls of the lodge sat tense. The\nsilence was unbroken save for woodland sounds, for the great, dramatic\nmoment had arrived.\n\nThe four assistant masters, who had just performed before Little-wolf,\nnow assembled in the east, facing him, and the first, taking his\nmedicine bag in his two hands, and holding it breast high before his\nbody, sang, to the rapid beat of the drum, a song entitled \u201cShooting\nthe New Member.\u201d At its end he gave the usual sacred cry \u201coh we ho\nho ho ho!\u201d blew on the head of the otter-skin, and rushed forward as\nthough to attack the candidate.\n\nIn front of the neophyte impersonator of the ancient hero the attacker\npaused, and jerked the head of his otter upward, crying savagely, \u201cYa\nha ha ha ha!\u201d The magical essence of the bag supposedly striking the\ncandidate, he staggered slightly, but was steadied by a companion,\nonly to meet the feigned attacks of the second and third assistants,\nat each of which he reeled once more. But the charge of the fourth\nfellow was so violent that the candidate fell flat on the ground.\nStooping, the last man laid the medicine bag across the back of the\napparently unconscious brother, to be his, thereafter. At a sign from\nTerrible-eagle, the four assistants approached the prostrate candidate,\nand raising him to his feet, shoo__ him gently to remove their shots\nand restore him to life.\n\nAnd now all was rejoicing. Steaming earthen kettles were carried\nin, filled with delicious stews and soups of bear and turtle flesh,\npartridges, and young ducks. Laughing, jesting, and good-natured banter\nfilled the lodge until the last wooden bowl was scraped clean, when\nthe utensils and scraps were carried out, and the drummer struck up a\nlively dancing tune. After the men and women had had each four sets\nof songs, a general dance took place, wherein the members circled the\nlodge, the new brother among them, shooting each other promiscuously\nwith jollity, vying with each other to rise and point their bags or\nfall prone on the earth. All the time a loud and lively chant was sung:\n\n I\n \u201cI pass through them! I pass through them! I pass through even the\n chief!\u201d\n II\n \u201cYe Gods take part, invisible though ye be beneath us!\u201d\n\nWhen all was over, and Keso, the Sun, was almost noon high, the four\nassistants took down the invitation fees from the ridgepole, and\ndistributed them to the four old Masters and the others who had taken\nprominent part in the ceremonial, and all the Indians filed out of the\nwestern door, singing:\n\n \u201cYou, my brethren, I pass my hand over you. I thank you.\u201d\n\n * * * * *\n\nMuhw\u00e4s\u00ea, Little-wolf, watched the last of his companions strike their\ncamps; saw the coverings stripped from the lodge structure, saw the\nlast party vanish in the brush.\n\nHe was a Mit\u00e4o! A member of a great fraternal organization, who might\ntravel westward to the foothills of the Rockies, north to the Barren\nLands, south to the countries of the Iowa and Oto, east to the land\nof the Iroquois, and find brethren who had traveled the same road, or\nat least one fundamentally similar. He had shown his fortitude and\nfidelity, those two great, cardinal virtues of the Medicine Lodge, and\nhe had come through the sacred mysteries alive and in possession of the\nsecret rites that had been handed down since the days when the Menomini\nfirst came out of the ground.\n\n ALANSON SKINNER\n\n\n\n\n Thunder-cloud, a Winnebago Shaman, Relates and Prays\n\n\nI came from above and I am holy. This is my second life on earth. Long\nago I lived on earth, long ago when this earth was full of wars. I used\nto be a warrior then and I was a brave man.\n\nLong ago in battle I was killed. As I went along I thought I had\nstumbled and fallen on the ground. Then I got up again and went on my\nway. To my home I went. When I got home my wife and my children were\nthere, but they would not look at me, they would not notice me. So I\nspoke to my wife, but she did not show in any way that she was aware of\nmy presence. She did not show any signs that she was aware of anyone\nspeaking to her. There I stood. I could not converse with them and\nthey never looked at me. \u201cWhat can be the matter?\u201d I thought. At last\nit occurred to me that I was probably dead, so I immediately started\nout for the battlefield and there, surely enough, I saw my body lying.\nThen, for the first time, I knew that I was dead.\n\nAfter that I tried for a long time to return to my original home; for\nfour years I tried, but I failed, so I stayed on earth.\n\nAt one time I was a fish and I lived with them. Their life is much more\nwretched than ours, for they are often in lack of food. Yet they are\nhappy beings for they have dances very often.\n\nAt another time I lived as a little bird. Now that is a wonderful\nexistence when the weather is good, but when it is cold, life is a\nhardship. Often birds are in lack of food and suffer from cold. It was\nmy custom to go to the camp of certain people who lived near and to\nstay there in the daytime. These people were hunting at the time and\nfrom their meat-racks I used to steal a little food.\n\nA little boy was staying with them and we were always terribly afraid\nof him, for he had an object that was fear-inspiring. With this he\nwould shoot and make so great a noise that we would fly away. At night\nwe used to go home, to a hollow tree. Whenever I got there first, the\nothers, coming after me in great numbers, would almost squeeze me to\ndeath and yet, on those occasions when I waited till all the others had\nentered, I almost froze to death.\n\nOn another occasion I became a buffalo and lived as a buffalo lives.\nLack of food and cold weather did not bother us much, but we had to be\non the alert all the time against hunters.\n\nThen from that place I went home, to my spirit-home up above, the\nplace I had originally come from. Now in the sky, up above, there is a\ndoctors\u2019 home; that is the place I have come from.\n\nAfter a while I wanted to leave my home and go to the earth again. The\nperson in charge of that home is my grandfather. He at first objected\nto my going, but I asked him again and again. The fourth time I asked\nhim, he consented. He said to me: \u201cWell, grandson, if you really wish\nto go to the earth, you may go. Before you go, you had better fast, for\nif any of the spirits have compassion upon you, then you will be able\nto live in peace on earth.\u201d\n\nI fasted for four years, and the spirits above, even as far as the\nfourth heaven, all approved of my going. They blessed me. Ten days I\nfasted and after that I fasted twenty days; and again I fasted thirty\ndays. All the spirits blessed me, even those under the earth.\n\nThen when I was ready to go to the earth, all the spirits gathered\naround me and they had a council. In the center of the world, there,\nthey had a council. There they were to advise me. All the spirits were\npresent. They told me that I would not fail in anything I attempted.\nThere they tested my powers. The first thing they did was to place a\nspirit grizzly bear at the end of the dancing lodge. This bear, it was\nsaid, could not be hurt in any manner.\n\nThe lodge was full of spirits. Then they started to sing the songs\nthat I was to use when on earth. After that, I walked around the\nfireplace, and taking a live coal, I held it in the palm of my hand and\ndanced around the fireplace again. Then I shouted \u201cwahi!\u201d and struck\nthe hand containing the live coal with the other hand. The bear, the\ninvulnerable bear, shot forward and fell to the ground, flat on his\nstomach. A black substance oozed from his mouth.\n\nThen the spirits said to me, \u201cYou have killed him. Powerful as he\nwas, you have killed him. Clearly never will anything evil succeed in\ncrossing your path.\u201d That I would fail in nothing they told me. Then\nthey took the one that I had killed and taking a red knife they cut\nhim into pieces and piled him in the center of the lodge. There they\ncovered him with a dark covering and said. \u201cNow! Again you must try\nyour strength.\u201d So I asked for the objects that I was to use on earth,\na flute and a gourd. Those were the objects that I used.\n\nThen I made myself holy. Those that had blessed me were present. Then I\nwalked around the one who had been cut into pieces and I breathed upon\nhim. Then for the second time I walked around the object and I breathed\nupon him, and the rest within the lodge, breathed with me. Four times I\nbreathed upon him, and then he arose and walked away, a human being.\n\n\u201cHoho, it is good,\u201d they said, \u201che has restored him to life. Surely,\nmost surely, he is holy.\u201d Thus they spoke to me. \u201cWell, grandson, you\nwill ever be thus. Whatever exists you will be able to destroy and then\nto restore to life again. Most surely have you been blessed.\u201d Thus they\nspoke to me.\n\nThen they placed a black stone in the doctors\u2019 lodge above, there where\nI was blessed and again they put me to a test of strength. Four times\nI breathed upon that stone and finally I made a hole right through the\nstone by the force of my breathing. So now, whoever has a pain, if he\npermits me to blow upon him, then I can blow his pain away for him. It\nmakes no difference what kind of pain it is, for my breath has been\nmade holy. They, the spirits, made my breath holy and strong.\n\nThen the spirits presiding over the earth and those living under the\nearth, they also gave me a trial. A rotten log was placed before me. I\nbreathed upon it, I spat water upon it, and the log rose up, a living\nman. He walked away. This power of spitting upon people, of squirting\nwater upon people, I received from an eel; from an eel that was the\nchief of all the eels, an eel that lives in the center of the ocean, in\nthe very deepest part of the ocean. He is perfectly white. He it is,\nwho blessed me. Therefore it is that I can use water and that the water\nI possess is inexhaustible. This is what he told me.\n\nThen I came to the people of the earth. Before I came, they all had a\ncouncil meeting about me. When I came, I entered a lodge and there I\nwas born again. I thought that I had entered a lodge, but it was really\nmy mother\u2019s womb that I had entered. Not even then, at my birth, did\nI lose consciousness. As I grew up I fasted again, and then again all\nthose who had blessed me before sent their blessings to me once more.\nIt is for that reason that I am the dictator over all these spirits.\nWhatever I say will be so.\n\nNow the tobacco you offered me is really not for myself, but for the\nspirits, because I have really been sent here by the spirits to get\ntobacco for them. Here, there is a sick person and you have offered me\ntobacco. That is what I am on earth for: to accept this offering. I\ntell you that this patient will live.\n\nYou will live, patient, so help yourself as much as you can and make\nyourself strong. Now as I offer tobacco to the spirits, you must\nlisten, and if you feel that I am telling the truth, then you will gain\nstrength thereby.\n\nHere is tobacco for you, O Fire! I offer tobacco to you. You promised\nme that if I offered tobacco to you, you would grant me my request.\nThat you promised, if I placed tobacco upon your head. Did you not say\nthat to me after I had fasted for four days and you had blessed me?\nNow here there comes a plea from a human being, from one who wishes to\nlive. Here, the tobacco is yours and I ask that within four days, he be\nrestored to his usual health. I ask that he regain his former health\nand be even as the rest of us. I offer tobacco to you, grandfather.\nHere it is.\n\nMay you, O Buffalo, also add your strength, add your power. Six days\nI fasted and then you sent your spirit upon me. I entered your lodge,\nyour lodge that is in the center of this earth. You Buffalo, you who\nare pure white in color, you blessed me. So likewise did the buffaloes\nwith the four different colors. Those blessings that you bestowed upon\nme, those I now want. The gift of being able to breathe upon man, you\ngave me. You told me I would not fail. Now that is what I desire.\nTherefore it is that I ask that you add your strength as you promised,\nfor they, the people, have given me plenty of tobacco.\n\nNow you, O Grizzly Bear, here is tobacco. At a place called\nPointed-hill there is a spirit in charge of a dancing lodge. Now all\nthose in that lodge blessed me and said that I would be able to kill\nanything that confronted me; that I would also be able to restore to\nlife whatever I wished. Here I have opportunity of giving life to a\nman. I want him to live. They have given me tobacco. Here it is. When\nI was a ghost you took me to your home, and after I had fasted for ten\ndays you blessed me. Those things with which you blessed me, those\nare the things that I now want. The people are offering you tobacco,\ngrandfathers,\u2014here it is.\n\nNow you, chief eel in the center of the ocean, you too blessed me after\nI had fasted for eight days. With your power of breath did you bless\nme, with your inexhaustible wealth of water. You gave me the gift of\nusing it whenever I treated a patient. That is what you told me. All\nthe water in the ocean you told me I could use. You blessed me with all\nthe objects that exist in the ocean. Now here is a man desiring life,\nand I too wish him to live. It is for that reason that I speak to you\nin this way. As I now squirt water upon him, may it be as though it\nwere your power. O grandfather, I offer you tobacco. Here it is. Here\nis tobacco for you.\n\nNow you who are above, Turtle, you who are in charge of a doctors\u2019\nlodge, you blessed me after I had fasted seven days and you carried me,\nin spirit, to your home. There in your home I found all the birds who\nhave sharp claws and you all blessed me and you told me that however\nbad the pain was, you would be able to extract it. Therefore it was\nthat you named me the extractor of pain. Now here comes a man with an\nintense pain inside of him. I am the one to remove it for him, for I am\nthe one you blessed and whom you taught that in nothing would he fail.\nI am going to heal this man. Here is the tobacco.\n\nYou of the snake home, you the perfectly white one, Rattlesnake! Did\nyou not bless me after I had fasted for four days? You said that on an\noccasion like this, you would help me. You blessed me with your rattles\nthat I was to use as gourds. You blessed me and told me that I would\naccomplish all that I attempted, by the use of the rattle. I offer you\ntobacco therefore, that I may make this sick person live when I shake\nmy gourd. That life would be opened before him, that is what you told\nme, grandfather.\n\nHo, you Night Spirits! You too blessed me after I had fasted nine days.\nYou took me to your village, situated in the east. There you told me\nthat your plants were sacred and you blessed me with them. Now that is\nwhat I want. You made my flute sacred. That I am speaking the truth,\nyou well know. Now to me the people have come bringing a sick person,\nfor whom they desire life. I too want him to live. That is why I am\nspeaking to you. You promised always to accept my tobacco and here it\nis, grandfathers.\n\nHo, here is tobacco for you, Disease-giver! After I had fasted for\ntwo days, you caused me to know that you were the one that bestowed\ndiseases, that if I desired to heal one who is sick, that it would not\nbe difficult. To you, therefore, Disease-giver, I offer tobacco. I\noffer you tobacco that this person, who is sick, may become well again.\nThat is what you promised me in your blessing.\n\nHo, you Thunder-birds! I offer you tobacco. When you blessed me, you\nsaid you would help me if I needed you. Now here I have someone who\ndesires life. I, too, want him to live, and that is why I remind you of\nyour promise. I ask your help, grandfather, as you promised it to me.\nHere is the tobacco.\n\nHo, I offer you tobacco, Sun. Here it is. You blessed me after I had\nfasted for five days and you said that you would come to my relief\nwhenever I had a difficult object to accomplish. Now here is a man who\ndesires life. He comes with offerings of tobacco to you. Since you have\nblessed me, the people have brought their offerings of tobacco to me.\n\nHo, grandmother, Moon! You too blessed me, Moon. You said that you\nwould also add your power. Here is a man who desires life and I call\non you to add your power, as you promised me, so that he may live.\nGrandmother, here is tobacco.\n\nHo, grandmother, Earth! To you I also offer tobacco. You blessed me and\npromised always to help me. You promised that I could use all the herbs\nbelonging to you, all the best ones, and that then I would not fail in\nthat which I attempted. Now that is what I ask on this occasion, and\nthat you keep the promise you made to me and help me. I ask you to do\nfor this sick man what these people are asking me to do for him. Make\nmy medicine powerful, grandmother.\n\nHo, you the chief of all the spirits! You too have blessed me and you\ntoo said that you would help me. Therefore I offer you tobacco so that\nthis person may live. If his spirit is about to wander, I ask that you\nkeep away from him, that you do not seize him. This is what I ask of\nyou and why I offer you tobacco.\n\nHo-o-o, to all of you spirits I offer tobacco, to all of you who have\nblessed me.\n\n PAUL RADIN\n\n\n\n\n How Meskwaki Children Should Be Brought Up\n\n Harry Lincoln, of the Meskwaki, has dictated the following free\n rendition of a Meskwaki text written out in the current syllabary.\n\n\nWhen a boy becomes old enough to be intelligent, his parents begin to\nteach him how to take care of himself and act righteously. They usually\ntell him not to do a good many things. Children are taught not to be\nnaughty. They are told that if they are naughty, people will have\nnothing to do with them. They are told that if they are naughty, people\nwill talk about them. And children are told not to steal anything from\ntheir neighbors. Moreover, children are taught not to talk to people.\nIf they see any one going by their place, they should hold their\ntongues, nor should they laugh.\n\nAnd they also tell children not to visit other people too often. \u201cEvery\ntime they see you going anywhere they would say that you are looking\nfor something good to eat, if you go visiting too often,\u201d is what\nchildren are told. So children do not often visit too much.\n\nThey likewise tell children not to gamble. They tell them that they\nmight be lucky and win, but that it would not benefit them. And they\ntell them that it is just as bad to lose. They caution them in this\nway: \u201cIf you win, people will see your winnings and will try to get\nyou to gamble. And if you do, you will surely lose all that you have\nwon. And yet it is not right to be over-quiet. If you are quiet and\nwell off, that is not quite right either. If you have a lot of horses,\npeople will be jealous of you. Some one might want some of your\nproperty, and you would not give it to him. That is how it will be.\n\n\u201cThe best way is to be kindly to every one, to speak kind words, to\ntreat your friends nicely, to keep your heart clean, and not to talk\nmeanly. If you do this, you will have a number of friends. And when you\nare a young boy, do not fight with other boys. If any one speaks badly\nto you, do not answer him. Let it go. This is one of the best things\nyou can do. And if you see some one doing something, you must hold your\npeace; do not be the one to start the news. Do not tell what you saw\nhim or her do. If you spread the report they will hate you. They will\nbecome your enemies.\u201d\n\nAnd there is another thing which boys are told. Boys are told not to\ntattle to any one. They are told not to be too intimate with girls. It\nis not a right thing for a boy to do. They are warned: \u201cIf you do that,\npeople will be jealous of you.\u201d\n\nAnd there is another thing they are warned. \u201cWhen there are many\npeople, when something is going on, don\u2019t go over there, and try to\nshow off. That will not benefit you. You may go to the crowd and see\nwhat is going on, but behave yourself. And if any one asks you a\nquestion, you are to tell the person that you know nothing about it.\nThat is the best way to keep out of trouble.\u201d\n\nAnd there is another thing which young men are told, which is: \u201cIf some\none asks you to do a favor, you must always do it for him. Some time in\nthe near future they will come around again and ask another favor of\nyou. If you refuse, you straightway will begin to have trouble. But you\nshould always do a favor for any one, so as to please them.\u201d\n\nAnd another thing, young men are told, not to fear ashes: \u201cBy fasting\nand painting your face with ashes, you may get a blessing from the\nManitou. If you do the right thing, you will surely be blessed. If\nyou are afraid, the Manitou will know it. People claim that fasting\nand blackening one\u2019s face with ashes is one of the best things that\nthey can do. In the early days it was said that if one fasted long\nto obtain a blessing from the Manitou, he often went on the war-path\nsuccessfully; or he killed people by fasting so long. Such was the\nblessing the person obtained. And you can go and kill game easily. You\nmay become a leader in anything. If there is a war you may become a\nleader. And you will always bring your men back safe and sound. They\nwill not be killed by the enemy. You will surely be blessed by the\nManitou if you take an interest in fasting, and are not afraid of doing\nso. After you have fasted long enough, if you desire anything, you will\nobtain it. So fasting is the right thing to do. And if you do this, you\nmust get up early\u2014before our grandfather, the Sun, rises. If anything\nhappens to people where you are, after a few years, nothing will happen\nto you: you will not be destroyed. This is the only way you can live\nagain. All the people will be benefited by you. This is the best life\nthere is.\u201d And this is why children are taught to fast.\n\nBoys are told that if they see an animal they must not destroy it. For\nif they destroy animals, they themselves will not live very long. Boys\nare also taught to be good hunters.\n\nBoys are taught nearly everything so that they can get along nicely\nwith their wives after they are married. They are told that if they are\nhustlers many girls will wish to marry them.\n\nOf course this is after they have grown to be young men. Up to that\ntime they are merely made to fast. And by fasting, is how they reach\nold age. Also children are made to fast when any one dies. And they\nalso tell children not to make a noise when some one dies; and not\nto play where the body is. And they tell boys not to refuse if they\nare asked to do something. \u201cIf you do what people who have lost their\nrelatives ask you, they will be well satisfied with you. And some day\nyou will exchange positions. If you ask them a favor at that time, they\nwill willingly do it,\u201d is what boys are told.\n\nAnd this is what boys are told when they are growing up: \u201cIf you are\nasked to be a ceremonial attendant at clan festivals, you must do it.\nBy doing them the favor of waiting on them, you will benefit your own\nlife. And any time you are asked to do anything you must always do it,\nso as to please the people.\u201d\n\nAnd after they grow up, they are told not to bother too much with\ngirls, especially if they have sisters of their own. They are told,\n\u201cSometime you may be desired as a son-in-law. But if you bother with\nmany girls, while going with one, they will think you are a nobody.\u201d\nAnd they tell boys not to be intimate with girls unless they plan to\nmarry them. They are told, \u201cYou must not say anything evil to women: if\nyou do, you will be talking evilly to your own sisters.\n\n\u201cAnd if you are going with a girl, if you are engaged to her, you must\nmarry her, and treat her rightly. You must go home with her and stay\nwith your father-in-law and your mother-in-law. You must treat them as\nnicely as you can. And you should hunt for your mother-in-law and your\nfather-in-law. If you treat your wife meanly, every one will talk about\nyou. And that will make it bad for you. At all gatherings people will\ntalk about you, saying how badly you treat your wife. The people will\nsay many things about you, though you may not know it. They will say\nyou are jealous. And in that way people will always refuse you favors.\nYou will be treating your wife badly, if you pay no attention to the\nold people.\n\n\u201cYou must obey your parents. It is the right thing to obey one\u2019s\nparents. And boys who do not obey their parents are the worst boys\nto-day.\n\n\u201cIf you know any one has something of his own, you must not ask him for\nit, nor must you steal it. It is not right to steal. If you steal or\nask for the thing you want, all the people will be afraid of you. You\nare nothing but a beggar. Every one will say that to you. They will\ncall you a beggar.\u201d\n\nNow when boys are beginning to be grown up, they are told: \u201cYou must\nnot turn against your friends; you must be kind-hearted. And you must\nnot bother with any woman or girl who is married to another man. You\nshould not try to \u2018cut him out.\u2019 It is dangerous to do that.\u201d This is\none of the most important things they try to get boys to understand. By\ndoing what is forbidden they might get into trouble; and they might end\ntheir lives. Many boys end their lives before they are middle-aged by\nnot listening to their parents.\n\nAnd girls are taught a little differently from boys. Of course they\ntell girls, in the beginning, the same thing, that is, how to take care\nof themselves. They teach girls that if they obey the rules they will\nhave an easier life as they grow older. After they are old enough they\nteach them how to do things. And they also make them fast. They are\nasked to fast so that adversity shall not strike them when they grow\nup. They make girls fast for four days. They make them fast all winter,\nespecially when they are beginning to be young ladies. The reason why\nthey make them fast is that they are supposed to dream of something\nthat will take them through their life. That is why they do not take\nregular meals like others, to prepare for a long life.\n\nAnd they teach them to do something for themselves, especially when\nthey grow up. They teach them work, suitable for women. They teach them\nto learn to make mattings and how to make sacks. They also teach them\nhow to make moccasins and beadwork. Girls are told that they can get\nalong nicely if they learn these things before they are married. They\nare told, \u201cYou will be benefited by doing this for your husband. Your\nrelatives will be benefited by you.\u201d\n\nAnd girls are told: \u201cIf you are a moral girl, your father-in-law and\nmother-in-law will treat you as nicely as they can. And they will love\nyou. If you are quiet and well-behaved, you will be much better off\nthan those girls who do not mind. Men do not care for girls who do not\nmind and who are immoral. If you do not mind and are immoral, no man\nwill have you for his wife.\u201d That is why girls are taught to be good.\n\nAfter they learn to make things, they are taught to cook meals. Girls\nare told that by doing so, they are leading themselves the right way.\n\u201cBy so doing you are leading yourself an easy way. Sometime you may\ngrow up and make your own home.\u201d That is why girls are told to be\nwilling workers.\n\nAnd girls are told not to go off and live with other people. Of course\npeople would like a girl to live with them a few days. But a few days\nlater they might turn her out, especially if she were lazy. People do\nnot wish to support a lazy person. This is why girls are taught to cook.\n\nAnd after they are married, girls are especially told not to say\nanything about other persons, and not to feel unfriendly towards them.\nAnd they are told not to have any quarrels with other people, for\nthat is not a right thing to do. They are told to be kind towards the\npeople and not to have quarrels with any one. \u201cThis is the best way, to\nbe friendly with every one. By so doing, the people will feel kindly\ntowards you. They will always say a good word for you. People do not\nthink anything of a mean person. If you are mean, some day some one\nwill turn against you. Some persons are dangerous. They have secret\nways to kill people.\u201d This is why girls are told not to be mean, or say\nmean things to other persons. And some girls hate their parents for\ntelling them this. But it is a rule that children should be taught. The\nreason parents tell girls this, is because they love them so well. They\nare teaching them so they can attain an old age. Girls who were not\ntaught, do anything they please. They do not care what they do. They\nspoil themselves.\n\nGirls are supposed to be taught till they are married. After a girl\nis married, she has full control of herself, and may do whatever she\nthinks best. But it is best to follow the rules forever, to be kind to\none\u2019s husband and the people. It is pretty hard to lead a righteous\nlife.\n\nWhen girls begin to have children they are told to be kind to their\nchildren and love them, and not to do anything bad to them. And they\nare taught that if they live quietly to an old age, they themselves\nwill be the only relations they have.\n\nAnd before children are well grown, they dare not go any place by\nthemselves. Of course boys are different: they can go any place they\nplease. And girls dare not do so, unless they have a good reason for\nit. They are taught to always be at home and do the work. They are\ntold: \u201cIf you grow to be a young lady, if you walk around and do not do\nany work, people will not think anything of you. They will always talk\nabout you. They will say that all you are good for, is to walk from\nplace to place. They will say you are looking for a place to get your\nmeals. They will say that you are looking for a place where you can get\nthe finest food. They will say many things about you. They will even\nsay that you are worse than a man. Every time you are on the road they\nwill say, \u2018There goes a woman who goes about looking for good meals\nfor herself.\u2019\u201d That is the reason why they desire a girl to be able to\ndo things so that she can support herself after she is grown. That is\nwhy they tell girls to obey their parents. Their parents have had good\nexperience and know what they are talking about.\n\nAnd when girls arrive at puberty, they are told not to marry a divorced\nman. They are told to marry a young man. In the early days, people\nused to say to each other when girls married divorced men: \u201cIt is not\nnatural for a girl to marry a divorced man, nor for a young man to\nmarry a divorced woman.\u201d They told girls that if they married young\nmen, that they would be benefited by getting horses, and so on. And a\ngirl is told to look around and get the right kind of a boy. In the\nearly days, they liked boys who killed game, trapped, sold furs, and so\ngot money; but nowadays they tell girls to look around for boys that\nhave horses, homes, everything they want. They say, \u201cThat\u2019s the right\nkind of a young man to marry\u2014one that can support you.\u201d\n\nGirls are also told: \u201cWhen you are staying with your father-in-law and\nwith your mother-in-law, you are supposed to help them in their work.\nWhen your mother-in-law begins doing anything, you must ask her if you\nmay do it.\u201d A girl is taught this so that she can get along nicely\nafter she is married. Girls are told: \u201cIf you don\u2019t do these things,\npeople will talk about you, and say how lazy you are. And people will\nnot like you.\u201d This is the reason why a girl is taught all manner of\nwork.\n\nAnd all girls are taught the same things. And in this way, they lead\nthemselves the right way.\n\n TRUMAN MICHELSON\n\n\n\n\n In Montagnais Country\n\n\nOn the shores of a great lake were clustered the buildings of the old\nHudson\u2019s Bay Company\u2019s Post, where the People of the Interior came\nevery spring with their cargoes of pelts to trade for the articles\nwhich the white man made for them. Through the long, cold winters,\nthe factor and his crew passed the time as comfortably as they could,\nwith little to break the monotony of the days, while powerful blasts\nof cold, often bringing several feet of drifted snow in their wake,\nbeat upon the buildings. In the summer, however, the time went quickly.\nFrom the vast, forested hills northward came the returning bands of\ntrappers, bringing the results of their winter\u2019s hunt. From the regions\nnearer, the People of the Lake, by shorter stages, came in, too, with\ntheir peltry. So, with the two bands of nomads camped along the beach\nand on the grassy terrace between the lake and the forest of the\nupland, the scene was enlivened each spring by the presence of several\nhundred hunters, with their families, gaudily dressed and garrulous.\n\nBy day, in the heat of the sun, which makes these northern places\nblossom in acres of green and showy flowers, the newcomers wandered\nfrom tent to tent, exchanging gossip, talking, singing, gaming and\nplanning for the coming of winter; and all the time gradually enlarging\nthe store of their annual necessities by an irregular trade with the\nfactor behind his long counter in the Post shop. By night among the\ntents, grouped in twos and threes, the twinkling lights illuminated\nscenes of quiet domestic life, where some were asleep on piles of tent\nlitter and furs, while others were engaged in plying the busy needle\nor in the low conversation which made the early evenings such pleasant\ntimes for visiting between those who had not seen each other for many\nmonths.\n\nThe People of the Interior always came to the Post two or three weeks\nlater than those whose hunting grounds were around the lake. Some of\nthe families from the interior came six hundred miles, driving dogs\nwhich dragged their laden sleds, the canoes forming part of the loads,\nuntil, coming south to where the snow was giving way to the advance of\nthe spring, they left the sleds and loaded the canoes, finishing their\njourney by drifting in them with the swollen current down to the great\nlake. The trading completed, the People of the Interior returned as\nthey had come, by canoe and sled, leaving the Post two or three weeks\nsooner than the People of the Lake. This had been the procedure for\ninnumerable generations.\n\nThe People of the Lake never envied their friends from the interior.\nTheir nearness to the Post they considered a great advantage. They\ncould even make a short journey to the Post in midwinter to enjoy the\nfestivities of Christmas with the factor and his employees, while their\nfriends in the interior were perhaps freezing or starving if the game\nhad failed them.\n\nThe People of the Lake had begun to feel themselves wiser and more\nimportant than their simple forest neighbors. Often one of them would\ncome back from the metropolis with new and smart-cut clothes, plenty of\ngin, and some household finery with which to decorate the shelves and\ntables of the board houses which they had erected on the lake shore,\nbut above all, with glowing accounts of the great and busy city where\neverything could be had that a Montagnais might covet in his most\nprodigal dreams. To the People of the Interior, these tales sounded\nmarvelous, yet, much as they loved to hear them told, there was a\nlingering suspicion in their minds that all was not as fine and grand\nas it was painted, judging by the strong breath, the fagged condition\nand the depleted pocket-books of those who had experienced these\ntransitory contacts with the outside world.\n\nA product of the conditions which made the People of the Lake so\nsatisfied with themselves was young Antoine, a stalwart youth, whose\nknowledge of French and the astute principles of business in general,\nmade him invaluable to the independent fur traders who regularly came\nto the lake to drive bargains with the returning hunters. Antoine\u2019s\nclothes showed his advance in the social scale. Peg-top trousers,\nnarrow-waisted jacket, su\u00e8de-topped, patent leather shoes, blue\ncelluloid collar, ready-made cravat, and a green woolen golf cap marked\nhim at once as a denizen of the back streets of Montreal as much as his\nbrown skin, oblique eyes, and sleek hair proclaimed his origin from the\nPeople of the North. In broken French, even in broken English, Antoine\ncould swear in competition with the French-Canadian employees of the\nhonorable Hudson\u2019s Bay Company\u2019s Post, and those of Revillon Brothers\nof Montreal who sought to compete with the great company. Antoine\nhad actually cultivated an urbane swagger, he consumed innumerable\npackages of paper cigarettes and perfumed his system attentively with\ndraughts of gin and brandy. At times, even, Antoine forgot that he was\na Montagnais. It was only when reminded by his own people that it was\nunbecoming for him to prey upon them to the advantage of the traders,\nthat his vanity was lowered to a point which made him agreeable to the\nother young men. To the girls he was more attractive, and among the\nPeople of the Lake there were few girls he had not sampled. At times\nhis vain heart yearned to extend his conquests to the simple maids who\ncame patiently with their parents on the toilsome journey from the\nhills and forests of the north.\n\nThe head man of the People of the Interior, old Shekapeo, whose name\nmeant \u201cGoing Backwards,\u201d was a stern and practical hunter whose annual\ncatch could generally be depended upon to contain the finest and rarest\nfurs. While he was alive to the defects of character which made Antoine\nin figure and reputation so conspicuous about the Post, he often\nwondered if a matrimonial attachment between Antoine and his daughter\nwould not be of considerable advantage. With his own opportunities\nof production and Antoine\u2019s far-reaching business experience and\nassociations, he had more than once pictured the advantage, while\npuffing his pipe before the fire. And yet he could not make up his mind\nto discourage the growing intimacy between his daughter and a young man\nof his own band, whom he had always admired for his quiet energy and\nproductive trapping. The girl herself, if left to her own judgment,\nwould have had little to say. Born by the side of a remote lake on\na beautiful still morning, when the heat of noontime was lifting a\nmirage to the north across the glassy waters, her mother had called\nher Ilitwashteu, Mirage, from the first phenomenon seen after the\nbirth of her child. Mirage, like her father, felt the contrast between\nGood-ground and Antoine. But the mystery of Antoine was making him an\nobject of growing interest in her mind. She had dared to raise her eyes\nfrom her moccasins and look directly at him once, when he had come to\nthe tent to talk with her father on business. Then, when her father\u2019s\nback was turned, Antoine spoke to her, but she did not go so far as to\nanswer him.\n\nIt was winter. Shekapeo had returned to his hunting grounds in the\nregion of the Lake of Steep Shores. Near him, this year, was camped\nthe family of young Good-ground who was at this season trapping\nin that section of his hereditary hunting grounds for marten. The\nterritories of the two families adjoined each other, though for\nseveral years each had been operating on the more distant tracts,\nwith the idea of allowing the intervening zone to become replenished\nwith the fur-bearing animals. Old Shekapeo and young Good-ground knew\nperfectly well where their respective bounds lay. During the winter\nthey occasionally visited one another and sometimes planned to exchange\nprivileges in each other\u2019s grounds. When, for instance, one year bear\nhad been abundant in Shekapeo\u2019s district, owing to a forest fire in the\nmonth of flowers which had left in its wake an exceptional abundance of\nberries, the same winter on young Good-ground\u2019s territory, caribou had\nwandered in unusual numbers. Then they had allowed each other to cross\nthe landmarks. Good-ground took toll on many of Shekapeo\u2019s bears, and\nShekapeo took what he needed of Good-ground\u2019s caribou.\n\nIt happened late in the winter in the month of great cold that several\nmembers of Good-ground\u2019s family were taken sick with coughs and aching\nlimbs. Sickness added to Good-ground\u2019s duties, and often he was\nprevented from following his line of traps properly, by the necessity\nof remaining at camp himself. One trip when he started to visit his\nten traps, which were strung at a distance of about two miles apart\nalong the banks of the River of Poplars, he found himself at the ninth\ntrap by the end of the second day. So bad had been the conditions of\ntravel, and his own feelings so oppressed, that, late this afternoon,\nhe made himself a little fire where he had scraped away the snow with\none of his snowshoes, and boiled himself a pot of tea. Near the fire\nlay his good dogs Ntohum and Kawabshet, \u201cMy Hunter\u201d and \u201cWhitey,\u201d names\ndescended through many generations of canines. They were worn out and\ntired, from pulling the toboggan through the soft, deep snowdrifts.\nThe nine traps had yielded a few furs, yet most of them were empty.\nThe promise of bad weather added to the trouble. To the northeast a\nheavy bank of lead-colored sky appeared above the pointed tops of the\nvast spruce forest. Fitful blasts of wind came occasionally from the\nsame quarter, growing more frequent during the afternoon and causing\nGood-ground many times to turn his head about and look behind, then\nurge the dogs with a few sharp words to greater exertions.\n\nNow, smoking his pipe of stone, which several times he refilled with\ndry tobacco obtained from the Post so far away, his eyes rested first\nupon his fagged dogs, then upon the slowly spreading pall of gray,\nnorthward above the hills. The question of the tenth trap was resting\nheavily upon Good-ground\u2019s mind. Might there be anything held fast in\nits iron jaws, or would the machine be empty before his disheartened\ngaze, should he gather his forces together and press on against the\nrising wind for another three hours? The price to pay in risk to\nhimself and his animals for whatever might be caught there, would be,\nindeed, the highest. With depleted provisions through another afternoon\nof struggle against the blizzard which was surely coming, a question\narose in his experienced mind as to the actual possibility of its\naccomplishment. Should he turn about now and go down with the wind to\nthe little shelter camp where he could spend the night, back on Round\nLake, he would then be within a short day\u2019s voyage of his home camp.\nThere his sick family, brothers, sisters and mother, were comfortably\nand snugly housed in their warm tent, roofed tightly with birch-bark\nand lined with caribou skins, making it warm as the inside of his\nfur-lined mitten. But what if trap number ten should contain an animal,\nperhaps a sable or even a black fox, whose pelt would bring the profit\nhe so badly needed?\n\nHaving filled his pipe several times, and cleaned it with the blade\nof bone which he carried tied to his tobacco bag, it seemed as if\nGood-ground could not decide. Finally, with a motion of determination,\nhe plunged his hand into the bag, which contained the carcass of a\nhare reserved for his supper. With a few cuts of his knife he got out\nthe shoulder blade of the animal, and he removed the clinging flesh by\ntearing it off with his teeth till the bone was clean and brown; then\nupon the end of a split stick he held the hare\u2019s shoulder bone before\nthe heat of his fire, and raised his voice in a low melody which came\nfrom between slightly opened lips. \u201cKa na ka na aa ka na he.\u201d While he\nsang, the bone, affected by the heat, grew black toward the center;\nfinally a segment with a little crack split from the center and ran\ntoward the edge, breaking through the bone and causing it to burn away\non one of its outer sides. The divination was complete. The spirit of\nthe hare had told him that his voyage would be unsuccessful.\n\nNow, with a few deft and decided motions, Good-ground cleaned out his\npipe, replaced several articles which he had removed from his bag,\nadjusted his snowshoes by kicking his feet into the stiffened loops,\nand squared about toward the south, pulling the sled around on its\nrunners till it, too, pointed backwards along the trail over which\nhe had, thirty minutes ago, tramped down the snow to make a path for\nhis dogs. The animals needed no human urging to tighten their traces\nand drag the sled forward in a trail, which even now was being blown\nover with drifting snow coming slant-wise through the forest on a\nfurious wind. Kiwedin, the north wind, was now going to rule the world\nof the people of the north. Whatever thought Good-ground had a while\nago as to what the tenth trap might have yielded him had he gone to\nit, faded from his mind with the satisfaction that he was obeying his\ndream animal, and that probably he would reach his home camp in time\nto escape the suffering which he knew he would have met had he gone\non to learn what trap number ten contained. His forebodings were not\nwithout ground. It was with difficulty that he reached his little camp\nstation that night, helped along by the wind at his back. His out-trail\nwas now completely covered, but it had been possible for him to run\nahead of his dogs and break the snow for them with his snowshoes. That\nnight at his station he tried again his \u201cmutnshawan\u201d and the bone broke\nin the same way as before. This time the crack in the surface of the\nshoulder blade zig-zagged off in the direction of the home camp, a sure\nindication that this was to be the direction of travel next day.\n\nBy the time the late northern dawn had lighted up the trail\nsufficiently for him to follow it, Good-ground had fed his dogs and\nhimself on the remaining carcasses of the few beasts that he had taken,\nin coming up to his line of traps. By dark, forcing his way through\ngrowing drifts with the wind still at his back, he silently wound into\nthe cleared space, near the center of which stood the three bark tents\nwith their wisps of smoke driven horizontally from the poles, that for\nalmost nine months of the year he called home. Several little fox-bred\nmongrel dogs limped out on the beaten footpaths from one of the tents,\nand with wheezy coughs announced the return of the son and brother to\nthe females within the enclosure. They were building up the fire and\npreparing a stew of hare and smoked caribou meat. Good-ground lifted\nthe skin hanging before the door, bent under its low arch, and stepped\ntoward the fire, laying his game bag on the boughs near the knees\nof his oldest sister. The glances at his face and his return glance\nshowed that all was well, they felt, while all were still alive. And\nsmiles lighted their faces as the girl brought the contents of one of\nthe packs from the sled and opened it before their eyes, though it\ncontained only medium pelts and carcasses only large enough to go into\nthe stew-pot for to-morrow\u2019s dinner.\n\nThe blizzard raged, the weak and sick ones got worse before they got\nbetter, and several weeks passed before Good-ground could muster the\nstrength, and afford the time to harness his dogs again and move along\nthe trap line. Smoked caribou flakes, hare carcasses, and a small\nportion of flour had carried them through the short period of famine.\n\nFinally with the return of good weather and the subsidence of the wind,\nGood-ground was able to make his round of traps, baiting and resetting\nthose which had been torn down by the force of the wind, the snow and\nthe beating branches of the undergrowth. Arriving at the location of\ntrap number ten, he scraped away the snow to find there the chewed\nand devoured remains of a splendid black fox! The loss, Good-ground\nrealized as he stood there regarding the remaining patch of silky\nink-black fur no larger than the span of his hands, would amount to\n$2500 at least. Had he visited trap number ten that terrible day, weeks\nago, he might have secured the pelt.\n\nOn his return home Good-ground was to have another surprise. He found\nhis neighbor old Shekapeo visiting his family, having ventured a day\u2019s\nstruggle through the soft and deep snowdrifts, from a sympathetic\ndesire to see whether all had gone well with the family whose lives\ndepended upon the support of one young man.\n\nShekapeo heard the story of Good-ground\u2019s lost prize with impassive\nexpression. But on his way home the next day, tramping ahead of his\ndogs he had time to think over the bad luck attaching to Good-ground.\nShekapeo\u2019s thoughts then turned to the coming trading season at the\nPost, and in particular to the financial ascendancy of Antoine.\n\nDuring that spring season at the Post, among the tales which\ncirculated was that about Good-ground and trap number ten. The story\nof the adventure did not turn out to his credit, especially after\nAntoine took occasion to say to Shekapeo, in the presence of the\nfamily, including Mirage, that Good-ground was a fool to have turned\nback at a time when a catch worth several thousand dollars was waiting\nhis enterprise.\n\nTo account for Good-ground\u2019s lack of success, Antoine even remarked\nthat Good-ground\u2019s dream spirit would not have lied to him that day\nwhen he turned back, unless he had been a liar himself.\n\nWith the advent of the moon when the birds begin to fly, which the\nwhite people at the Post called August, the People of the Interior\nhaving finished their trading, repaired their canoes, and satisfied\ntheir craving for society, bade adieu to their friends of the lake\nand started on their return to the northern wilderness. In the coming\nvoyage of ascent, Good-ground\u2019s three canoe loads of provisions and\nsupplies, in large part advanced to him in credit by the factor, which\nwere to last him through the winter on his hunting grounds, would have\nto be carried over thirty-two portages. If the weather continued good\nhe expected to make the return trip in forty days. The largest lake\nthat he had to cross would be nine miles wide, but if the wind blew\nhard he would have to make double that distance by working around the\nshore line. His load consisted of about two thousand pounds in all,\nfifteen bags of flour, two hundred pounds of pork, ten of tobacco, one\nhundred of flour, one hundred of grease, twenty-five of tea, forty\nof salt, twenty boxes of baking powder, twenty-five bars of soap,\ntwo boxes of candles, twelve boxes of shells, four boxes of rifle\ncartridges, three hundred traps, from beaver size down, and ten bear\ntraps,\u2014all this in three canoes. With the help of mother, sisters, and\nyounger brothers, these canoes had to be paddled in smooth water, while\non the portages and in water that was too shallow for paddling, they\nhad to be relayed in loads on the back.\n\nFinally, their toilsome journey ended, Good-ground and the others\nreached their distant hunt-grounds and reopened their home camps,\nwhere, all summer during their absence, the porcupines and other\nrodents had made havoc among the greasy furnishings; where even an\noccasional passing bear had left his marks. More than once the caribou\nand moose had poked their noses well within the clearing and among the\ndeserted tents, as though they knew that the men, who in the winter\ntime were so eager for their lives, were now far away killing fish to\nlive on, and eating the white men\u2019s food put up in tin cans.\n\nSo another winter was passed by the People of the Interior, busy in\nkilling the wild animals of the forest and busy, too, in reviving the\nspirits of the slain animals, as they believed, by constant resource to\ndrumming, singing, praying, and other shamanistic performances.\n\nThis winter at the Post, for Antoine, at least, was also a season\nof great activity. Antoine\u2019s astute employer, an independent French\ntrader, had conceived a scheme to secure the trade of the People of the\nInterior when they should come out from the forests in the spring. The\nscheme was nothing less than to have a score of cases of the strongest\nfire water sent to the lake, at great expense, hidden from the eyes of\nthe revenue officers en route. The whole was to cost about all that the\nindependent French company could afford to put into the venture, and\nincidentally, as his employer finally made clear to him, to absorb the\nwhole of Antoine\u2019s available estate in the shape of over a thousand\ndollars ready cash. Antoine and his employer gloated together over the\nscoop that would be made when the People of the Interior were told that\nthe old company factor had died and the Post was closed, and learned\nthat the new company had gone to the trouble of providing for them\ntheir beloved liquor so that there should be at least something for\nwhich to trade their furs. It was planned that Antoine should ascend\nthe river Where-Moose-Abound, down which the People of the Interior\ngenerally came, a several days\u2019 journey, and there intercept them and\nput through the hoax.\n\nWith considerable care, seven sturdy canoe men were engaged, with\nAntoine as their foreman, to transfer the disguised cases from the lake\nto a convenient point up the river where the People of the Interior,\nwith their precious cargoes of fur, would be sure to pass by in their\ndescent. On the great day, the flotilla with its spirituous cargo\nmade an early morning start. The men, with occasional levies upon the\ncontents of their load to refresh themselves, finally reached the\ndestined point and unloaded the boxes, setting up their camp to wait\nfor the arrival of the descending hunters. Antoine\u2019s expectations ran\nhigh. He pictured to himself the consternation with which the People of\nthe Interior would receive the surprising news that he had to impart,\nand then the eagerness with which they would fall upon his stores of\nliquor. With their potations well begun, he expected that they would\nnot stop until they had traded the best of their peltries for the last\nflask of his fire water. His visions were hourly more stimulated by\ndraughts upon his stock.\n\nThat evening, when the voyagers had settled down about their leaping\nfire, nothing would have aroused the suspicion of the observer as to\nwhat was about to take place. The seven canoe men, who were from among\nthe People of the Lake, had decided upon an action which, to their\nminds, seemed advantageous to themselves, as well as in accordance with\nthe excise laws of the Dominion, but which was prompted above all by\nfidelity to their friends among the People of the Interior. These men\nof the People of the Lake had known from former years\u2019 experience what\nit would mean for their friends of the forest to be turned back to\ntheir distant hunting grounds with nothing but the remains of a drunken\norgy to meet their requirements for the coming winter. Therefore had\nthey decided, with great moral satisfaction, in the interests of self,\nof government, and of mankind exactly what their correct course should\nbe.\n\nBefore the evening had worn away, Antoine felt himself enjoying the\nbest of spirits. He did not notice, when one of the men asked him to\npass the matches, that two of the others behind him were fumbling\namong some tangled thongs and ropes. He did not notice, until too\nlate, a quick movement by which he was thrown on his back and quickly\nbound hand and foot, his hands behind his back. Attempts to reach\nhis sheath-knife, frantic yells, squirmings, and attempts to bite\nthe binding thongs were lost in a roar of laughter which greeted him\nwhen he was tumbled to one side of the camp like a strangled bear, to\ncurse in French, and threaten them with every dreadful thing that the\nnorthern Indian has learned to fear. They only laughed at him as his\nstore clothes became grimy and his urbane veneer disappeared. They\nlaughed all the more, these merry Men of the Lake, when the boxes had\nbeen broken open with their keen axes and the corks pulled from a score\nof flat bottles, whose limpid contents disappeared down their throats\nbetween gurgles of liquid and gurgles of laughter and jokes.\n\nNow for two days this merry camp of Bacchus made the forests echo\nwith songs and cries, some from the throats of the Men of the Lake,\ngrowing louder each hour, others growing feebler each hour from the\nthroat of Antoine. Had the People of the Interior been within hearing\ndistance, they might have thought that a band of marauding enemies had\nengaged one another in warfare on their peaceful river. And no doubt\nthey would have gone into concealment until some of their scouts could\nhave learned the cause of it. But it so happened that they were delayed\nmany miles up the river at one of the portages; several invalids had\nrequired attention. When all were able to resume their journey they\ndescended by easy stages to favor the condition of their patients.\n\nIt was not until the second day after the demolition of the boxes\nand their contents in Antoine\u2019s bivouac, that the flotilla carrying\nthe People of the Interior swung around a point of the river, and\ncame down upon the camp, where by this time all the merrymakers were\nstrewn about in a profound sleep. Cautiously and reverently stepping\nashore, the foremost men in the canoes of the People of the Interior\nbelieved that they had come upon a camp of the dead, although, as\nthey afterward remarked, the odor pervading the air was not exactly\nof a funereal taint. It took but a few moments for them to connect\nthe circumstances. It took but a few more for them to connect with a\ndozen of the flat bottles whose contents had either been reserved for\nthis special occasion by the thoughtful Men of the Lake, or had been\noverlooked in the surge of feeling which had followed their first\nattack upon the load. It now became the turn of the People of the\nInterior to show solicitude for those men of the People of the Lake,\nwho had so sacrificed their loyalty to their employer for the sake of\ntheir kinsmen. Even Antoine was stripped of his thongs and stood upon\nhis feet. But two days of fasting and exposure in the damp moss in his\nwet store clothes, with nothing to eat or drink, had about exhausted\nhis constitution. His companions were the first to resuscitate, and\nit was from their lips that the story of the event was learned by the\nbewildered People of the Interior.\n\nA day or so later, refreshed with sleep, fresh fish, and cold water,\nthe whole company pushed off from the shore. The People of the Interior\ncontinued their journey to the Post, but among some of them a change\nhad taken place which was to affect in particular the relationship of\ntwo individuals. These two were Good-ground and Mirage.\n\n FRANK G. SPECK\n\n\n\n\n Hanging-flower, the Iroquois\n\n\n I\n\nShe was born in a bark house. Her mother, Rising-sun, was surprised as\nshe looked at the little face, for she felt that once before, long ago,\nshe had seen that face, and presently the assurance came to her that\nthe child was the image of her great-grandmother, Rising-sun\u2019s mother\u2019s\nmother, whom she had often seen when she herself was a little girl.\nHanging-flower had been a great medicine woman in her day, and the fame\nof her art had spread far and wide; on one occasion, it was claimed,\nshe had even cured a woman of insanity. Rising-sun could not hesitate\nlong: she wished to name the baby Hanging-flower.\n\nSoon after this, when Rising-sun had regained her health and vigor,\nshe called on Clear-as-a-brook, the Keeper of names of the Bear\nclan, to which Rising-sun belonged. From her the mother learned that\nHanging-flower, a remote relative of Rising-sun, of whom she remembered\nhaving heard, had recently died and that her name had been \u201cput away\nin a box.\u201d The mother knew now that nothing stood in the way of the\nrealization of her desire: Hanging-flower was to be the name of her\nlittle girl.\n\nWhen the fall came, Rising-sun began to get ready for the great Green\nCorn Festival, and on the second day of the festivities she carried\nlittle Hanging-flower to the Long House where her name was ceremonially\nbestowed upon her, in the presence of all the people.\n\n\n II\n\nThe first summers of Hanging-flower\u2019s life passed uneventfully.\nRising-sun was a kind mother; for hours she talked to little\nHanging-flower in soft, soothing tones, and at night she sang her to\nsleep with her doleful, monotonous lullabies. When harvesting time\ncame and Rising-sun was busy in the cornfields with the other women,\nHanging-flower was wrapped and tied securely to her carrying-board,\nwhich was then hung on a branch of an elm tree; there, gently swayed by\nthe wind, Hanging-flower slept, while her mother was hard at work.\n\n\n III\n\nThe summers passed, and Hanging-flower was a baby no longer. Her mother\ntaught her the art of cooking; she also began to help when the corn was\npounded in large, wooden mortars. Soon she learned how to embroider.\nAnd as her fingers grew nimble and her eyes fond of the colored beads\nand wampum shells, she began to feel that the world of buds and\nflowers and leaves was her own, hers and her mother\u2019s and of the other\nwomen;\u2014the men knew nothing of such things.\n\nOnce, when Rising-sun\u2019s brother was staying for a visit, Hanging-flower\novertook him at work on a small False Face; for a long time she watched\nhim unobserved, and when he was gone, she practiced carving on bits of\nwood and bark until she felt that she was as good at it as any man. But\nof this she never spoke nor did she show her work to any one, as she\nhad been taught that carving was not woman\u2019s work.\n\n\n IV\n\nThe summers passed and Hanging-flower became a maiden. Her eyes were\nlarge, black and deep, and her hair which she wore in two large\nbraids, fell heavily from her shoulders. As she passed along the\nroad, some boys looked intently at her while others turned their eyes\naway and hurried their steps. But, one and all, she passed them by.\nHanging-flower had become a great dancer, and many a flattering comment\nwas heard among the older men and women as they watched her dance with\nthe others at the Strawberry and Raspberry Festivals.\n\n\n V\n\nAt the next berrying season Hanging-flower joined a group of young men\nand girls and together they went off to the woods. Old Ringing-voice,\nthe great story-teller, was with them.\n\nEvery night, when the day\u2019s work was done and the boys and girls\nreturned to camp with their baskets heaped full of red, juicy\nberries, they would all sit around the fire, while Quick-of-hand and\nShe-works-in-the-house, who were reputed for their skill in cooking,\nprepared a delicious soup of corn meal, after which, berries in great\nquantities were eaten. Then Ringing-voice would light his pipe and\nleaning his back against a tree stump, the legs drawn up so that the\nknees almost touched his chin, he would begin to talk, in slow and\nmeasured phrases. It is here that Hanging-flower first learned of\nthe language of the animals and of the great warrior who had been so\nkind to the beasts and birds of the woods and the fields, and who was\nbrought to life by their efforts after he had succumbed to the arrows\nof the Sioux. She learned of the great medicine, ga\u2019-n\u1e51-da, which\nthe animals made of parts of their own bodies and gave to the warrior\nto be used as a cure for all sickness. She was thrilled as she listened\nto the story of Pale-face, the pure youth, who started out alone and,\nwandering through the woods, met the pygmies and learned from them the\nPygmy or Dark Dance, which, her mother had told her, she would herself\none day perform. And for many evenings in succession, the boys and\ngirls were spellbound as Ringing-voice recounted the great story of the\nfoundation of the League, of Deganaw\u012bda and Hayenhw\u00e1htha, the great\nchiefs, who organized the League and prescribed the Law and established\nthe Great Peace.\n\nOne night, as they were sitting around the fire, and Ringing-voice\nwas absorbed in his tale, Hanging-flower suddenly became aware\nthat some one was looking at her. She turned her head and saw\nStraight-as-an-arrow, the tall, slim youth, who was staring at her with\nlarge wondering eyes. She looked away, and not once during the long\nevening did she turn her head again.\n\nEvening after evening, while listening to the stories, Hanging-flower\nfelt his gaze fixed upon her. She never turned, she was afraid even to\nmove, but she knew that his eyes were fixed upon her.\n\nOne night, when the moon was not shining and all was quiet in the camp,\nhe came upon her like the wind. Seized with terror, Hanging-flower\nwanted to scream. Her lips parted, but no sound came; her heart was\nbeating fast and she lay there in the wet grass, hot and trembling.\n\nWhen next spring came a baby was born to Hanging-flower. It made no\nsound when it came, for it was dead. On the evening of that day, two\nforms, wrapped in blankets, slipped out of the bark house; one was\ncarrying a small bundle in her arms. Quietly as shadows they glided\nalong the road, until they reached the cemetery of the Bear clan. And\nthere the two women buried the little, nameless thing that had come\nunasked for and unwelcome. No one had seen them, no one knew; and after\na while, Hanging-flower herself forgot what had happened.\n\n\n VI\n\nSome time later Rising-sun paid a visit to her sister\u2019s village. It so\nhappened that the Bean Feast was being held at that time. Rising-sun\nwent to the Long House with her sister and her people. There she saw\nFleet-of-foot, the great runner, and so charmed was she with his form,\ngraceful as that of a deer, that she could not take her eyes off him.\nAfter the feast, Rising-sun spoke to Fleet-of-foot\u2019s mother. She asked\nCorn-planter to visit her at the home village.\n\n\n VII\n\nIn a little while, Corn-planter came to visit Rising-sun. With her\nhostess she went to the fields where the corn was ripe and the women\nwere busy harvesting it. She saw the long rows of bent backs, and the\ngreen and yellow cobs which would show for an instant over the left\nshoulders of the women, presently to disappear into the large baskets\non their backs.\n\n\u201cThat young girl in the third row,\u201d exclaimed Corn-planter, \u201cseems to\ndo work for two. Look how her hands fly through the corn!\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is Hanging-flower,\u201d answered Rising-sun, \u201cmy daughter. And a good\nwife she would make for Fleet-of-foot, the runner.\u201d\n\n\u201cLet her cook a basket of corn bread,\u201d said Corn-planter,\n\u201cFleet-of-foot will be ready.\u201d\n\n\n VIII\n\nThat night Rising-sun told Hanging-flower that the time had come for\nher to be married, and that Fleet-of-foot, the great runner, was ready\nto accept her basket of corn bread. Saying not a word, Hanging-flower\ngot busy with the corn meal and before morning the basket of bread was\nready. Hanging-flower started on her way early, and by noon she had\nreached Corn-planter\u2019s village. The boys were running races when she\narrived. With wide open eyes she stood, as Fleet-of-foot rushed by\nher, as if carried by the wind. Hanging-flower shut her eyes ... and\nit seemed to her that she heard the rustling of the pines; she felt\nherself lying in the wet grass, hot and trembling; and through the mist\nshe saw two shapes wrapped in blankets, bending over a nameless thing\nwhich they buried in the ground....\n\nWhen the races were over Hanging-flower saw Fleet-of-foot resting\non a stump of wood in front of his mother\u2019s house. Then she stepped\nforward and placed the basket of corn bread before him on the ground.\nFleet-of-foot rose and said nothing. He only looked at Hanging-flower\nwith a sharp, piercing look and, taking the basket, entered the\nhouse. In a while Corn-planter appeared in the doorway. She invited\nHanging-flower to step inside, and Hanging-flower had her meal with\nCorn-planter and her people. The sun was still high when she started on\nher way back and before nightfall she reached her village.\n\nWhen Hanging-flower fell asleep that night she saw some deer running\namong the trees. One of the deer was larger and fleeter than the\nothers. Hanging-flower was trying to catch it. Again and again she felt\nherself flying through the air, in pursuit, but just as she was about\nto seize it, it eluded her.\n\nIn the morning of the following day Fleet-of-foot arrived before the\nhouse where Hanging-flower lived with her people. As she saw him enter,\nshe rose to her feet. In his hand he held a necklace of blue and white\nwampum beads. Presently he took them in both hands and placed them\nabout her neck. Then Hanging-flower knew that she had a husband.\n\nThe Long House in which Hanging-flower had lived with her mother\nand several other families had been crowded for some time, and\nFleet-of-foot decided that they had to start a new home for themselves.\nMany men and women, most of them relatives of Hanging-flower, helped\nthe young couple to build a small bark house, and before many moons had\npassed the house was ready and Hanging-flower and Fleet-of-foot began\nto live there.\n\nAs the summers passed, other couples came to live in the house, and\nextensions were built to it, to accommodate the ever-growing numbers.\nThis continued for some time, until the house became a Long House, like\nthe others.\n\n\n IX\n\nWhen the next berrying season came, a son was born to Hanging-flower;\nand having consulted Spring-blossoms, her mother\u2019s mother,\nHanging-flower gave him the name Glad-tidings. As Hanging-flower was\nlying on her bed and her blood was hot in her, she heard the sound of\nrattles outside and she saw her brother take his turtle rattle and join\nthe False Faces, who were passing through the village. Hanging-flower\nknew that Glad-tidings was one day to become a chief, and that night\nshe carved a little False Face and hid it in her bag, for she had heard\nthe rattles and she knew that some day her son was to be a leader of\nthe False Faces. Hanging-flower was very beautiful, as she lay there on\nher bed. Her large black eyes were even larger and deeper than usual;\nshe had looked into the future.\n\n\n X\n\nMany summers passed and Glad-tidings had become a strong and handsome\nyouth. He was very young, but the older men thought him wise and\ncool-headed. The women were wild over him, but he had no eyes for them.\nHe would rather sit with the older men, always inquiring about ancient\nthings and eager to learn the laws and traditions of his people.\n\nOne day, while Hanging-flower was pounding corn back of her house, a\npiercing sound was heard on the road, gw\u0101-\u00e1! gw\u0101-\u00e1! gw\u0101-\u00e1!\nHanging-flower shuddered, for she knew that a chief was dead. Soon the\nnews came that Power-of-thunder, her brother, had been killed by a\nstray arrow during an encounter with the Sioux.\n\nSpring-blossoms and Rising-sun were dead and Hanging-flower was the\nmatron of her family now. When she heard the mournful news, she began\nto think of Glad-tidings. He was young, but wise and strong, and there\nwas no other man in the family who might be made chief in his stead.\n\nIn a few days a Council of the family was called by Hanging-flower.\nThere were some men at the Council, but mostly women, and although\nsome other Bear people were there, most of those present belonged to\nHanging-flower\u2019s family. When they were all assembled, Hanging-flower\nbegan to speak and as she spoke, all were silent. She spoke of\nGlad-tidings\u2019 youth, but recalled the many indications of wisdom and\ncharacter which he had given, and before closing, she nominated her son\nto be chief in place of Power-of-thunder, her brother.\n\nFor many days after this, Hanging-flower was busy calling on the other\nchiefs of her tribe. First she called on those who belonged to the\nbrother clans and then on those who were of the cousin clans, and when\nher nominee was ratified by all these chiefs, she brought his name\nbefore the Great Council of the chiefs of the League, who also approved\nof her choice.\n\nAnd so it came that before the corn was gathered in that fall,\nGlad-tidings was made chief in place of his mother\u2019s brother.\n\n\n XI\n\nSome summers passed and strange rumors began to reach Hanging-flower.\nFirst came Full-moon, and in many words told the mother that\nGlad-tidings was suspected of having made a dishonorable agreement\nwith the Sioux. He had promised, she averred, to exercise his\ninfluence with the warriors of his people so that they would not\nattack the Sioux while the latter were fighting the Algonquin. Then\nCrossing-of-the-roads came, Fleet-of-foot\u2019s brother, and he spoke in\ngrave tones about the dishonor that Glad-tidings\u2019 act had brought upon\nhis people. Day after day, men and women came and spoke earnestly and\nvehemently to Hanging-flower, and the tenor of the news they brought\nwas always the same.\n\n\n XII\n\nHanging-flower was pale and haggard now, and from day to day she was\nlosing weight. But one day she felt that she was mother no longer, but\nthe matron of her family. She called on Glad-tidings, the chief, and\nstanding before him, admonished him in ceremonial terms to desist from\nhis shameful ways, which were bringing dishonor upon his people. But\nshould he persist, such were her parting words, she would call on him\nagain, and then once more, accompanied by the Chief Warrior, and then\nshe would depose him and he would be chief no longer.\n\nThe days passed and the rumors persisted. Hanging-flower called on\nGlad-tidings for the second time; and when she had spoken, he said\nnothing. In a little while, she called on him for the third time,\naccompanied by the Chief Warrior. As both of them stood facing\nGlad-tidings, the Chief Warrior said: \u201cI will now admonish you for the\nlast time, and if you continue to resist acceding to and obeying our\nrequest, then your duties as chief of our family and clan will cease,\nand I shall take the deer\u2019s horns from off your head, and with a broad\nstrong-edged ax I shall cut the tree down.\u201d Having spoken thus, the\nChief Warrior \u201ctook the deer\u2019s horns off Glad-tidings\u2019 head,\u201d and\nhanded them to Hanging-flower, for from now on Glad-tidings was chief\nno longer.\n\nHanging-flower then went to the Council house and informed the other\nchiefs, in person, that Glad-tidings had been deposed. As she spoke,\nher heart broke, for she knew that \u201cthe coals had gone out on the fire\u201d\nof her family, and the chieftainship was lost.\n\nA few days after this, Full-moon called on Hanging-flower and informed\nher in many words that Feathered-arrow, Full-moon\u2019s son, was to be\nchief in Glad-tidings\u2019 place and that the chiefs of the League had\ntransferred the chieftainship to her family.\n\nIn the evening of that day Hanging-flower, wrapped in a blanket, went\noutside of the village. For a long time she stood there, on the hill\nabove the cornfields. Her thoughts turned to the past and for a long\ntime she was lost in memories.... But of the future she did not care to\nthink.\n\n ALEXANDER A. GOLDENWEISER\n\n\n\n\n The Thunder Power of Rumbling-wings\n\n\nThe strange events of which I write, took place in the summer of 1840,\nwhen I, then a man in the full vigor of my early forties, chanced to\nbe in charge of a museum expedition sent to explore an ancient Lenape\nburial site situated on a hilltop in the northwestern part of the State\nof New Jersey.\n\nOn the tenth day of June we encountered an unusually deep grave of\ncircular form, some six feet in diameter, in which, at a distance from\nthe surface of perhaps seven feet, we encountered a number of slabs of\nstone piled up in the form of a cairn.\n\nRemoving these with care, we found beneath them a skeleton, which, when\ncarefully uncovered and brushed off, proved to be of a full-grown man,\nlying on his right side, with his knees drawn up at right angles to\nhis body and his hands near his face. Beside his crumbling breastbone\nlay a tiny mask of stone, bearing two little perforations which showed\nthe wear of a suspending cord, and near it a knife blade of purple\nargillite and a small pipe of baked clay, bearing a very neat pattern,\ndrawn into its surface with a sharp point while the material was still\nsoft. At each side of the skull were the chalky remains of some shell\nbeads, rather larger and coarser than wampum, but similar in form;\nwhile near the feet a little pile of neatly-made flint arrow points\ntold of the one-time presence of a sheaf or quiver of arrows.\n\nWhat arch\u00e6ologist has not sat upon the brink of a newly uncovered,\nancient grave and wished that the fleshless jaws before him could speak\nand tell their story? Or wished that he himself could be transported\nbackward in time for a brief space to learn something of the life of a\nbygone day? So I sat and so I wished; and then we photographed our find\nas it lay, and removed the specimens for safe keeping.\n\nAs the hour was late, we did not touch the bones, however, intending to\nremove them upon the morrow, and so we left them for the night, still\nsurrounded by some of the stone slabs.\n\nAfter dark I bethought myself that I had forgotten to bring in my\nnotebook, and recalled that I had left it on the pile of dirt beside\nthe grave, and so, guiding my steps by the flickering flashes of\nlightning from an approaching thunder-shower, I made my way thither.\nI remember that I had found the book and had just turned back toward\nthe camp, holding out my hand to feel the first splashes of rain, when\na blinding flash and a violent concussion sent me reeling, reeling,\ndown,\u2014into darkness....\n\nWhen I came to myself I could see nothing, but I knew it was raining\nsteadily; I could hear the drops patter on the leaves; I could feel\nthem on my body.\n\nOn my body? I must be naked! I felt my chest, it was bare and wet, my\narms likewise. What had become of my clothes? I felt at my waist; it\nwas belted, and in front hung something like a little apron, wet and\nslimy. My legs? I felt, and found them encased in long stockings of\nsome sort, reaching nearly to the hips, and I could feel that some sort\nof supporters ran from them to the belt. My feet seemed covered with\nthe same soft stockings which, like the apron, felt wet and slimy to\nthe touch.\n\nAs I bent over to feel of my feet, something brushed against my cheek,\nsomething hard and cold, yet light and almost clinging. I put up my\nhand and felt; it seemed to be a string or rather loop of little beads.\n\nThen I followed up with my fingers and found that the loop, with a\nnumber of other loops were, somehow or other, firmly attached to my ear\nin several different places from the lobe upward. I felt around and\ndiscovered there were so many of them that the top of the ear was bent\nover by their weight, and the lobe was somewhat stretched. I felt of\neach separate loop; each was firmly attached; and the other ear was in\nsimilar shape. I shook my head and could feel the swinging weight of\nthem.\n\nPuzzled, I started to run my fingers through my hair\u2014a favorite habit\nof mine, and found that I had none! That is none to speak of\u2014it was\nvery short indeed, almost as if shaven, except for a bristly crest like\na mule\u2019s mane, which ran from front to back over the top of my head,\nand ended in a little pigtail or queue in the back.\n\nSomething moving against my breast as I moved, I felt it and found a\nlittle hard, cold, oval object slung from a string about my neck; near\nit on another string hung a wet and slimy bag, and what felt like a\nsmall knife in a sheath.\n\nI was puzzled indeed\u2014I could not make out what had happened to me. As I\nsat thinking, I must have dropped off into a doze in spite of the rain,\nfor when I opened my eyes again it was daylight.\n\nI looked about me; it was still raining and a brisk wind stirred the\ntree tops; but I seemed to be in a strange, wild country for, although\nto my left I could look off over a valley, my eye met no houses, roads,\nor clearings, just a waste of tossing tree tops, in fact no sign of man\nexcept a distant blur of smoke, rising apparently from among the trees.\nI looked behind me; there stood a great tree, its wood showing white,\nits bark practically stripped off, while broken branches littered the\nground. It had been struck by lightning.\n\nI looked at my hands; they were lean, and tawny in color instead of fat\nand freckled as I knew them; I looked at my legs; they were encased in\nsoiled and worn buckskin leggings; upon my feet were moccasins puckered\nto a single seam down the front, near which were traces of colored\npatterns now nearly worn away\u2014and still I did not understand.\n\nI pulled the queue around and looked at it; the hair was black and\nneatly braided, whereas my own, in those days, was red; I pulled around\nthe beads attached to my ears; they were white and apparently made of\nshell, but were too close to my eyes to see plainly.\n\nThen I investigated the things hung about my neck, and noted, with a\nstart, that the oval, hard object was the little stone mask we had\nfound in the grave. I pulled the knife from its sheath; it was of\nstone\u2014argillite\u2014not purple from age, but black, fresh-looking, sharp.\nAnd when I looked in the bag, I found what I had come to expect, the\nlittle, decorated pipe of clay, and with it some damp, shriveled leaves\nwhich must have been some sort of tobacco.\n\nI could not avoid the conclusion; I was somehow transported back into\nprehistoric times, and had assumed the body and belongings of the\nIndian whose skeleton we had unearthed.\n\nIf this were true, I must have some weapons, I thought, and soon I\nfound them\u2014a five-foot, straight bow, lying beneath the broken branches\nthat had fallen from the lightning-blasted tree, and a buckskin quiver.\nI pulled out the arrows; their points were of flint. I noticed that\nthe sinew filaments that fastened them to the shafts were loosening\nfrom the dampness, and I found myself instinctively twirling each one\nbetween my fingers until the sinew was tight again. The carcass of a\ndeer lay also among the fallen branches, evidently a victim of the bow.\n\nI noticed that I was feeling hungry so I slung my quiver, picked up my\nbow, and then, after a moment\u2019s hesitation, shouldered the deer and\nstarted down the hill toward the smoke.\n\nAfter a while I found a trail leading in the right direction; this\nI followed until I reached the brink of a bluff from which I could\nplainly see the roofs of a number of bark houses above which rose the\nnaked limbs of dead trees, making a strong contrast to the living,\ngreen forest all about them.\n\nAs I looked, I heard voices of people ascending the hill. I slipped\ninto the bushes with my burden, out of sight but where I could peer\nout. The voices belonged to a number of men, apparently setting forth\nupon the hunt, armed with bows like mine. I noticed most of them wore\nleggings and moccasins of more or less the same shape as my own; that\ntheir hair with a few exceptions was cut like mine, and that they\nwore in their ears either strings of beads like mine, or tufts of\ndowny feathers. And I noticed with surprise that I could understand,\nperfectly, their language.\n\nFrom all this I judged that they must belong to the same tribe as\nmyself and that it must be safe to proceed, so, after they had passed,\nI stepped from my hiding-place and went on down the hill and into the\nvillage.\n\nThe first thing to strike my eye was a big, rectangular, barn-like\nwigwam which stood near the middle of a large open square or plaza, the\nroof made of sheets of bark held in place with poles, and pinned at the\nridge with two smoke holes. The sides were of logs; the door, which\noccupied the middle of the end facing me, was closed with some sort of\ncurtain.\n\nAbout the plaza stood fifteen or twenty smaller houses of similar form,\nbut from a half to a quarter the size; these had but one smoke hole in\nthe roof; and the sides, like the roofs, were of bark.\n\nSome of these roofs were extended forward to form a sort of porch in\nfront of the wigwam; in other cases a separate little shed stood in\nfront, provided with a bark roof of its own, but open on all sides.\nFrom these sheds and porches rose a haze of blue smoke wafting a savory\nsmell.\n\nBeside me, at the edge of the plaza, stood one of the dead trees, the\nbark of which had been girdled round; and I could see blackened stumps\nwhere others had stood; while many such dead trees rose stark and naked\nfrom the garden patches about the village. I found out later that, in\nclearing land for village or garden, the custom was to chop the bark\naround the trees so that they died, to let them stand until thoroughly\ndry, then to fell them with the aid of fire and, splitting them up with\nwedges, use them for wood as needed.\n\nSeeing some women standing beneath a shed from which came a hollow,\nthumping sound I made my way thither. Suddenly one of the group darted\nout from under the shed and came running toward me with a glad cry.\n\u201cOh Flying-wolf! So you have come back safe to me after all!\u201d she\nexclaimed, grasping me affectionately by the arm and leading me toward\none of the wigwams. \u201cSo the Mengwe did not get you after all! I am so\nhappy!\u201d\n\nThinking that this must be the wife of the man whose body I had taken,\nand that I must say something, I remarked, \u201cYes, I have really come.\u201d\n\n\u201cAh!\u201d she said with concern, looking up into my face, \u201chow hungry you\nmust be! I cooked your favorite stew against your return last night,\nbut you did not appear, and the boy and I never touched it; I can warm\nit for you in just a little while. Hang the deer on the tree in the\nold place and go to your bed and rest until I have it ready; you must\nbe tired. Or wait,\u201d she added, \u201cI will spread a fresh mat I finished\nyesterday.\u201d\n\nShe passed into the wigwam and I followed, to find myself in a\ndwelling, the most noticeable feature of which was a pair of wide\nplatforms or benches, one along the wall on each side, raised some two\nor three feet above the floor and covered with mats. Back of these\nbenches or bunks, the wall was lined with colored mats; and the space\nbeneath them was filled with assorted bags, baskets and bundles, while\nfrom the roof hung other bags and bundles, and a string or two of corn,\nthe ears braided together by the husk. Behind the poles supporting the\nroof, was thrust a half-finished bow; near it hung a bundle of sprouts\nintended, probably, for arrows.\n\nThe woman spread a fresh mat on one of the platforms. \u201cLie here,\u201d she\nsaid, \u201cI will build the fire inside here instead of out in the shed;\nour house feels damp after the rain.\u201d\n\nI watched her as she went out, and saw her taking down some large\nobject from a shelf in the shed, and by the time I had stretched myself\non the mat she returned with a large, egg-shaped, earthen pot, and\nset its pointed end between three stones placed for the purpose in the\nfireplace in the center of the wigwam, and began to stir the ashes with\na long stick. Finally she uncovered some live coals, left from the\nnight before, and gathering them in a heap with her stick, she placed\nsome fibrous stuff, which looked like shredded cedar bark, upon them\nand began to blow into it. Soon she had a lively blaze, which she fed\nwith small sticks until it was well started.\n\nPulling the fire about the base of the pot, she soon had it bubbling,\nand, before long, set before me a wooden bowl of steaming, savory stew\nof meat, corn and beans. Beside the first bowl she placed another,\ncontaining flat dumplings, which proved to be made of crushed, hulled\ncorn flavored with berries, rather heavy but delicious.\n\nOn the edge of the stew bowl hung a short, wide, wooden spoon. As I\nate, she sat on the edge of the bench just opposite me and chatted\nhappily of this and that, rarely pausing for an answer\u2014for which I was\nthankful.\n\nBetween mouthfuls, I looked her over. She was a comely young woman\nof twenty-five or thirty, ever showing her even, white teeth in a\nsmile, her kindly face as yet but little weather-beaten. Her black\nhair was neatly parted in the middle and brought back and fastened at\nthe nape of her neck with a sort of long, cylindrical knot which was\nwrapped in beads; several short loops of beads hung from the rims of\nher ears where there were evidently, as in my own case, a number of\nsmall perforations, while each lobe showed a hole perhaps a quarter\nof an inch in diameter. About her neck were many strings of beads of\ndifferent sorts; some looked to be of dried berries or seeds; others of\nbone, while some were certainly of shell, and one string looked like\ncopper.\n\nThe upper part of her plump body was naked but for these beads; from\nher waist hung a skirt of buckskin reaching below the knees, neatly\nfringed and bearing a wide, embroidered border with an intricate design\nin colors; it was evidently a flat, robe-like piece wrapped about her\nwaist, belted taut, and the top edge folded down over the belt. Her\nlegs were covered by leggings, her little feet in moccasins, both\nleggings and moccasins being of deerskin and embroidered with what I\nafterwards found to be dyed deer hair and porcupine quills. Both wrists\nwere wound with strings of beads.\n\nAs I ate, she talked on: \u201cYour mother was over yesterday from the\nPulling-corn village. She says she is making you a fine robe of four\nsoft, dressed deerskins, and is decorating the back with a large\npicture of your Guardian Spirit, the mask being done in the little\nshells she bought from those southern tribesmen who came up the river\nin that big canoe\u2014you remember. She gave them in exchange her whole\nstock of healing herbs, and had to work like a beaver to dig another\nlot of the little roots before winter set in.\n\n\u201cShe says she is going to sew each little shell on separately\u2014you know\neach has a little hole rubbed into it\u2014so that even if one breaks loose\nthe others will not come off. Talking of trading, when are you going\nto get me that pair of Cherokee shell ear-pins you promised me? That\nold Shawnee woman in Possum-ground village has some and there is not\nanother pair in Lenape land. See, I have stretched the holes in my ears\non purpose for them.\n\n\u201cAnd speaking of making things, when are you going to finish that big,\nwooden bowl for me? You brought the maple burl home long ago, yet you\nonly have it partly burned out, and there it lies beneath the sleeping\nbirch, and right by it is a whole basket full of little slabs and\npieces of sandstone for grinding it smooth.\n\n\u201cI know you have no flint scrapers, but don\u2019t you remember you buried\na lot of half-finished arrow points and little blocks of flint to keep\nthem fresh, just outside one corner of the shed? They ought to be moist\nenough to work easily and you could make all the scrapers you want in a\nlittle while.\n\n\u201cThe reason I need it now is because our son took the big old feast\nbowl out to play canoe with, the other day when I was not looking. It\nwas all right until three or four other little boys tried to stand in\nit, too, all at the same time, then it split and is ruined. It made me\nfeel sad because that was the bowl that grandfather made for mother\nwhen she and father built their first wigwam. I shall have to borrow\nanother bowl for to-night.\u201d\n\nDuring all this I had said as little as possible, for I did not want to\nshow my ignorance of all these things. I could not bear to spoil her\nhappiness and let her discover that I was not really her husband. Now,\nhowever, I ventured to inquire, \u201cWhat is going to happen to-night?\u201d\n\n\u201cI forgot to tell you,\u201d she replied, \u201clast night when you were away,\nour war chief came to see you with a number of the elders from here,\nand other villages. They are going to get up a big war party to punish\nthe Mengwe who, you know, are getting too bold. You remember how one\nof their scalping parties killed my poor brother last year when they\ncaught him alone out hunting; and how they killed your friend Breaker\nbut a few moons ago. Last night when you did not come home I feared\nthey had got you.\n\n\u201cThe war chief says you know more about those trails to the north than\nany other Lenape\u2014that is of our Unami tribe\u2014and they want you to lead\nthe party. Everybody said they had full confidence in your judgment and\nyour bravery.\n\n\u201cI hate to have you go because it is so dangerous, and our son and I\nneed our hunter yet a while, yet,\u201d she smiled sadly, \u201cI am proud of\nmy warrior too; the tribe needs you, and the ghost of my poor brother\ncries for vengeance.\n\n\u201cI told them to come again to-night and so they will be here I suppose.\nThey spoke of bringing our tribal head chief, too. I was looking for\nwomen to help me cook for them, among that party pounding corn in that\narbor, when you came into the village.\u201d\n\nAs she finished, I realized that the crisis had come; I could keep my\nsecret no longer. I had not enough knowledge of tribal affairs to talk\nwith the delegation, let alone lead a war party. I must tell her the\ntruth, or at least that part of it I felt she could understand.\n\nSo I said to her. \u201cListen, my mate. You have been so glad to see me\ncome home that I have hated to spoil your joy. But something happened\nto me last night\u2014I know not what\u2014and when I awoke this morning I found\nI had forgotten everything I ever knew. I did not even recognize my own\nclothing and body; I did not know myself to be Flying-wolf until you\nnamed me. I found my way to this village by accident, and know you to\nbe my wife only by your actions; and at this minute I do not remember\nyour name. Of our life I remember only the language; as for leading a\nwar party, making a wooden bowl, or even hunting meat for you, all are\nequally impossible. I could no more do these things than a blind puppy,\nnot because I do not want to do them, but because I have forgotten how.\u201d\n\nShe slid off the bench and coming straight across the wigwam grasped me\nby the shoulders with her two hands and looked full into my eyes. \u201cIs\nthis true, Flying-wolf?\u201d she asked.\n\n\u201cYes,\u201d I choked.\n\nShe stepped to the door and looked out for a while in silence; when she\nturned to me again her cheeks were wet. \u201cPerhaps,\u201d she said, \u201cif you\nshould see your son whom you always loved so, your memory would come\nback.\u201d\n\nShe went out. Shortly she returned with a bright-looking little lad\nabout eight years old, his long, black hair hanging loose, his lithe\nbody naked except for a little string about his neck where hung some\nlittle bones which my experienced eye recognized as those of a turtle.\n\n\u201cFather,\u201d he cried, \u201cwhy did you send mother after me? I was having\nsuch a good time down at the creek with the boys\u2014we were playing\nThunder-Beings hunting for horned water-serpents.\u201d\n\nI laid my hand on his head and said, \u201cAll right, son, then run right\nback there and play.\u201d I met his mother\u2019s questioning eyes, and shook my\nhead.\n\nAfter sitting in a miserable silence a while, she asked: \u201cWhere did you\nawake this morning?\u201d\n\n\u201cOn that hill over yonder,\u201d I replied, pointing, \u201cunder a tree. I would\nknow the place again because the wood of that tree shows naked and\nwhite, half the bark has been torn off by lightning. It must have been\nstruck lately because the broken limbs lying about it are still green.\u201d\n\n\u201cNow I know what the matter is,\u201d she cried, springing to her feet. \u201cYou\nhave been struck by one of the Thunder\u2019s arrows. And I know who can\nhelp you.\u201d She darted out.\n\nShe returned with a fine-looking elderly man whose long, iron-gray hair\nhung loose upon his shoulders, except for one little braid at the back,\nto which were tied several fine, large, eagle feathers, white with\nblack tips. From the outer corner of each eye a blue line, apparently\ntattooed, ran zigzag down across his cheeks to his chin; on his naked\nbreast was tattooed a rude but striking figure of a bird with wings\nspread, surrounded by many other zigzag lines. Here hung suspended from\na string that passed around his neck, a tiny model of a war club, its\nball-like head painted red.\n\n\u201cThis is Rumbling-wings,\u201d said my wife. \u201cIf any one can help you, he\ncan.\u201d And so I told him my story as I had told it to her.\n\nHe pondered for a while, then turned to my wife. \u201cRun down to the\nspring, Whispering-leaves,\u201d he said, \u201cand get us some fresh water.\u201d\nWhen she had disappeared with the bark bucket, he said, \u201cI think I\nunderstand what the matter is. Flying-wolf, whose body you occupy, must\nhave been killed or stunned by the Thunder arrow, and your spirit,\nwhich must have been floating near, took possession of his body. Where\nyou come from I know not, but you must have been thinking of us and\nour time, when your spirit was driven from its body by another Thunder\narrow. Whispering-leaves must not know this\u2014that her real husband may\nbe dead.\n\n\u201cWhat can you do? You can either make up your mind to live out your\nlife among us and learn to be what she expects of her husband, or you\ncan go to that same hilltop with me some day, and I will call back\nthe Thunders to set you free again. Then maybe, if your own body has\nnot been destroyed, you may return to it, and, perhaps, Flying-wolf\u2019s\nspirit, if it has not already gone to the Land of Ghosts, will come\nback to this body. It is all a chance. To-night when the elders and\nchiefs come, lie in your bed here as if sick in body and say nothing; I\nwill explain to them. As to what you want to do, think about it as long\nas you wish and when you decide, let me know. In the meantime learn all\nyou can and take care of your mate and the boy.\u201d\n\nJust then Whispering-leaves (I was glad to learn her name!) came in\nwith the water, and the old man dipped a gourdful for me, then drank\nhimself. \u201cThanks, daughter,\u201d he said to her, \u201cyour husband has been\nstruck by lightning and his memory is very sick. Be good to him, and\nlittle by little it will come back. But do not expect too much of\nhim at first. If you run short of food let my wife know. And you,\nFlying-wolf,\u201d said he, \u201cwhenever you want to learn something come to my\nhouse. I am alone every night.\u201d He went out.\n\nI looked at Whispering-leaves and she at me; hope shone in her face,\nshe smiled. The more I looked at her, the better I liked her.\n\nThe first night I visited Rumbling-wings, his wife, after spreading a\nmat for me, withdrew, murmuring something about visiting a neighbor for\nthe evening. I had learned by this time the Lenape amenities, and so\nI did not start boldly off with my questions, but chatted quietly of\nthis and that for a while, finally winding up with, \u201cWhy did my wife go\nto you when she heard I had been struck by a Thunder arrow? Why do you\nthink you can call the Thunders to set my spirit free?\u201d\n\n\u201cYou are asking a hard question, my friend,\u201d said Rumbling-wings after\na moment\u2019s cogitation, \u201cand one which a Lenape does not like to\ndiscuss with another. But I realize that you have been cut off from the\nyears of early training that most of our boys go through, and the only\nway I can make you understand is to tell you outright, and I feel that\nmy Guardian Spirit will forgive me.\n\n\u201cIn the first place, you know what the Thunder-Beings are\u2014powerful\nspirits, helpers of the Great Spirit\u2014in form at the same time man-like\nand bird-like. They bring the rain to water our crops and refresh the\nearth. You have often heard the rumbling of their wings in the storm,\nand have seen their arrows of flame shoot toward the earth as they hunt\nthe great horned serpents and other man-destroying monsters which form\ntheir daily food. And it was one of those very arrows which, as you\nknow, started you in life as a Lenape.\n\n\u201cWell, I suppose I must tell you, one of these Thunder-Beings is my\nGuardian Spirit and that is why people say that I am in league with the\nThunder, and have Thunder power, and why they call on me in cases like\nyours.\n\n\u201cThe Thunders must have picked me out for their favor even before I\nwas born, as you will realize when you hear how I come by my name of\nRumbling-wings.\n\n\u201cIt appears that my mother confided to her brother, my uncle, that\nshe was expecting me, and according to our custom she asked him to\ntake particular notice of any dream he might have, in hopes of finding\nout the child\u2019s name. Not long after, he was overtaken at night,\nfar from his village; it was black and stormy and he took refuge\nbeneath an overhanging rock. He found a spot fairly dry, but rough\nand uncomfortable, and he fell into a troubled sleep. Sometime in\nthe night he was awakened by something, he knew not what, and found\nhimself sitting up, listening. He heard a distant rumbling of thunder\namong the mountains which seemed at last to take the form of words:\n\u2018Rumbling-wings is coming, Rumbling-wings is coming.\u2019 ... All this he\ntold my mother, and I was born shortly after.\n\n\u201cWhen the time came for our great autumn ceremony in the Big House\u2014that\nlarge wigwam in the square you passed, coming here to-night, is one\nof them\u2014my uncle took me in his arms and, standing before the centre\npost with its great, carved face of \u2018Mising\u2019 looking down upon me,\nhe announced to the people that my name was Rumbling-wings. Even\nas he spoke there was a crash of thunder, late as it was in the\nmoon-of-falling-leaves, and a wind sighed through the trees about the\nBig House, and they heard drops of rain patter upon the bark roof or\nfall hissing through the smoke holes into the two great fires below.\n\n\u201cPerhaps Whispering-leaves has told you how our people believe that\nafter the birth of a child, its navel string has much to do with its\ndisposition; so, if a girl, they take that string and bury it under\nthe house or in the garden to make her fond of home duties; or, if a\nboy, they hide it out in the woods so he will like the hunt. Well, my\nfather, so he told me, took mine to the wood, and hid it in a hollow\ntree. He had hardly done this when a thunder-shower came up and drove\nhim to shelter; coming back on his way home he found the tree, where he\nhad hidden my navel string, burning. It had been struck by a Thunder\narrow.\n\n\u201cAs a boy I knew nothing of the Thunder power except that when the\ngreat, black clouds fringed with yellow, began to pile up in the west,\nand others, young and old, looked upon them with dread, I alone of\nthe village felt no fear. In fact I used to go out naked into every\nstorm; the crash of thunder was as music to me, the bright flashes were\nbeautiful, the pelting rain refreshed me. And, in truth, I do this yet,\nalways stretching out my arms to my Guardian to thank him for having\nhelped me thus far along the trail.\n\n\u201cBut I did not know who my Guardian Spirit actually was until I had\nseen some twelve or fourteen snows. About this time my parents began to\nact strangely and to speak crossly to me. I did not understand why I\ndeserved such a change in their feelings, and many a time I felt alone\nin the world. They even gave me the poorest part of the meat they had\nto eat, and scraps and leavings of corn bread, and stew that had begun\nto smell sour.\n\n\u201cOne morning I was awakened before dawn by some one punching me in the\nribs with a stick\u2014well I remember how it hurt\u2014and I heard my father\nsay, \u2018We must drive this wretched boy away from here, I can not stand\nhim any longer. Get up from there, dog-like!\u2019 and he punched me again.\nMy mother who had always until lately taken my part in any dispute,\ntook no notice, but bent over the fireplace, and soon a little fire\nbegan to flicker and finally filled our wigwam with light. She went\nto the water jar just inside the door, and I saw her dip into it our\noldest, blackest, greasiest gourd cup. Then she turned to me and\nher face, usually so kind, seemed hard as flint. \u2018Drink, boy,\u2019 she\nordered, handing me that cup, and I wonderingly obeyed.\n\n\u201cThen my father spoke, handing me a burnt and shriveled shred of meat\nno larger than his little finger\u2014a piece full of dirt and grit where it\nhad fallen to the floor. \u2018Eat this, miserable brat,\u2019 he cried, \u2018and get\naway out of my sight.\u2019\n\n\u201cA sudden anger overcame me and I flung the morsel full in his face\nand darted for the door. \u2018Wait,\u2019 I heard him say, \u2018aren\u2019t you going to\nblacken your face? And besides I was going to tell you the rest of it,\nthat you must not come back until you bring with you something great,\nbut you started out too quick!\u2019 Did I see a fleeting smile on his stern\nface? Surely his eyes were twinkling!\n\n\u201cThen it dawned upon me what the matter was; I was expected to fast\nfor power, and all this seeming abuse was nothing but a sham to make\nThose-above-us take pity on me as an outcast, suffering child, and\ngrant me a vision from which I would gain a Guardian Spirit that would\nbe my protector through life. Often had I heard older boys speaking\nof such things, but I had never realized that I, Rumbling-wings, was\nexpected to go through the ordeal.\n\n\u201cThen said my father, \u2018It seems to me I have heard that some boys who\nwere driven away from home, had to go up on Wolf mountain to the east\nend where there is a little cave that was nice to lie in while they\nprayed, because they could look out over the tops of the trees to the\nriver and the hills beyond. Besides,\u2019 he added, \u2018I expect to go hunting\nup that way early to-morrow morning and I shall look into that cave to\nsee if any one is hidden away there.\u2019\n\n\u201cThen indeed I understood, and so under his direction, with my mother\nlooking on, I rubbed my face with charcoal and, throwing about my\nshoulders the oldest and raggedest robe I could find\u2014the one the dog\nhad been using for a bed beneath the sleeping bench\u2014I set out.\n\n\u201cAll day I lay hungry in that little cave while mosquitoes and\ndeer-flies from the woods, and fleas from the dog\u2019s robe bit me\nunmercifully. Yet I looked out over the valley as calmly as I could,\npraying to Those-above-us to take pity on me; yet nothing happened,\nexcept that when the day was nearly spent, a cloud came up behind me\nover Wolf mountain and overspread the sky, then went away grumbling\nwithout letting fall a drop of rain. That night, still hungry, I slept\na troubled sleep and next morning, before sun up, in came my father\nwith a little scrap of meat and a small gourd of water. As I drew out\nthe cob stopper and drank, he asked me, \u2018Have you found anything yet?\u2019\nWhen I replied \u2018No,\u2019 he took the bottle and departed.\n\n\u201cThe same things happened on the two following days, and I got weaker\nand weaker from hunger, yet saw nothing but the black cloud every\nafternoon.\n\n\u201cBut on the afternoon of the fourth day when the cloud came again it\nbrought rain, and heavy thunder, and this, strange as it may seem,\nlulled me to sleep. And in my sleep I dreamed that I stood naked and\nalone on the bare sand hills by the Great-water-where-daylight-appears,\nwith nothing but a wooden war club, with its round head painted red, in\nmy hand. And as I stood arrows came flying through the air from every\ndirection and whispering past my head, struck quivering into the ground\nabout me. But not one touched me, and my heart was unafraid.\n\n\u201cAt this point I was awakened by an unusually loud crash of thunder\nand I opened my eyes to see the shower moving off across the valley,\ncarrying with it a bow of beautiful colors and followed by the rays of\na lowering sun.\n\n\u201cSomehow I felt satisfied then that I should go home; it was useless to\nlinger longer in the cave. And so I started, staggering from weakness\namong the wet bushes on the mountain side.\n\n\u201cWeak as I was I nearly lost my footing, crossing the swollen creek,\nbut at last I reached our village. The people looked curiously at me as\nI entered and made my way toward our wigwam.\n\n\u201cMy father was sitting in front, scraping the charcoal from the inside\nof a wooden bowl he had been burning out; some one called to him, or\nperhaps he heard my step, and he looked up.\n\n\u201c\u2018Have you brought it with you, son?\u2019 he asked. On my reply that I had\na dream he seemed very well satisfied and called to my mother who was\nlooking out of our door. \u2018Wife, sweep and fix a place for our son to\nsit\u2014he is bringing it with him!\u2019 Mother bustled about then and swept,\nand smiling, spread a fresh mat for me; I was surprised at her air of\ndeference. Down I sat, and after the sun had gone beneath the edge of\nthe world, she brought me a great bowl of stew, steaming and delicious,\nand a new, clean gourd of fresh water.\n\n\u201cThat evening they really treated me as a guest. Father even filled a\npipe for me, and then, when my mother\u2019s deep breathing from her place\non the sleeping bench told us that she slumbered, he asked me outright,\n\u2018What animal spirit or other Manitou has offered himself to be your\nhelper?\u2019 \u2018I do not know,\u2019 I answered, and then I told him my dream,\nfearing in my heart that he would think it meant nothing.\n\n\u201c\u2018Son\u2019, he said when I had finished, \u2018you have done better than I dared\nto hope, you have indeed gained a powerful friend among Those-above-us,\nno less a personage than one of the Thunders!\u2019 And when I asked him how\nhe knew, he replied, \u2018The wooden war club with a round head painted red\nis the emblem of the Thunder-Beings, and represents the fearful blows\nthey strike. The fact that, while you held this club in your hand, the\narrows did not wound you, means that your Guardian Spirit, the Thunder,\nwill protect you. Don\u2019t you understand?\u2019\n\n\u201cAll that night in my dreams I was struggling and fighting, with whom I\nknow not, but through it all I heard myself singing,\n\n In my trouble\n In my trouble\n I call upon my Helper\n And his answer\n Out of a dark sky\n It comes rumbling,\n It comes rumbling!\n\n\u201cAnd this ever since has been my war song, and the song I sing at our\ngreat autumn ceremony in the Big House, where all who have been so\nblessed sing of their visions.\u201d...\n\n\u201cSo that,\u201d I said, as Rumbling-wings finished, \u201cis why you wear that\nlittle, red, war club hanging about your neck! Now tell me why I carry\na little stone face in the same way. I have tried to take it off\nseveral times, but Whispering-leaves will not let me.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat,\u201d replied the old man, \u201crepresents Misinghalikun, the living\nMask-Being, and a powerful Manitou he is, for the Great Spirit has\ngiven him control of all the wild animals of the forest. He is the\nGuardian Spirit of Flying-wolf, whose body you occupy, but I cannot\ntell you the story of his vision. No one could tell you that story but\nFlying-wolf himself. And where is he? You occupy his body, but I doubt\nif Misinghalikun will help you as he did him. I believe Flying-wolf\nwon his great fame as a hunter through the power of this Guardian\nSpirit, and without that, you may have a hard time to live up to his\nreputation.\u201d And, I must say, so I found it.\n\nAnother evening I asked Rumbling-wings if his Guardian Spirit ever\nhelped him in later years.\n\n\u201cMany times, and I will tell you some instances. When I had seen about\ntwenty snows, I went with some of our kinsfolk to visit the Minsi, our\nallies living above us on Lenape River and in the mountains to the\nnorth and east of us here. You may have heard that, although their\nlanguage is quite a little different from our Unami tongue, they too\ncall themselves Lenape and their customs are almost the same as ours.\nFrom there we went with some of these people eastward across the\nmountains to see the Great River of the Mahicans of which we had often\nheard. Arriving at the river, we wished to cross to visit a Mahican\nvillage just opposite, but, although we made a signal smoke, no one\ndared put out from the village with a canoe to get us because there\nwas a high north wind and the wide river was very rough. So I burned\ntobacco and prayed to my helper, the Thunder, and soon thunder-clouds\narose in the west, and a west wind sprung up which killed the north\nwind and left the river smooth; and then the Mahican canoes came for\nus. We spent many pleasant days in their village, feasting and dancing,\nand visiting from one wigwam to another. Their language is very much\nlike the Minsi, and enough like ours so that we could understand almost\neverything.\n\n\u201cAnother time a war party of us Lenape set forth against the\nSusquehannocks, a tribe like the Mengwe. They lived on Muddy River in\na big village circled about with a great stockade of sharpened logs,\ntwice as high as a man, set on end almost touching one another. Time\nand time again we attacked them, but could not break through this\nstockade, nor could we pile fire against it to destroy it, so well did\ntheir bowmen defend it.\n\n\u201cAt last we withdrew a little way to counsel and our war chiefs said to\nme, \u2018We must depend on you, Rumbling-wings, to help us overthrow this\npeople who have harassed us so long. Call on your Guardian Spirit; help\nus to take this village!\u2019\n\n\u201cAnd so, as there were no thunder-clouds in sight, I drew from my\nmedicine bag a few scales of the Great Horned Serpent and laid them\non a rock beside a little creek. You know how the Thunders hate these\ngreat snakes, and always begin to gather, the instant one of them shows\nany part of himself above the water. Well even these scales seem to\nattract them; I always use these scales to call the Thunders when I\nneed them.\n\n\u201cImmediately the sky began to darken in the west\u2014so I built a little\nfire, threw an offering of tobacco upon it, and prayed to my Guardian.\n\n\u201cBlacker and blacker grew the sky, nearly as dark as night. We could\nhardly see the yellow scud flying overhead beneath the mass of cloud.\nThe air near the earth seemed hot, choking. All at once a few great\ndrops of rain splattered down, and then we heard the roar of a mighty\nrain approaching across the forest. Soon it was pouring down about us\nlike a water-fall.\n\n\u201cHow long this downpour lasted I know not, but it stopped as suddenly\nas it began, and a few large hailstones fell, so large that we could\nhear them rattle on the bark roofs of the village. Then came a deeper\nroar out of the southwest, louder and louder, nearer and nearer.\nSuddenly a great thing rushed past us in a cloud of flying leaves and\nbroken branches, and struck the village with a crash, full in the\nmiddle, and in a moment was gone. As it passed on we saw it; it looked\nlike a great, twisting strand of long hair hanging from the clouds and\ndragging along the earth, sweeping before it the trees and the wigwams.\n\n\u201cThe instant it passed, we saw that the log stockade was down and most\nof the houses of the village, but just then came another blinding flood\nof rain which held us back, and when we finally reached our goal we\nfound a number of the Susquehannocks lying dead amid the ruins of their\nhouses; and of those who were left alive and able to run, all were in\nflight somewhere in that rain-swept forest.\n\n\u201cAs to the wounded, we dispatched those too badly hurt to take with\nus, and seized the rest as captives, and then, with all the weapons,\npipes, beautiful clothing and ornaments we could carry, we made our way\nhomeward. Thus the Thunder, my Guardian Spirit, helped me, and helped\nme to raise my name to what it is to-day.\n\n\u201cWhat finally became of the captives, do you ask? A few we killed\nby torture, in revenge for what their people had done to us; some\ndied; some we let go free after a year or two; others finally\nintermarried with our people and cast their lot with us. You\nknow Traveling-everywhere\u2019s wife? She was one of those captives,\ngiven as a servant to his parents. She was but a young girl, and\nTraveling-everywhere, himself but little older, took pleasure in\nteaching her to speak our Lenape language. They got to liking each\nother so well that they finally built a wigwam of their own. Now you\ncould hardly tell her from one of us.\u201d\n\nI found it much easier to assimilate these beliefs and stories than to\nlearn the every-day, practical side of Lenape life, at which I proved a\ntragic failure. Although I studied the methods of experienced hunters\nI never could master the knack of effective shooting with the bow and\narrow. And I tried my best. Seldom could I bring down a deer. The\nneighbors grew tired of providing meat for me and my family.\n\nWhispering-leaves did her part to perfection; everything she made or\nproduced was of the very best, which made me feel my shortcomings all\nthe more. And she would not let me touch the garden\u2014the only thing I\nknew anything about. \u201cGarden work is not manly,\u201d she would say. \u201cI will\nnot endure hearing the neighbors talk about my mate doing woman\u2019s work.\nHow would you feel if you saw me going out of the village with a long\nbow on my shoulder? Or burning out a log for a canoe? Would you not\nfeel shame to see your mate do an unwomanly thing? In our life, the\nman and woman must do each his or her part and neither is harder than\nthe other. Surely to hunt all day and every day, good weather and bad,\nis fully as hard as wielding the hoe! How would you like to hear the\nneighbors say, \u2018Whispering-leaves ought to give Flying-wolf the skirt,\nand she put on his long leggings and breechclout?\u2019\u201d\n\nI was even a failure at finishing her wooden bowl, although I had\nwatched a number of men making such things and thought I had learned\ntheir method. I heaped hot coals on that maple burl, blew them until\nthey burned deep, and scraped out the charcoal with shells and bits of\nflint again and again, until I thought I had it hollowed deep enough.\nThen I ground it patiently with bits of gritty sandstone. When I had\nfinished, I thought I had accomplished a very good piece of work for a\nbeginner. But Whispering-leaves, although she smiled and said sweet\nwords when I laid it finished before her, and pretended to think it\nperfect, tucked it away after a few days, and when we had visitors and\na big bowl was needed, she borrowed another bowl from the neighbors.\n\nWhat hurt me worst was seeing her treasured finery disappear bit by\nbit, doubtless traded for meat and for skins to make our moccasins and\nevery-day garments. First it was the seed beads, then those of bone,\nthen one string of shell beads after another until only the copper\nbeads were left. Finally they too were missing when I came home one\nnight. One day I had occasion to search beneath the sleeping benches\nfor something and had to pull out the square basket in which she kept\nher treasures, her prettiest embroidered, festival attire. The basket\nfelt so light that I looked into it\u2014and found it empty.\n\nOften the boy came in crying and said that his little companions would\nnot let him play with them because, they said, his father was \u201cno good.\u201d\n\nAnd one night Rumbling-wings told me that he had seen the spirit of\nFlying-wolf in a dream the night before, and that he said he was living\nin a strange land and wanted to come back to his home.\n\nBut the crisis came when I returned one night, tired out from\nmy fifteenth successive fruitless day\u2019s hunting, and found my\nWhispering-leaves crying bitterly. Although I begged her to tell me\nwhat the trouble was she refused, but at last she broke down. \u201cMy dear\nmate,\u201d she sobbed, \u201cthere is nothing to eat in this house, and there is\nno hope for anything, unless I sell that robe your mother made for you.\nAll my pretty things are gone long ago, and all yours except that.\u201d\n\nI caught her to me and held her tight in my arms for a moment, then\ndashed out into the night straight to Rumbling-wings\u2019 wigwam. \u201cI am\nready,\u201d I said....\n\nWhen I came to myself I was lying beneath the lightning-riven tree.\n\nIt did not take me long to find my place again in the modern world; but\nalways to this day, when the clouds pile up and the thunder begins to\nmutter in the west, I think sadly of my lost Whispering-leaves and of\nmy friend Rumbling-wings and his Thunder power.\n\n M. R. HARRINGTON\n\n\n\n\n Tokulki of Tulsa\n\n\nTokulki was born in the Muskogee town of Tulsa, in the central part\nof what is now Alabama. Like all other Indian babies of that region\nhe first saw the light in a brush shelter some distance back from his\nmother\u2019s home; for were he to be born in the latter it was thought\nmisfortune might fall upon all its occupants. His name belonged to\nthe Wind clan of Tulsa, and means two persons running. When the first\nbearer of the name was born, his father was absent on a war expedition\nduring which he frightened two of his enemies who were on scout duty,\nso thoroughly that they ran off in haste, leaving their weapons in his\nhands. It was in commemoration of this event that the new-born babe\nreceived his name.\n\nTokulki\u2019s mother was waited upon during her period of seclusion by her\nown mother and another old woman of the clan, reputed most skillful in\nmidwifery. Although it was late in the autumn this old woman took the\ninfant immediately to the bank of the river and plunged him into it,\nafter which he was strapped securely into a cradle, made of canes, by\nmeans of bark cords about the shoulders and thighs. Here Tokulki spent\nthe next few months of his life, sometimes carried on his mother\u2019s\nback, sometimes propped up against the wall of the house while his\nmother was engaged in her household duties. But whenever he was so\nplaced, the cradle was allowed to rest upon a panther skin, for his\nfather and his uncles had all been famous warriors and it was expected\nthat he would follow in their footsteps. Therefore he must have that\nabout him which would communicate a warlike essence and make him fierce\nand bold.\n\nTokulki passed through the period when his principal experience of life\nwas that there was something in it that gave him food and warmth, which\nwas \u201cmother,\u201d and when there was something light in which dark objects\nmoved, or something dark in which light objects moved. There was one\nparticular light object that he gazed upon continually, and which\nresolved itself into the house door, and another, red and hot, which\nhe saw when he awoke at night and which resolved itself into the house\nfire.\n\nThe home into which he gradually came to consciousness was the winter\nhouse of his family. The framework was of hickory poles, set in a\ncircle of perhaps twenty-five feet in diameter, with their slender ends\ngathered together at the top and supported by a central element of\nfour wooden columns. Interwoven with this were thin, flexible pieces\nof wood plastered thickly with mud mixed with dry grass, and the whole\ncovered inside and out with mats. The floor was excavated a couple of\nfeet below the general level of the ground, and a shallow trench dug\nabout it a little farther back, so that water would be carried off\nwithout entering. The doorway which had so early attracted Tokulki\u2019s\nattention was to the east where the first rays of the sun could steal\ninto it, but it was seldom that it found any one but very young babies\nto awaken, for the duties of the day were assumed early and ended soon,\nexcept in times of merry-making or the great ceremonials. There was no\nvent for the escape of smoke which sometimes accumulated to an extent\nwhich would render the inside unendurable to a white man; but this was\npartly provided against by the judicious selection of wood,\u2014old sticks\nof oak and hickory which would fall apart with little smoke, and leave\na glowing bed of coals to radiate heat during much of the night. Around\nthe walls of the house was a continuous seat made of matting, raised a\nfoot and a half to two feet from the floor and covered with bearskins\nupon which most of the household slept.\n\nThe household consisted of Tokulki\u2019s father and mother, a brother\nand sister, his mother\u2019s mother, a married sister of his mother, her\nhusband and two children, a younger brother of his mother, and an\nold man of the Wind clan, not closely connected with the family but\nmaking this his temporary home. More important in Tokulki\u2019s life than\nmost of these, was an old man, living a short distance away, but a\nfrequent visitor in the cabin, a man whom we should call \u201cmaternal\nuncle\u201d in English; yet he was \u201cuncle\u201d not only to Tokulki and Tokulki\u2019s\nbrother and sister and the children of his mother\u2019s sister, but to a\nlarge number of other boys and girls\u2014boys and girls whom we should\nnot consider related in the least. Tokulki, however, as he grew\nolder, learned to call them \u201celder brothers,\u201d \u201cyounger brothers,\u201d and\n\u201csisters,\u201d and he learned that most of these were called \u201cWind people,\u201d\nlike himself, but that some were called \u201cSkunk people,\u201d and some \u201cFish\npeople.\u201d\n\nWhile still on his mother\u2019s back, Tokulki was taken down to the river\nevery morning, and his mother dashed water over him and over herself\neven when the weather was bitterly cold. One of his earliest memories\nwas of this cold douche after his warm night\u2019s rest. All of the\ninhabitants of the village except a few of the sick and decrepit, took\nthis morning bath, the men and boys plunging in, the women and children\ncontenting themselves in cold weather with a little splashing.\n\nAnd it was the \u201cuncle\u201d of each band who saw to it that none evaded\nthis regulation. He was always present, encouraging the smaller boys,\nscolding the timorous, and sometimes correcting the unruly by means\nof a stout stick. As he did so he poured good advice into their ears,\nand Tokulki soon learned that his \u201cuncle\u201d was the man to whom he must\nappeal in time of trouble, whose approbation he must win, and whose\ndispleasure he must be careful to shun. Often, on winter evenings the\nuncle would gather his \u201cnephews\u201d and \u201cnieces\u201d together and instruct\nthem, and he would tell them in particular of the deeds of their\nancestors, sometimes assisting his memory by means of little strings of\nbeads, or by referring to notches cut in sticks.\n\nBut when the old people were talking with one another, Tokulki\u2019s mother\nwould by no means allow him to go near them, and sometimes, when his\ncuriosity had gotten the better of him, she would box his ears soundly.\nIn after life Tokulki learned that this was not because such behavior\nwas considered disrespectful of the old people or annoying to them,\nbut because old people have uncanny powers and may bewitch a child who\nhangs about them too closely. There was not much temptation to do this\nexcept in winter, for during the rest of the year the elders would be\nworking or talking apart by themselves, or the old men would be in the\nsquare.\n\nThis \u201csquare\u201d loomed larger in Tokulki\u2019s life the older he grew. It\nwas only a short distance from his home. He was not allowed to play\nthere, but he could walk all around the edge, marked by a ridge of\nearth which had been piled up by successive scrapings of its surface\nin preparation for the ceremonials. Near its western end were four\nlong, narrow buildings plastered with mud and outlining a hollow square\nwith entrances at the corners. They were open in front, and each was\ndivided into three equal sections by transverse walls, which did not,\nhowever, reach to the roof. The middle section of the western cabin\nwas slightly different, in that the back part was separated by another\nwall parallel to the walls of the building, and, closely shut up in\nthe room thus formed, Tokulki knew that the ceremonial pots, rattles,\ndrums, the dried medicines, and all of the most sacred possessions\nof the tribes were kept. In front the town chief or miko and his\nprincipal councilors had their seats. On the northwestern edge of the\ngrounds loomed the tshokofa, the indoors council house, constructed\nprecisely like a winter house except that it was very much larger.\nTo the eastward extended a wide, open space kept bare of grass by\nintermittent hoeing and the pressure of many feet. In the middle of it\nrose a ball post, and at the farther corners stood two shorter posts\nwhere captives taken in war were burned. Almost every morning Tokulki\ncould watch the leading men of his town assemble in this square, and\nbetween the buildings catch glimpses of the medicine-bearers carrying\nasi (an infusion of ilex vomitoria) in conch shells to regale the\ncouncilors. All that they had in their stomachs they forthwith ejected,\nthat they and their minds might both be clear for the matters about to\nbe discussed.\n\nFrequently Tokulki accompanied his mother when she went in quest of\nfirewood, or he would sit on the edge of the garden patch while his\nmother, his grandmother, and the other women of the household were at\nwork, and sometimes he was given the temporarily congenial task of\ndriving off crows. This garden was planted principally with pumpkins\nand beans, but most of the corn was in the great town garden farther\noff from the village, and thither all of the people marched in the\nspring, headed by their miko, with hoes made of hickory limbs over\ntheir shoulders, to prepare the ground for planting. Each household had\nits own patch separated from the rest by a narrow strip of grass, but\nthe work was in common: first so-and-so\u2019s strip, next some-one-else\u2019s\nuntil all was completed. After that it was largely the duty of the\nwomen and children to keep weeds down and drive away birds, and\nthere were little watch-houses on the edges of the fields for the\naccommodation of the guardians. The days when all worked were as much\nholidays as days of labor. The participants began early but worked\nonly until shortly after noon. Then they partook of their principal\nmeal in common, and after that there was usually a ball game followed\nby a dance around a big fire in the square, the light of which was\nreinforced by cane torches.\n\nThe ball game was usually played about a single post, though not the\none in the square-ground, and it was indulged in by both men and women,\nwho played against each other, the women throwing the ball with their\nhands, the men with their ball sticks. Single tallies were made by\nstriking the pole above a certain mark, but five points were counted if\nthe carved bird which surmounted it was touched. Sometimes, however,\nthe men played their own game, a game similar to lacrosse except that\ntwo small ball sticks took the place of the one large one. Each side\nstrove to bring the ball home to its own goal, marked by two straight\npoles set up a couple of feet apart, and twenty points constituted a\ngame, ten sticks being stuck into the ground by the scorer of each side\nand then drawn out again. In dividing up, the Wind, Bear, Bird, Beaver,\nand some other clans, called collectively \u201cWhites,\u201d played against the\nRaccoon, Fox, Potato, Alligator, Deer, and certain others who were\nknown as \u201cPeople-of-a-different-speech.\u201d But these games were only\npractice games, or make believe games. The regular games were always\nbetween certain towns, and they were very serious matters conducted\nwith the deliberation and ritualism of a war expedition. Each game was\npreceded by careful negotiations: the players fasted and were scratched\nwith gar teeth, they enlisted the aid of the supernatural by employing\na medicine man, they marched to the appointed place as if to meet an\nenemy, wagered quantities of property on the result, and conducted it\nso energetically that serious injuries were sometimes inflicted.\n\nIn winter Tokulki\u2019s mother and the other women busied themselves making\nbaskets and mats, twisting bison hair into garters for the leggings,\nand weaving cloaks\u2014worn only by women\u2014out of the inner bark of the\nmulberry. In the summer they made pottery and dressed skins, and the\npreparation of food kept them busy, of course, at all seasons. They\nmust prepare their own flour by pounding the corn in a wooden mortar,\nat which they sometimes worked two and two. Sometimes they would relax\ntheir labors long enough to play a sort of dice game in which sections\nof cane took the place of our bits of bone. The men spent most of\ntheir winters seemingly to less advantage, much of it in smoking and\nrecounting to one another tales of their hunting or war excursions,\nhumorous sketches frequently revolving about the Rabbit, and sometimes\nmyths of a more serious and sacred character. However, they devoted\nmany hours in the aggregate to the repair of their hunting and fishing\noutfits, and to the manufacture of axes, arrow points, and other\narticles of utility, material for which had been laid aside during the\npreceding fall.\n\nWhen Tokulki was able to run about freely by himself, his uncle made\nhim a blowgun out of a long, hollow cane which he provided also with\ncane arrows with their butt ends wrapped in thistledown. He sent him\nout to try his skill upon the birds and smaller game animals, and more\nthan once Tokulki came home proudly with birds, squirrels, and even\nan occasional rabbit. A little later they made him a bow and arrows,\nwith which he attacked rabbits, and wild turkeys, and upon one happy\noccasion, he succeeded in creeping near enough to a young deer to\ndispatch it. He came home in triumph to his mother, telling her where\nthe animal was to be found, and listened to the praises of his entire\nhousehold, particularly those of his uncle, with flushing cheeks.\n\nUpon this Tokulki\u2019s father and uncle began to instruct him in the arts\nof woodcraft. They took the head of a deer and placed splints inside\nof it so as to restore it as nearly as might be to its original shape,\nand showed him how to use it in stalking the living animal. They taught\nhim how to make traps for the smaller animals, and where game was to\nbe found. They also taught him that a piece of flesh must be cut out\nof every deer that was killed, and thrown away so that the deer might\nnot be offended and leave the country. They taught him that he must not\ncast bones of game animals far off, when they fed them to their dogs,\nlest the animals afterward become shy. He was told that a sprig of old\nman\u2019s tobacco must be put under every fire made by the hunting party\nso that malevolent spirits would not follow them. Still later he was\nto learn about certain medicines and formul\u00e6 to insure success in the\nchase.\n\nAs soon as spring came, hunting of a somewhat desultory character\nbegan, but the families did not move far from town until after the\nannual ceremonies were over and the corn had been harvested, unless\ndriven to it by famine, or drawn to certain points on the rivers by\nruns of fish. During this time Tokulki accompanied a hunting party to\nthe bear preserve, a section of forest not far from Tulsa where bears\nwere numerous and which was the common property of all the citizens.\nWhen the party approached a tree in which a bear had been located,\nTokulki stood at one side to watch the method of procedure. He saw\nthat one man climbed into a tree not far from that containing the\nanimal they sought, and was given blazing slivers of pitch pine which\nhe threw successively into the tree den. When its occupant was driven\nout, he was quickly dispatched by the hunters disposed below. The meat\nwas distributed throughout the town for immediate consumption, but the\nfat was tried out and poured into bags made of whole deerskins which\nwere then packed away for the winter season. Meanwhile, the women were\nhunting through the forests for roots, particularly groundnuts and the\nroots of a smilax which they called kunti. They also collected the\nseeds of a pond lily; a little later a profusion of berries enables\nthem to vary their diet.\n\nIn April the miko called his leading men together and shortly\nafterwards was held the first ceremony of the season accompanied by\nfasting and the drinking of the red willow and button-snake root. At\nthe time of the corresponding full moons in May and June, similar\nceremonies took place, but these were merely in preparation for the\ngreat Fast (poskita), the culmination of the Southeastern religious\nseason. And so it was that about the middle of July a messenger\nappeared at Tokulki\u2019s home, and delivered to the house chief a little\nbundle of sticks tied with deer sinew. Before handing it over, he drew\none stick from the bundle and threw it away. Every morning thereafter\nthe house chief did the same until but one stick remained and on\nthat day the ceremony began. Similar bundles were carried to every\nhousehold of Tulsa Indians far or near, all of whom synchronized their\nmovements in such a way as to converge on the square-ground at the time\nappointed. Failure to come in then was both impiety and treason, and\nit was severely punished by the warrior class known as tastanagalgi,\nwho would handle the absentee severely, and destroy or confiscate his\nproperty.\n\nThe poskita was the type of all the ceremonials of the tribes of\nthe Southeast. The active participants were those men who had been\non war expeditions and had received new names in consequence, names\nusually ending hadjo, fiksiko, imala, tastanagi, or yahola, and\ncontaining often the names of the clan animals, the towns of the\nCreek confederacy, or even foreign tribes. Generally speaking, the\nmiko and the members of his clan sat in the west cabin, the \u201csecond\nmen,\u201d or henehalgi, who were devoted to peace, in the south cabin,\nthe higher classes of warriors on the north, and the common warriors\non the east. Each cabin or \u201cbed\u201d contained from two to four \u201chonored\nmen,\u201d retired warriors who constituted the inner council in charge of\nthe ceremony. This poskita was distinctly a peace ceremony when old\nenmities were forgotten, all but the most heinous crimes pardoned, and\nnew resolutions made for the ensuing year.\n\nAt least one day was devoted to feasting, but after that a rigid\nfast was observed by all the active participants. Then those who had\nperformed brave actions received new names and new war honors, while\nnovitiates were shut up in the tshokofa and a strict fast was imposed\nupon them preparatory to their admission into the class of warriors\nand induction into adult life. During this ceremony, too, all of the\nfires, which were supposed to have become corrupt from contamination\nwith worldly things during the year, were extinguished, and a new fire\nwas lighted by the \u201cMedicine Maker,\u201d the high priest of the town, in\nthe most impressive manner by means of the common fire drill. This new\nfire was first used to replace the fires in the square-ground and the\ntshokofa, and afterwards it was taken to one side of the square where\nthe women stood ready to receive it and carry it to their several\nhomes. The rituals extended over eight days, and on the last, just at\nsunset, the men marched in single file to the river, led by one of the\nFish clan bearing a feather wand, and all plunged into its waters. They\nreturned in the same order, the miko made a short farewell address, and\nthe ceremony was over.\n\nFrom this time until the harvest had been gathered in, Tokulki\u2019s\npeople, and most of the others, did not stray far from town. In October\nwas a sacred ceremony called the \u201cPolecat dance,\u201d and afterward the\npeople began to scatter rapidly for their fall hunting. Some proceeded\nto their camps overland, the women serving as beasts of burden; but the\ngreater number, including Tokulki\u2019s family, had their hunting lodges\nnear the rivers and reached them by means of canoes made of single\ntrees, fire-felled and fire-excavated. Some parties went as many as\nseventy-five or a hundred miles from home, especially when they desired\nto hunt the woodland bison. This season was devoted especially to the\npreparation of quantities of dried venison against the coming of winter.\n\nWhen game was plentiful, a series of merry-makings were indulged in.\nThis usually began with the presentation of a ball, made of buckskin,\nto one of the men by his sister-in-law, who at the same time intimated\nthat she desired venison, bear meat, or occasionally squirrels. Upon\nreceiving this challenge, the man communicated the intelligence to\nall of the other men in camp and they set out on a grand deer, bear,\nor squirrel hunt as the case might be. Meantime the women busied\nthemselves pounding corn, or perhaps kunti roots, into flour and\npreparing various sorts of dishes. When the men returned they also\ntook the meat in hand and a great feast followed, with a ball game of\nthe single pole type, and a dance to close the day. They would light\na great fire and two men would station themselves near it, one with a\ndrum made by stretching a deerskin over an earthen pot or cypress knee,\nthe other with a gourd rattle, while the dancers went around the fire,\nusually sinistrally, in single file or two-and-two, under the charge of\none or two leaders. The dances were usually named after animals, real\nor imaginary, and the steps and other motions were supposed to be in\nimitation of them. The men did most of the singing.\n\nAfter a few days there would be another presentation of a ball and the\nsame feasting, ball playing, and dancing would follow, and this was\nfrequently kept up until the weather was very cold.\n\nSometimes sickness came upon a member of Tokulki\u2019s camp, and then\nTokulki\u2019s mother\u2019s younger brother, who was doctor of the band, and at\nthe same time Medicine Maker of the town, would be called in. Before\nprescribing, such a doctor often consulted the kila, or \u201cknower,\u201d who\nseems to have combined the functions of prophet and diagnostician, but\nTokulki\u2019s uncle never did this because he united the two functions in\nhimself. Having determined the nature of the disease, he would go in\nquest of various herbs, or sometimes send members of the household\nafter them. These he put into a great pot, poured water over them, and\nplaced the pot over the fire. After the contents were sufficiently\nheated, he gave it potency by breathing into it through a hollow cane,\nwhile repeating a magical formula. This was done four times, the doctor\nmeantime facing east. Sometimes, however, he prescribed sweat bathing\nin a lodge made of blankets thrown over poles, and containing heated\nrocks on which water was poured, and sometimes he declared the trouble\nwas caused by witchcraft which he proceeded to cure by sucking the\nwitching object out of the affected part by means of a bison horn.\n\nIf, in spite of all his efforts, death supervened, all of the people in\nthat house and in the neighboring settlements began shouting and making\nloud noises so that the soul of the deceased would not stay about the\ndwelling but start upon its journey to the country of spirits. They\nremoved the body to the house in town, wrapped in dressed deerskins\nand, after wailing over it, buried it in an oblong trench about four\nfeet deep, excavated beneath the floor, lined with cypress bark, and\ncovered with sticks upon which a thick layer of mud was plastered. The\nface of the deceased was painted red, he was seated facing the east,\nhis most important implements, such as his bow and arrows, his war\nclub, his paints, his pipe and tobacco pouch, were buried with him,\nand for four days the women of his family bewailed his death with loud\nhowlings. The faces of all the mourners were painted black. The hair of\na widow was unbound for four years, she discarded all ornaments, and\nwas compelled to absent herself from all merry-makings. At the fourth\nposkita she was formally released by her husband\u2019s sister and either\nprovided with a new husband from the same clan,\u2014or clan connection,\u2014or\nset free to marry whomever she chose. For a widower the period of\nmourning was only four months.\n\nThe medical practices of his uncle possessed a fascination for Tokulki\nwho was present whenever he was tolerated. He had seen similar\nperformances in the square-ground at the time of the annual ceremonies,\nand his mind, which had a mystical bent, eagerly fed upon them.\n\nAt intervals during all this time Tokulki had seen bands of warriors,\nincluding sometimes his father and uncles, march out against their\nenemies, and in particular there was an enemy to the westward, not\nlarge in numbers but led by a chief of rare size, strength, and\nsagacity, whose activities were constantly more threatening, and who\nwas aided and abetted by a much more numerous people beyond him called\nLong Hairs. At last, raids from this quarter became so numerous and\nso many injuries were suffered that a great council was held in Tulsa\nand it was determined to draw their settlements closer together and\nerect a strong stockade about them. Tokulki, although still too young\nfor the heavier work, was called upon to render such assistance as he\ncould in the completion of the structure. While the older men marked\nout the course of the wall and planted in the ground good-sized tree\ntrunks a few feet apart, Tokulki and the other young men brought\ntogether numbers of long, flexible branches or young trees which they\nwove from one post to another, covering the whole with a plastering of\nmud. About a hundred feet apart little watchtowers were raised above\nthe top of the wall, projecting forward slightly in order to defend the\nintervening spaces against attempts of an enemy to scale or burn them.\nOn the river side there was but one row of palisades, but elsewhere\nit was doubled. Toward the river, too, was the only opening, made by\nallowing the walls slightly to overlap. To approach this an enemy must\ncreep along a narrow path between wall and water, exposed to certain\ndeath should he be discovered.\n\nAbout two years after this fort was completed, Tokulki went upon\nhis first war expedition. The \u201cuncle\u201d of his group was to be one of\nthe party, and took this occasion to initiate his nephew into the\ncardinal tribal institution, man-killing, the one great avenue for the\nattainment of personal glory and social standing. The leader of the\nparty was to be none other than the tastanagi lako, the head warrior\nof the town, and therefore when he sent out to drum up volunteers\nthere was a great outpouring of the ambitious youth of the nation.\nFor four days they remained shut up in the tshokofa, fasting, taking\nwar medicine, dancing, and singing war songs to lash themselves up to\nthe proper degree of martial fury. Each was provided with a war club,\na bow, and a quiver of arrows, a shield of cane or bison-hide, and a\nsack containing fire sticks, paints, and a slender ration of parched\ncorn meal. The ceremonies completed, they set out quietly in single\nfile very early in the morning. With them they carried a sacred box\nmade of splints which was usually borne on the back of the chief\u2019s\nassistant, and at every camp was placed upon a log, or hung upon a tree\nor post. Among other things it contained some of the painted bones of\nan enormous panther which the ancestors of this people had slain on\ntheir way from the far western country, and a part of one of the horns\nof an aquatic horned serpent. On occasion it was believed that this box\ngave forth oracular utterances, informing the party in what direction\nto proceed, or warning them of an attack.\n\nOn this occasion the spirit guardian appears to have been favorable,\nfor they surprised four outlying camps of their enemies, took a dozen\nscalps, and carried off fifteen women and children as captives besides\ntwo grown men whom they subjected to the death penalty by fire. During\nthis action Tokulki had the good fortune to save the life of the war\nchief\u2019s servant by engaging an enemy, about to strike him from behind.\nTherefore, after the triumphant return, he received the much coveted\nfeather headdress, his first war name, and a seat in the eastern cabin\nof the square.\n\nHe had stepped upon the first rung of the social ladder and could\nattend all but the most secret and important meetings to decide the\nactions of the nation. It was not long before he received another name\nand left the cabin of the tasikaias for that of the imalas at the\neast end of the north cabin. Later deeds entitled him to the rank of\ntastanagi, the highest war grade, but being by birth a member of the\nwhite Wind clan he was assigned instead to a seat of honor in the peace\ncabin on the other side.\n\nIn spite of his prowess, however, Tokulki took less pleasure in warfare\nthan most of his companions. He had, as we have noted, a mystical\ntype of mind. The great ceremonies had a powerful influence over him,\nand the practices of his uncle, the Medicine Maker, proved a constant\nfascination. Blessed with a retentive memory, he rapidly picked up a\nfund of tribal lore which presently attracted the attention of the\nold men,\u2014the custodians of the sacred legends and the keepers of the\nrituals. They talked earnestly about him with the Medicine Maker, as of\none to whom his people might look for spiritual leadership in future\ndays, and at his uncle\u2019s suggestion he and three other of the most\npromising youths of the Wind connection agreed to undertake the young\nmen\u2019s poskita, \u201cthe first degree in medicine\u201d if we may so term it.\n\nCalling these youths into his house the Medicine Maker talked to them\nearnestly and then made an appointment to meet them at a remote spot\nin the forest, on the bank of a small stream away from the frequented\ntrails. At the time and place agreed upon, he presented himself\nbefore them and directed them to make a sweat lodge by the bank of the\nrivulet. Then he began his instructions, going over as much of his\nmore elementary knowledge as he thought they could grasp at one time,\nand, when he returned to his house, telling them to memorize all he\nhad said carefully, until the fourth day, after when he would visit\nthem once more. He repeated his visits and instructions at similar\nintervals for the better part of a month when he was satisfied with\ntheir progress and told them to go back to their homes. \u201cNow,\u201d he said,\n\u201cyou understand how to heal wounds made by arrows and are entitled to\nwear buzzard feathers in your hair.\u201d\n\nThis degree was taken by Tokulki shortly after his first war\nexpedition, but for some time other events interposed to prevent the\ncontinuation of his initiation. In the first place his family had\ndecided that it was time for him to take a wife and assume a position\nin the tribe as the responsible head of a household of his own. He fell\nin with this arrangement as part of the natural order of things, and\nconsequently his mother, accompanied by two or three of her clanswomen,\nvisited the \u201cuncle\u201d of the Raccoon clan to which the chosen girl\nbelonged. The recipient of the visit was not unaware of the offer about\nto be made and had called to his house some of the other leading men\nof his clan, the mother of the girl, and, as a matter of courtesy, her\nfather. A few days thereafter the Raccoon people returned the visit\nand formally announced that the suit was accepted. The wedding might\nhave been consummated then and there, by conducting the groom to his\nbetrothed\u2019s house and holding a feast and dance, but Tokulki and his\nparents were ambitious to have him reach a high position in the tribe\nas soon as possible, and accordingly they delayed the ceremony until\nhe could erect a house, garner a crop of corn, and lay by a supply of\nvenison.\n\nWord was sent to all of the male members of the Wind clan residing in\nthat town to go into the forest and bring together a supply of poles,\nbark, bark rope, and other articles sufficient for the proposed house.\nThe planting season was beginning, and when the town field was laid\nout, an extra plot was sowed for the new household. When this was ready\nto harvest, a corncrib raised on posts was put up near the site of the\nprojected dwelling, and filled from Tokulki\u2019s new plot. The harvest\nbeing over, and the days cool enough for comfortable work out-of-doors,\nthe men of the Wind clan came together again and appointed a day upon\nwhich the new house was to be raised. This work was carried out much\nlike an old New England husking bee. It was placed under the direction\nof the one considered most skilled in such matters who assigned the\nvarious processes to all the rest. They worked with such a good will\nthat it was practically complete by the middle of the afternoon.\nAfterward a common meal was served followed by a game of ball and the\nusual dance after dark. Sofkee, prepared like our \u201chulled corn,\u201d stood\nready in pots at the service of any of those present.\n\nA little later Tokulki went hunting and brought back dried venison to\nadd to his winter\u2019s stores. It was only then that he and his bride were\nbrought to their new home, where a final feast was partaken of by all\ntogether, speeches exchanged by the leading men of the Wind and Raccoon\nclans, and the new couple left in possession.\n\nDuring this period Tokulki was too busily occupied to think of his\nearlier ambitions, but after his first child was born and the routine\nof his new life had become well established, they began to recur to\nhim. He communicated his thoughts to the three young men with whom he\nhad been associated before, and he found that they too were prepared\nto continue in their course. They approached the Medicine Maker again,\nand again submitted to the fasts, the sweat baths, and the repeated\ninstructions, more rigorous now than before. This time they learned\namong other things the treatment proper for snake bite, and how, as\nthey believed, to detect objects clearly on the darkest nights.\n\nTokulki was still unsatisfied. Every fresh revelation awakened new\nambitions. His companions, however, were content with what they had\nacquired and with the prestige they had attained, and were wearied with\nthe long and exhausting fasts. Therefore when Tokulki presented himself\nas a candidate for the third degree he went entirely alone. In fact, so\nrigorous was the ordeal to which he was at this time subjected, that\nhe debated within himself whether he should not stop there. As it was,\nhe had penetrated farther into the mysteries than all except ten or a\ndozen men in the fifty allied Muskogee towns.\n\nHe allowed two years to slip away before making up his mind to\nundertake the fourth and crowning ordeal. Finally, however, he set\nhimself to the task, and he came triumphantly through, though the\nperiods of fasting were doubled, and the memorizing more severe than\nany which he had before experienced. He returned to his house a mere\nshadow of a man, with hollow cheeks, sunken eyes, and almost fleshless\nbones, but with a position and influence in the Nation shared by none\nexcept the Medicine Makers of a few of the leading towns.\n\nWith the Medicine Maker of Tulsa, his instructor and uncle, Tokulki now\ncame to be on the most friendly terms. It was natural that a man of\nsuch advanced mentality as Tokulki and such steadfastness of purpose\nshould excite interest in his superior. It became evident that when\nthe Medicine Maker died or gave up his spiritual headship his position\nwould fall to Tokulki. Many were the talks which the two men had\ntogether, talks in which the older man unfolded whatever knowledge his\nlong life of physical activity and spiritual contemplation had given\nhim. Some was not new to Tokulki, some had been suggested to him by the\nother learned men, but much was novel and strange.\n\nThe world envisaged by the Tulsa sage was about like this: The middle\nearth which mankind knows, is flat and square and lies afloat upon\n\u201cthe wide white waters.\u201d There is a world above it and a world below\nit, and these are inhabited by beings like ourselves. Below are\nthose left behind when the races now on earth found their way to its\nsurface; above, those who had lived on earth but, having undergone\nthe experience called death, had traveled westward, crossed a narrow\npoint in the ocean stream, upon a foot log, and either remained with\nthe malevolent spirits in that quarter or ascended to the fortunate\nregion directly overhead, presided over by Hisakita-imisi, \u201cthe breath\nholder.\u201d The white streak in the sky which we call \u201cthe milky way\u201d\nwas said to be the very road which they traversed. Unavenged souls of\nthose who had been killed in wars, however, were unwilling to begin\ntheir journey until scalps from the offending tribe were brought in,\nand meanwhile they remained about the eaves of the houses, moaning.\nSome said that bad spirits were reincarnated into beasts, but about\nthis men differed. However, they were agreed that human beings might\nacquire such malevolent power as to become witches and assume the forms\nof animals while still living on earth. Their evil dispositions were\nattributed to lizards who had taken up their abode inside of the witch,\nbut might be expelled by the proper medical rites.\n\nThe stars were thought to be attached to the under surface of the\nsolid vault above, along which the sun and moon traveled each day. An\neclipse of the sun was usually attributed to a great toad who might be\nfrightened off by hostile demonstrations on the part of human beings.\nTo an eclipse of the moon people paid little attention. The moon was\ninhabited by a man and a dog. The rainbow was a big, celestial snake\nwhich had power over rain.\n\nThe world and all that it contained were the products of mind and bore\neverywhere the marks of mind. Matter was not something which had given\nbirth to mind, but something which had formerly been mind, something\nfrom which mind had withdrawn, was quiescent, and out of which it might\nagain be roused. This mind was visibly manifested in the so-called\n\u201cliving things,\u201d as plants, and, still more, animals. Nevertheless,\nlatent within inorganic substance no less than in plants and animals,\nwas mind in its highest form, i. e., human mind. This might come to the\nsurface at any time but it did so particularly to the fasting warrior,\nthe \u201cknower,\u201d and the doctor. Indeed, the importance of these two last\nlay in their ability to penetrate to the human life within the mineral,\nplant, and animal life of nature, and bring back from that experience\nknowledge of value in ordering the lives of their fellow beings.\nNot that mind was attributed to one individuality, but that it was\nrecognized as everywhere of the same nature.\n\nIts manifestations were not in all cases equally powerful. Its\nmanifestation in the panther, bear, and bison was more powerful than\nits manifestation in the raccoon, the rabbit, and the squirrel. Some\n\u201cinorganic\u201d powers,\u2014as, for instance, the wind, the rivers, and the\nsea,\u2014were, however, even more powerful. Peculiarly powerful were the\nthunder and the lightning, which were produced by two sets of animals.\nThe dangerous kind, the kind that \u201cstruck,\u201d was made by huge birds\nfrom whose eyes flashed fire, and this they flashed down at the other\nfire-producing creatures, enormous, horned serpents, who in turn shot\nthe blue, harmless lightning upward. Bones of these earth serpents\nwere sometimes found after a rainstorm. Besides there were long\nserpents who lived in the waters and who, rearing their huge lengths\nstraight upward at intervals, would allow themselves to fall over with\na gigantic splash. There were the sharp-breasted snakes, suggested\nto native imagination by the tracks of lightning, snakes supposed\nto run straight along the surface of the ground, cutting through\nroots and bushes as they went. There were bodiless snakes which rose\nwhirling into the air on still mornings. There were creatures like\nbison which went by fours, each resting for a minute in the tracks of\nits predecessor. There were very little people who sometimes deprived\ntravelers of their senses, and very big people who ate them.\n\nBesides the embodied power in nature there was power not altogether\ndifferentiated from it, which was unembodied, or indistinctly conceived\nas embodied. This power could be invoked by the use of charms and the\nrepetition of certain formul\u00e6. \u201cBy a word\u201d wonderful things could be\naccomplished; \u201cby a word\u201d the entire world could be compressed into\nsuch a small space that the medicine man who was master of the word\ncould encircle it in four steps. It was power of this kind which was\nimparted to medicines, yet the source of this power was after all\nthe anthropomorphic powers, which, at the very beginning of things,\ndeclared what the diseases were to be and also appointed the remedies\nto be employed in curing them. But when the doctor had prepared these\nremedies and placed them in a pot in front of him, they were not\nefficacious until he had repeated the prescribed formul\u00e6, or prayers,\nfour times, while breathing into the medicine through a hollow cane.\nIn this way the spirit that made the medicine powerful passed into it\nthrough the breath of life in the doctor.\n\nFrom this conception it came about that the supreme being of the\nCreeks, a kind of sky god, was known as Hisakita-imisi, \u201cthe breath\nholder.\u201d While he did not necessarily interfere actively in the\nrelations between the lesser powers and mankind, his primacy was\nrecognized, and they were spoken of as his servants; he was their miko.\n\nWhat took place for the individual in time of sickness happened for the\nentire tribe annually at the time of the poskita. It had been given\nto men by Hisakita-imisi for their health and for the annual renewal\nof the life of the tribe, as well as the individual lives of those\ncomposing it. The square-ground fire was but a detached fragment of\nthe sun, the sky fire, and both of these meant life, for both were\nnecessary to the lives of men. The renewal of the fire was the renewal\nof life, an act by means of which, the connection between human lives\nand the life of the universe was restored, and the corruption, which\nhad accumulated about the fire obtained the previous year, gotten rid\nof. Similarly the participants were cleansed internally by means of\nthe poskita medicines, one of which was to make good the defects of\nthe system and heal its diseases, the other to insure the enjoyment\nof positive benefits. Hence it was that a little of each was carried\nhome by every household and hung up by the door, some of it being used\noccasionally in medicines until the next annual ceremony.\n\nAs to the origin of things, the Muskogee had obscure traditions. They\nbelieved that the solid land had come from the expansion of a bit of\nearth brought from the edges of the world or from the bottom of the\nocean. They also told of a flood, but their story of human origins\ndid not concern any tribes except their own and a few believed to be\nrelated closely to theirs. They thought that after their ascent from\nthe world beneath at the point in the far west called \u201cthe navel of the\nworld,\u201d they had traveled toward the southeast for a long time, led\nby their Medicine Maker, who, in turn, was guided by a staff, stuck\nupright in the ground every night and found inclining in the direction\nto be taken every morning. In the meantime, four \u201clight beings\u201d from\nthe corners of the world had brought the knowledge of the poskita to\nthem and had lighted their first poskita fire. During this period,\nties of friendship sprang up between the several Muskogee tribes, and\nsome that were not Muskogee. Two of the leading tribes, the Kasihta\nand Coweta, formed an agreement by which they were to play ball with\neach other at intervals, but were never to fight and as other towns\nor tribes became allied with these, they also became allied in the\nball games until there came to be two classes of towns with about\ntwenty-five on a side. Those headed by Kasihta were dedicated to peace\nand those headed by Coweta to war....\n\nOne day\u2014it was toward the end of summer\u2014Tokulki and the Medicine Maker\nstrayed some distance eastward of the town and sat down upon the side\nof a hill, where the older man reviewed the more important particulars\nof his teaching more impressively than ever before. After a time he\npaused, and then he said: \u201cI have told you all that I know; this is\nwhat the Medicine Maker who was before me, and all of the knowers and\nthe doctors have told me. It must be so. I believe it. Yet perhaps\nit is not all the truth. I think we are not to understand some of the\nthings that they tell just as they sound; they have another meaning.\nSometimes we can see what this other meaning is; sometimes we can not.\nPerhaps, too, like the poskita fire, it has become fouled by much\ncontact with common things, by much repeating. Perhaps Hisakita-imisi\ndid not tell our grandfathers all that he had in mind to tell. But\nmuch of it is good, and it is for the good of our people. So use what\nseems to you good! And the rest you need not use. And if Hisakita-imisi\nseems to tell you something that is better, if you think it is better\nfor your people, use it! It is what he must have intended from the\nbeginning. I tell you this because I feel that your times will not be\nlike my times. The plant dies. In the spring the plant comes up again.\nIt is the same plant, and yet it is not the same plant. It is like, but\nit is unlike.\n\n\u201cHave you not heard of the people who come across the wide, white\nwater in canoes with wings? Even now I hear that a great number of\nthem are marching through our country and that they are coming in this\ndirection. Maybe the old things are to pass away.\u201d He stopped, and just\nthen out of the east came a low noise, a noise strange to that country\nuntil then, but one which a white man of the time would have recognized\nas the discharge of a harquebus. It was a harquebus in the army of De\nSoto.\n\n JOHN R. SWANTON\n\n\n\n\n Slender-maiden of the Apache\n\n\nSlender-maiden was to have her dance in twelve days. The acorns were\nnow ripening along Ash Creek; the stags, their horns fully grown,\nwere taking on fat; thunder-showers were now falling, and the year\nwas at its best. During the preceding spring, Slender-maiden\u2019s mother\nhad noted her daughter\u2019s approach to womanhood. The winter before,\nSlender-maiden\u2019s father had gone to the mountains beyond Black\nRiver and hunted for half a month. The best of the deerskins had\nbeen carefully tanned and put away. On Cibicu Creek, a day to the\nwest, lived a man noted for the fine buckskin suits he could make.\nSlender-maiden\u2019s father took four of these dressed deerskins and two\nof his best horses to this skilled man. The horses were given him for\nhis work on the skins. Slender-maiden\u2019s father was told to come for the\ngarments about the time corn showed its tassels.\n\nSlender-maiden\u2019s mother and Slender-maiden herself were Wormwood clan.\nMany women of this clan lived in the neighborhood and they gladly\nagreed to help gather food for the feast. Slender-maiden\u2019s father\nwas of the Adobe clan. His brothers promised to join him before the\ndance, in a hunt which should provide venison for the feast. There was,\nfortunately, a large number of horses belonging to the family with\nwhich those who sang the songs and directed the ceremony might be paid.\n\nSlender-maiden\u2019s father rode up the creek to the marsh where he cut\na supply of reeds. Of these he made tubes, which he filled with\ntobacco and tied at right angles, making crosses. These were sent by\nSlender-maiden\u2019s cousin, a young man but recently with a beard to\npluck, to the medicine man living on Eastfork who knew the songs of\nNaiyenezgani, used for the dance of adolescent girls. When the young\nman arrived at the home of the singer he placed the cross on his toe.\nAs the old man reached for the token he asked the young man from whence\nhe came.\n\n\u201cI am Wormwood clan and I come from the valley of dancehouse.\nSlender-maiden\u2019s father, my uncle, asks that on the twelfth day you\nsing for his daughter under the cotton-woods on Ash Creek. He sends you\nthis deerskin, these beads of turquoise, of jet, of white stone, and of\nred coral. Besides he gives you a horse, and a saddle from Old Mexico.\u201d\n\n\u201cSit, my grandchild,\u201d said the singer to the young man. The old man\nthen filled his pipe and passed his buckskin bag of tobacco to the\nyoung man. \u201cCall my brothers,\u201d he said to his wife before they began\nsmoking. When they had gathered and the pipes were burning, the singer\ntold the young man\u2019s errand and that their aid was required in the\nceremony. Food was now brought and the young man was served.\n\nA similar invitation was sent to a medicine man on Turkey Creek who\nknew the dance of the Gans.\n\nA few days later the women of Slender-maiden\u2019s clan and those living\nin her camp loaded their burros and horses with the food for the feast\nand the necessary utensils. The sun was well up when they were ready to\nstart, and by sundown the party camped when they reached a stream where\noaks grew in profusion, about two-thirds of the way to Ash Creek. By\nnoon the next day, camp was made under the cotton-woods in the valley\nof the creek.\n\nThe day before the dance was to be held a sweat lodge was built near\nthe stream. In this dome-shaped lodge, parties of six and eight men\nwent repeatedly for baths. The songs of Naiyenezgani were sung and the\nmen were purified by the steam and heat. At midday, food was served to\nall those who had gathered in the vicinity.\n\nJust before the sun rose the next morning, four blankets were spread,\none above the other, and a cane, bent at the top, was stood up just\neast of this bed. Near the cane was placed a basket of shelled corn.\n\nThe singer from Eastfork with his chorus of young men formed a line\njust back of the western end of the bed. Slender-maiden now appeared\nand took her place in front of the singers, facing the rising sun. As\nthe songs were sung in proper order Slender-maiden danced, swaying her\nbody from side to side. When the proper song was reached, she knelt and\nmoved from side to side on alternate knees with her face always toward\nthe rising sun. Soon she lay prone on the bed and was molded to a form\nof beauty by her matronly attendant. Finally she was prayed for by all\nthe assembled spectators who passed in line behind her and put pollen\non the crown of her head. When the sun was about half-way to the middle\nof the sky she ran the appointed race and the morning ceremony was\ncompleted.\n\nEvery one was soon served with meat and soup.\n\nThat evening at about sunset a man without clothes, except a\nbreechcloth, his body painted white with black stripes, appeared at\nthe dance-ground and by signs inquired if a dance were in progress.\nOn being told that was the case he ran away to a secluded spot. Soon\npeculiar noises were heard and the sound of rattles. Four men came\nin single file followed by a painted clown. The four wore moccasins\nand kilts below the waist but were painted black above with symbolic\ndesigns in white. Their faces were covered and on the tops of their\nheads were fan-shaped forms of wood covered with painted designs. After\nmaking a circuit of the dance-ground, these masked men danced for some\ntime and then withdrew.\n\nAfter nightfall a great fire was kindled and the masked men returned.\nSlender-maiden, bearing her cane, danced near the fire. With her were\nother maidens who occasionally invited young men to dance with them.\nWhile the masked men were dancing, the singer from Turkey Creek led the\nsongs of the Gans, immortals who join with men in the celebration of\nattaining adolescence. The time of the songs was marked by the singers\nbeating on a stretched skin.\n\n When the earth was made,\n When the sky was made,\n Where the head of the black earth lies,\n Where the head of the black sky lies,\n Where the heads of them meet,\n Black Thunder, Black Gan, facing each other with life stepped out.\n Black Gan with his dance spoke four times.\n\nAbout midnight the singer from Eastfork and his assistants took their\nplaces within a house consisting of four poles only. A fire was kindled\nhere, back of which, facing the east, stood Slender-maiden accompanied\nby a girl of her own age, and two youths. At intervals until dawn the\nsongs of Naiyenezgani were sung while the young people danced.\n\n Estsunnadlehe\n From her house of white cloud\n Living white shell, her chief,\n It echoes with me.\n Estsunnadlehe\n Long and fortunate life, her chief,\n It echoes with me.\n\nAfter breakfast more songs were sung and then the masked men appeared\nand assisted, first in painting Slender-maiden with white earth\nand later in marking with symbols the cheeks and hands of all the\nspectators. The ceremony was now complete and the assembly soon\ndispersed, some people to the gathering of acorns and some to their\ncamps in order to tend their crops.\n\nAmong those who had been at the ceremony at Ash Creek was a young man\nnamed Red-boy. His home was on San Pedro Creek, one hundred miles south\nand west, not far from the country of the Pima. He had come to visit\nrelatives in the White Mountain country for his mother was of the Adobe\nclan and her brothers and sisters were living on the White River.\n\nRed-boy was much interested in Slender-maiden and resolved to seek her\nfor a wife. His request was listened to, and his presents of horses\nwere accepted. Slender-maiden herself was pleased, for the stranger was\ntall, and generous with his presents to her. The couple soon moved to\na camp on Black River, where Slender-maiden was left behind while her\nhusband joined a small party which was going to Mexico on a raid. Ten\ndays later the party returned without loss and with a large number of\nhorses. Red-boy had taken ten which he gave Slender-maiden\u2019s parents.\n\nThe next spring Red-boy and Slender-maiden went to the village on San\nPedro and planted the land that had belonged to Red-boy\u2019s mother. Here\nthey lived for five years, raising good crops and having plenty of deer\nfrom the surrounding mountains.\n\nOne day in August Slender-maiden and her sister-in-law were making\nbaskets under the cotton-woods by the creek. Slender-maiden\u2019s five-year\nold daughter was sleeping under a willow nearer the stream where the\nbreeze was cooler. Suddenly a roar was heard and a wall of water, mud,\nand torn-up trees rushed out of the canyon. The women jumped up, but\nbefore they could reach the sleeping child the water had rolled over\nin a brown flood. The women themselves were able to escape by climbing\ninto the cotton-woods.\n\nSaddened by this loss and disconcerted by the washing over of the\nfarm by the waters of a thunder-shower, Slender-maiden and her husband\nmoved to the White Mountain country and settled on Cedar Creek near her\npeople. Here they lived for ten years. There were now five children,\nthe youngest of which was a girl.\n\nOne day a messenger came from White River asking that Slender-maiden\u2019s\nhusband come to treat a sick man. Red-boy knew the songs and ritual of\na healing ceremony. He went with his wife, and camped by the man who\nhad been suddenly taken ill. He was burning with fever and covered with\nan eruption. The songs were of no avail for before dawn the man was\ndead. The body was almost immediately placed in a cleft of the rocks in\na nearby canyon and covered with sticks and stones.\n\nThat afternoon Slender-maiden and her husband moved down White River\nand a few days later to Black River in which she and her husband\nbathed. That night her head ached and she begged her husband to leave,\nlest he too contract the disease. When twelve days later the fever left\nher, she saw her husband sitting by, tired and worn with watching over\nher.\n\n\u201cWhy did you not leave me?\u201d she asked.\n\n\u201cBecause I have loved you for many years,\u201d he replied.\n\nIn a few days he too was ill and then Slender-maiden, still weak,\nwatched him until he was taken to the canyon for burial. When the\nplague had passed, Slender-maiden\u2019s children and near relatives were\nall dead except the youngest girl who had been left with an aunt on\nCedar Creek.\n\nSlender-maiden cut her hair, of course, and wore only a skirt and\na poncho of cloth. Even when the year was up she did not allow her\nhair to grow. Her husband\u2019s clansmen, noting her disinclination to\nmarry again, respected her wishes and did not assign her a husband.\nShe continued the cultivation of her small farm and the care of her\ndaughter.\n\nThe requests of her adolescence ceremony for long life were answered.\nSo old is she that she must walk with a cane. Her hair is white, not\nwith the symbolic white earth but with age. Her daughter, in middle\nage, unmarried, highly respected, but much sought for herself and her\nconsiderable herds, attends to her physical needs. For the remainder,\nSlender-maiden lives with her memories of a happy youth.\n\n P. E. GODDARD\n\n\n\n\n When John the Jeweler was Sick[4]\n\n _Told at St. Michaels, Arizona, by one of the Franciscan Fathers_\n\n\nYou may remember having met here a Navaho friend of ours, one of the\nsilver-smiths, whom we familiarly called \u201cJohn the Jeweler.\u201d Early this\nyear he went over to the Kohonino Ca\u00f1on and stayed there four days.\nThe day after leaving the Ca\u00f1on he was taken with ague, and every day\nfor twenty days he had a chill followed by fever and delirium. The\nstrangeness of the disease had an extraordinarily depressing effect on\nhim and during these twenty days he was in a state of utter collapse.\n\nJohn the Jeweler is a medicine man, a minor priest, of considerable\nrepute, and numbers of his friends came to see him, but none of them\nknew anything about his disease. The priests and the patient were\ninclined to attribute it to \u201ca bad smell emanating from the Kohonino,\u201d\nbut as there was also a band of wandering Paiutes there during the time\nof the patient\u2019s visit, they were not sure but that the bad smell may\nhave originated with the Paiutes.\n\nIt was concluded in this emergency to call in the best mediciners of\nthe region. The first to officiate was Ojkai yo\u015bna. His rites and\nsong-prayers were directed to the Y\u00e8 who dwells at the mouth of the pit\nthrough which all people came up to this world, and through which the\nspirits of the dead return to the lower world.\n\nThis pit is in the summit of that mountain in the north called Tjoli\u012d.\nBetween the patient and the mouth of the pit the priest made a fire\nwith certain woods, and beside this fire he sang prayers to the Y\u00e8 who\nsits on \u201cthis side\u201d the mouth of the pit. He beseeched the Y\u00e8 not to\ncall the patient to descend the ladder leading to the regions of the\ndead. He rubbed the ashes and pulverized charcoal of his medicine-fire\nall over the body of the patient, first having rubbed him with a\nmixture obtained by melting the fat of the bison, mountain sheep, elk\nand deer, with a small portion of the fat of the domestic sheep. This\ngrease was to make stick to the skin the charcoal and ashes of the\nmedicine-fire. After the anointment the songs were sung again beside\nthe patient.\n\nThe rites of Ojkai yo\u015bna lasted two days and nights and his fee was\none horse, say fifty dollars.\n\nThe next shaman was Kuma byge. In the sick man\u2019s hut, a little hollow\nmound of clay was made, and within the hollow three stones were set; on\nthese were laid splinters of pi\u00f1on and cedar which were set afire. When\nthey had burned to embers, the shaman shook his rattle and sang to the\nY\u00e8s of his father. He then laid upon the embers five herbs. The patient\nwas laid naked upon the sand, close to the fireplace, and a blanket\nwas spread over the fireplace, and the patient thus inhaled the fumes\nof the herbs, while the shaman sat alongside, shaking his rattle and\ncontinuing his song.\n\nThe treatment was performed at sunrise and sunset, and should last four\ndays, with songs, dances and other ceremonies at night. But in this\ninstance, at the close of the second day, an embarrassing circumstance\noccurred: the patient\u2019s wife\u2019s menstrual flow began. This at once put a\nstop to all further treatment. Kuma byge\u2019s fee was one horse, say fifty\ndollars.\n\nAfter the wife got well, Ets\u012ddi b\u012dk\u012ds was summoned. To the\nleader of the four winds sang the shaman, the white wind of the East,\nthe blue wind of the South, the yellow wind of the West, and the black\nwind of the North. Before the people emerged from the lower world the\nwinds were taken up the pit at Tjoli\u012d by the \u201cLeader\u201d and their\ndirections assigned them. He caused them to blow upon the muddy surface\nof the earth while this upper surface was yet new and damp, until the\nworld became dry enough for habitation. The winds expelled the evil\ninfluence of the bad Y\u00e8s, and the new world became beautiful. So it was\nto this Leader that Ets\u012ddi b\u012dk\u012ds sang, asking him to bring\nthe winds together, and expel the evil influence that threatened the\npatient.\n\nThe ceremonies lasted four days and nights and consisted of\nsong-prayers, exhibiting fetiches, shaking the rattle, blowing the\nwhistle, and swinging the tsin boosni (which is like swinging the\nThunder prayer stick of the Hopi). The fee of Ets\u012ddi b\u012dk\u012ds was\na large horse, say sixty dollars.\n\nThe next shaman was called Hostin b\u012dk\u00e2n. He administered herb roots,\nboth raw and in infusions. The raw root of the Jamestown weed was\ngiven the patient at sunrise, noon and sunset. Each dose was something\nless than half an ounce of the recently dry root. This was chewed\nand swallowed. Closely following each of these doses, he was given\na piece of the stalk of the Golden Alexander, about six inches long\nand as thick as the thumb. This he chewed, swallowing the saliva, but\nnot the fiber. Between the songs, during the day and night, infusions\nwere given the patient to drink, in quantities never to exceed half\na pint at once. There were separate infusions of herbs known as: aze\nkloh\u012d, laughing medicine, aze b\u012dni, bad or dreaded talk medicine,\nthajuhu\u012dtso, great chief of water medicines, that is of medicinal\nherbs growing in marshes, all, I surmise, species of nightshade. Hostin\nb\u012dk\u00e2n\u2019s ceremonies lasted a day and a night. His fee was a horse,\nsay fifty dollars.\n\nThe last and most potent of the shamans was Kuma. He is chief of\nthe clan to which the patient belongs. He lives about thirty miles\nsouthwest from our Ca\u00f1on.\n\nKuma\u2019s prayers were directed to Hosdjoqun (the Killer) and Hos-(dje)\nYelti (the Talker), guardian deities of Tjoli\u012d. But all these\nprayers were more immediately addressed to the Y\u00e8s who dwell in the\nHalf-white-house, asking their mediation, that the \u201cKiller\u201d might\nwithhold his hand, that the \u201cTalker\u201d might withhold the word of\ndeath. I presume you know that there is a mythic region in the north.\nIt extends from nadir to zenith and has no horizon. It is a land of\nvertical strata of various colors, each stratum reaching from The Below\nto The Above. At each stratification is the house of a Y\u00e8, half in one\nstratum, half in the next.[5]\n\nA sweat house is decorated on the outside with a rainbow in colored\nsands; a singing-house is built for the occasion; sand pictures\n(altars) are made on the floor of the singing-house; and there are\ndances of the masked participants.\n\nKuma\u2019s ceremonies lasted five days and nights. Every morning at\nsunrise, the patient was placed in the sweat house for about twenty\nminutes, say ten minutes in each. Nothing of special significance was\ndone during the day, but from sunset to dawn the maskers danced before\nthe singing-house, while within the singing-house, the priests sang\ntheir prayers, made their sand pictures, and placed the proper fetiches\nbefore and upon them. For a fee, Kuma received a fine horse and colt,\nworth one hundred dollars.\n\nAside from all these fees, sheep were killed to provide mutton,\nand other provisions were purchased to feed the shamans and their\nassistants, the dancers, and the numerous spectators who flock around\nwhen any of these religious ceremonies are in progress. In these\nexpenses the patient was assisted by all his relatives.\n\nIn these ceremonies, three weeks went by, with every day an ague. At\nthe end of that time, the patient said that he was \u201clooking down the\ndescending ladder.\u201d\n\nHis friends then cinched him upon a saddle, and brought him here,\nmuffled in a blanket, just like a bag of bones. We had him dumped in\nthe wool room. This was four days ago. We had no calomel, so we gave\nhim a generous dose of blue mass, about thirty grains. On the following\nmorning we administered a liberal draught of castor oil, and then we\ngave him about thirty grains of quinine, in four doses, daily. Two\ndays ago his ague left him. This morning he and his friends left for\nhome. Just as he was leaving, John the Jeweler told me he was feeling\nso well, he thought that by to-morrow night he could resume the\nperformance of his marital duties.\n\n A. M. STEPHEN\n\n\n\n\n Waiyautitsa of Zu\u00f1i, New Mexico\n\n\n\u201cIsn\u2019t it hard to believe that life should be so intricate and complex\namong those meek, adobe houses on that low hill?\u201d\n\nWe were on the last mile or so of the forty-mile drive through the\nred sandstone above and below, and the green cedar and spruce and\nsagebrush from Gallup to Zu\u00f1i; behind us to the southeast was the\ngreat mesa to which three centuries ago the people had escaped for a\nwhile from Spanish arrogance, the mesa where one day we were to seek\nfor the shrines of the War Leaders and the Song Youth and the Earth\nWoman as we ostensibly hunted rabbits; and before us, barely in sight,\nso quietly does an Indian pueblo fit into the landscape, were the\nrectangular blocks of the many-storied Zu\u00f1i houses whose flat roofs\nmake broken lines, mesa-like, against the sky. At the highest point, a\nthree-storied house, the town crier was probably at that very moment\ncalling out to the townspeople the orders of the governor and council\nfor the following day; but we were still too far away to hear, quiet\nas was the air, and our unarrested eyes turned westward to the flaming\nspectacle of a sunset the like of which is not to be seen outside the\nsweeping valley plain of Zu\u00f1i.\n\nNow and again, as you walk between those \u201cmeek, adobe houses,\u201d dodging\na snouting pig, or assuming indifference to the dogs that dash out from\nevery corner to snarl or yelp; now and again as you see the villagers\ngoing about their daily affairs, men driving in from the fields, or\ntaking the horses in or out of the corrals, women fetching water from\nthe well or bound on a visit to a neighbor, little boys chasing one\nanother and babies playing about in the dirt, now and again that first\nimpression of material simplicity returns and with it the feeling that\nthe round of life must be simple, too. But the feeling never lasts\nlong, never holds its own with the crowding impressions of ceremonial\nrain dance or pilgrimage or domiciliary visitation, of baffling\nsacerdotal organization and still more baffling sacerdotal feuds, of\nelaborate pantheon, of innumerable myths and tales, of associations\nin story or cult with every hill and rock and spring, of kinship\nramifications and matrimonial histories, of irksome relationships with\nMexicans and \u201cAmericans,\u201d and of village gossip which is made up so\ncomprehensively of the secular and the sacred as to pass far beyond the\nrange of even a New England church social.\n\nIt is not surprising that accounts of Zu\u00f1i are often bewildering.\nIn our own complex culture biography may be a clarifying form of\ndescription. Might it not avail at Zu\u00f1i? I venture this biography of\nWaiyautitsa.[6]\n\nWaiyautitsa is a girl\u2019s name; sex generally appears in Zu\u00f1i personal\nnames. Sex appears somewhat in speech too. Waiyautitsa in learning to\ntalk will make use of expressions, particularly exclamations, peculiar\nto women. In a recent list of the first words used by a Zu\u00f1i child,\na boy, there was noted a comparatively large number of kinship terms\nin his vocabulary. The kinship terms of little Waiyautitsa would be\nsomewhat different from a boy\u2019s. He calls a younger sister ikina;\na younger brother, suwe; she calls either hani, meaning merely the\nyounger. And, as the Zu\u00f1i system of kinship terms is what is called\nclassificatory, cousins having the same terms as brother and sister,\nWaiyautitsa has even fewer words than her brother to express cousinship.\n\nWhen Waiyautitsa is three or four years old she may be recognized as a\ngirl not merely from her speech, but from her dress, from her cotton\nslip; at this age little boys wear trousers. But not for another three\nor four years, perhaps longer, will Waiyautitsa wear over her cotton\nslip the characteristic Pueblo woman\u2019s dress,\u2014the black blanket dress\nfastened on the left shoulder and under the right arm and hence called\nin Zu\u00f1i, watone, meaning \u201cacross,\u201d the broad belt woven of white,\ngreen and red cotton, the store-bought kerchief or square of silk\n(pitone) which, fastened in front, hangs across shoulders and back,\nand the small foot, thick leg moccasins which cover ankle and calf in\nan envelope of fold upon fold of buckskin. Before Waiyautitsa is eight\nor even six she may, however, when she goes out, cover her head and\nbody with a black blanket or with the gay colored \u201cshawl\u201d similarly\nworn. And I have seen very little girls indeed wearing moccasins or the\nfootless black stockings Zu\u00f1i women also wear, or \u201cdressing up\u201d in a\npitone, that purely ornamental article of dress without which no Zu\u00f1i\nwoman would venture outdoors. Without her pitone she would feel naked,\nshe says, and any man would be at liberty to speak disrespectfully to\nher. When Waiyautitsa is about five, her hair, before this worn, like\nthe boys, in a short cut, is let grow into a little tail on the nape of\nher neck. In course of time her pigtail will be turned up and tied with\na \u201chair belt\u201d of white, green and red cloth. From ear to ear her front\nhair will be banged to the end of her nose, the bang drawn sidewise\nabove the forehead except at such times in ceremonials when it is let\nfall forward to conceal the upper part of the face.\n\nThis hair arrangement serves in ceremonials as a kind of mask, as\nyou may see in the frontispiece picture of the headdress worn in the\nThlahawe, a woman\u2019s corn dance. A mask proper, that quasi fetich which\nhas so important a place in Pueblo ceremonialism, Waiyautitsa will in\nall probability never wear. Unlike her brother, Waiyautitsa will not\nbe initiated in childhood into the Kachina society, and consequently\nshe will not join one of the six sacred clubhouses or estufas which\nsupply personators for the Kachinas or masked dancers. Not that female\npersonages do not figure in these ceremonials, but as was the rule on\nthe Elizabethan stage, women are impersonated by men.\n\nTo this exclusion of girls from the Kachina society and from\nparticipating in the masked dances there are a few exceptions. To-day\nthree women belong to the Kachina society. They were taken into it not\nin childhood, but in later life and, it is said, for one of the same\nreasons women as well as men are taken into the other societies of\nZu\u00f1i. Cured by ceremonial whipping of the bad effects of nightmare or\nof some other ailment, they were \u201cgiven\u201d to the estufa credited through\none of its members with the cure. Of the three women members only one\nis said to dance, and she is accounted mannish, katsotse, girl-man, a\ntomboy.\n\nWaiyautitsa will likely not be initiated into the kotikyane, but\nshe is quite likely to be initiated into another society,\u2014into the\nGreat-fire-brand or Little fire-brand, or Bedbug or Ant or Wood\nsociety, into any one of the thirteen Zu\u00f1i societies except three,\nthe bow priesthood or society of warriors, of warriors who have taken\na scalp, or the Hunter society or the Cactus society, a society that\ncures arrow or gun-shot wounds. As women do not hunt or go to war,\nfrom membership in these groups they are excluded or, better say,\nprecluded. As we shall see later, affiliation by sex is, in ceremonial\naffairs, along the lines of customary occupation.\n\nIf Waiyautitsa falls sick and is cured by a medicine man of the\nmedicine order of a society she must be \u201cgiven\u201d either to the family\nof the medicine man or to his society. Initiated she may not be,\nhowever, for a long time afterwards, perhaps for years. Initiations\ntake place in the winter when school is in session, the school either\nof the Indian Bureau or of the Dutch Reformed Church, and for that\nreason, it is said, initiations may be postponed until past school age.\nDespite the schools, I may say, I have met but two Zu\u00f1i women who speak\nEnglish with any fluency. One woman is a member of the Snake-medicine\nsociety, into which she was initiated after convalescence from measles,\na decimating disease at Zu\u00f1i, to be accounted for only through\nwitchcraft. The other woman was accounted the solitary convert of the\nDutch Reformed Church Mission in Zu\u00f1i until six or seven years ago she\njoined the Wood society because as a child she had been cured by them\nof smallpox.\n\nAfter initiation, the women, like the men of a society, offer prayer\nsticks each moon, observing continence for four days thereafter, and\nthey join in the four-day retreat in the ceremonial house of the\nsociety preliminary to an initiation. Unlike the men, however, the\nwomen do not spend the entire night, only the evening, in the society\nhouse, and, while there, they are listeners rather than narrators\nof the inexhaustible folk tales that are wont to be told at society\ngatherings. Men are the custodians of the lore, secular as well as\nesoteric, of the tribe, just as men and not women are the musicians.\nThe men are devoted singers, singing as they dance or singing as a\nchoir for dancers, and singing as they go to or from work in the\nfields, or as they drive their horses to water in the river or to the\ncorrals on the edges of the town. Even grinding songs are sung on\nceremonial occasions by men.\n\nIn the public appearances of the society, the women members figure\nbut little. Societies supply choirs and drummers and ceremonial\nroad openers or leaders to the masked dancers and, during the great\nkoko awia (Kachina coming) or shalako ceremonial, to various groups\nof sacred personages. I have seen several dances in Zu\u00f1i and one\ncelebration of koko awia, and I have seen but one woman officiate in\npublic. As a daughter of the house which was entertaining the koyemshi\nor sacred clowns she was in attendance upon that group in the koko awia\nor Advent, so to speak, of 1915.\n\nIf Waiyautitsa belongs to a society, she will offer or plant the\nbefeathered prayer sticks, which are so conspicuous a feature of\nPueblo religion, but, being a woman, Waiyautitsa will not cut or dress\nthe sticks. She will only grind the pigments and, perhaps, paint the\nsticks. Nor as a woman would she offer the sticks on certain other\nceremonial occasions when the men offer them. Once a year, however,\nat the winter solstice ceremonial on which so much of Zu\u00f1i ritualism\npivots, Waiyautitsa will be expected, even in infancy, to plant,\nplanting for the \u201cold ones,\u201d i. e., the ancestors and for the Moon,\nbut not, like the men, for the Sun or, unless a member of the Kachina\nsociety, for the ancestral beings, the Kachina.\n\nAt the conclusion of the winter solstice ceremonial, when certain\nsacred figures called kwelele go from house to house, the women carry\nembers around the walls of the house and throw them out on the kwelele.\nIt is the rite of shuwaha, cleansing, exorcism. There are a number of\nother little rites peculiar to the women in Zu\u00f1i ceremonialism. Through\nthem, and through a number of rites they share with the men, through\nprovisions for supplying food in the estufa to the sacred personators\nor for entertaining them at home or making them presents, women have an\nintegral part in Zu\u00f1i ceremonialism. In what we may call the ceremonial\nmanagement, however, they appear to have little or no part.\n\nEven when women are initiated into the Kachina society, or are\nassociated with the ashiwanni or rain priests, their functions seem to\nbe primarily of an economic or housekeeping order. The women members\nof the rain priesthoods have to offer food every day to the fetiches\nof these sacerdotal groups\u2014to stones carved and uncarved, and to\ncotton-wrapped lengths of cane filled with \u201cthe seeds the people live\nby.\u201d For the seed fetiches to be in any way disturbed in the houses to\nwhich they are attached, involves great danger to the people, and on\na woman in the house, the woman member of the priesthood, falls the\nresponsibility of guardianship or shelter. But even these positions of\ntrust are no longer held by women\u2014there are only six women ashiwanni\namong the fifteen priesthoods. The woman\u2019s position among the paramount\npriesthood, the rain priesthood of the North, has been vacant now\nfor many years\u2014no suitable woman being willing, they say, to run the\nrisks or be under the tabus of office. Aside from this position of\nwoman ashiwanni, women count for little or nothing in the theocracy of\nZu\u00f1i. They were and are associated with the men priests to do the work\npertinent to women. In the case of the Zu\u00f1i pantheon or its masked\nimpersonations, the association is needed to satisfy or carry out, so\nto speak, Zu\u00f1i standards or concepts of conjugality. The couple rather\nthan the individual is the Zu\u00f1i unit. Sometimes, in ceremony or in\nmyth, the couple may consist of two males.\n\nThere is one masked couple I have noted in particular at Zu\u00f1i, the\natoshle. Two or three times during the winter our little Waiyautitsa,\ntogether with other girls and very little boys, may expect to be\nfrightened by the atoshle, the disciplinary masks who serve as bugaboos\nto children as well as a kind of sergeant-at-arms, the male atoshle at\nleast, for adults. If the children meet the old man and his old woman\nin the street, they run away helter-skelter. If the dreadful couple\nvisits a child indoors, sent for perhaps by a parent, the child is\nindeed badly frightened. I suppose that Waiyautitsa is six or seven\nyears old when one day, as an incident of some dance, the atoshle \u201ccome\nout\u201d and come to her house. The old woman atoshle carries a deep basket\non her back in which to carry off naughty children and in her hand a\ncrook to catch them by the ankle. With the crook she pulls Waiyautitsa\nover to the grinding stones in the corner of the room, telling her that\nnow she is getting old enough to help her mother about the house, to\nlook after the baby and, before so very long, to grind. She must mind\nher mother and be a good girl. I once saw a little girl so terrified\nby such admonition that she began to whimper, hiding her head in her\nmother\u2019s lap until the atoshle was sprinkled with the sacred meal and\nleft the house to perform elsewhere his role of parent\u2019s assistant.\n\nWhether from fear, from supernatural fear or fear of being talked\nabout as any Zu\u00f1i woman who rests or idles is talked about, or whether\nfrom example, more from the latter no doubt than from the former,\nWaiyautitsa is certainly a \u201cgood girl,\u201d a gentle little creature,\nand very docile. Sometimes she plays lively games with her \u201csisters\u201d\nnext door like the game of bear at the spring. A spiral is traced on\nthe ground and at the center is placed a bowl of water to represent\na spring. The girls follow the spiral to get water for their little\nturkeys which, they sing, are dying of thirst. Then the \u201cbear\u201d rushes\nout from the spring and gives chase. But for the most part the little\ngirls play quietly at house. In this way and in imitating at home her\nindustrious mother or aunt, or her even more industrious grandmother or\ngreat-aunt, Waiyautitsa learns to do all the household tasks of women.\nShe learns to grind the corn on the stone metate\u2014that back-hardening\nlabor of the Pueblo woman\u2014and to prepare and cook the meal in a number\nof ways in an outside oven or on the American stove or on the flat slab\non which hewe or wafer bread is spread. For the ever cheery family meal\nshe sets out the coffee-pot, the hewe or tortilla, and the bowls of\nchile and of mutton stew on the earthen floor she is forever sweeping\nup with her little homemade brush or with an American broom. (A Zu\u00f1i\nhouse is kept very clean and amazingly neat and orderly.)\n\nAnd Waiyautitsa becomes very thrifty\u2014not only naturally but\nsupernaturally. She will not sell corn out of the house without\nkeeping back a few grains in order that the corn may return\u2014in Zu\u00f1i\nthought the whole follows a part. And she will keep a lump of salt in\nthe corn storeroom and another in the bread bowl\u2014when salt is dug out,\nthe hole soon refills, and this virtue of replacing itself the salt is\nexpected to impart to the corn. There are other respects, too, in which\nWaiyautitsa will learn how to facilitate the economy. She will sprinkle\nthe melon seeds for planting, with sweetened water\u2014melons should be\nsweet. Seed wheat she will sprinkle with a white clay to make the crop\nwhite, and with a plant called k\u2019owa so that wheat dough will pull\nwell. Seed corn will be sprinkled with water that the crop may be well\nrained on.\n\nFrom some kinswoman who is a specially good potter, Waiyautitsa may\nhave learned to coil and paint and fire the bowls as well as the cook\npots and water jars the household needs. She fetches in wood from the\nwoodpile and now and again she may be seen chopping the pine or cedar\nlogs the men of the household have brought in on donkey or in wagon.\nShe fetches water from one of the modern wells of the town, carrying\nit in a jar on her head and walking in the slow and springless gait\nalways characteristic of Pueblo women. Perhaps that gait, so ponderous\nand so different from the gait of the men, is the result of incessant\nindustry, a kind of unconscious self-protective device against\n\u201cspeeding up.\u201d\n\nWaiyautitsa will learn to work outdoors as well as in. She will help\nher mother in keeping one of the small vegetable gardens near the\ntown\u2014the men cultivate the outlying fields of corn and wheat (and\nthe men and boys herd the sheep which make the Zu\u00f1i prosperous),\nand Waiyautitsa will help her household thresh their wheat crop, in\nthe morning preparing dinner for the workers, for relatives from\nother households as well as from her own, in the afternoon joining\nthe threshers as the men drive horses or mules around the circular\nthreshing floor and the women and girls pitchfork the wheat and brush\naway the chaff and winnow the grain in baskets. Waiyautitsa will also\nlearn to make adobe blocks and to plaster with her bare hand or with\na rabbit-skin glove the adobe walls of her mother\u2019s house, inside and\nout. Pueblo men are the carpenters of a house, but the women are always\nthe plasterers, and Waiyautitsa will have to be a very old woman indeed\nto think she is too old to plaster. On my last visit to Zu\u00f1i I saw a\nwoman seventy, or not much under, spending part of an afternoon on her\nknees plastering the chinks of a door newly cut between two rooms.\n\nThe house she plasters belongs, or will in time belong, to Waiyautitsa.\nZu\u00f1i women own their houses and their gardens or, perhaps it is better\nto say, gardens and houses belong to the family through the women. At\nmarriage a girl does not leave home; her husband joins her household.\nHe stays in it, too\u2014only as long as he is welcome. If he is lazy, if he\nfails to bring in wood, if he fails to contribute the produce of his\nfields, or if some one else for some other reason is preferred, his\nwife expects him to leave her household. He does not wait to be told\ntwice. \u201cThe Zu\u00f1i separate whenever they quarrel or get tired of each\nother,\u201d a critical Acoma moralist once said to me. The monogamy of Zu\u00f1i\nis, to be sure, rather brittle. In separation the children stay with\nthe mother.\n\nChildren belong to their mother\u2019s clan. They have affiliations,\nhowever, as we shall see, with the clan of their father. If the mother\nof Waiyautitsa is a Badger, let us say, and her father a Turkey,\nWaiyautitsa will be a Badger and \u201cthe child of the Turkey.\u201d She can not\nmarry a Turkey clansman nor, of course, a Badger. Did she show any\npartiality for a clansman, an almost incredible thing, she would be\ntold she was just like a dog or a burro.\n\nThese exogamous restrictions aside, and the like restrictions that may\narise in special ways between the household of Waiyautitsa and other\nhouseholds, Waiyautitsa would be given freedom of choice in marrying.\nEven if her household did not like her man, and her parents had told\nher not \u201cto talk to\u201d him, Zu\u00f1i for courting, she and he could go to\nlive with some kinswoman. No one, related or unrelated, would refuse\nto take them in. Nobody may be turned from the door. Nor would a girl\nwhose child was the offspring of a chance encounter be turned out by\nher people or slighted. The illegitimate child is not discriminated\nagainst at Zu\u00f1i.\n\nCasual relationships occur at Zu\u00f1i, but they are not commercialized,\nthere is no prostitution. Nor is there any lifelong celibacy. As for\ncourtship, very little of it can there be\u2014at least before intimacy\neither in the more transient or more permanent forms of mating,\u2014the\nseparation outside of the household of boys and girls of various ages\nis so thorough. \u201cBut what if a little girl wanted to play with boys?\u201d\nI once asked. \u201cThey would laugh at her and say she was too crazy\nabout boys.\u201d \u201cCrazy\u201d at Zu\u00f1i, as quite generally among Indians, means\npassionate. (Girls at Zu\u00f1i are warned away from ceremonial trespass by\nthe threat of becoming \u201ccrazy.\u201d)\n\nThe young men and girls do, to be sure, have non-ceremonial dances\ntogether, and in preparing for them there are opportunities for\npersonal acquaintance. I saw one of these dances not long ago. It was\na Comanche dance. There were a choir of about a dozen youths including\nthe drummer, four girl dancers heavily be-ringed and be-necklaced, the\npattern of whose dance, two by two or in line, was very regular, and a\nyouth who executed in front of them or around them an animated and very\nbeautiful pas seul. After dancing outside in the plaza, they all went\ninto the \u201csaint\u2019s house\u201d to dance for her \u201cbecause they like her\u201d\u2014a\nsurvival no doubt of the custom of dancing in the Catholic church\nobserved by the Indians in Mexico and not long since quite generally in\nNew Mexico.\n\nBut it is on the twilight trip to the well, the conventional Zu\u00f1i hour\nof courtship, that Waiyautitsa will be approached by suitors. Muffled\nin his black blanket the youth may step out from the corner where he\nhas been lurking and put his hand on the girl\u2019s arm. If she will have\nnone of him, she may avert her head and hasten on to overtake the woman\nin front, but if she fancies the fellow, she will pause, if but for\na moment or two, to talk. It is a brief encounter and, with somebody\nin front and perhaps another girl coming up behind, it is far from\nprivate; still after Waiyautitsa has had a few such meetings, \u201ctwo or\nfour,\u201d she is likely to invite the young man to join her household. At\nfirst, for a few days, he will stay in the common room, in the room\nwhere all sleep (sleeping and dressing, let me say, with the utmost\nmodesty), he will stay only at night, leaving before dawn, \u201cstaying\nstill\u201d his shyness is called. Then he will begin to eat his meals with\nthe household. There is, you see, no wedding ceremonial and a man slips\nas easily as he can into the life of his wife\u2019s household.\n\nWaiyautitsa will pay a formal visit on her bridegroom\u2019s people, taking\nhis mother a basket of corn meal. To Waiyautitsa herself her young\nman will have given a present of cloth for a dress, or a buckskin for\nthe moccasins he will make for her. Hides are a product of the chase,\nof cattle raising (cowhide is used to sole moccasins), or of trade,\nmen\u2019s occupations, and so moccasins of both women and men are made by\nmen. Women make their own dresses, although, formerly, before weaving\nwent out of fashion at Zu\u00f1i, it is likely that men were the weavers,\njust as they are to-day among the Hopi from whom the men of Zu\u00f1i get\ncloth for their ceremonial kilts and blankets, and for the dresses of\nthe women. Even to-day at Zu\u00f1i men may make up their own garments from\nstore-bought goods and it is not unusual to see a man sitting to a\nsewing machine.\n\nA man may use cloth or thread for other than economic reasons. In\ncase a girl jilts him he will catch her out some night and take a bit\nfrom her belt to fasten to a tree on a windy mesa top. As the wind\nwears away the thread, the woman will sicken and perhaps in two or\nthree years die. A woman who is deserted may take soil from the man\u2019s\nfootprints and put it where she sleeps. At night he will think of her\nand come back\u2014\u201ceven if the other woman is better looking.\u201d Apprehensive\nof desertion a woman may put a lock of hair from the man in her house\nwall or, the better to attach him to her, she may wear it over her\nheart. Women and men alike may buy love charms from the ne\u2019wekwe, a\ncuring society, potent in magic, black or white. There is a song, too,\nwhich men and women may sing \u201cin their heart\u201d to charm the opposite\nsex. And there is a song which a girl may sing to the corn as she\nrubs the yellow meal on her face before going out. \u201cHelp me,\u201d is the\nsubstance of it, \u201cI am going to the plaza. Make me look pretty.\u201d Rarely\ndo our girls pray, I suppose, when they powder their noses.\n\nCourtship past for the time being, courtship by magic or otherwise,\nWaiyautitsa is now, let us say, an expectant mother. Her household\nduties continue to be about the same, but certain precautions, if she\ninclines to be very circumspect, she does take. She will not test the\nheat of her oven by sprinkling it in the usual way with bran, for if\nshe does, her child, she has heard, may be born with a skin eruption.\nNor will she look at a corpse or help dress a dead animal lest her\nchild be born dead or disfigured. She has heard that, even as a little\ngirl if she ate the whitish leaf of the corn husk, her child would be\nan albino. If her husband eats this during the pregnancy, the result\nwould be the same. On her husband fall a number of other pregnancy\ntabus, perhaps as many as fall on her, if not more. If he hunts and\nmaims an animal, the child will be similarly maimed\u2014deformed or\nperhaps blind. If he joins in a masked dance, the child may have some\nmask-suggested misshape or some eruption like the paint on the mask.\nIf he sings a great deal, the child will be a cry-baby. The habit of\nthinking in terms of sympathetic magic or of reasoning by analogy which\nis even more conspicuous at Zu\u00f1i than, let us say, at New York, is\nparticularly evident in pregnancy or birth practises or tabus.\n\nPerhaps Waiyautitsa has wished to determine the sex of the child. In\nthat case she may have made a pilgrimage with a rain priest to Corn\nMesa to plant a prayer stick which has to be cut and painted in one way\nfor a boy, in another way for a girl. (Throughout the Southwest blue\nor turquoise is associated with maleness, and yellow with femaleness.)\nWanting a girl\u2014and girls are wanted in Zu\u00f1i quite as much as boys,\nif not more\u2014Waiyautitsa need not make the trip to the mesa, instead\nher husband may bring her to wear in her belt scrapings from a stone\nin a phallic shrine near the mesa. When labor sets in and the pains\nare slight, indicating, women think, a girl, Waiyautitsa may be told\nby her mother, \u201cDon\u2019t sleep, or you will have a boy.\u201d A nap during\nlabor effects a change of sex. When the child is about to be born,\nWaiyautitsa is careful, too, if she wants a girl, to see that the\ncustom of sending the men out of the house at this time is strictly\nobserved.\n\nAfter the birth, Waiyautitsa will lie in for several days, four, eight,\nten or twelve, according to the custom of her family. Whatever the\ncustom, if she does not observe it, she runs the risk of \u201cdrying up\u201d\nand dying. She lies on a bed of sand heated by hot stones, and upon\nher abdomen is placed a hot stone. Thus is she \u201ccooked,\u201d people say,\nand creatures whose mothers are not thus treated are called uncooked,\nraw\u2014they are the animals, the gods, Whites. To be \u201ccooked\u201d seems to be\ntantamount in Zu\u00f1i to being human.\n\nIt is the duty of Waiyautitsa\u2019s mother-in-law, the child\u2019s paternal\ngrandmother, to look after mother and child during the confinement, and\nat its close to carry the child outdoors at dawn and present him or her\nto the Sun. Had Waiyautitsa lost children, she might have invited a\npropitious friend, some woman who had had many children and lost none,\nto attend the birth and be the first to pick up the child and blow into\nhis mouth. In these circumstances the woman\u2019s husband would become the\ninitiator of the child, if a boy, when the child was to be taken into\nthe Kachina society. Generally the child\u2019s father chooses some man\nfrom the house of his own kuku or paternal aunt to be the initiator or\ngodfather, so to speak, of the child. Ceremonial rites usually fall to\nthe paternal relatives.\n\nBut the infant will receive attentions of a ritual or magical nature,\nlikewise from his mother and her household. He is placed on a cradle\nboard in which, near the position of his heart, a bit of turquoise is\ninlaid to preclude the cradle bringing any harm to its tenant. Left\nalone, a baby runs great risk\u2014some family ghost may come and hold him,\ncausing him to die within four days. And so a quasi-fetichistic ear of\ncorn, a double ear thought of as mother and child, is left alongside\nthe baby as a protector. That the baby may teethe promptly, his gums\nmay be rubbed by one who has been bitten by a snake\u2014\u201csnakes want to\nbite.\u201d To make the child\u2019s hair grow long and thick, his grandfather or\nuncle may puff the smoke of native tobacco on his head. That the child\nmay not be afraid in the dark, water-soaked embers are rubbed over his\nheart the first time he is taken out at night\u2014judging from what I have\nseen of Zu\u00f1i children and adults a quite ineffectual method. That the\nchild may keep well and walk early, hairs from a deer are burned, and\nthe child held over the smoke\u2014deer are never sick, and rapid is their\ngait. Their hearing, too, is acute, so discharge from a deer\u2019s ear\nwill be put into the baby\u2019s ear. That the child may talk well and with\ntongues, the tongue of a snared mocking bird may be cut out and held to\nthe baby to lick. The bird will then be released in order that, as it\nregains its tongue and \u201ctalks,\u201d the child will talk. A youth who speaks\nin addition to his native tongue Keresan, English and Spanish, has been\npointed out to me as one who had licked mocking bird tongue.\n\nWaiyautitsa will give birth to three or four children, probably not\nmore, and then, as she approaches middle age, we may suppose that\nshe falls sick, and after being doctored unsuccessfully first by her\nold father who happens to be a well known medicine man of the Great\nFire-brand society, and then by a medicine man from the ne\u2019wekwe\nsociety whose practice is just the opposite, Waiyautitsa dies. Within\na few hours elderly kinswomen of her father\u2019s will come in and wash\nher hair and body, and at dawn sprinkle her face, first with water and\nthen with meal. The deceased will be well dressed, and in a blanket\ndonated by her father\u2019s people she will be carried to the cemetery\nlying in front of the old church, a ruin from the days of the Catholic\nestablishment in Zu\u00f1i. There to the north of the central wooden cross,\ni. e., on the north side of the cemetery, Waiyautitsa will be buried.\nWomen are buried on the north side and men on the south.\n\nWaiyautitsa will be carried out and buried by her father and other men\nin the household. No women will go to the burial, nor will the widower.\nThe widower, as soon as the corpse is taken outdoors, will be fetched\nby his women relatives to live at their house. There they straightway\nwash his hair\u2014a performance inseparable in Zu\u00f1i, as at other pueblos,\nfrom every time of crisis or ceremony. The hair of all the other\nmembers of Waiyautitsa\u2019s household will be washed at the end of four\ndays by women relatives of her father. During this time, since the\nspirit of Waiyautitsa is thought to linger about the home, the house\ndoor will be left open for her at night. The bowl used in washing her\nhair, and the implements used in digging her grave will also be left\noutdoors. Her smaller and peculiarly personal possessions have been\nburied with her, and bulky things like bedding have been burned or\ntaken to a special place down the river to be buried. The river flows\nto the lake sixty miles or so west of Zu\u00f1i, where Waiyautitsa\u2019s spirit\nis also supposed to take its journey. There under the lake it abides,\nexcept when with other spirits it returns in the clouds to pour down\nupon Zu\u00f1i fields the beneficent rain. People will say to a child, when\nthey see a heavy cloud, \u201cThere goes your grandmother\u201d; or they will\nquite seriously say to one another, \u201cOur grandfathers are coming.\u201d\n\nWaiyautitsa\u2019s children may go on living at home with their grandmother,\nWaiyautitsa\u2019s mother, or it may be that one of them is adopted by\na maternal aunt or great-aunt or cousin. Zu\u00f1i children, cherished\npossessions as they are, are always being adopted\u2014even in the lifetime\nof their mother. Adopted, a child\u2014or an adult\u2014will fit thoroughly\ninto the ways of his adoptive household. It is the household as well\nas the clan which differentiates the Zu\u00f1i family group from our\nindividualistic type of family. The household changes quite readily,\nbut, whatever its composition, it is an exceedingly integrated and\nresponsible group.\n\nHowever the children are distributed, it will be the older woman or\nwomen in the household who will control them. This household system\nis one that gives position and considerable authority to the elder\nwomen\u2014until the women are too old, people say, to be of any use.\n(In spite of this irony, I have heard of but one old woman who was\nneglected by her household.) An older woman who is the female head of\nthe household is greatly respected by her daughters and sons-in-law and\ngrandchildren, as well as by the sons or brothers who continually visit\nthe household and often, as temporary celibates, return to live in it.\n\nThe older woman is highly esteemed, but she is by no means the head of\nthe household\u2014unless she is widowed. Wherever the household contributes\nto the ceremonial public life, her husband is paramount. In the\nnon-ceremonial, economic life, too, he has equal, if not greater,\nauthority. And in the general economy he more or less expects his\nwife to serve him and wait on him. This conjugal subordination is not\napparent to any extent among the younger people; the younger husband\nand wife are too much drawn into the corporate household life. But as\ntime passes and they in turn become the heads of the household, the\nman appears to be more given to staying at home, and more and more he\ntakes control.\n\nFrom this brief survey of the life of a woman at Zu\u00f1i, in so far as\nit can be distinguished from the general life, we get the impression\nthat the differentiation of the sexes follows lines of least resistance\nwhich start from a fairly fundamental division of labor. From being\nhunters and trappers men become herders of the domestic animals,\ndrivers or riders. Trade journeys and trips for wood or for the\ncollecting of other natural resources are associated with men, and\nwork on the things acquired is men\u2019s work\u2014men, for example, are wood\ncutters, and bead makers, whether the objects are for secular or\nsacerdotal use. Analogously all work upon skins or feathers is work for\nmen whether it leads to the manufacture of clothing or to communication\nwith the supernaturals. Again, as farmers, men are associated with\nthat system of supernatural instrumentalism for fertility and weather\ncontrol which constitutes in large part Zu\u00f1i religion. In other words,\nthe bulk of the ceremonial life, a system for the most part of rain\nrituals, is in the hands of the men. So is government. The secular\nofficers are merely representatives of the priests. Zu\u00f1i government is\na theocracy in which women have little part. The house and housekeeping\nare associated with women. Clay is the flesh of a female supernatural,\nand clay processes, brickmaking or laying or plastering, and pottery\nmaking are women\u2019s work. There are indications in sacerdotal circles\nthat painting is, or was thought of as, a feminine activity. Corn,\nlike clay, is the flesh of female supernaturals, and the corn is\nassociated with women. Even men corn growers are in duty bound to bring\ntheir product to their wife or mother. Women or women impersonations\nfigure in corn rituals. It is tempting to speculate that formerly,\ncenturies since, women themselves were the corn growers. To-day, at\nany rate, the preparation of corn, as of other food, is women\u2019s work.\nWherever food and its distribution figure in ceremonials, and there\nis a constant offering of food to the supernaturals, women figure.\nFetiches are attached to houses and in so far as providing for these\nfetiches is household work, it is women\u2019s work and leads to the holding\nof sacerdotal office by women. The household rather than ties of blood\nis the basis of family life. The children of the household are more\nclosely attached to the women than to the men. One expression of this\nattachment is seen in reckoning clan membership through the mother.\n\nHousehold work at Zu\u00f1i as elsewhere is continuous. The women are always\non the move. The work of the men, on the other hand, is intermittent.\nHunting, herding and farming are more or less seasonal activities and\nare more or less readily fitted into ceremonial pursuits, or rather,\nin their less urgent periods, take on ceremonial aspects. In the\nceremonial life the arts find expression, and the men and not the women\nare, by and large, the artists of the tribe.\n\nAttached to the ceremonial life are the games of chance and the races\nthat are played or run at certain seasons. Here again the intermittent\nhabit of work of the men, together with their comparative mobility,\nqualifies them as gamesters and runners to the exclusion more or less\nof the women. Formerly, to be sure, the women played a pole and hoop\ngame, and, given ceremonial exigency as among the Hopi, the women no\ndoubt would run races.\n\nHousehold work is confining. Hunting, herding, trading lead to a\ncomparatively mobile habit, a habit of mind or spirit which in the\nSouthwest, at least, is adapted to ceremonial pursuit; for Pueblo\nIndian ceremonialism thrives on foreign accretions, whether of myth or\nsong or dance or design of mask or costume, or, within certain limits\nof assimilation, of psychological patterns of purpose or gratification.\n\nTo the point of view that the differentiation of the sexes at Zu\u00f1i\nproceeds on the whole from the division of labor, the native custom of\nallowing a boy or man to become, as far as ways of living go, a girl\nor woman, gives color. Towards adolescence, and sometimes in later\nlife, it is permissible for a boy culturally to change sex. He puts\non women\u2019s dress, speaks like a woman, and behaves like a woman. This\nalteration is due to the fact that one takes readily to women\u2019s work,\none prefers it to men\u2019s work. Of one or another of the three men-women\nnow at Zu\u00f1i or of the men-women in other pueblos I have always been\ntold that the person in question made the change because he wanted\nto work like a woman or because his household was short of women and\nneeded a woman worker.\n\nAnd yet among the Hopi, where the economy is practically identical with\nthe Zu\u00f1i, there are no men-women; in this tribe the institution, it is\nsaid, was never established. This, like other customs, is not merely\na matter of economic adjustment; economic or psychologic propriety\nor consistency or predisposition may count, but of great importance\nalso are the survival of traits from an earlier culture, and the\nacquiring of traits from the culture of neighboring peoples. Were we\nto understand the interplay of all these factors in the life, shall we\nsay, of Waiyautitsa, we might be a long way towards understanding the\nprinciples of society, even other than that of Zu\u00f1i.\n\n ELSIE CLEWS PARSONS\n\n\n\n\n Zu\u00f1i Pictures\n\n\nIf there was any one thing in the wide world I wanted to do more\nthan another, it was to visit the New Mexican pueblo where my friend\nTenatsali[7] spent so many years of his strange career. He had\ndiscovered it and made it his own and before his death he turned over\nto me his title to its romance and mystery. This was all he possessed\nin it, for even the stone house he built with money earned by literary\nwork had dropped from his lavish hands. It happened one winter while\ncrossing the continent I heard there was to be a dance at the pueblo.\nThe news decided me. I stopped off on the railroad, hired a team from\nthe sheriff and had him drive me down to the town. It was winter; snow\ncovered the heights and we were both chilled through when we reached\nTenatsali\u2019s big stone house, then a trading store. The farmer-agent, a\njovial man, who had been the trader in Tenatsali\u2019s day, lived in the\nother end of the building. He welcomed me as an old friend and told me\nstories of Tenatsali until late into the night, as we sat before his\nfire.\n\nIt was in his house Tenatsali had remained concealed in the long\ninterval from the time he rode out so debonairly on the war-path to\ntake a scalp, and the arrival of a scalp from Washington. He was\nobliged to perform a scalp-taking feat before he could be admitted to\nmembership among the Priests of the Bow. As he would not secure a scalp\nin the orthodox way, he had to get one as best he could. It was a very\nold scalp, one from the National Museum collected by Lewis H. Morgan\nmany years before.\n\nI slept soundly after the long ride, but, rising betimes, sought a\nguide that I might go to the village, which is like an ant hill, across\nthe little river, and then climb to the summit of that mesa to the East\nwhich overlooks the great valley. The two possible interpreters, youths\nwho had been reared by the trader, were both sequestered in the village\nas they were to take part in the dance. And so it was decided I could\ndo no better than engage a schoolboy who, while he spoke little or no\nEnglish, could at least show me the trail up the mesa. In spite of the\nsnow the boy was barefoot, and his single garment was scanty protection\nfrom the cold. We crossed the wide stretch of plain, rounded the mesa\nand took the steep trail on the farther side. It was half obliterated\nby the snowdrifts, but the boy ran lightly ahead, up and up, stretching\nme a hand at the steep places until we reached the broad, table top.\nThere in an open shrine stood the image of the war god, Ahaiyuta, his\nplumes bedraggled and blown about by the wind. We passed the ruins\ncovered with spiny cactus and I waited while the boy, nimble as a goat,\ndescended the trail beside the pinnacled rock to visit the old images\nof the war gods ranged in a row in their immemorial cave. There too he\nsaw, I suppose, the painted jars that held the old masks of Sayatasha.\nWhen he came back we visited the other war-god shrine and descended the\nmesa to return across the plain to the store, tired and hungry after\nour seven-miles\u2019 round.\n\nHere we found people from far and near who had come to see the\ndance. There was Jesus, the Mexican, and French Dan, Falstaffian and\ndissolute. There was the Missionary whom later I was to know better\nand the Field Matron, a wraith of a woman who went silently among\nthe Indians and gave them some drug she had discovered through an\nadvertisement in the \u201cboiler plate\u201d of her home paper. There were the\nIndians who fraternize with the whites, like the Albino and the old\nMormon, or to give him his full name, Ten Cent Mormon, because he had\nbeen baptized by the Mormons in the early days and received ten cents\nto bind the bargain.\n\nThe conversation at the dinner table where we had a hearty, steaming\nmeal was all about the dance, and even the sheriff was moved to express\nhimself. It was the first time this particular dance had been performed\nfor years. The Arrow-Swallowing society had given public exhibitions,\nbut on this occasion there was to be tree-swallowing as well. It was\nplain enough that the agent and the sheriff really believed that the\nIndians had supernatural powers.\n\nThe agent accompanied me to the village that afternoon and guided me\nto a place in the large, central court where I could see the dance to\nadvantage. A red blanket was spread for us to sit upon, and we took\nour places with the expectant crowd. Every living soul in the pueblo,\ndressed in their best and gayest clothes, lined the roofs of the\nterraced houses.\n\nFew plays are staged more effectively than these performances. The\nadobe walls of the houses furnish a perfect background. The court seems\nentirely inclosed and the processions of dancers enter and return\nby passageways set at right angles on either side. In the centre\nof the plaza was a long, white, wooden box painted in colors with\ncloud-terrace and rain symbols which the musicians used as a resonator\nfor their notched-stick rattles. While we talked, the agent pointed\nout familiar faces like Ni\u00f1a, the pretty granddaughter of old Nayuchi\nthe war chief, and Lusalu, the fat governor. The small children played\non the edges of the crowd and mud-bedaubed clowns lolled around the\npainted box. Two old men dressed in gala attire, with white smocks\nand gay bandas and sashes, took up the notched instruments and began\nscraping them in a rhythmic motion with plectra made of sheep bone.\nThere are few more mysterious and disturbing sounds than this same\nscraping. The time is perfect, the rhythm inexorable. Something was\nabout to happen.\n\nTwo long processions advanced slowly into the plaza. In single file,\nkeeping perfect time, their turtle-shell, leg rattles in absolute\nunison, dressed all alike in kilts and armlets, with faces and bodies\npainted white, the dancers approached each other from opposite sides,\nand wonderful to behold, each dancer with head thrown back supported\na tall spruce tree erect in his mouth. Below were the bodies of the\nwhite-painted figures, robust and vigorous, and above a moving forest.\nThe processions continued to advance, and curved round the plaza until\nthey displayed their entire length, halted with a loud fanfare of gourd\nrattles,\u2014and then became still and silent. There were women among\nthem\u2014and one wearing a white, cylinder-shaped mask. Some children,\nneophytes, followed, and on one side a tiny boy with a miniature spruce\nbrought up the rear. The dancers rested, withdrew the trees from their\nmouths and held them, butts upward with the top boughs resting on the\nground. Then it was that the full significance of the performance was\nrevealed. The butts, rudely chopped to a tapering point eight or more\ninches in length, had been entirely swallowed.\n\nAgain the strident notes of the rattles sounded. The dancers took up\ntheir trees, elevated and adjusted them in their mouths and danced\nas before. There was the same volume of co\u00f6rdinated sounds, of gourd\nrattles, of resonant shells and the swish, swish of the garments. Again\nthe white mask danced on.... It grew dark and I left the plaza, in a\ndaze. What did it all mean\u2014the painted box, the swallowed trees, the\nwhite mask?\n\n STEWART CULIN\n\n\n\n\n Havasupai Days\n\n\n I\n\nLanso is a hedonist of seven. Day dawns late down in Cataract Canyon,\nbut even spring nights in Arizona are chill, and one\u2019s own soft-woven\nbedding, cedar-bark mat and rabbit-skin blanket, suffuse a warmth\none would not willingly forego. But,\u2014\u201cLanso,\u201d whispers grandfather\nSinyella, \u201cup and run toward the daylight. Run, that you grow straight\nand lusty. And heed me; take your torch and touch it to your elbows and\nyour wrists that you may never be rheumatic as I, your relative. Oh\nyes, and as you turn back, fling the torch behind you, turn once again\nand snatch it up, that your memory may be strong too, that you may\nremember quickly a forgotten deer charm when you go to hunt.\u201d\n\nLanso leaves his creekside home, worms his way among the slender\ncotton-woods, and emerging on the race course, drops into a dogged trot\nthrough the deep sand. The race course\u2014but that is a place for a mad,\nscrambling dash; perched with brothers, and sisters too, on the bare\nback of father\u2019s horse. What need to run afoot: foot races come at\ndance time, and that will have to wait until the harvest is in. Dance\ntime\u2014Lanso hums the songs. \u201cYes, I know them all; next time I, too,\nwill dance....\u201d\n\nIt is lighter when Lanso turns back: all the Havasupai are astir.\nAcrid smoke begins to drift over the willow thickets; ethereal strata\nthat rest in the still air against the towering rock walls; walls that\nstretch to the winter home high on the plateau above. There in the\nclearing is his home; the willow-thatched dome for rainy days, the\nbranch-covered, dirt-roofed, box-like shade for refuge from the midday\nsun, and Hat\u2019s sand-drifted hut merging in the swell of the creek bank.\n\nLanso scents breakfast in the bubbling clay pot, the inexhaustible\npot that stands day-long with open-mouthed hospitality extended to\nall comers. But even a cold-whetted appetite will not tempt him to a\nsidelong foray on the mess; no, there was bravery needed for the sharp\nreproach and unbearable ridicule meted out to unmannerly pilferers.\nBetter to wait until Round-one, Hat\u2019s wife, should call the family,\nLanso, her nephew, not last among them, to the stew of ground corn and\nbig-horn meat, little loaves of corn meal tied in the husks and baked\nin the embers, sweet mescal juice, and salt from the cave far down the\ncanyon. Then he would creep up to the elders grouped on the ground\naround the pots and baskets, and from the side of Fox, his favorite\nuncle, beg for tasty bits fished out with sharpened twigs, and to take\nhis turn at the brimming, horn ladles.\n\n\u201cNow,\u201d said old Sinyella, \u201cthe brush is burned and our fields are\ncleared: to-day we will plant.\u201d So, off the whole family trooped;\nmen and children on horses, the women, their babies strapped to\nthe cradle board in their arms, trudging along beside them. Lanso,\nclutching hard at his grandfather\u2019s back, rocked to the easy canter of\ntheir horse. Here was business afoot he understood: next to the victims\nthat fell before his arrows\u2014very small creatures, indeed\u2014this would be\nhis chief contribution to the family larder. Yesterday he had watched\nthem playing shinney, gambling for the future crops, and he had guessed\nthey would begin to-day.\n\nDown through the broad fields they rode, noting here the dam that\nspread a somewhat broken wing to scoop the creek to the level of\nthe fields, there an irrigation ditch that needed mending, until\nthey reached the family fields. These were Sinyella\u2019s and had been\nSinyella\u2019s father\u2019s and grandfather\u2019s, and one day would go to Lanso.\n\nTurning out the horses to graze at the foot of the rocky slope, they\nclimbed to the storage houses set high above the reach of devastating\nfloods, plastered like swallows\u2019 nests in a crevice at the base of the\ncliff. The seed corn secured, Sinyella knelt in the field and scratched\na hole with his pointed digging-stick. Then he prayed, \u201cGrow good,\ncorn; when your stalk grows, grow tall; grow like the ancient corn up\nthere,\u201d and dropping some kernels in the hole, he chewed another and\nblew it toward the \u201ccorn,\u201d two white rocks high on the canyon wall.\nThen two short steps forward and he knelt to dig again. Lanso watched,\nand then followed; first a few kernels, a deft sweep to fill the hole,\nand then the next hill. Row after row they planted together under the\nwhite morning sun that rose to flood the canyon with its light and\nheat....\n\nBack in the deep shade of the huge cotton-wood he saw his grandfather\nplaying with his little brother\u2014a toddling fellow not yet worthy of\na name. Now he was searching for his mislaid arrows for he heard a\ntwittering from a nearby bush. \u201cYes,\u201d Sinyella teased the baby, \u201cthat\nbird is calling to you, \u2018You are not a boy; you have no arrow to kill\nme; you are a girl.\u2019\u201d Grandfather knew everything: he made fine bows\nand arrows, and he told long stories in the winter evenings. \u201cNext\nwinter,\u201d Lanso thought, \u201cI will track rabbits in the snow when it lies\nin the cedar glades where our other home is; now I must hunt down\nhere....\u201d\n\nThe bushes spawned boys, Lanso among them. There were birds to be shot,\ndogs to be worried, deadfalls to be looked to, horses to be watered,\nsprawled over, and raced. They all ran down the canyon to Coyote\u2019s,\nwhere there was that curious Navaho visitor to watch. Mornings are\nshort when there are cliffs to scale, tanning to watch, flat cactus\nto roll for arrow-marks, food to beg from some friend\u2014and relatives\nlived everywhere; Wooden-leg to listen to as he told of his trip to the\nWalapai people to fetch a bride, mock ambushes in the willows, and the\ncreek, with its cooling embrace as it closes overhead....\n\n\n II\n\nPanamida drove his horses down the creek bank in a cloud of dust.\nStanding belly deep, they sluiced the cool water through their\noutstretched throats. Panamida let it swirl around his dangling ankles;\nhere was relief from the afternoon heat. Bending low he could look\nup-stream beneath the vaulting willows where the women were filling\ntheir water-baskets. \u201cFox,\u201d one called to him. \u201cFox,\u201d indeed! Who was\nthis who did not know that they had begun to call him Panamida since\nhis marriage. Couldn\u2019t she see that these three were Left-hand\u2019s\nhorses: Left-hand, to whom he had given a big blanket, a black Hopi\nshirt, and much dried meat, all for Gathawinga when he had first gone\nto live at her father\u2019s and work for him. \u201cWhen I have a son, I will\nbuild my own house on my family fields; Sinyella will give me a place,\u201d\nhe thought. He knew he was to have a son: only yesterday Hat\u2019s girl had\nmade a string-figure that resembled a boy.\n\nShrill laughter came from the dance-ground beyond the screening\nthicket: the women were playing hiding games and tossing dice over\nthere. He laughed abruptly; Swollen-wrist\u2019s voice came bellowing the\nsong,\n\n \u201cMy tally sticks;\n I want them to come back;\n I am nearly dead.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat fellow never does win the stakes,\u201d thought Panamida. \u201cWell, those\nwomen should cook now for the dance to-night: later I will join them\nfor the racing.\u201d\n\nPanamida turned the horses out and sauntered down the creek side to\nTwo-wives\u2019 sweat lodge, where a dozen breechclouted men were lounging\nabout in the sand. One could usually find them here, gossiping through\nthe midday heat. While they waited a turn to enter, old Corn-thief\ndroned recollections of his youth: \u201c... We found a flock of mountain\nsheep, with several rams among them. I shot a very big one, the others\nall ran off. The wounded ram jumped down the cliff, and ran along a\nvery narrow ledge. I and Hat\u2019s father slid down from rock to rock, and\nfollowed him along that ledge until he stopped abruptly at its end.\nSuddenly he turned and dashed back at us, his head held down sideways.\nI flattened myself against the wall, Hat\u2019s father beside me; there was\nhardly room. The ram struck Hat\u2019s father, throwing him off the ledge:\nit is very high there. The ram stood quite still; those above me shot\nat him; when he was hit, he too tumbled headlong. Next day we tramped\ndown the trail and found the body in the canyon. We carried it away,\nand dug a hole to bury it; we didn\u2019t have time to burn it....\u201d Panamida\ntried to recall Hat\u2019s father\u2019s name: no one said it now that he was\ndead.\n\nSome one carried freshly heated stones into the little dome-shaped\nlodge. Panamida followed the next three to enter; there should be four\nat each of their four \u201csweats.\u201d He crouched down close to them on the\ncarpet of leaves. It was blinding dark inside the tightly blanketed\nlodge. It was hot; whatever he touched burned. Sweat began to pour into\nhis eyes and down his back. His hair felt dry and burning at the roots;\neach breath was a gulp of liquid fire that seared his nostril-edges and\nhis throat. It was intensely still. Suddenly his neighbor commenced a\nsong; he joined; that was better. Now there was a sharp hiss as the\nleader threw a handful of water on the rocks: he gasped, the steam\nwas choking and the heat suddenly unbearable. He bowed his head close\nto the ground between his feet to suck in the cooler air there; then\nhe raised himself slowly. Sweat still streamed from him; every muscle\nwas relaxed; every ache was gone; he felt pure and renewed. Struggling\nout beneath the door flap, he stood up in the sunlight, poised on the\ncreek bank, and plunged into the stream. He gasped; his breath was\nsharply driven out; but his skin tingled, his muscles quivered, he felt\nexhilarated.\n\nMany races had been run when Panamida reached the dance-ground. He\nwould not ride, though he had sung over his colt to make him fleet.\nFragment-of-rock, his youngest brother, should ride, and he would bet.\nHe would be chief when his father died: he must be dignified now. He\nsat beside Gathawinga and her mother, She-chews-men, who were weaving\nbaskets. \u201cThe Navaho have come,\u201d he whispered to Gathawinga, \u201cI have\ngiven one a basket of shelled corn for his big blanket for you: I\nhave his horse too, for two big buckskins and a little corn.\u201d He went\ntoward the visitors: \u201cWell, you have only one knot in your string now;\nto-night we dance. Ten sleeps ago when you went to tell your chief to\nshare our harvest bounty there were eleven. It is nearly sundown; the\ndance-boss has spread the meat and bread on a bed of willow leaves;\nguests must eat everything.\u201d\n\nHe drew back with his relatives that the Navaho and Hopi might eat\nfirst. Though they had not brought their women, these strangers could\nbe trusted here, especially the Hopi, who lived so well and knew all\nmanner of strange things, yet it was laughable to see them trotting by\nafoot when a man should ride.\n\nBut the enemy, those Yavapai; Panamida knew them too. He recalled the\nprevious autumn when the owls were warning, \u201cSome one comes from the\nsouth: hoo hu.\u201d And they had come climbing down into the canyon in the\nearly dawn. He recalled the alarm; the women and children scrambling\nup to hide on the cliffs; the day-long pursuit up the canyon, the\nskirmish, and the enemy fleeing again. Then the Yavapai, tiring, had\ntaken refuge on a little hill. \u201cGood,\u201d Chief Manakadja had said. \u201cWe\nare hungry now: some of you ride back and fetch us food.\u201d After they\nhad eaten they felt braver. Two took thick buckskins, which they hung\nfrom their bows before them. Panamida, crouching with arrow set, had\nfollowed in this shelter with the others. Boldly they marched up\nthe hill, Yavapai arrows raining harmlessly on the flapping skins.\nSuddenly the carriers dipped their shields and the hidden archers let\nfly. They had nearly reached the summit, when Wasakwivama, who held\na skin, was hit. \u201cMy arm is getting weak; I can\u2019t hold it up much\nlonger; we had better go back.\u201d A second time they tried: the Yavapai\narrows were exhausted, they were rolling rocks. Panamida chuckled at\nthe recollection of his foolhardy spring, the sudden jerk that sent an\nunwary enemy sprawling down the slope to be pounced on and dispatched.\nWell, another feat like that and they might call him a chief even\nbefore his father died. The Yavapai had fled in the night, but they\nwould return. \u201cYes,\u201d he ruefully reflected, \u201cthey like to come; they\nalways kill so many....\u201d\n\nMoonlight spread across the clearing as they danced: the eastern cliffs\nstood sharply black against the sky. The song ended, and the group\naround the pole melted away. Sinyella rose in his place among the\nwatching families. \u201cMy own land, hear me. Let all of us remain alive\nalways. I want to live well always. Ground, hear me.\u201d He prayed to the\nrocks, the ground, the creek: he told the young men to work hard, to\ndance well, not to be quarrelsome, as chiefs always spoke in the lull\nbetween the dances. Paiya, the best singer, again took up his place,\nfacing the pole; Panamida, with the drum, stepped beside him; quickly\nothers formed the circle with them. Shoulder to shoulder they stood;\nfingers intertwined. Paiya began to sing to the drum beats:\n\n \u201cA fresh wind in that country,\n Girls dance circling.\u201d\n\nHe had dreamed that he had gone to that far land where he had seen them\ndancing. The others caught up the refrain: they stood singing for some\nminutes. Then when they sang in unison Paiya signaled and all began\ncircling to the left with a short, sidewise shuffling step. Slowly the\ncircle swung, fifty men in their gala dress, girls with their jingling\nornaments; over and over they sang the song, to bring it to an end when\nthe leader reached his starting point. They stood hardly a minute: none\ndropped out. \u201cNidjanwi,\u201d several prompted; so Paiya began the favorite:\n\n \u201cNidjanwi, I do it;\n I am the man who names himself;\n Maidens stand alongside.\u201d\n\nSoon all were chanting, and the circle moved again. Excitement was\nhigh; the old people called out encouraging compliments; girls\nshouldered their way beside partners of their choice; reluctant Navaho\nwere laughingly forced into the throng. Panamida felt some one pushing\nagainst his thigh; there was little Lanso, his older brother\u2019s boy:\n\u201cYes, come in,\u201d as he made space. Another song, and they stopped\nto rest. Navaho paid a trifle to their partners for release. Now a\ngrotesque figure dashed from the obscurity of the night; white mask,\ncross-barred body, yucca leaf switches in hand, he sprang about,\nwhipping the laggards to the dance; adults were laughing, children\nscampering in fright, dogs barking. The dance commenced again. Panamida\nwas hoarse, it was far from dawn, and this was only the first of three\nnights\u2019 dance.\n\n\n III\n\nSinyella is half a skeptic. He sat back in the lodge and watched Sack,\nthe medicine man, in the firelight beside his sister\u2019s sick grandson.\nLet the other relatives shout to make the shaman strong: he would wait,\nif the boy died, he would kill the incompetent. The shaman knelt over\nthe boy, swaying as he sang, his head to one side, his left knuckles\nclenched over his closed eyes, his clashing rattle in the other hand.\nOnce he stopped rigid with open mouth, so that his familiar spirit\nmight leave his chest to search for sickening ghosts outside the\nhouse. Then he rose and went out into the dark. Sinyella heard his\nspirit halloing and whistling as it returned to him out there. The\nshaman re\u00ebntered and resumed his singing. He put his lips to the boy\u2019s\nforehead that the spirit might go in search of the sickness. He sucked\nthe spirit back with a gulp, spat into his palm, and triumphantly\nexhibited its contents, some little white thread-like worms. \u201cThat was\nhard for me, but I have taken out all the sickness; there is no more\nthere now.\u201d Well, the boy\u2019s father would give Sack a big blanket, but\nSinyella decided that he, at any rate, would wait.\n\nMusing as he waded through the crusted snow to his own lodge set snugly\nin the cedar thickets, he thought: Sack is young, he may not be much\ngood, perhaps his spirit is weak. But I don\u2019t know much about these\nthings: there\u2019s that star up there, Pagioga, the man-snatcher, and\nsometimes there are ghosts. I pray too: \u201cSun, my relative,\u201d I say, \u201cdo\nsomething for me. You make me work so I can do anything: make good\nthings for us: keep me always as I am now.\u201d ... Of late his ears had\nbeen frequently ringing; ghosts were whispering to him. Suddenly he\nshouted, \u201cHuuuu; no, though you talk that way, I am not going to die.\u201d\n\nIt was well that they had collected a good store of pine nuts and wild\nseeds in the autumn after they left the canyon; the snow was thigh\ndeep this winter. It was bitter cold; men and birds would freeze; the\nfirewood on the ground was covered. But deep snow soon exhausted hunted\ndeer and antelope, and there would be no lack of drinking water here\non the plateau. The laden trees brought back to him that long past\nday when his father found the Navaho woman lost in the snow and took\nher to wife. He remembered other Navaho; those he had fought, those\nwhose horses he had carried off, those who had despoiled him on a\ntrading trip to the Hopi. There had been many a trip eastward to the\nHopi villages, where the Navaho, quondam enemies, came to trade too.\nPresents exchanged, friendships renewed in night-long talks, buckskins\nand horn ladles traded for blankets, he would turn his packed horses\nback for the fortnight\u2019s journey across the arid wastes toward his\ncanyon home. There he would wait the coming of the Walapai, his blood\nbrothers, from the west. Or, if they did not come, he would carry\nthe Hopi woven stuffs to trade in their country. Once he had even\npenetrated beyond their range to the Mohave in the low land of the\nColorado River, where, astounded at his effrontery, they had permitted\nhim to stay and peaceably trade.\n\nIn all countries they knew him well: that was why people called him\nchief. He made himself a chief. True, his grandfather had been chief,\nlike his fathers before him. But his own father was never chief; no\none would call him that; he was a good-for-nothing. Now when I die, he\nthought, my two oldest sons will share it, as they will my fields. I\nhave taught them both to talk like chiefs.\n\nAs, stooping, he lifted the door flap of his dome-shaped house he\nsensed to the full the flood of warmth and light. This was his own,\nthese his people, and it was always good to be at home. The group\nreclining about the central fire broke off their cheerful chatter\nto greet him: back under the dark eaves he could hear the children,\nnominally asleep, giggling over some fine mischief. \u201cThe Walapai have\ncome to ask our young men to join them next spring in a raid on the\nPaiute across the Grand Canyon; Panamida wants to go,\u201d they told him.\n\n\u201cPanamida will fight them soon enough, let him but stay at home.\u201d\n\n\u201cPanamida, younger brother, some nice Walapai girl will say to you,\n\u2018Here\u2019s a roasted lizard,\u2019\u201d said Grediva, mocking the gruff Walapai\nspeech, amid the laughter of her relatives at the thought of eating\nlizard.\n\nSinyella smiled drowsily at the firelit faces: yes, all his own people.\nAt his side he heard Lanso, \u201cGrandfather, tell us just one story.\nDon\u2019t refuse this time; the snakes will not bother now, it is winter.\u201d\nSinyella sat back where the children were listening, lying in the\ndarkness. \u201cWolf and Coyote lived far to the west close to the ocean.\nWolf said to Coyote, \u2018This country holds no game, no deer, no antelope.\nAll we eat is rats; that\u2019s all we kill; that\u2019s the only meat we have. I\nthink I want you to go right down in the water, way down to the bottom\nof the ocean.\u2019 Many elk lived under the water. Coyote tried: he went\nclose to the water and put his head down, but he felt afraid. \u2018I\u2019m\nafraid to go down: I want you to go.\u2019 Wolf said, \u2018All right, I will go\ndown and hunt. I will hunt a big elk and drive it right out. I will\ncome out again after four sleeps.\u2019\u201d...\n\n LESLIE SPIER\n\n\n\n\n Earth-tongue, a Mohave\n\n\nEarth-tongue\u2019s earliest recollection was of the dim, cool house,\nwhere he picked bits of charcoal out of the soft sand and crumbled\nit against his hand. Once a cricket appeared on the wattled wall,\nsuddenly went back in when he thrust at it, and only a stream of dry\nsoil sifted forth. And then there was the terrifying time when voices\nburst loudly into his sleep, people crowded in but stood helplessly\nawkward, while his father\u2019s brother shot insults of stolid hate into\nthe ceaseless flood of his wife\u2019s vituperation. As the woman turned to\nbeat a girl lurking in the corner and the man interposed and flung her\noff, Earth-tongue burst into bawling and clung to his mother. He saw\nthe angry woman stamp on pot after pot, tear open her coils of shredded\nbark and strew them into the fire, and then, suddenly silent, load her\nbelongings into a carrying-frame and stagger out. The frame caught in\nthe door: as she tore it through, the contents crashed, and a laugh\nrose in the house; but Earth-tongue sobbed long.\n\nHe was larger when he paddled with other children at the edge of the\nslough; but still very small as he first remembered himself seeing the\ngreat, stretching river that drew by with mysterious, swirling noises\nin its red eddies. He and his little brother were put into a huge pot\nwhich his father and another man pushed before them across stream:\ntheir hair as it coiled high on their heads was just visible over the\nedge as they swam. And then followed an interminable trudge somewhere\nthrough the dust, relieved only by rides on his father\u2019s back, and on\nhis grandmother.\n\nHe was older when he shot his first bow; when at dusk he caught\na woodpecker in its hole and would not let go though it hacked\ndesperately at his clasped hands, until a half-grown cousin took it\nfrom him to imprison under a turned jar for the night. His father\nwove a cage the next day, and the captive was installed, but remained\nwild, and one morning was dead. And then came the time when the boys\nof Mesquite-water challenged those of his settlement on a hot, summer\nday after the inundation had half dried, and they slung lumps of mud at\neach other from the ends of long willow poles.\n\nThere were other events that must have fallen soon after this period,\nbut which he did not remember: when he rolled his hair into long, slim\ncylinders, began to measure how nearly it reached his hip, and made his\nfirst advances to girls.\n\nEven before this he had dreamed of Mastamho, gigantic on the peak\nAvikwa\u2019me in the great, dark, round house full of peoples; of the\ntwo Ravens singing of dust whirls and war and of the far away clumps\nof cane waiting to be cut into flutes; and of the river, drawn from\nits source to wash away the ashes and bones of Matavilya where the\npinnacles stand in the gorge at House-post-water. He knew later that he\nhad dreamed these things as a little boy, even while he was still in\nhis mother; he did not yet think about them, except when the old man\nhis grandfather, and his father and uncles, sang of them.\n\nOne day a runner came up the valley and shouted pantingly that\nstrangers had appeared from the east at dawn and killed a woman and two\nchildren at Sand-back, besides wounding a man and his younger brother.\nThe men leaped for their weapons; the women called in their children,\nloaded themselves with property, and soon began to track northward in a\nstraggling, excited stream. Earth-tongue pulled down his bow and raked\namong the roof thatch for such arrows as he could assemble. Then he\njoined his kinsmen and male neighbors who stood in a group in front of\none of the shades, exclaiming and pointing at a smoke that rose down\nthe valley. Bundles of crude, blunt arrows projected behind their hips,\nshoved under cord belts; and many had clubs dangling from their wrists.\nEarth-tongue did not own a club: he had never seen battle; and he hung\nabout the outside of the cluster of seasoned men.\n\nSoon, refugees from the nearer settlements began to arrive; and\nthen a body of fighting men from up the valley, bedaubed for war.\nEarth-tongue\u2019s kinsmen merged with them; and as they proceeded south,\ngrowing in numbers, they met ever more women and children, and\nfinally those from the point of attack, until, not far away in the\ncotton-woods, they came upon the men of Sand-back. The enemy were\nHalchidhoma from far down-stream, they were now informed, not Walapai\nas at first conjectured. They had avoided the river, traversing the\ndesert to hide in the Walapai mountains and descend at night upon the\nnearer tip of the Mohave land. They had long since gone off\u2014sixty\nthey were said to number, as they were seen to file over the rocks\nfar above the stream at Pinnacles. They had looted and burnt only the\ngroup of houses at Sand-back, killed the woman, and lightly wounded\nwith an arrow one of the men who fought back from a distance: the other\nreported casualties turned up safe. But the enemy had carried off the\nwoman\u2019s head, and would dance about its skin. Earth-tongue gazed at\nthe collapsed houses, their charred posts smoking on the mass of sand;\nand that night he watched the beheaded woman\u2019s cremation. There was\nmuch talk of retaliation, but an immediate attack would have found the\nHalchidhoma prepared or perhaps removed.\n\nSo some months elapsed without a move being made; and meanwhile\nEarth-tongue became married. In the turmoil of the Halchidhoma\ninvasion, as party after party trooped by, he had been attracted by\nthe sight of a girl, barely but definitely passed out of childhood,\nand only a little younger than himself, who halted, leaning under her\nladen carrying-frame, behind her mother, as their group paused for\nan excited colloquy. He saw that the girl noted his eyes on her and\nglanced away, and he knew, from the people she was with, that her name\nwas Kata. Not long after, he began to find errands or companions that\ntook him to her settlement. Soon a mutual familiarity of each other\u2019s\npresence was established, the purport of which was manifest even\nthough direct speech between the two young people was infrequent and\nbrief. Both were shy; until one afternoon a blind old man, the girl\u2019s\nfather\u2019s uncle, who knew of Earth-tongue\u2019s repeated presence from the\nreferences of the family, addressed him and her directly. \u201cWhy do you\nnot marry?\u201d he said. \u201cPersons do not live long. Soon you will be old\nlike myself, unable to please yourselves. It is good that you sleep and\nplay together. You, young man, should stay here the night.\u201d Neither\nEarth-tongue nor the girl answered. But he remained through the evening\nmeal and after; and when the house was dark, went silently to where she\nlay. The next day, he stayed on; the day after, returned briefly to his\nhome; and from then on, spent increasing time at his new abode, where,\nwithout a word having been spoken, he slipped into a more and more\nrecognized status. He did not work, unless special occasion called,\nsuch as assisting with a seine-net; and Kata only occasionally helped\nher relatives farm. Instead, they spent much time together, lolling\nunder the shade, toying or teasing each other, or listening to their\nelders. Sometimes he sang softly as he lay by her, or she bent over him\nsearching his head or untangling his clustered locks, or tried to draw\nthe occasional hairs from his face with her teeth; and ever she laughed\nmore freely. So the days followed one another.\n\nWhen at last the Mohave were ready, it was announced that they would\nonce for all destroy the Halchidhoma. The entire nation was to move\nand appropriate the enemy land. Soon they started, most of the men\nin advance, weaponed and unburdened save for gourds of maize meal at\ntheir hips; water they did not have to carry since they followed the\nriver. Behind tramped the women, children, and old men, under loads.\nFoods, blankets of bark and rabbit fur, fish nets, metates, household\nproperty, and the most necessary pottery vessels were taken. The\nremainder of their belongings and stored provisions were buried or\nhidden away: every house in the valley stood empty.\n\nFor five days they walked. Then the men suddenly surrounded a group of\nsettlements. These were the houses of the Kohuana, a far down-stream\ntribe, wasted by wars with their neighbors, until the pressed remnant\nhad sought refuge half a day\u2019s journey above the Halchidhoma to whom\nthey were united, less by positive friendship than by common foes\nand parallel fortunes. For the Halchidhoma, too, remembered having\nonce lived populously among the welter of tribes in the broad bottom\nlands below the mouth of the Gila. With the Kohuana the Mohave had no\ndirect quarrel; and though they arrived armed and overpowering, they\nproclaimed themselves kinsmen, and announced that they had come as\nguests. By night the Kohuana houses overflowed with the mob of Mohave\nfamilies. Kohuana messengers were dispatched to summon the Halchidhoma\nto battle at White-spread-rock-place, if they were not afraid. Such\nchallenge the outnumbered people could not find it in their manhood to\nevade. So the next day saw them in line at the appointed field, barely\na hundred strong, against perhaps four hundred that the Mohave mustered\nafter setting a guard over their families.\n\nEarth-tongue went into battle with much inward excitement, but little\nfear, and listened obediently to the admonitions of his seasoned\nkinsmen. Even before arrows could reach, the shooting began. Before\nlong, arrows flew feebly by, and then it became necessary to twist\nsharply sidewise to avoid them. At this distance the two lines shot at\neach other, taunting and leaping, while, in the rear, half-grown boys\nand a few old men helped to gather up and replenish bundles of arrows.\nWhat the Halchidhoma lacked in frequency of shots, they partly made up\nin greater openness of target; and before long, struck men began to\nwithdraw temporarily on each side. The Mohave could have made short\nwork by charging in a body with their clubs; but they had asked for\nan open stand-up fight, and besides found pleasure in the game, which\nfell increasingly to their advantage. For hours they sweated in the\nsun, gradually and irregularly forcing the Halchidhoma line back, and\nshouting whenever one of the foe was carried off.\n\nAt last the leaders called that it was time to cease, and defied the\nfoe to resume in the same spot on the fourth day. Then they trooped\nvictoriously home, without a fatality, though a few, weakened from\nbleeding or with parts of shafts broken off in them, were carried\non the backs of companions. Earth-tongue had been struck twice. One\narrow had grazed the skin of his flank when he became over-confident\nand failed to bend his body with sudden enough vigor. Then, one of\nthree shafts that came toward him almost at once had imbedded itself a\nfinger-joint\u2019s depth in the front of his thigh, and hung there until\nhe hastily plucked it out. Neither wound bled profusely, especially\nafter a bit of charcoal was reached him to rub in for stanching; and he\nreturned stiff, tired, and proud. The Halchidhoma losses were severer.\nNone of them appeared to have fallen dead on the field; but at least\nhalf had been struck, and a number so vitally or often that they would\ndie.\n\nFor four days the Mohave treated their wounds, talked of the next\nbattle, and ate their hosts\u2019 provisions. Then they set out. But the\nHalchidhoma had sent their families down-stream and taken up a new\nstand farther back. Here they joined once more, and the fight went on\nas before but with ever more preponderance to the Mohave, until these,\nwearied by the noon sun, contemptuously drew off to the river to drink.\nThe Halchidhoma seized the occasion to run to their children and women,\nset these across the river, and strike east over the desert. When\nthe victors reappeared, the fugitives were far. The Mohave thereupon\ndecided to occupy their fields and houses until the dispossessed might\ncome to drive them out; which the latter, by this time safely received\namong the Maricopa far across the desert on the Gila, had no intention\nof doing. However, the Mohave lived nearly a year in the land of the\nHalchidhoma, adjusting themselves as they could; and returned only as\nthe next flood and planting time approached, taking the Kohuana along\nto settle among themselves, where these enforced visitors remained for\nsome years.\n\nBefore the stay in the Halchidhoma country was over, Earth-tongue\nand Kata had drifted apart. The derangement of accustomed residence,\nenforced with others, Earth-tongue\u2019s pride as an incipient warrior,\nthe fact that no child was born, all contributed to separate them\nincreasingly. Each formed new interests while vaguely jealous of the\nother\u2019s; and in the end Earth-tongue brought not Kata but another girl\nto his parents\u2019 house.\n\nSoon after his first child was born,\u2014a daughter, called Owich like the\nsisters of himself, his father, and his father\u2019s father,\u2014Earth-tongue\ngrew restless for adventure, and, the time being one of peace, joined\nhimself to those that would travel. Ten or twenty in number, they would\ngo out: too few to excite apprehension of treacherous intent, too many\nto be made away with safely. Each carried maize, water, his weapons,\nand whatever he might wish to trade. On shorter journeys they prided\nthemselves on being able to travel at a trot four days without food,\nand with only such drink as the desert might afford, chewing perhaps a\nbit of willow as a relief for the dryness of their mouths. But these\nhardships they underwent mostly in emulation, or toward the last of\na return with Mohave land before them. Again and again Earth-tongue\nwent down the river, through Yuma, Kamia, Halyikwamai, and Cocopa\nsettlements, to the flat shores of the salt sea; east into the Walapai\nmountains and down into the chasm of the Havasupai, where he saw\nstrange-speaking and strangely dressed Hopi and Navaho, heard of their\nstone towns, and brought home their belts and, once, a blanket of white\ncotton.\n\nTo the northwest he visited the Chemehuevi and other Paiutes about\ntheir scattered springs, and ate their foods of seeds and wild fruits,\nsome familiar, some strange; and mescal and sometimes deer. Theirs\nwas a strange language too, but he had heard a little from the few\nChemehuevi who lived at the northern extreme of Mohave valley and\nbeyond it on Cotton-wood island; and many of his companions could speak\nmore. They went from Paiute band to band, to where the river no longer\nflows from the north but from the east, beyond the Muddy, and found\neach group like the last in customs, but of new foods. They listened to\nthe stories of the Paiute, who dreamed of the mountain N\u00fcvant as the\nMohave do of Avikwa\u2019me, and to whom they sang their songs, which the\nPaiute wished to hear.\n\nTo the west were many tribes, all different tongued, but mostly easy to\nunderstand a little when one knew Chemehuevi. There were the Vanyume on\ntheir river that dried into nothing and left them always half-starved;\nthe Hanyuvecha in the range of great pines beyond; northward, about\nThree-Mountains, the Kuvahye, adjoined by other mountaineers, little\ntribes, unwarlike, friendly to the visitors, some of whom they hailed\nas old friends. They offered no smoke, but gave tobacco crushed in\na mortar with shells; which Earth-tongue and his companions ate in\ncourtesy, and were nearly all made to sweat and vomit violently\nthereby. From a crest near here they looked over a vast plain beyond,\nin which shimmered what one of his companions said were large lakes.\nHe had been there and seen the people, who lived in long houses of\nrushes,\u2014a hundred fires in line within one house,\u2014and ate rush roots,\nand slept on rushes, and at night worms came up and troubled the\nsleepers. And in the tumbled range on which they stood, but beyond\nthem, were the Like-Mohave, a very little like them in speech, but\nnaked, unkempt, and poor. Them Earth-tongue saw, but not in their own\nhouses.\n\nAnd going out again, he traversed the land of the tribes to the\nsouthwest, unfriendly, half-sullen, and dangerous to small parties.\nThe Hakwicha dug wells and ate mesquite; beyond them were people in\nthe mountains, about hot springs, who sang to turtle shells instead of\ngourds; and still farther, stretching down to the ocean that one could\nsee from their peaks, lived the Foreign-Kamia, speaking almost like the\nreal Kamia, but knowing nothing of farmed foods, eating rattle-snakes,\nand a hostile lot to venture among. They had some grudges to pay off to\nthe Mohave for plundered settlements, but were not a people to travel\nfar from their homes even for revenge.\n\nThe Yavapai, too, Earth-tongue came to know, though theirs was not an\nattractive country to visit. They dreamed and sang like the Mohave,\nbut of other animals; and some of their stories were the same. Their\nneighbors and friends were the Roaming-Yavapai, a small-statured,\nsharp-eyed people, wearing their hair flowing, fierce lance fighters,\ntaciturn, violent, untrustworthy; but inclined favorably to the Mohave\nin spite of the utter unintelligibility of their speech because\nthey knew them through the Yavapai as traditionally hostile, like\nthemselves, against the Maricopa and that people of innumerable houses,\nthe Pima. These last Earth-tongue never came to know save on the field\nof battle.\n\nOne early summer, as the river was flooding, its rise suddenly stopped.\nThe inundation being wont to grow in interrupted stages the people\nwaited quietly for its resumption. But the water fell back and back.\nThen some began to declare that it might not rise again, and advised\nplanting at once before the moist ground should dry: but others\npointed out that high water was yet due, and had often come late, and\nthat present planting in that case would cause the seed to wash out\nand be lost. So nearly all waited with concern and much discussing;\nuntil finally the river was wholly back within its banks and dropping\ndecisively. Then they knew that nothing more was to be hoped for that\nseason, and men and women hastened to save what they might of the crop.\nBut many of the fields had remained untouched by water, and most of\nthe others were already half dry. In some, the maize and beans never\nsprouted; in some they came up indeed, but soon wilted; and though the\nwomen carried water in jars, only small patches could be effectively\nserved in this hand fashion.\n\nSoon, every one knew that famine impended, and that so few houses would\ngrow even enough harvest for another seeding, that the year after would\nalso be hard to survive. They gathered every wisp of wild seed plants\nin the uncultivated bottoms; but these wild seeds, too, had come up\nthin, and the crop of mesquite pods was pitiful. The women labored\nfaithfully, and the children watched over the scattered maize; yet\nthough the grain ripened, the scattered stalks were too few to keep\nany house through the winter. Some families did not pick even an ear.\nA moon after harvest time, the crop was consumed; by winter, the last\nof the other stores. The men fished daily, but the sloughs and ponds\nhad never filled and were soon seined out, and the river\u2019s yield was\nuncertain and far insufficient. Every one was gaunt; the children lay\nlistlessly about; sickness grew.\n\nEarth-tongue\u2019s wife, and his older brother\u2019s, had planted with\nhis mother in his father\u2019s ancestral field, which lay low and was\nlong-proved rich. So they fared better than many. Nevertheless, before\nspring the emaciated bodies of two children and an old woman had been\nburnt and Earth-tongue had three times sung himself hoarse as they lay\ndying.\n\nThe young men went out with their bows, and now and then returned with\na bird or gopher or badger, but oftener empty-handed. People who had\nnew belongings went to the Walapai to trade for mescal and deer meat.\nWhole families trudged to visit the Chemehuevi, until they brought back\nword that these hosts too were eaten out. At last not a day passed\nwithout columns of smoke from pyres visible somewhere in the valley.\nIt was a terrible year and long remembered before the end of another\nsummer brought partial abatement.\n\nSo numerous had been the deaths from bowel flux and cough, that shaman\nafter shaman fell a victim to the anger of the kin of those he had\nattempted to save. Yellow-thigh, a powerful man and not very old, had\nlost two patients during the famine, and three more at intervals since.\nMutterings were frequent; but no one had found opportunity, or dared,\nto work vengeance on him. One morning, Earth-tongue and a friend,\nsauntering up valley on some errand, turned to a house before which\nYellow-thigh lay, for those there were kinsmen of his. No men were\nabout; and as the two visitors stood in the door, his friend on sudden\nimpulse whispered to Earth-tongue, \u201cLet us kill him.\u201d So they sat down\nfor a little and passed the news of the day, then arose, Earth-tongue\nreaching for his bow and four cross-pointed arrows, with the remark\nthat they were going to shoot doves. The shaman grunted assent and the\npair passed out.\n\nFor a time they traversed the brush, planning the deed. At the\nmesa edge they broke two stones to sharp edges, and then returned.\nYellow-thigh lay under the shade-roof with closed eyes, breathing\nregularly. The friend went by him to look into the house, and finding\nit empty, nodded. Earth-tongue, who had approached, bent suddenly down\nand struck with all his might at the sleeper\u2019s head. The shaman pushed\nhimself to a sitting position as the blood began to pour from the\nmangled side of his face. The friend started back, then plunged forward\nto finish the man, and swung; but his excited arm brought the weapon\ndown only on the victim\u2019s knee. Then he staggered off, scarcely able\nin fright and emotion to drag his own legs. Earth-tongue, seeing the\nshaman still sitting, strode forward again and with both hands drove\nthe point of the stone through the top of his skull. Two women who had\nbeen going through each other\u2019s hair in the shadow of the brush fence\noutside, half turned at the noise and shrieked, while Earth-tongue\ndashed after his companion, seized his hand, and dragged him forward.\nThey ran through the willows and at last lay down to pant in hiding;\nand here, after they had quieted, Earth-tongue laughed at his friend\u2019s\nfaltering stroke and steps. Then they went on, still keeping to cover,\nuntil around the second bend they swam the river.\n\nOn the other side, old men were gaming with poles and hoop, and others\nwatched. The two sat down and looked on. Three times, four times, until\nit was early afternoon, the players bet and threw their poles and one\nor the other finally took up the stakes. Then Earth-tongue said, \u201cI\nhave killed a shaman, the large man at Sloping-gravel.\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, kill him,\u201d answered one of the old men, thinking he was boasting\nof an empty intent; and a spectator added, \u201cIndeed, it would be well.\nToo many persons are dying.\u201d\n\n\u201cI have killed him,\u201d Earth-tongue said again, and they began to believe\nhim. So they went to the houses. Soon word came that the shaman\nwas dead; and then his kinsmen arrived, angry and threatening, and\naccusations flew back and forth, while Earth-tongue stood unmoved and\nsilent but wary. The kinsmen finally challenged to a stick fight the\nnext day, and withdrew to burn the dead man.\n\nThe people of the settlement commended Earth-tongue and promised to\nengage for him; and in the morning they and all his kin and the kin\nof those whom the shaman had brought to their death, gathered in the\ncenter of a large playing field. Each man carried a willow as thick as\nhis forearm and reaching to his neck; and in his left hand, a shorter\nparrying stick. The challengers appeared, somewhat fewer in number and\nwith tear-marked faces, but enraging their opponents by crying the\nnames of their dead parents and grandparents. Then the two bodies,\nspreading into irregular lines, rushed at each other. Each man swung\nat an antagonist\u2019s head, now with his staff held in one hand, now in\nboth. Blows beat down on heads through the guard, rained on shoulders,\nbruised knuckles, and the willows clashed amid the shouts. Now and\nthen a staff broke and a contestant ran back to seize a new one. The\nfighters sweated, panted, rubbed blood out of their eyes and staggered\nforward and back as the lines swayed in the clamor. Once or twice a\nmaddened fighter, running in under his opponent\u2019s strokes, seized his\nhair to belabor him with his parry-club; whereupon shouts of \u201cBad,\nbad! no! no! release!\u201d arose and a multitude of rescuers\u2019 blows drove\nhim back. The shaman\u2019s side were getting the worst of it, but rallied\nagain and again without being driven wholly to their end of the field.\nStrokes became fewer and feebler. Weary arms could no longer rise.\nFighter after fighter leaned on his stick, or sat on the ground in the\nrear. Each side taunted the other to come on again; and at last they\ndrew apart, every man panting, bruised, and weary, but satisfied at\nthe damage he had inflicted. No heads had been broken and no one died,\nthough some were sick for a few days from maggots that had bred in the\nscalp under their clotted hair; and then talk died down and the enmity\ngradually subsided. Earth-tongue won the praise of all the Mohave who\nwere not directly involved.\n\nOnce, runners came from the Yuma to invite to an attack on the Cocopa\nat the mouth of the river. A hundred and twenty Mohave went down.\nThe kohota or play-chief of the northern Mohave asked for captives,\nalthough he already had several; and Earth-tongue was one of the men\nwhom he requested to carry food and water for the prisoner\u2019s return\njourney, and to guard against their escape.\n\nThe Yuma contingent was even larger than the Mohave one; and the attack\nwas made at daybreak. It was not much of a fight. The first house\nentered gave the alarm and the settlement scattered amid yells. Only\ntwo Cocopa were killed by the Yuma and two young women, sisters, called\nNight-hawk, captured by the Mohave. The latter stayed with the Yuma\nfour days to watch the scalp dance; but no one of them having touched\nthe corpses, they were not in need of purification, and returned home.\n\nThe whole tribe came out to escort them to the kohota\u2019s house. There\nthe captives were made to sit down, while the kohota stood up and\nsang Pleiades. Then men and women, facing each other, danced. When\nthe sun was at its height, they stopped, ate what the kohota\u2019s women\nbrought out, then lay in the shade or gambled. In the afternoon the\nkohota called out a Chutaha singer. Soon the sounding jar began to\nboom, the people left off their play, and danced: three rows of young\nmen with feathers tied in their hair, one row of old men, and two women\nstanding separate. Then at last, as the sun was coming low, the chief\ncame with rattles in his hand and at the end of a song shouted: \u201cLet\nhim sing who wishes to! Let any woman sing! I appoint no one!\u201d Women\ngrasped the rattles and carried them, one to a Tumanpa singer, others\nto those who knew Vinimulya and Vinimulya-hapacha; and one was brought\nto Earth-tongue to sing Raven. Soon all four of the dance series were\nin progress at different places, while those women who liked Nyohaiva,\nhaving persuaded an old man to sing that, began to revolve about him\nstanding shoulder to shoulder. As fast as one song ended, the singers\ntook up another, for the sun had nearly set, and the sweating women\nclamored for more, while the crowd of people stood about.\n\nWith darkness they stopped to bathe and eat and rest, then danced\nagain, singing as before and new kinds too, while off on the side, by\nthe light of a fire, groups of men played hiding game to the Tudhulva\nsongs through the night. In the morning the kohota had the assemblage\nbathe, fed them once more, and sent them home to return two days later.\n\nThis time they danced again all evening, all afternoon, and all night.\nAs the sun rose, the kohota, still singing, took the two captives one\nby each hand, and walked toward the river. Behind him came the Tumanpa\nand Vinimulya singers, each with his crowd, and then the mass of people\nin procession. The kohota, still holding the two girls, ran over the\nbank, and every one followed. This made Mohaves of the captives, and\npeople were no longer afraid of them. The kohota led them back to his\nhouse, where they were to live, and said, \u201cPerhaps these girls will\nmarry and bear children, who, belonging to both tribes, will make peace\nwhen they grow up, and there will be no more war.\u201d So it came in part.\nAfter two years, one of the sisters married, and soon had a child. The\nother continued without husband. In time, formal peace was made between\nthe Yuma and Cocopa; whereupon the kohota announced, \u201cSince the tribes\nare friends now, let us not keep Night-hawk longer.\u201d So a party led her\nto the Yuma, where her kinsmen met and escorted her home. Her sister\nremained with her Mohave husband.\n\nEarth-tongue was beginning to grow old. His oldest son and one daughter\nboth had children, and his hair showed first streaks of gray. He\nthought more of his youth, and commenced to remember what he had\ndreamed then. He knew he had seen Matavilya sick and gradually dying\nand burned, and his ashes washed away by the river that Mastamho\nmade to flow out of the ground. He remembered too Mastamho\u2019s house\non Avikwa\u2019me, with the multitudes inside it in rows like little\nchildren, and Mastamho instructing them; and how he repeated after him,\ncorrectly, until Mastamho said to him, \u201cThat is right! You know it! You\nhave it! I gave it to you!\u201d Then he had dreamed how Sky-rattle-snake\nwas at last inveigled from his house far in the south ocean, and his\nhead cut off on Avikwa\u2019me. Earth-tongue saw his joints and blood and\nsweat and juices turn into eggs. From these eggs hatched Rattlesnake,\nSpider, Scorpion, and Yellow-ant, who went off to Three-Mountains and\nremote places, deep in the earth or high in the sky, and from there\nbuilt four roads to all tribes. When they wish a man for a friend,\nthey bite him and take his shadow home with them. \u201cBut another road\nleads from their house to my heart,\u201d Earth-tongue would say, \u201cand I\nknow what they do. And I intercept the shadow before Rattlesnake has\nled it wholly to Three-Mountains, and sing it back; I break the roads\nof spittle that Spider has begun to wind four times around the man\u2019s\nheart; and so he lives again.\u201d\n\nThen Earth-tongue commenced to be sent for when people were\nbitten\u2014first his relatives, then others. He would stand up at once\nand sing to bring a cooling wind; and, reaching the sick person, sing\nover him from the north, west, south, and east, but not a fifth time,\nlest he die. Then, sending every one away but a wife or mother, and\nforbidding all drink, he would sit by the patient all night, singing\nhis four songs from time to time. In the morning the sick person used\nto get up well.\n\nFighting interrupted these pursuits. It was a summons again from the\nYuma, this time against the Maricopa; and two hundred of the Mohave\nresponded. The seventh night they were on Maricopa soil and met eighty\nYuma by appointment; and in the morning advanced to attack. But the\nMaricopa had got wind of their presence, and when the fight opened were\nre\u00ebnforced by a vast number of the Pima. The Mohave and Yuma exhorted\none another, and though man after man fell, gave ground slowly,\nfighting back outnumbered.\n\nAt last the enemy ran all in a body against them. Part of the Mohave\nbroke before the shock and fled to the north, ultimately escaping. But\nsixty of them formed with the Yuma on a little knoll near the Gila,\nwhere they stood in a dense mass. As the Pima and Maricopa dashed\nagainst them, they dragged man after man struggling into their midst,\nwhere he was dispatched with fierce club blows on his head or thrusts\ninto his face. Twice, Earth-tongue leaped out to grasp an opponent\nand fling him over his back, thus protecting his own skull, while his\ncompanions beat the struggling foe to death. The fighting grew wilder.\nThe Pima no longer drew back to shoot but swirled incessantly around\nand into the dwindling cluster at bay. At last the shouts ceased; the\ndust began to settle; and all but two of the Yuma, and every man of the\nsixty Mohave, lay with crushed head or mangled body on foreign earth.\n\n A. L. KROEBER\n\n\n\n\n The Chief Singer of the Tepecano\n\n\nThere was unusual activity around the house of Don Pancho, a little\nthatch-roof hut of oval shape, possibly fifteen feet by eight. Two\nlarge posts supported a framework of poles on which was laid a gabled\nthatching of grass. Only toward the center of the house could one stand\nupright, and a strong push would have sent tumbling outside, the stones\nheaped in a wall without the use of mortar or mud, which filled the\nspace between the eaves and the bare ground.\n\nThe unwonted stir in the house of Don Pancho did not betoken any\nepoch-making occurrence even in the uneventful history of the little\nvillage of Azquelt\u00e1n which sheltered the remnants of the Tepecano\ntribe. It was merely that Don Pancho was awaiting the birth of his\nchild. And so the women of the immediate neighborhood gathered inside\nthe hut while the men conversed in low tones without. Francisco alone\npassed freely in and out. At last, after a longer pause within, he\nslipped quietly out of the door.\n\n\u201cGracias a Dios! It is a son,\u201d he said quietly and produced from\nsomewhere a bottle of sotol[8] bought on his last journey to the\nnearest \u201ccivilized\u201d village against this very event. The men crowded\naround him and drank heartily to the health of the newcomer. With true\npoliteness they congratulated the father and then slipped away into\nthe darkness toward their own little hovels. Only the squalling of the\ninfant broke upon the stillness of the mountain air.\n\nAgain an air of unusual activity pervaded the village. Word had come\nthat the cura from the neighboring town would arrive that day to say\nmass. The church and the adjoining curato had been opened and aired,\nthe dirt swept from the floor and the dust from the crude figures of\nthe crucifixion. For the little church was the pride of Azquelt\u00e1n. A\ngeneration ago it had been built of adobe brick and stone quarried by\ncivilized artisans, and its white front faced the torrid rays of the\nsun as valiantly as it did the sulphurous flames of hell. The little\ncourtyard, too, shone with a freshly-swept air, not a blade of grass\nnor a speck of green marring its smooth surface.\n\nAt last sharp eyes detected a cavalcade slowly descending the tortuous\npath. Hastily Francisco climbed the shaking ladder to the roof of the\nchurch and seized the clapper. Well did he realize the importance of\nhis office as mayor-domo of the church! And never while _he_ lived\nwould the Sr. Cura arrive without proper greeting! One of the several\nbells was still uncracked, and to it Francisco devoted particular\nattention. The bells held a place hardly second to the church itself\nin Don Pancho\u2019s affections, for had they not been imported at enormous\nexpense from that far away capital, the City of Mexico? A final clang\nand Francisco hastened down the quaking ladder to be the first to kneel\nbefore the jocund padre and kiss his hand. Roused by the pealing of\nthe bells the inhabitants of the little valley began to wander in.\nReverently they entered the church, kneeling on the brick floor, the\nmen and women on opposite sides, while mass was said.\n\nThe service finished, the Aguilars, Francisco and Julia, his wife,\nstood up, bearing the child. Beside them stood Juan M\u00e1rquez and his\nwife, as godfather and godmother. A few drops of water resented, a few\nritual words, and Mother Church had gathered another soul to her bosom.\nJos\u00e9 Mar\u00eda was the name the cura entered in his record.\n\nBut had these intervening weeks been entirely uneventful in the life\nof little Jos\u00e9 or Pepe, as he was familiarly called? By no means!\nFrancisco was too conscientious a man to take any chances with his\nson\u2019s welfare. For centuries before the padres had told them of God\nand Christ, the forefathers had worshiped Father Sun, Mother Moon and\nElder Brother Morning Star. In fact it was quite obvious that God _was_\nthe Sun, the Virgin Mar\u00eda the Moon and Jesus the Morning Star. For\ndid not the beautiful picture of the Virgin of Guadalupe hanging in\nthe church show her standing on the moon? The two religions could not\nbe antagonistic, but merely supplementary, thought Francisco, as far\nas he thought on the subject at all. Nevertheless, there was no use\narguing with the cura about it, for he would not understand. And so,\nimmediately after the birth of little Pepe, Francisco made four prayer\nsticks with little squares of colored yarn attached, and went and\ndeposited them at secret altars on the hills to east, north, west and\nsouth, breathing a prayer at each place for the health and fortune of\nhis child.\n\nLittle Jos\u00e9 grew up to boyhood, his status in the world a rather\nanomalous one\u2014a little lower than the half-blood Mexican peon on the\nrolling country to the south, a little above the pagan Huichol in\nthe mountains, yet despised by both. Yet that worried him little.\nFor was he not surrounded by loving parents and friends and a not\nungenerous nature? To north and south stretched the canyon or\nbarranca of the Bola\u00f1os, a great rent in the earth\u2019s crust, carved\nout through countless ages by the little silvery rivulet hiding in\nits bottom. Hardly more than a brook in the dry season, it swelled\nto an impassable, turbulent torrent during the rains. On either side\nrose the steep sides of the barranca, those to the east leading to the\nrolling, flat country populated by the \u201cneighbors,\u201d the Mexicans, while\nto the west the mountains rose higher and higher to form the great\nSierra Madre range in which lived the pagan Huichol and Cora Indians.\nOccasionally small groups of Huichol passed by or through the village\non their way to or from their mountain homes, and Jos\u00e9 peeked at them\nfrom behind the shelter of his mother\u2019s skirts, and wondered at their\nstrange dress with many little woven bags around the waist, their queer\nhats, their bows and arrows.\n\n\u201cWhen I was your age,\u201d said old Nestor, his grandfather, \u201cwe all\ndressed as they do now. Then our wives wove us blankets and we made\nclothes of deer hide. But Ave Mar\u00eda! Now we must dress in white cotton\nblouses and trousers and look like Mexicans!\u201d\n\nJos\u00e9 never tired of hearing Nestor tell of the glories of the days\ngone by, when the Tepecanos were a powerful people and held a great\nstretch of territory. But wars and pestilence had done their worst and\nthe tribe had gradually withdrawn to the great barranca where Jos\u00e9 was\nborn. And even there the Mexicans were gradually encroaching. Some\nmarried into the tribe, while the more unscrupulous boldly appropriated\nthe ancestral lands and recorded the first titles.\n\nJos\u00e9\u2019s earliest impressions, of course, were those of home, to him a\nwonderful place, and his parents most remarkable people, omniscient\nbeyond a doubt! Surely there was nothing in the world they did not know\nor could not do! His mother in particular was the busiest person. As\nthe first rays of the sun dimmed the morning star, she arose and put\nwood on the fire which had been smoldering all night under the pot of\nbeans and under the comal or griddle, and by the time the rest of the\nfamily were well awake the little, round, flat tortillas were toasting.\nThese little toasted cakes of thin, unleavened corn dough were the\nstaple food, not only of the Tepecano, but of millions of Mexicans of\nthe peon class. Torn in half and used as a scoop to carry a mess of\nbrown beans and chili sauce to the mouth\u2014ah! Who could ask for anything\nmore savory? Surely not little Jos\u00e9. But what a drudgery it meant to\nhis mother! Not that she considered it drudgery\u2014she knew of nothing\nelse, and it was the lot of every woman.\n\nAnd so Se\u00f1ora Aguilar bent all day\u2014or most of it\u2014over the stone metate\ngrinding the softened, boiled corn into dough. The corn itself, the\ntypical Indian corn with yellow ears, black ears, red ears and ears of\nall these colors, lay husked in a corner of the house. Every day a few\nears would be taken, shelled and put to simmer in a pot with a pinch\nof lime to soften it. Then it had to be ground on the metate with a\nstone grinder, patted into shape and toasted on the griddle. At almost\nany hour of the day could be heard in the hut the sound of the muller\ngrating against the metate, or the sharp \u201cpat, pat\u201d on the cake. When\nnight came at last, a mass of dough was always ready to be prepared for\nbreakfast.\n\nSo Jos\u00e9 watched his busy mother and wondered why she took no time to\nplay with him. Several times a day she took the great water jar on her\nshoulder and walked slowly with him down the long, winding trail to the\nlittle brook which supplied the household\u2014yes, several households\u2014with\nwater. Occasionally, too, they bathed in the clear waters\u2014in the\nsummer. But even then the water was cool and soap expensive, so baths\nwere infrequent. And then the water was full of wonderful animals known\nas chanes. No one could see them, of course, except in rainy weather,\nwhen they appeared as great arcs or bows in the sky, striped with\ncolors, head in one spring and tail in another, as they visited. But\nordinarily they were invisible, though their forms were well known.\nThey had the bodies of serpents with horns like cattle. They were to\nbe treated reverently, as they had the power of sickening all who\ndisregarded them.\n\n\u201cNever drink directly from the spring, Pepe,\u201d his mother warned him,\n\u201cor the chan will enter and sting you. Dash the water into your mouth\nas your father does.\u201d\n\nAlthough corn cakes and beans supplied the major part of their dietary,\nthere were other foods, in season and on a smaller scale, other crops,\ntobacco, chili-peppers and squash. Squashes did not keep like corn or\nbeans, unless they were cut into long strips and dried. More often\nthe squashes were eaten fresh, at harvest time. A hole was dug in the\nground and lined with stones and in this a fire was lighted until the\nstones were hot. Then the fire was removed and replaced with squashes,\nand the whole covered and allowed to remain all night. In the morning\nthe squashes were perfectly baked and delicious. But the best part\nof the squash was the seeds which were toasted, cracked open and the\nkernels eaten. These were indeed excellent! Occasionally the juicy\ncentre of a large cactus was cooked in the same way.\n\nBut with the advent of spring, that was the joyous time! It was the\ncoming of the rains after the long dry season. The spring rains are the\nmost vital factor in the life and economy of the natives of northern\nMexico, and on them all interests settle. Then the parched land springs\ninto verdure and the streams burst forth anew. Then the nopal, the\n\u201cprickly pear\u201d cactus, puts forth new green leaves which can be cleaned\nof their spines and boiled to an edible tenderness, and the blue and\npurple tunas appear on their leaves. Then the mesquite and vamuchile\ntrees prepare to produce their fruit. But best of all, it is the time\nof the pitahaya, that luscious fruit of the organ cactus.\n\n\u201cThe pitahayas are ripe! The pitahayas are ripe!\u201d shouted and sang\nJos\u00e9 with the other children, while their elders prepared to desert\ntheir villages and repair to the heights where the cacti grew most\nabundantly, there to gorge themselves until the season passed. All year\nlong the great reed poles leaned against the thatched roofs of the\nhouses, awaiting the joyous spring when they would be used to pick the\npitahayas from their high branches.\n\nSeldom it was that little Pepe tasted flesh of any kind. To be sure\nthey kept a few chickens, but the Aguilars were too poor to eat many\nof them; they were sold to the itinerant trader to take to the larger\ncivilized towns. Too, the dried corn which the chickens ate meant just\nthat much less for the family. Nevertheless Jos\u00e9 knew and relished\nthe taste of chicken and eggs. A few goats, sheep, pigs and turkeys\nwere kept in the neighborhood, and occasionally the word was passed\naround that one was to be killed. The wealthier families purchased\na few pounds, cut it into strips and hung it up to dry. For a few\ndays, meat was added to the dietary of the Aguilar family. A very few\ncattle and horses were kept by the very opulent, but these were seldom\nkilled. They represented rather the wealth of the owner and were sold\nto Mexican ranchmen. But when for one reason or another\u2014generally by\naccident\u2014one was killed, the word was noised abroad for many miles and,\nlike buzzards, the population gathered to purchase or beg the meat.\n\n\u201cAh, but it was different in the old days!\u201d exclaimed old Nestor. \u201cThen\nthe country was full of game. Ave Mar\u00eda! So many deer! And rabbits and\nraccoons, ducks and pigeons! But now the Gods are angry at us because\nwe have neglected them and will send us no more deer.\u201d\n\n\u201cIs it really the Gods who send the deer, little grandfather?\u201d asked\nJos\u00e9.\n\n\u201cSurely,\u201d replied the old man. \u201cAre they not the pets of our Elder\nBrother, the Morning Star? When one wishes to hunt deer he must first\nfast seven days and then go to one of the sacred altars with a prayer\nstick and beads for payment and recite the old prayer begging Elder\nBrother to lend him some of his deer. Then he will be sure to shoot\nthem. But he must not eat any of the first deer he kills, but must give\nit to the other people, and he must be sure to make candles of the fat\nand burn them. Of course we always used bow and arrows to shoot them,\nas they would be offended and leave the country if they were killed by\nother means.\u201d\n\n\u201cHow interesting!\u201d murmured little Pepe. \u201cAnd do the Gods keep other\nanimals too, little grandfather?\u201d\n\n\u201cPor Dios, no! The deer are their only pets. But the scorpions are\nthe cattle of the Devil and one must also say a prayer and make a\nj\u00edcara[9] full of pinole[10] with beads in order to drive them away\nfrom one\u2019s home. And then there are the great serpents which live in\nthe mountains. One must also recite a prayer to get one of them.\u201d\n\n\u201cAve Mar\u00eda!\u201d ejaculated Jos\u00e9. \u201cDid you eat snakes too?\u201d\n\n\u201cOnly small ones,\u201d laughed Nestor, \u201cand iguanas. The large serpents\nwe kept in the houses as protectors. They were brought home and\ninstructed to hold any one who came to the house to rob, and to give\nthe alarm by striking the ground with their tails. But they had to be\nfed bread every Thursday.\u201d Here old Nestor smiled. \u201cAt least that\u2019s\nwhat my grandfather told _me_. I never saw them myself!\u201d\n\nIt was many years before little Jos\u00e9 journeyed from home. There he\nplayed with the stones and the household objects, his dog and cat and\nhis pet quail, learning the manifold secrets of the world about him.\nThere were other boys nearby with whom he played; they had their bows\nand arrows\u2014weapons discarded by their elders long ago\u2014and their toys\nand dear possessions like boys the world over. There were few household\nobjects for them to break in play, only a few pots and gourds, and,\nlike all Indians, the Tepecanos seldom or never punished their\nchildren, preferring that they should grow up loving and with their\nspirits unbroken. An occasional trip to the nearest Mexican village to\npurchase cloth or sugar, or to the house of a relation a few miles away\nwas the extent of Jos\u00e9\u2019s travels. For sweets he had the honey which\nmight be taken from the hollow logs raised on forked posts outside of\nthe house.\n\nGradually Jos\u00e9 learned to help his parents and, by the time he was\nfourteen, he was able to do most of the tasks expected of young men.\nHe accompanied his father Francisco on trips to the hills in search\nof natural products. The leaves of the agave were one of the most\nsought-after materials. These they carried home, stripped off the soft\ngreen exterior and put the strong interior fibers to dry. This was\ncalled ixti, and from it all kinds of cord and rope were made. Many\nhours Jos\u00e9 sat, twisting the wheel with which his father made rope. At\nother times he helped to make adobe bricks, mixing the mud to a proper\nconsistency, pressing it into moulds and leaving it in the sun to dry.\nHis father likewise taught him to weave strong sacks of ixti cord on a\nsimple loom.\n\nSome of his spare time, too, he devoted to that eternal Mexican pastime\nof hunting buried treasure. Of course he never found any, but the\njoy of the search was in itself and had he not heard countless tales\nof fabulous wealth found in caves where it had been hidden during a\nrevolution? One could never tell!\n\nBy this time Jos\u00e9 was old enough to wear the typical costume of the\nmen of the tribe. For a few years he had run naked, but not for long,\nand during the greater part of his boyhood had worn clothes of a\nnondescript character. But about the time of puberty, his mother made\nhim a suit of white cotton cloth consisting of blouse and trousers.\nThese were so much more comfortable than the tight trousers affected\nby the civilized Mexicans. Nevertheless, the laws of the nearby towns\nprohibited any one\u2019s appearing in the streets in the flowing calzones,\nso in each Indian village was at least one pair of pantalones which\nwere borrowed whenever any one wished to visit town. The trousers were\nupheld by a girdle of faja or wool, woven by his mother on a narrow\nloom with geometric designs in black and white. A little bag, woven\nof the same material, known as a costal, accompanied him wherever he\nwent, for in this he carried all his little personal possessions and\nnecessities, such as matches, tobacco and, at times, lunch, as well\nas the dozens of little knick-knacks dear to the heart of the boy.\nIn the same way his forefathers carried their sticks to make fire,\nand his grandfathers their flint and steel. But in these enlightened\ndays sulphur or wax matches were within the reach of even impecunious\nMexican Indians, and Jos\u00e9 very early learned to smoke cigarettes made\nof locally grown tobacco rolled in corn husks. As likely as not he\ncarried the \u201cmakin\u2019s\u201d on the broad brim of his sombrero, an immense\npeaked hat of the braided leaf of the agave. Sandals of rawhide\ncompleted his costume. The hat was extremely heavy, but it was the\ncustom, so Jos\u00e9 wore it with pride. But his greatest pride was his\nmachete, that great steel knife carried by every man, which served\nevery imaginable purpose. No boy was ever half so proud of his first\nwatch as was little Jos\u00e9 of his first machete.\n\nJos\u00e9 helped his father in the labor of the field. In the winter they\nmade a clearing by cutting and burning down the trees and brush. This\nwas not a great task, for the rocky and infertile hillsides produced\nfew trees or bushes and the cacti and grass were easily destroyed.\nThen, after the first heavy rain of the summer, they went to their\nfield, carrying the seed corn, beads and a j\u00edcara full of water in\nwhich corn meal had been mixed. They had already undergone a fast\nof five days and an ablutionary bath. It was indeed a very sacred\nand solemn occasion, for the success of the yield, if not the entire\nharvest, depended upon them. For was not Corn the daughter of Father\nSun? So they reverently placed the beads in the center and four\ncorners of the field, and sprinkled the pinole water to the cardinal\npoints of the compass while Francisco, reverently facing the east,\nrecited the ancient prayer, promising Father Sun that they would guard\nwell his daughter and cherish her. Then they made little holes in the\nground with sticks, dropped in the kernels and covered them over. But\nlittle attention was required until harvest time. Then the corn was\ngathered with great joy, but the twin stalks, the corn plants with\nforked stem and two ears known as the milpa cuata, were left standing\nuntil the end. Then father and son solemnly walked around the field\nas many times as there were stalks within it, and recited another\nprayer, begging permission of Father Sun to carry home his daughter\nand promising again to guard her well. These stalks, with the ears\nattached, were then gathered in a sheaf and fastened to the ridgepole\nof the house, or to a tree. And that evening Nestor told again the\nold story of how Father Sun sent his daughter Corn to earth to be of\nservice to man and how she was wronged by her husband, Toloache,[11]\nwho used her bounty to support his mistresses, Crow and Badger, so that\nat last she returned to her father.\n\n\u201cTherefore it is,\u201d said old Nestor, \u201cthat we must pray hard for only\na little corn in place of the plenty which would have been ours. But\nToloache was punished by being fastened head downwards to the rock and\nbeing required to grant us whatever we may ask of him.\u201d\n\nAt this story Jos\u00e9 smiled for he was of the sophisticated younger\ngeneration, and he looked upon it as a pretty fable, but old Nestor\nevidently believed it implicitly.\n\nPractically all the efforts of the people were individual or family\naffairs. It was only on religious or ceremonial occasions that any\ncommunal interests were attempted. But one day at the height of the dry\nseason his father said to Jos\u00e9:\n\n\u201cPepecito, to-morrow we are all going to fish in the river and you are\nold enough to go along.\u201d\n\nThe following day found them trudging toward the little river, their\ncostales filled with gordas\u2014tortillas made thicker than usual so that\nthey retained their softness during the day. As they neared the river\nthey were joined by other parties bound in the same direction. All\npaths led to a deep hole in the river above a series of rapids where,\nit was suspected, the fish had all congregated. Here all hands set to\nwork making a tapexte, a weir or mesh of reeds laid together closely\nin a plane and tied with cord. One of the long edges was weighted with\nstones so that it sank to the bottom, and thus the entire mat could be\ndragged up or down the stream, carrying the fish with it. An entire\nday was consumed in making the tapexte and at nightfall all returned\nto their homes, worn out with exertion. The next day\u2014ah! That was a\nwonderful day! Sounds of shouting and splashing filled the air. Dark\nskins glistened and sparkled in the sun as the fishermen plunged into\nthe deep holes and endeavored to seize in little hand-nets the fish\nwhich had been cornered by the great tapexte. And that night fish\nboiled merrily in the pots of many happy households.\n\nJos\u00e9 was of good physical type, of medium height and slim build. His\nhands and feet were small and well shaped, his features large but not\ncoarse. His eye was dark and sparkling, his hair thick, straight,\nlong and very black, his mustache, beard and body hair sparse. His\nforefathers used to pluck out their beards, considering that it made\nthem look like the animal world, but he, like the younger generation,\ncut and shaved his as fashion dictated. His color was a dark brown.\nHe was active, keen and bright when necessary, but inclined to\nslothfulness. After all, why _should_ he do to-day anything he could\nput off till to-morrow? An unpleasant task, if procrastinated, might\nsettle itself; if a pleasant prospect, why not prolong the enjoyable\nanticipation? When life contains so little variety, why do everything\nto-day and have nothing to do to-morrow?\n\nJos\u00e9 liked to smoke, of course, but any luxury was too expensive for\nhim to overdo it. And naturally he drank whenever he could get the\nvarious distillates of agave which sold in the neighboring villages\nas mescal, tequila and sotol. He drank to excess, for strong liquor\ngave him a surcease from monotony\u2014it made him a different person in a\ndifferent environment and he was glad to seek the change. Of course\ndrunken brawls were frequent and machete wounds occasional, but they\nwere forgiven shortly afterwards and forgotten.\n\nLike all of his people, Jos\u00e9 was naturally cheerful and from a certain\npoint of view, honest. He would probably have considered it highly\ncommendable to steal anything from a Mexican or a Gringo stranger if\nhe could escape undetected, but he couldn\u2019t steal from friends. He\nwas given to boasting\u2014when the boast could not be checked up. Always\ncheerful, singing and happy, few things worried him. Although very\nemotional, like all Indians he considered it weak to betray emotion\nbefore others. His one outstanding quality was his politeness, and this\nwas of the heart, not a mere outward display; he was always ready to be\nof assistance to the helpless, sympathetic to the unfortunate. He could\nhardly be called literate though he could, after intense and laborious\ncerebration, manage to spell out a message or write a note. What with\nthis illiteracy, his tendency to procrastination, ignorance of all\ntrades and indisposition to continued labor, he would have been a\nmiserable failure in an industrial civilization, although in his native\nenvironment he was a valuable member of society.\n\nOne year during the dry season, after the harvest of corn was in,\nJos\u00e9 accompanied several other young men of the tribe to a nearby\nmining town where labor was in demand, and here he experienced his\nfirst contact with \u201chigh\u201d civilization. Here with pick and shovel he\ncould earn half a peso a day\u2014twenty-five cents. Even at that rate\nJos\u00e9 could save enough to return to the little village in comparative\naffluence after a few months, for money of any kind was seldom seen\nthere, practically all business being done by barter and one was indeed\ndeeply in debt who owed his neighbor a peso! Jos\u00e9\u2019s native boss was\neasy-going and the men were not overworked, but the American foreman\nwas a puzzle to Jos\u00e9. Always on the go, he never sat down to rest. And\nsuch queer Spanish as he spoke\u2014principally profanity! Then there were\nsuch wonderful and incomprehensible machines, there, which did the work\nof many men, run by steam and electricity: telephones, telegraphs,\nautomobiles and countless other appliances.\n\nBut the most joyous days of Jos\u00e9\u2019s youth were those of the fiestas.\nThen the natives for miles around, both Indians and \u201cneighbors,\u201d\ngathered in the little pueblo. Ave Mar\u00eca! What an assemblage! All the\npretty girls with their best petticoats of bright red flannel, their\nrebozos[12] covering their sleek, black hair, their bright black eyes\nsparkling with excitement and their white teeth shining. All the men\nwith their white trousers and blouses freshly washed, their hats\nfreshened up and their machetes polished. All roads led to the little\nvillage, most coming on foot, the more opulent on donkeys, mules or\nhorses, for none owned wagons, nor could any wagon traverse the rocky\ntrails. Open hospitality reigned everywhere. Relations who had not\nseen each other for months, compadres by the scores, old friends, new\nacquaintances, fell on each other\u2019s necks and slapped each other on the\nback while the bottle of fiery sotol or tequila circulated freely.\n\nFrequently the fiesta began with some communal work on the church, for\nthe church was the center of all activity. Possibly a wall had to be\nerected and each one helped as he or she was able, the boys and women\ncarrying single small stones, the men carrying frames on which many\nlarge stones were piled. An hour or so of combined labor and the wall\nwas built. In the afternoon, sports were the order of the day. Of these\nthe most popular was that of colando al toro, in which the wealthy\nyoung men endeavored, each on his pet horse, to ride past a bull, seize\nhim by the tail and overthrow him. How Jos\u00e9 longed to be able to own a\nhorse and gain the plaudits of the girls by his prowess!\n\n\u201cI might even,\u201d thought he, \u201cgo to the great City of Mexico and learn\nto be a famous torero and be the idol of the entire Republic.\u201d\n\nAt night there were cuetes exploded in honor of the day, which\ndelighted Jos\u00e9 hugely, and dances to the music of the violin. All day\nand much of the night the celebration kept up. Little booths and tables\nwere erected wherever vendors sold dainties, and the air was filled\nwith the cries of the merchants.\n\n\u201cSweet oranges! Four for a half-real!\u201d[13]\n\n\u201cMelon seeds! Perfectly toasted!\u201d\n\n\u201cPeanuts! Peanuts!\u201d\n\n\u201cSugar cane! The very sweetest!\u201d\n\n\u201cCandies! Who wants them?\u201d\n\nLucky was the boy who had a real to spend at the fiesta, for a goodly\nportion of anything would be sold at the standard price of a centavo.\n\nMeanwhile, over in one corner, the men gathered around a Mexican from a\nnearby town who was running a gambling game with the cards, while his\npartner dispensed bottles of the agave brandy. Soon the inevitable\nvicious altercation would arise. To be sure it was limited to a violent\nflood of profanity and only reputation and dignity were injured, but\nthe women shrank away while drunken cries filled the air. A few cool\nheads interfered before any irreparable damage was done, but it was not\nalways thus, as a rude cross or two in the neighborhood of the pueblo,\nmarking a place where a soul had come to a violent end, mutely attest.\n\nIt was the Christmas season that was particularly celebrated at\nAzquelt\u00e1n, for then the old pageant of \u201cLos Pastores\u201d was performed.\nFor weeks before, the performers, all prominent men of the village,\nwere engaged in making their costumes of long, white dresses and their\nstaffs decorated with colored tinsel and tissue paper. The words\nand music had been handed down from the days of the first Spanish\nmissionaries, and depicted the adventures of a group of shepherds\njourneying to the nativity. Jos\u00e9\u2019s father, Francisco, played the part\nof the hermit with a crude mask of wood and an immense rosary of wooden\nbeads. It was Jos\u00e9\u2019s ambition to take the part of Satan, who attempted\nto prevent the pilgrimage.\n\n\u201cJos\u00e9,\u201d said Francisco one day, \u201cit is high time you were married.\nYou are eighteen now and most of the boys of your age are married\nalready. I cannot afford to support you any longer and you must set up\nfor yourself. I\u2019ve been hearing a great deal about your affairs with\nseveral girls\u2014yes, and with some of our married women too! And it will\nhave to cease.\u201d\n\nHere Don Pancho chuckled to himself, for he had a great deal of pride\nin his handsome son and enjoyed the gossip of his amours. Jos\u00e9 had\nlearned to be a fair performer on the fiddle and the guitar, and would\nsit by night with a few other free lances of his own age under the\neaves of some straw hut watching the stars come out in the beautiful\ncrisp, evening air and singing melancholy love songs. Most of the girls\nsuccumbed to his advances at once, but there was one who rejected them\nwith affected scorn and she, of course, was the one he most desired.\nConsequently he began to hedge at his father\u2019s suggestion.\n\n\u201cBut, little father,\u201d said he, \u201cI don\u2019t want to get married\nyet,\u2014possibly I never will!\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat nonsense!\u201d exploded Francisco. \u201cIt\u2019s all right for Gringos to\nbe bachelors; they can hire women to do their work; they can eat in\ntiendas. But you! Who\u2019ll make your tortillas? Who\u2019ll make your clothes?\nDon\u2019t be a fool!\u201d\n\nJos\u00e9 knew it was up to him to get a wife, but he wished a little more\ntime to press his suit with Josefa, the much-to-be-desired daughter of\nC\u00e1ndido Gonzales. \u201cGive me another month, little father,\u201d he asked, and\nFrancisco agreed.\n\nSo Jos\u00e9 sought out his grandfather, old Nestor. Bashfully he hesitated\nand \u201cstalled\u201d until at last the sly old man suspected the truth.\n\n\u201cCome, come!\u201d he ejaculated. \u201cSpeak out! What is it, a girl?\u201d Jos\u00e9\npresented his case. The old man swelled up with pride.\n\n\u201cAh! Of a truth you have come to the right man! You knew your old\ngrandfather was the one to aid you! There is now only one other man\nin the tribe who knows how to gain the love of a girl! A week from\nto-night at midnight will be the time. We must both fast for five days\nbefore, in order to appease the Gods and Mar\u00eda Sant\u00edsima. Get me a\npiece of the girl\u2019s clothing and I\u2019ll find the other things.\u201d\n\nJos\u00e9 didn\u2019t relish the idea of a fast, for he was of the younger\ngeneration and took little stock in the superstitions, as he considered\nthem, of the elders. Nevertheless he was now in trouble and, with the\nnatural faith of the helpless man, willing to try anything. So he\nendured the fast without a whimper and surreptitiously visited the\ngirl\u2019s house while she was fetching water from the spring and stole a\nsmall article of clothing.\n\nWhen at last the night came, the old man was in a queer mood of\nneurotic enthusiasm and excitement, combined with sober dignity in\ncontemplation of his important office.\n\n\u201cHave you the clothing?\u201d he asked eagerly. Jos\u00e9 handed it to him.\n\n\u201cAnd now a piece of your own clothing!\u201d A short search brought to light\na discarded bit which would serve the purpose.\n\nCarefully the old man made a doll of the clothes of each, one to\nrepresent the boy, the other the girl. Then he produced flowers of\nfive narcotic plants which he had spent the day in seeking\u2014g\u00fcizache,\npalo mulato, garambullo, rosa mar\u00eda and toloache\u2014and with these he\ndecorated the boy doll. When the stars indicated the hour of midnight,\na candle was lighted and the figures were placed in a large bowl of\nwater, floating. Jos\u00e9 watched with bated breath. Not that he put much\nfaith in the outcome, but the spell of the magic, the stillness of the\nnight and the temper of the old man, who by this time had practically\nreached a state of self-hypnosis, had a profound effect. Reverently,\nand in a low, tense voice the old man recited the ancient prayer\nbegging of the Intoxicated Woman and the Flower Man, that the desired\none should be brought to her lover. After this he produced his musical\nbow and, placing a bowl upside down on the ground, held the bow on it\nwith his foot. Striking the string with two small sticks so that it\ngave a sonorous twang, he began to sing the old song appropriate for\nthe occasion. Five times he sang it, and then jumped up and walked\naround the bowl with the floating figures, five times. The charm was\nthen complete. Eagerly he looked into the bowl and found that the two\nfigures had floated together. With a delighted air he turned to Jos\u00e9,\nrestraining his high-pitched emotion.\n\n\u201cIt is well,\u201d he said simply. \u201cThe Gods and Mar\u00eda Sant\u00edsima have\nanswered your prayer.\u201d Jos\u00e9 felt relieved, for, although at heart\nhe doubted the efficacy of the charm, the old man\u2019s emotion had a\nconsiderable effect upon him. So it was with greater self-confidence\nthat in the morning he renewed both his meals and his assaults on the\nheart of the delectable Josefa, until he felt that he might confidently\nput the matter to the test.\n\n\u201cFather,\u201d said he the following day, \u201cwill you speak to C\u00e1ndido\nGonzales about Josefa for me?\u201d His father chuckled.\n\n\u201cSo that\u2019s the way the wind blows! I guess we can settle the matter. It\nwould be silly of Don C\u00e1ndido to refuse such a promising son-in-law!\u201d\n\nThere were many things to be arranged and the matter of the marriage\nof one\u2019s children was too important an affair to be lightly settled,\nso old Francisco and C\u00e1ndido had many long conferences. They debated\nthe matter from every possible point of view and then all over again\nfrom the beginning. But even matters of greater pith and moment must\neventually be squeezed dry, and at last the time arrived when neither\nthe fertile Don Pancho nor the equally fertile Don C\u00e1ndido could\nconceive of another topic of discussion, so they considered the matter\nformally arranged. The young people would await the next visit of the\ncura and then be married.\n\nBut right there old Nestor interposed a furious objection. Here he\nwas, the Cantador Mayor, the Chief Singer or high priest of the old\nreligion, the keeper of the old customs, doing his best to preserve the\ntribe from dissolution and destruction because of the anger of the old\nGods. The young generation were deserting the Gods and the practices of\ntheir forefathers. They no longer attended the old ceremonies, prayed\nand sacrificed to the Gods, fasted or made prayer sticks. Even the old\nlanguage had nearly perished and the Gods were so angry that they were\npermitting the tribe to grow smaller and smaller, yearly. It was only\nthe fervor of a few devoted conservatives like himself which still\ninduced the Gods to send their rains in the spring. And would he allow\nhis only grandson to be married without the practice of the old rites?\nPor Dios, no! And besides, he was one of the very few men who still\nremembered the old prayer and it was the custom to pay a peso per night\nto the one who recited the prayer. He had not the slightest objection\nto Pepe\u2019s being married by the cura\u2014the more Gods the better\u2014but he\ninsisted on his privileges and the observance of the old customs.\n\nSo, to please the old man and to keep peace, it was agreed to follow\nthe old customs, and the next Wednesday night the three men, Nestor,\nFrancisco and Jos\u00e9, journeyed to the girl\u2019s house. Along the narrow,\nsteep and rocky trail they stumbled, finally arriving at the house\nwhere they were cordially admitted by old C\u00e1ndido. Seating themselves\nby the door, Nestor immediately launched into the prayer which was a\nlong one and recited with great gravity. He spoke in beautiful allegory\nof the creation of the girl in the heavens, and of her long wanderings\nbefore her birth. At last the long prayer came to an end and the party\ntrooped home again.\n\nFor five nights on successive Wednesdays and Saturdays, this was\nrepeated and on the last night C\u00e1ndido, who had been ably coached by\nNestor, arose at the end of the old man\u2019s speech and spoke in reply,\ngravely, the traditional response which had served Tepecano brides\nand grooms for centuries. He admitted that his daughter was lazy and\nworthless, but appreciated the honor of having her hand asked, and\nclosed with an appeal to the Gods for forgiveness from sins and for\nhealth. Then he brought out a white cloth and on it were piled all the\ngirl\u2019s possessions and her wedding gifts. Then all four, the bride and\ngroom and their fathers, seized each a corner, raised the cloth, and\nthe ceremony was complete. Jos\u00e9 remained with his wife\u2019s people for\nseveral months while he built himself a new house and put his household\nin order before taking his bride to her new home. When the good cura\ncame to say mass the next time, the couple appeared before him and were\nunited according to the rites of Holy Church.\n\nOne day a melancholy figure appeared before the little hut of Nestor\nand the old man hobbled out to greet his visitor.\n\n\u201cEnter, enter, little grandson!\u201d he greeted. \u201cWhy so sad? What has\nhappened?\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is my wife, little grandfather,\u201d replied Jos\u00e9. \u201cShe is quite ill.\nWe have done everything we can for her. All the neighbors have come,\nand each one has brought her some delicacy and forced her to eat it,\nbut to no avail. Can you not help her?\u201d\n\nThe old man puffed up with a mixture of self-conceit, anger and\ncontempt.\n\n\u201cAh, what could you expect from these old women? They expect to cure\nsickness by foods and drugs when it is necessary to appease or overcome\nsomething! Verily you have come to the right man! Let us see what we\ncan do.\u201d He disappeared within his house, made a judicious selection of\nobjects, put them within his sack, and over the trail they went toward\nthe house.\n\nSure enough, there lay poor Josefa on a mat on the floor of the house.\nThe civilized physician would have diagnosed her malady as malaria and\nsuggested doses of quinine and crude oil\u2014the latter to be administered\nto the mosquitoes in the pools of stagnant water. A few sympathetic\nneighbors were gathered around, begging her to try one or another of\nthe dainties they had so carefully prepared.\n\n\u201cTruly, I have done my best, grandfather,\u201d lamented Jos\u00e9. \u201cI have\nsucked at the seat of pain as you have told me, but extracted nothing,\nand I have blown tobacco smoke on her and prayed, but without avail.\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, my son, but one must have practice in such matters and the\nconfidence of the Gods. Possibly it is the work of one of your enemies.\nIt is well that you called me, for none else in the tribe has my power\nand influence.\u201d\n\nSending the neighbors home, he questioned Jos\u00e9 with regard to his sins\nof omission and commission, trying to determine the cause of his wife\u2019s\ninfirmity. Had he or she any enemies who might wish to send sickness\nupon them? Jos\u00e9 knew of none, except possibly one of her other old\nsuitors. Had he been careful to placate the chanes when he built his\nnew home? Jos\u00e9 was compelled to admit that he had ignored this matter\nentirely.\n\n\u201cAh, my son!\u201d lamented the old man, \u201cyou young people laugh at us; you\nthink we are silly, and yet when your own obstinacy leads you into\ntrouble you come to us for aid! Well, that is ever the way of youth.\nNow let\u2019s see what we can do.\u201d\n\nHe laid Josefa on her back, standing at her feet. Lighting a cigarette\nmade of corn husk and tobacco he assumed a serious attitude which\nrapidly became almost hypnotic. Taking long draughts of smoke, he faced\nthe four cardinal points in turn, blowing a puff of smoke in each\ndirection, and then in a low tense voice recited a prayer, begging that\nthe illness might pass from her and she be restored to health. Then he\nblew five puffs of smoke on her hands, feet and forehead and, falling\non his knees, began to stroke her body rapidly from the extremities\nto the seat of pain, at which place he then began to suck vigorously.\nFinally arising, he spat into his hand a mouthful of blood. His state\nof tense emotion rapidly disappeared as he said gravely:\n\n\u201cThis is a serious matter, Pepito. It is not the chan; if it were,\nI should have sucked out only spittle. The blood proves it to be\nwitchcraft!\n\n\u201cIt is a matter of the greatest delicacy,\u201d continued Nestor, \u201cand you\nare lucky to have one so powerful as I at your service. Even for me it\nwill require a whole week of fasting and praying to diagnose the matter\ncorrectly. And even for my favorite grandson I couldn\u2019t afford to do it\nfor less than the standard price of five pesos!\u201d\n\nAfter a half-hour\u2019s argument the matter was amicably arranged and for\na week the old man bathed, fasted and prayed, and by the end of that\ntime had worked himself into an exalted state which combined with the\nweakness induced by the fast, made him see visions. On the evening of\nthe seventh day he again appeared before the young man, the gravity of\nthe business evidently weighing upon him very heavily.\n\n\u201cI have seen it all,\u201d he said simply. \u201cIt was a young man. I couldn\u2019t\nsee him plainly enough to recognize him. But he made a figure from a\npiece of her clothing and stuck a pin into it while another old man\nprayed that she might sicken and die!\u201d\n\nA wave of hatred passed over Jos\u00e9 and he cursed the culprit violently.\nThere was no longer the slightest doubt in his mind that old Nestor\nspoke with authority. He had heard all these old tales about ways of\nharming an enemy by magical means, but he had never really put any\nfaith in them. And now he was the victim! He ran over in his mind the\nnames of those who might be suspected. There was Pablo Hernandez with\nwhom he had had an argument at the last fiesta, and Pedro Martinez who\nclaimed he had cheated him over a sale of corn last month. Ah, but\nwait. There was Margarito de la Rosa who had been his pet rival for the\nhand of Josefa. The more he thought of it, the more certain he was that\nit must have been he. All right! He would fix him!\n\nNestor set about his cure with gravity and self-possession, knowing\nlike any doctor that the best half of any cure lay in the confidence of\nthe patient. First he produced his bundle of arrows made of a straight\nshaft of wood with a large feather from an eagle or a red-tailed hawk,\nhanging from the blunt end. These were the arrows that attacked evil\nand sickness. Three of these he stuck in the ground at the patient\u2019s\nhead and a fourth at her feet. Then he performed a number of motions\nwith the arrows, which involved changing their positions, pointing them\nto the four cardinal points and waving them above the patient\u2019s head to\npurify her. Finally he fell on his knees and once again began to suck\nat the sorest spot in her body. After several attempts on various parts\nhe finally arose with great emotion, his face a livid red from the\nintensity of his efforts, spat into his hand and showed Jos\u00e9\u2014a pin! The\nlatter gasped with astonishment.\n\nNow without doubt the old man had concealed the pin in his mouth before\nbeginning to suck, nevertheless he had worked himself into such an\nintense emotional state that the fraud was probably quite unconscious.\nAs for Jos\u00e9\u2014had he not seen with his own eyes? The very pin which had\nbeen stuck into the figure representing his wife had been removed from\nher body! So that was the game, was it? Very well, it was a game more\nthan one could play at. From that time on he nursed his revenge.\n\nAfter he had brooded over his wrongs for a long time he again consulted\nNestor and told him of his suspicions. The old man nodded gravely.\n\n\u201cMost probably it was he,\u201d he assented. \u201cNow that I think of it, the\nperson I saw in the vision was much like him. Of course! I see him\nvery plainly now. And the old man who helped him was that shameless\nold Heleno Montez who thinks he has more power than I. I\u2019m certain of\nthat. Very well, we\u2019ll show them!\u201d And so the two conspirators secretly\nplanned the untimely demise of Margarito and Heleno.\n\nThus it happened that a few days later they met late one night in a\nsecluded spot on the outskirts of the village.\n\n\u201cThere are several methods of bewitching,\u201d began Nestor, after crossing\nhimself. \u201cYou might as well learn them. One way is to make a figure of\ncotton and bury it in the cemetery, light a candle and place it at the\nhead of a grave at midnight on Monday, after having fasted all day.\nRepeat this for five successive Mondays and on the last day get a black\nstone from the river and hit the earth above the figure five times.\nThen run home before the candle goes out. The corpse will cause your\nenemy to sicken and die within five months. But one must fast for the\nentire twenty-nine days.\u201d\n\nJos\u00e9 shuddered and looked furtively around into the darkness with the\nfear of one who dreads ghosts. Neither the method nor the long fast\nappealed to him. But Nestor, with the air of a devotee, warmed up to\nhis subject.\n\n\u201cBut a better way is to make a figure of cotton with hands and feet,\nhead and mouth, wrap it up with the shroud of a dead man and then\npierce the head and the heart with five thorns. Pretty soon the victim\nwill fall sick of the stomach and his heart will rot and\u2014may God have\nmercy on his soul!\u201d Nestor chuckled. \u201cA very pretty way it is, too!\nThat was probably the method they tried on Josefa. Lucky you had me to\ncounteract it!\u201d\n\nAgain Jos\u00e9\u2019s anger rose at the thought of the villainy and he hardened\nhis heart against the malefactors.\n\n\u201cAnother good way,\u201d continued Nestor, \u201cis to make a clay figure and\nbury it in an ant hill at high noon. You must fast a day and say the\ncreed seven times while counting your rosary and light a candle. And\nwhen the candle goes out, the ants will come up and in five days the\nenemy will die of boils and hives and fever!\u201d\n\n\u201cThat\u2019s a terrible death, little grandfather,\u201d said Jos\u00e9. \u201cWe can\u2019t do\nanything like that!\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, there\u2019s still another way, the best of all. Few men know this,\nbut I will tell you the secret.\u201d His voice sank to a whisper.\n\n\u201cFirst you must get a bone from the right hand of a dead man. Take this\nand hide it in the thatch of the roof of your enemy\u2019s house when no\none is looking. Then in the night he will see a black phantom and the\nfollowing night a terrifying vision lamenting behind the house. Unless\nhe finds and removes the charm, he will continue being terrified until\nat last all the people of that house will die from fear of horrible\nnightmares of poisonous animals\u2014rattle-snakes, centipedes, tarantulas,\nlizards, spiders and scorpions!\u201d\n\nBut Jos\u00e9 had heard enough, and was on his way home as if all these\nnoxious creatures were after him. Others might dabble in witchcraft if\nthey pleased, but it was not for him! His difference with Margarito he\nwould settle with fist or machete!\n\nThis experience brought Jos\u00e9 more closely into contact with old Nestor.\nBesides he was getting on toward middle life and beginning to recover\nfrom the agnosticism of youth and to take an interest in the old\nreligion and customs of the forefathers. These, he was well aware, were\nkept alive by a few devoted old conservatives like Nestor who believed\nthat it was only their fidelity which kept the tribe from complete\nannihilation by the Gods, angry because of the neglect of the younger\npeople. The younger people regarded the conservatives as harmless old\nfools and their religious practices as amusing superstitions. In this\nthey were encouraged by the padre who was anxious to see all the old\nbeliefs rooted out. Nevertheless he knew enough of human nature to\nrealize that little could be accomplished by coercion and force, and\nenough of church history to remember that the Church had always found\nit better to reinterpret the old pagan beliefs and incorporate them\ninto the faith rather than to battle against them. Consequently the\nconservative group considered themselves perfectly good Catholics and\nsaw no antagonism between the new and the old religions. Nestor found\nJos\u00e9 in a receptive mood when he approached him on the topic.\n\n\u201cJos\u00e9,\u201d said he, \u201cit has always been a matter of great regret to\nme that my only grandson has not been one of the few who have kept\nfaith with the ancient Gods of the pueblo. But that is the nature of\nyouth. I too, up to your age, took little part in the ceremonies,\nalthough at that time all of the elder generation were loyal. But now\nyou have arrived at the age of discretion; your advice is sought and\nyour example has considerable influence. I know you no longer laugh\nat our beliefs; you have frequently questioned me about them. But you\nhave never affiliated yourself with us. Delay no longer, dear little\ngrandson. Father Sun is stretching out his hand toward you to gather\nyou unto him. This is the fifth of January. To-night we celebrate the\nfeast of the Pinole. Come and join us!\u201d\n\nThere was an air of ecstasy about the old man and of hysterical\nemotion, due, as Jos\u00e9 realized, to the long fast in preparation for the\nfeast, as well as to the narcotic peyote. Jos\u00e9 saw that a refusal would\nanger the old man and, besides, he felt a curiosity as well as a real\nreligious interest in the proceedings.\n\n\u201cI will go,\u201d he said shortly.\n\nAs the sun sank behind the western mountains Jos\u00e9 and Nestor followed\nthe winding trail toward the place where the ceremony was to be held.\nJust at dusk they arrived at the patio situated on the top of a small\nhill. Of course in his boyhood days Jos\u00e9 had frequently visited the\npatios where the ceremonies of the conservatives for untold generations\nhad been held. He knew their general form well\u2014a flat circular ground\nwith a place for a fire in the center, a ring of stones which served\nas seats for the communicants, a circular path without this for\nthe dancers, and a rude altar built of stones to the east. But now\neverything assumed a new significance.\n\nOn arriving, Nestor and Jos\u00e9 gravely made the requisite five ceremonial\ncircuits of the ground, after which they bowed before the altar, while\nold Nestor recited a prayer in a low voice. Jos\u00e9 knew enough of the\nold Tepecano language to get the sense of the prayer which begged\npermission of the Gods to prepare and decorate their temple. After\nthis, they set to work and cleared the ground of all growth until it\npresented an even surface, swept it smooth and started a fire in the\ncenter.\n\nNestor then busied himself at the altar for a long time, and Jos\u00e9\nobserved that he had opened his box and taken out many objects of\nceremonial importance which he placed in their proper positions on the\naltar. For a long time he busied himself there, carefully unwrapping\nevery object and giving great care to its placing. Jos\u00e9, sweeping the\ncourt and nursing the fire, watched him out of the corner of his eye.\nAt last the old man turned and called to him.\n\n\u201cJoselito,\u201d said the old man, surveying his work with the pride of a\ngood craftsman, \u201cit is well that you should understand the meaning of\nall our religious objects. Doubtless you have heard malicious gossip\nand lies concerning them from the unbelievers of the village. They have\ntold you that we worship idols here, and are in league with the Devil\nin opposition to our Holy Catholic Faith. Lies! All lies! We worship\nGod here just as we do in the church with songs and prayers. Our dear\ncura is the leader of that branch of the church, and I of this. He\nneeds his chalices and his sacraments just as I need the ceremonial\nobjects you see here. Just as the blessed images in the church protect\nthe town from evil, so do these bring us health, relief from sickness,\nand rain for our crops. Look here! This white cloth is the tapexte\u2014it\nrepresents the heavens filled with great white rain clouds. These\nlittle square objects of colored yarn on a frame, you know well.\nThey are chimales, shields, and represent the face of God, the Sun.\nConsequently they shield us from every influence and we even fear to\nmake them until after the rainy season for fear they might keep away\nthe rains! These arrows you know too. They are our active defense from\nsickness and evil and are hung with the feathers of the royal eagle and\nthe red-tailed hawk.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhy only those?\u201d interrupted Jos\u00e9.\n\n\u201cBecause they are the most powerful, swift and strong; therefore the\narrow will fly fast, hard and straight. It is with these arrows that\npeople are cleansed from sickness and evil. Then these sticks with\ntufts of cotton wound on them are bastoncitos. The cotton, of course,\nrepresents the great rain clouds, and these also serve to cleanse and\npurify and to bring the rains for the crops. All of these things you\nhave seen and know fairly well. But these little objects of great\nimportance you probably do not know.\u201d\n\nNestor pointed to the front of the altar where lay six or eight\nj\u00edcaras. Some of these were decorated with designs made of small glass\nbeads of different colors set in beeswax on the outer and inner\nsurfaces, but all of them contained various small objects resting on\nbeds of cotton. Many of them were natural stones of strange and unusual\nshapes and colors, others were little bone carvings and similar objects\nmade by the ancient populations of this region, and occasionally found\nby the present people. A few others were, although neither of the\nobservers realized it, manufactured objects from other lands.\n\n\u201cThese,\u201d said old Nestor solemnly, \u201care the cidukam which are sometimes\ncalled our \u2018idols.\u2019 Of course they are not. But they are very powerful\nand rare and are carefully guarded. One finds them here and there,\nwhere they are left by the Gods that those with faith and observation\nmay find them. They protect him from evil and sickness and bring to\nhim health, wealth and happiness. I, as Chief Singer, have the largest\nnumber of most powerful ones which protect not only me, but the entire\npueblo. And yet they care so little for it that the people laugh at my\nvaluables and refuse to attend our ceremonies. But let them beware!\nThe Gods will not bear with this neglect forever! Already things are\nnot as they were in my youth. Then the rains were longer and heavier,\nthe corn grew more bountifully and the deer were more plentiful. While\nI last, I will keep the faith, but who will follow me? Not one of the\nyounger generation knows the prayers, the songs or the details of the\nceremonies! Well, at any rate, I shall have done my best to save them\nfrom the consequences of their neglect.\u201d\n\n\u201cHere,\u201d he exclaimed, pointing to a spherical object resting on a bed\nof cotton in a beautifully decorated j\u00edcara, \u201chere is the most powerful\nobject in the collection. There is not another one in the tribe\u2014yes,\nthere cannot be another like this in the whole world.\u201d\n\nHe raised the globe reverently and lovingly from its bed. Now an\nAmerican schoolboy would have recognized it as a large glass marble\nwith the white corkscrew veins in the center. But to Nestor and Jos\u00e9 it\nwas a wonderful object, and they feasted their eyes on the beautiful\nand regular shape and color.\n\n\u201cThis is surely the spirit of the rain,\u201d said the old man softly.\n\u201cSee! It is transparent like the water and in the centre the whirling\nrain descends. Ah! If that should be lost or taken from the country,\nthe rain would surely follow it and we would all die of drought and\nstarvation!\u201d He put it back into its place reverently.\n\n\u201cHere is a representation of the moon, white and round; this one is\nevidently the spirit of the deer. See how closely it resembles one\nwith its horns! Here is doubtless an ear of corn, and this one here is\ncertainly intended for a chimal. And these\u2014but here come more people!\u201d\n\nInto the light of the fire brightly blazing in the center of the patio\ncame three elderly men. Jos\u00e9 knew them well, of course, as prominent in\nthe conservative party. They walked five times around the circle and\nstopped before the altar and breathed their prayers before stepping out\nto greet the two. From this time on, the communicants arrived slowly,\nuntil by eight o\u2019clock about a dozen had congregated, almost entirely\nelderly men. A few women also had come, but these made a fire for\nthemselves outside the circle and took no part in the ritual.\n\nPresently Nestor brought out a bow of the type used by the hunters of\nold, and tightened the string until it gave forth a resonant twang when\nplucked. Then, scooping out a hole in the ground in front of his seat,\nhe inverted a gourd bowl over this and held the bow, string uppermost,\non the bowl with his foot so that it served as a resonance chamber. Two\nsmall sticks were selected and the ceremony was about to begin. First,\nhowever, he called Jos\u00e9 to him and formally recited to him another\nof the old speeches, handed down by tradition through centuries,\ndelivering to him the care of the fire for the night. Then he seated\nhimself on his central seat, and on either side sat another old man.\nIn each hand they held one of the ceremonial arrows which they had\ntaken from the altar. These were waved slowly, and pointed in turn to\neast, north, west and south while the old man recited the traditional\nprayer opening the fiesta. This done, he settled himself on his seat\nand, taking the two sticks in his hand, struck the bow with a sonorous\ntwang. Then he began to sing in a low voice to the accompaniment of the\nmonotonous twang of the bow. Jos\u00e9 followed the example of the other\nmen by getting up and dancing around the circle with a solemn, slow\ntripping step, stopping to face outwards for a moment at each of the\ncardinal points, and particularly to the altar at the east.\n\nAnd so the long night passed. Around Polaris swung the bright stars,\nshining as they can only in the crisp air of high altitudes. All night\nlong with but brief intermissions the old man sang. Only four songs\nthere were in all, but these were very long and full of monotonous\nrepetition. They told of the origin of the Gods and of the world, and\nof the coming of the rain to refresh the world with its life-giving\nwater. Jos\u00e9 tended the fire conscientiously and danced with the other\nmen for at least a portion of every song.\n\nAt last above the rim of the eastern hills appeared the glowing Morning\nStar like a heavenly torch, and all greeted it reverently. Soon the\ngreat sun himself began to spread the light and warmth of his glow\nabroad, and finally showed his face radiant above the eastern hills.\nSeldom had he seemed more majestic to Jos\u00e9 and seldom had his warmth\nbeen more welcome, after the chilliness of the night.\n\nAbout this time Nestor finished his last song to the Sun and the\nceremony was almost over. Once again the other two old men took their\nplaces beside him on the stone seats and once again were the arrows\npointed to the cardinal points while the Chief Singer recited the\nprayer to close the ceremony. Then, one by one, all the men approached\nthe altar where they were given little tamales[14] to eat, while Nestor\npurified them of all sickness and evil by waving over them an arrow,\nthe feather of which had been dipped in peyote water. A few drops of\nthe water were placed in the hand of each, and then water in which corn\nmeal had been mixed was sprinkled over every one present, over the\naltar and the seats. The sacred objects on the altar were collected and\nreplaced in their box, all the attendants, led by Nestor, made their\nfive ceremonial circuits of the patio and the ceremony was completed.\nJos\u00e9 went home and slept the rest of the day.\n\nAlthough Jos\u00e9 still affected to ridicule the beliefs and practices of\nthe conservatives, yet the ceremony he had witnessed had really quite\nan effect upon him. And he began to show a live concern for the old\nreligion, studying it almost as would a scientific investigator. Many\nwere the conferences and long talks that he and Nestor held together,\nthe old man an intensely enthusiastic informant, the young man an\ninterested listener and keen inquisitor. Of course, like all the\nTepecanos, he already understood the basis of the old religion, how\nthe trinity of Father Sun, Mother Moon and Elder Brother Morning Star\nwatched over and protected their people; how Father Sun had sent his\ndaughter, the Corn, into the world that they might have sustenance,\nand how the Gods sent the welcome and necessary rains in the spring\nand summer, that the corn might flourish, requiring only that the\npeople worship them with song and dance, with arrows and chimales. But\nall of the minor esoteric details opened a new field of interest to\nhim. He learned the many set prayers which were enjoined for various\noccasions, the ritual songs sung at the four principal ceremonies, that\nof the Rain in April, the Ripe-corn in September, the Corn-meal in\nJanuary and the Twin-corn in March. He heard of the tabus of fasting\nand continence enjoined upon the Chief Singer and, above all, of the\ninfluence and power of the magic peyote which played such a large\npart in all observances. He learned to make the various kinds of\narrows and chimales and to know their special powers. He learned the\nlocations of the altars, and particularly the four principal ones to\nthe cardinal points, in each of which was a habitant spirit, and how to\neach pertained a special color\u2014green to the east, gray to the north,\nblack to the west and white to the south. He came to realize that the\nreligion was practically based on the securing of rain, for which the\nGods were petitioned with prayer and song, and placated by sacrifices\nand fasting, for rain was the one essential to human life.\n\nJos\u00e9 became particularly interested in the little cactus root known\nas peyote, that dried, shriveled-up little thing which produced\nsuch a wonderful effect when eaten. Such a feeling of ecstasy and\nexhilaration, of joy and insensibility to fatigue, did they produce\nthat they were certainly powerful instruments of the Gods, if not near\ngods themselves.\n\n\u201cIt is a kind of corn,\u201d volunteered Nestor of the peyote, \u201cjust as the\ndeer are corn.\u201d By that he meant that it was a food sent by the Gods,\nfor he knew well that it was the root of a cactus growing in a country\nfar to the east.\n\n\u201cWhen I was young,\u201d he continued, \u201cwe journeyed far to the east to\ngather the peyote root just as the Huicholes do to-day. But now that I\nam old and there is no one to take my place, I must buy it from them.\u201d\n\nThen and there Jos\u00e9 swore that he would accompany the next Huichol\nparty to the eastern country in search of the strange plant, for he was\nstill young enough to feel youth\u2019s passion for visiting strange lands.\nHe had frequently seen parties of peyote-seekers passing through the\nvillage and had struck up an acquaintance with some of them, envying\nthem their gaudy costumes and long trip. Now he would go with them and\nhimself bring back the peyote!\n\n\u201cMay the Gods be with you, Joselito!\u201d fervently prayed old Nestor.\n\u201cWould that I were young enough to accompany you! But I shall fast and\npray for you. When you return with the peyote you will have fulfilled\none of the requirements for the office of Chief Singer, and I will go\nto my forefathers in peace, knowing that you will take my place. It is\nnow October and some of the Huichol men will be about starting out. You\nhave frequently heard me mention my old friend Benito Torres who left\nAzquelt\u00e1n as a youth to live with the Huicholes, and who has risen to\nbe one of the most respected men of the tribe. Go to him and he will\nbefriend you. Go with God!\u201d\n\nIt was a bright, warm day in October when Jos\u00e9 set out for the Huichol\ncountry. Josefa had filled his sack with gordas and his bule[15] with\nwater. Tobacco, matches, his machete and blanket were the rest of his\nequipment. He waved farewell to his wife and started up the hills to\nthe west. Higher and higher he climbed, now scrambling up a slope of\nrock talus, now following a trickling stream up a ravine, now skirting\na fertile hill with the hay still slightly greenish from the recent\nrains. The little river in the bottom of the great barranca grew\nsmaller and smaller, until at last it was lost to sight entirely,\nbehind the hills of the upper edge. The heat grew perceptibly less as\nhe climbed and the pine trees appeared singly and then in groups. The\nfirst night he spent by the side of a blazing pine fire on the edge of\nthe mountain forests, while he listened to the howl of the wolves or\nthe snarl of a jaguar or mountain lion.\n\nEarly in the morning he was off again, still going westward through\nthe pine groves until at last he began to see the fields and houses of\nthe Huichol. The houses were much like those of his tribe except that\nnone was of adobe. They were also arranged in villages, but in every\nvillage was one larger house which served as the temple, in place of\nthe open-air altars to which he was accustomed. The people looked very\nmuch the same, but their dress was different. They wore scarfs, belts\nand little pouches woven in designs of bright colors, wide hats with\nfeathers, and their legs were bare to the knees. They looked askance at\nthe traveler in the conventional cotton trousers of the Mexican peon.\nOne or two accosted him in the Huichol language. It was a queer tongue\nto him, with many sounds he had never heard before and was confident\nno civilized man could ever reproduce. He replied in Spanish, but was\nnot understood until one of the middle-aged men who had worked in the\nnearby mining town, and there acquired a small Spanish vocabulary,\nhappened along. From him Jos\u00e9 learned that Benito Torres lived on a\nlittle ranch a few miles beyond the village. Arriving there about\nsunset he kicked aside the snarling dogs which, as everywhere in\nMexico, prowled about the house, and called aloud. A middle-aged man\ncame out of the house.\n\n\u201cCafh\u00f6van, armano!\u201d Jose greeted him. The man, after a moment of silent\nsurprise, smiled and countered:\n\n\u201cCafh\u00f6van api! It is a long time since I have heard that greeting in\nTepecano,\u201d he continued in Spanish, \u201cand the language has about failed\nme. Enter! Enter! Here is your home! Julia! Bring food and drink for\nmy brother Wak\u00f6ri!\u201d Wak\u00f6ri is the name given the Tepecanos by the\nHuicholes.\n\n\u201cI am called Jos\u00e9 Aguilar,\u201d said the traveler, \u201cthe son of Francisco\nand grandson of Nestor.\u201d\n\n\u201cAh, yes! Francisco and I were boys together, and many pranks we played\non Nestor. He himself was a young man then. How long ago that was!\nBut when I was younger than you, I saw the way things were going. The\nMexicans were encroaching on our lands, the cura came and built the\nchurch and we were made to give up our communal land and each man take\na piece for himself. As if the Gods ever intended their land to be\nowned like a machete or a hat! As well divide up the air and the water\nin the river and make the new-born babe pay to breathe and drink! Ave\nMaria! And then they began to bring in strong drinks; they wanted us to\nput our legs in those long trousers you wear now, to give up our old\nlanguage and speak Spanish and to foreswear the old religion. I saw the\nway it was going and said, \u2018Not for me! Not for Benito Torres!\u2019 And I\ntook my blanket as you have done and came up here with the Huicholes\nwhere I have spent a long, happy life following the mandates of the\nGods. You are wise to have done likewise. I welcome you!\u201d And he threw\nhis arms around the younger man in a welcoming embrace.\n\nJos\u00e9 was pleased and yet troubled.\n\n\u201cYes, little uncle,\u201d he replied at last, \u201cit is quite true. There is\nlittle of the old left now in Azquelt\u00e1n. Only old Nestor and a few of\nthe other old men keep to the old faith. But I am of the new order.\nThese are the clothes I have always worn; Spanish is my language,\nCatholicism my religion. I cannot change to the old order any more than\nyou to the new. And yet the new is inevitable; I see it even here.\u201d\n\nBenito nodded a sad acquiescence. \u201cYes, it is a losing fight. Even\nhere the old is passing. I have not postponed it for these people, but\nonly for myself by coming here. In a century or so there will be no\nHuicholes, no Tepecanos, no Coras, only Mexican peones of Indian blood.\nBut why then have you come here?\u201d\n\nJos\u00e9 explained his mission, at which the sad face lighted up again.\n\n\u201cIt is well,\u201d he said. \u201cI too went with parties several times after I\nfirst came here. But it is a task for young men. You know it involves\nharsh restrictions of fasting and great endurance?\u201d Jos\u00e9 insisted he\nwas prepared for them.\n\n\u201cVery well, then. In a very few days a party begins the preliminary\nfast. I will speak to their leader and you shall join them.\u201d\n\nAnd so it happened that through the good offices of Benito, Jos\u00e9 was\naccepted among the peyoteros and prepared to take his part in the\nwork. He adopted the dress and paraphernalia of the party, taking bow\nand arrows and several small tobacco gourds. The evening before the\ndeparture he bathed and prayed, as he might not bathe again until the\nreturn from the long journey. There were nine other men in the party,\nincluding a leader who was the only one allowed to make fire while on\nthe long trip. Several burrows were taken along, to carry tortillas on\nthe journey and bring back the peyote on the return. Nevertheless they\nwere expected to fast much of the time, and several men of the party\nate little but peyote during the entire forty-three days they were away\non the journey.\n\nBidding an affectionate good-by to their wives and families, the\nlittle party started out. Instead of passing by Azquelt\u00e1n, they struck\neastward down the slopes of the wooded mountains and out onto the\nrolling plateau, dry, hot and sandy. Day followed day in monotonous\nrepetition, night followed night. Generally in single file they\nwalked, dirty and hungry, but with their minds fixed on the goal before\nthem\u2014the attainment of the little cacti which would protect their\nvillages and bring them rain. Across the well known trail they went,\ncamping each night in a certain place, so that the faithful watchers\nat home knew each night exactly where they were. This trail had been\nfollowed for centuries and went along the most inaccessible route, away\nfrom roads and villages, so that the pilgrims were seen by very few\nof the Mexicans of even the more inhabited parts of the country they\ntraversed.\n\nBut at one spot when the journey was about half ended, not far from\nthe great City of Zacatecas, they came to a road which could not be\navoided. It was made up of short logs of wood laid parallel, and on\nthese were fastened long, snaky iron rails. Jos\u00e9, though more civilized\nthan the others, had never seen anything of the kind before, but one of\nthe other men who had made the journey before, explained by signs that\nan immense monster, dragging behind him houses full of people, ran at\ntremendous speed along the road, as a horse drew a cart along a dirt\nroad. From the description Jos\u00e9 recognized it as a railroad, as he had\nheard about railroads when an open-eyed boy, from an itinerant peddler.\n\nEastward, ever eastward they pressed, until two full weeks had passed,\nwhen the leader of the party informed them that their destination\nwas but five days\u2019 journey away and that from that time all\nrestrictions must be rigidly observed. They were to walk in single file\ncontinuously, and eat nothing but peyote for the rest of the journey.\nIn a few days Jos\u00e9 began to see the first little peyote plants, but the\nleader affected not to notice them, although as the party pressed on\nthe plants grew more abundant. At length, on the nineteenth day, when\nthey had covered about three hundred miles, the leader called a halt.\nTrembling with emotion, superinduced by hunger and fatigue, he cried:\n\n\u201cThere is the peyote, appearing as a deer!\u201d\n\nAt that, all drew their arrows and shot at a peyote plant, taking care\nnot to hit it. Then from the loads on the burrows various ceremonial\nobjects were produced\u2014arrows, chimales, bastones and other objects not\nused by the Tepecanos\u2014which were deposited as sacrifices to the Gods\nand to the peyote. For the next three days all collected the little\ncactus roots until the burros were loaded down and the men wore strings\naround their necks. On the fifth day after arrival they started their\nlong journey homeward.\n\nBy this time the supply of tortillas had become entirely exhausted and\nJos\u00e9, in particular, being more accustomed to regularity of food, and\nless accustomed to the diet of peyote, suffered greatly. The others\nappeared not to be greatly affected, for they consumed many peyote\nroots and walked with the sprightly, springy step that certain kinds of\nintoxication produce, though their thin limbs and drawn faces betrayed\nthe strain upon them. Now and again inhabitants of the country gave\nthem food, but these were rare occasions and for the greater part they\ncovered the first fourteen days of the return trip in a daze, sustained\nonly by the stimulus of peyote and their nerve.\n\nBut at last the fourteen days were over and they approached the spot\nwhere, the leader informed them, a party from the village would meet\nthem, five days\u2019 journey from home, with loads of tortillas. And so\nindeed it happened! How good the corn cakes, bone dry after five days\nin the scorching sun! With renewed strength they continued their way to\nthe edge of their pine forests, where they hunted deer for several days\nto obtain the meat demanded for the return feast.\n\nA few days later, a body of thin and famished men, their figures only\njust beginning to recover from the privations of the long journey,\nbut their heads high with elation and consciousness of probity and\nof duty well performed, their burros laden with sacks of peyote and\ndeer meat and their necks bedecked with strings of peyote, marched\ndown the street of the principal village. The tabu upon washing would\nnot be removed until the great feast, and they presented a bedraggled\nand filthy appearance, yet they were heroes to the stay-at-homes in\nthe village as they entered the temple and deposited their cherished\nstrings of roots. Then they again began to hunt deer in order to have\nplenty for the great Peyote Fiesta in January.\n\nBut Jos\u00e9 was anxious to get home. He felt that he had done his share\nand should be excused from the month or more delay in preparation\nfor the fiesta in which he had but little interest. Benito took his\npart also and urged that he be allowed to depart. Many of the shamans\ntook exception, fearing that such a rupture of all the regulations\nof peyote-gathering might anger the Gods and work harm. But finally\nBenito\u2019s argument that harm, if any, would fall upon the culprit and\nhis people in Azquelt\u00e1n and not on the Huicholes, carried the day, and\nJos\u00e9 was wished god-speed, loaded with gordas made by Benito\u2019s wife,\nJulia, and sent on his way.\n\nHow beautiful the great barranca seemed as he first emerged from the\nedge of the pine forests and saw the gaping chasm below! What joy to\nmake out the little cluster of adobe and thatch shacks with the little\nwhite church in the center! As he neared his house, his loving wife ran\nout and embraced him. How good it was to be home again, and how much\nbetter were her tortillas than those of any of the Huichol women!\n\nBut only a few minutes did he tarry at home in spite of his long\nabsence, for Josefa said at once: \u201cOld Nestor is sick unto death and\nhas been asking for you hourly. He has kept track of the time you have\nbeen away, and says you should be home about this time and that he will\nnot go until he sees you again.\u201d\n\nHastily Jos\u00e9 ran along the winding trail which led to the house of\nthe old man, and as he neared it he heard the doleful wail of an old\nshaman singing one of his curing songs. On his blanket on the floor\nlay the old man, surrounded by his ceremonial arrows and other sacred\nparaphernalia. As Jos\u00e9 entered, he smiled and motioned to the shaman to\nstop singing.\n\n\u201cIt is useless,\u201d he said simply. \u201cI know my time has come. Sooner or\nlater it comes to all of us. But I knew you were coming to-day, my boy.\nI dreamt it last night, and I would not go until I saw you. I see you\nhave brought the peyote for me. Well, it will never benefit me. Stay!\nGive me a drink of it now. It will make my head clearer. But the rest\nof it you must keep for yourself. You are the only one of the tribe\nwho has fulfilled the requirement for Chief Singer by going to the\npeyote country. And besides, you know all the songs and prayers and all\nthe intricate details of our ceremonies. And I will leave you all my\ncherished valuables, my arrows, my chimales and my cidukam. They will\nhelp you in every need, and while you cherish them the Gods will allow\nno harm to befall the pueblo. Francisco! Baldomero! Must he not be\nChief Singer after me?\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is true,\u201d spoke Francisco. \u201cJos\u00e9, my son, you are young in years,\nbut old in experience and knowledge. Will you not do as grandfather\nwishes?\u201d\n\nReluctantly Jos\u00e9 agreed.\n\nA few days later a straggling procession wound its way to the little\ncemetery behind the church while strong hands bore a plain black box\ncontaining the body of old Nestor. The burial customs of old had been\nentirely forgotten, and even if they had not, Francisco would have\ntaken no chances with fate by having the old man buried outside of\nconsecrated ground. But nevertheless Jos\u00e9 managed to slip a few of the\nold man\u2019s most cherished sacred things into the box with him. Later\nJos\u00e9 went to the principal altars in the hills to deposit other things,\nbesides journeying to the seat of the cura to pay to have masses said\nfor the rest of his soul.\n\nFor a year or so Jos\u00e9 fulfilled his office as Chief Singer dutifully,\nbut then the restrictions and fasts began to pall upon him, and he\nshirked the duties and finally abandoned them altogether. Some of\nthe conservatives remonstrated with him, but he replied that he\ncould not see but that they had just as much rain and corn, without\nperforming the ceremonies, and no more sickness and famine than when\nthe ceremonies were performed, in which he was certainly borne out by\nthe facts. And not long afterwards, when a \u201cGringo\u201d scientist came to\nthe village to study the language and customs, he was glad to sell all\nof Nestor\u2019s sacrosanct valuables at a high price and call it a good\nriddance.\n\n J. ALDEN MASON\n\n\n\n\n The Understudy of Tezcatlipoca\n\n\nThis story[16] is a mirage of thin words and bodiless phrases. It\npaints on a film of mist things that are long ago and far away, and\nlifts up a pale reflection of cities and grandeurs lying below the\nhorizon of our times, never to be resurrected in fact. It presents in a\nvaguely understandable fashion, strange beliefs and philosophies that a\nwonderful society of human beings created out of their common thought\nand supposed necessities.\n\nHave you ever tried really to understand the Past, not so much the\nmaterial Past of quaint costumes and accoutrements, as the immaterial\nPast of ideals, ambitions, and enthusiasms? Have you ever wilfully\nimprisoned your present spiritual being in the emotional matrix of\nan age that is dead? In the hall where the glum old faces of your\nancestors stare out from dull frames upon your unimagined new life,\nhave you ever paused to gaze back into those dim presentments, and to\nthink how impossible to-day would be the quest of the Pilgrims, or of\nthe Crusaders? And when, not so long ago, a Gothic fantasy in gently\ntreated stone crumbled before the war-saddened eyes of the world, did\nthis fearful thought impress itself upon you: No man in all Christendom\ncan ever re-carve those shattered prophets or re-groin those airy\narches in the dread sincerity of the first builders?\n\nNow, it is not the stone that changes, nor the chisel, nor the loves\nand hates of individual men and women: it is the over-soul of society\nthat passes. For, out of our herded life of tribe or nation, comes an\nover-soul that directs our hands and implants in our minds the seeds of\nduty, the impulses of sincerity, and the recognition of all the needs\nwhich we think are absolute, but which, in a larger view, are merely\nrelative. The cloud forms of communal emotion that constitute these\nover-souls, flame and fade like the western sky and never twice assume\nthe same shapes and colors.\n\nIn Mexico, before the steel-clad soldiers of Cortes landed at Vera\nCruz, there was a civilization that ran back into a twilight of the\ngods. Centuries of accumulating art and ceremony had enriched the\nfirst crude thoughts of savages coming out of desert camps to abide in\nhouses of mud and stone, amid maize stalks and squash vines. Cities\nand indeed, empires, had risen, flourished and fallen. There had come\ninto being those slaves to the ideal of ritual whom we call priests,\nand those slaves to the ideal of political grandeur whom we call kings.\nAnd back of all these were gods to whom sacrifices were duly given for\nbenefits received. And the people, commanded by their over-soul, raised\ngleaming temples on stately pyramids for their gods, and built palaces\nwith bright gardens for their priest and kings. And, moreover, they\ngave honors and rewards for success in trade and war and they set the\nmarks of class upon certain men and their children. This is a story of\ntheir sincerity....\n\nThat wise old man, bent from much climbing of temple stairs, but\nwith the steady, believing gaze which comes from watching the stars,\nforetold the distant event with deceptive clarity. He was reader of\nthe fates and keeper of the calendar in Quauhnahuac, and after grave\nstudy of his painted books he resolved the tangled interests of greater\nand lesser gods in the new-born child. So he said to the father and\nthe friends who crowded round: \u201cLet him be called Macuilquaultli,\nFive-eagle, after the day on which he was born, and let him be well\ntaught in all that a chief should know. He shall acquire grace, skill,\nand a knowledge of all arts, for he shall come to rule in a high place.\nThus it is written: he shall govern the City.\u201d\n\nThe father of Five-eagle was a Captain among the armed men of\nQuauhnahuac, a bearer of standards, and a councilor in matters of\nstate. He proudly bore the insignia of high success in war against the\nstrange-tongued people of Tolucca. Yet, Quauhnahuac was not a city\nof warriors. The populous capital of the Tlahuica (as you may know\nfrom that Cuernavaca of sunlight and indolence which survives) lay\ndeep below the mist houses of Ajusco, in a valley where waters dance\nand flowers flame. To be sure this people had come out from the Seven\nCaves with the Azteca and other tribes, but they had passed down from\nthe cold highlands and had prospered under the benign protection of\nXochivuetzalli, goddess of flowers, and patroness of all the arts that\ngive beauty to the world and take vigor from it.\n\nFive-eagle, at the age of eight, left the shaded portico of his\nfather\u2019s courtyard, where the fountain bubbled in a gleaming pool and\nwhere imprisoned birds sang, to study and sleep in one of the Great\nHouses with other youths. He was a slender boy with a pleasing and\nthoughtful face. Under the instruction of the old warriors he acquired\nonly a careless skill in the hurling of lances, and took little pride\nwhen he won his set in the battering contests with wooden swords\nand shields of cane. Rather he preferred to beat out the thundering\nwar songs of his people on the two-lipped drums. In this he became\nproficient beyond all others, and in his hands the rubber-tipped\ndrumsticks set up wild, nerve-racking rhythms that soon had young men\nand old whirling in a mad dance and chanting a song of the old nomadic\ndays. Or, hidden among the trees he would play lonesome melodies on\nflutes of clay.\n\nHe knew the narrow hunting trails that led across the hills to the\nhaunts of deer and wild turkey. He knew the great lava flow that\nstretched, in twisted and forbidding ridges, along the sides of the\nhigh mountain which separated Quauhnahuac from the Valley of the Five\nLakes. He had climbed the pinnacles of black desolation on this lava\ndesert and descended into its caverns of whirring bats.\n\nOften in the shade of a market shrine Five-eagle would encounter\nthe aged priest of the calendar who had laid the gorgeous prophecy\nupon him. This wise old man knew there was no end of knowledge, for\nhe squatted with his books unfolded on the ground before him, and\ndiligently made other books. But always he laid aside his brushes and\nhis sheets of lime-sized paper when the youth drew near. First he would\nexplain what calculation was being written down, and then expanding to\nthe breadth of his subject, he would tell his young disciple how time\nran in wheels of days and years and ages, and how the cycles of the\nMorning Star fell now for good and now for evil fortune, and how the\ngods ruled the hours in turn. He taught the boy to calculate in high\nnumbers, to make hieroglyphs and read history, and to draw with a sure\nskill the faces and distinguishing marks of all the gods.\n\nAnd sometimes, at the dead of night, he took the youth with him to the\ntop of the high pyramid and before the very door of the temple itself.\nBelow them lay the sleeping city amid soft rustlings of the wind and\nsweet smells of hidden flowers. The ravines were in deep shadow except\nwhere a thread of water gleamed faintly. The palm-thatched huts of the\ncommon people were huddled in the folds of the valley, with here and\nthere a chieftain\u2019s house built round a little court. The barracks and\npublic buildings were placed on the four sides of larger squares, and\nin the dark of night their plaster walls showed ghostly white. In the\nmarket places still glowed the coals of dying fires, about which were\nmassed the muffled figures of men who had brought their packs to market\nfrom afar. It was a solemn hour when mysteries crowd in upon the soul,\nand a still more solemn station. With heads together, speaking now and\nthen in hushed and reverential voices, they studied the multitudinous\nstars as these swung grandly around the pole in a march of majesty\nacross the eternal depths of heaven. And they kept their vigil until\nthe great white Star of Morning hung like a splendid jewel above the\ncalm snows of Ixtaccihuatl, the White Woman. Then the blue of the East\nturned to pearl and rose; new smoke streamed upwards through roofs of\nheavy thatch; the city stirred and the markets filled with sellers and\nbuyers; the yellow Sun had given another day.\n\nOnce Five-eagle and the old priests journeyed together to the ruined\nsite of Xochicalco, where one fair temple was still used in religious\nservices. But the walls of a hundred more lay in shapeless heaps of\nfallen stone. In front and on either side, the terraced hill dropped\noff to great depths, but behind it rose another hill to a commanding\nheight with a stronghold on its crest. The priest related fragments of\nhistory of this all-but-forgotten capital, shards of myths with names\nof kings and empty dates to signify resounding triumphs. Then he spoke\nsadly: \u201cThe glories of the great pass like the smoke of Popocatepetl,\nleaving the skies serene.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut Tenochtitlan,\u201d broke in the youth, \u201ctell me about that famous\ncity, for surely you have been there and seen its wonders. Once from\nthe top of Ajusco I looked down, far down, across the lava, and I\nsaw the five lakes like five mists in the valley, and there was\nTenochtitlan shining like a jewel. And I saw the roads that lead out\nfrom the land like a spider\u2019s web.\u201d\n\n\u201cTenochtitlan: yes, I have seen it, and its gardens and temples are\nrich and beautiful. Its priests and warrior chiefs have much jade\nand green feathers of the quetzal. Yet Tenochtitlan is youngest of\nall the cities of Anahuac. Many ages older are Chaleo, Colhuacan,\nAtzcapotzalco,\u2014and Tezcoco, too, where ruled the loved singer. They\nsay that Tenochtitlan was nought but a rock amid the reeds of the\ngreat lake when the Azteca came in bondage and distress. But these\nsought favor of Tacuba to fish and build floating gardens. Then came\nAcamapichtli and his sons, so that the fishermen went forth to fight,\nand their god Huitzilopochtli gave them victory. And now the ancient\ncities have fallen, save only Tezcoco, in all the valley. Those Azteca\nof Tenochtitlan go now to Colima and Tuxpan for tribute and captives,\nand even past Cholula to the lands of the Zapoteca. Their traders first\ngo forth with shining goods to spy out the way; then their warriors\nfall like the lightning flash. Only the wild Tarasca have turned them\nback, and those of Tlaxcala, fighting behind stone walls.\u201d\n\nSo the priest of the calendar told the long history of Mexico, and he\ndescribed the great feasts that fell, one each twenty days, till the\nyear was done. He discussed the signs and powers of the various gods\nwho thirsted for the blood of human sacrifices and hungered for hearts\nthat were freely given.\n\n\u201cBut they say,\u201d said Five-eagle, \u201cthat in ancient times we gave only\nflowers to our Xochiquetzalli. Now we must offer children to her or she\nwill be displeased.\u201d\n\n\u201cThey,\u201d replied the priest softly, \u201care the most precious flowers! And\nto her who gives should be returned gifts as precious. Yet, I think\npride of place enters sometimes into sacrifices, and that there is\nhuman boasting where the altars are piled too high. If only the Cause\nof All, to whom even the gods are quarreling children, would speak the\nlast truth, so that man might understand! But if Tlaloc calls for a\nsprinkling of blood before he will give us showers of rain, then it\nis indeed just that he should have his blood. Without rain the world\nwould die. Yet Huitzilopochtli, under whose standard fight those of\nTenochtitlan, is a god of war alone. He can promise only plunder. He\nis a little god suddenly grown to commanding stature, so that all the\ncities pay tribute to his children. But Tezcatlipoca is the great one\nof all the land; he is the Magician to whom nothing is hidden\u2014may he\nremember us only in gentle mood!\u201d\n\nThere stands to this day in Cuernavaca a graven bowlder bearing a\nshield, a sheaf of arrows and a record in hieroglyphs of the fatal hour\nwhen the painted warriors of Tenochtitlan swept down upon Quauhnahuac.\nThen the City of Flowers withered before a rain of flint and a wind\nof flame. And among the men and women carried away as slaves or more\nhonorable sacrifice was Five-eagle. This young man had disclosed, in\nthe stress of that sudden attack, the qualities of true leadership.\nOut of the confusion he had emerged at the head of his people, leading\nthem vainly against the foe. Yet he was captured at last and taken to\nTenochtitlan without degradation, wearing still his ear-plugs of jade,\nsandals, and the embroidered mantle of his rank.\n\nAnd then the prophecy of his birth was justified. For, because of\nhis beauty, his daring and his arts of music and song, Five-eagle\nwas raised to wealth, honor and the power of kings. He was made that\nother Tezcatlipoca to live among men and enjoy life and be granted\nevery wish while the year turned slowly round to the feast of Toxcatl.\nHis laughter meant good fortune to all the land, and his momentary\nsorrow spelled calamity. But at the end, replete with every honor,\naccomplished in every grace, surfeited with every joy, he must go\nfreely under the black knife of glass. And the offer of his youth must\nbe made so that the youth of Tezcatlipoca should be eternal, so that\nhis powers should not wither with the creeping infirmities of time, so\nthat his mysteries should still give forth life and happiness to the\nsad tribes of men.\n\nWhat wonderful beings are the gods that men have imagined out of hopes\nand fears in the twilight of faith! They are creatures of beauty and\nterror, shaped from stars and storm winds and green waters and from\nthe subtle and powerful beasts. Or they rise still higher to the very\nform and mind of their creator, man. They loom forever majestic,\nimmortalized by the sincerities of human sacrifice, by prayers and\nincense and devoted lives, by ceremony and all its pictured train of\nmagnificence and centered power, by temples and songs and statues that\nartists, in the grip of common thought, yield up and create. They are\nthe over-souls of nations made visible from afar. But to their makers\nthey are the blinding light of a great presence.\n\nAnd what more gallant god ever bestrode the heavens than Tezcatlipoca\nof the Mexicans? He was a Lord of Magic, inscrutable, pitiless,\nmagnificent. He combined the wisdom of white hair and wrinkled cheeks\nwith the reckless joy of never-passing youth. He was swift and cunning\nand unconquerable, making and breaking fates, snaring his brother gods\nin wizard traps. He was not alone the Smoking Mirror in which the world\nlay reflected, he was the Sun that looked down into the hearts of men,\nhe was the prowling Jaguar, he was the night wind stealing across land\nand sea. Yet in his proper guise he was Youth with all its wiles and\nenchantments: Youth that was graceful, debonair, beguiling as music,\nsubtle as the perfume of flowers,\u2014but cruel, swift and terrible as the\nlightning bolt.\n\nThe greatest feast of the Mexican year was the feast of Toxcatl, made\nin honor of Tezcatlipoca. It fell in the springtime when thirsty\nfields called for rain. Scarcely had one young warrior, chosen from\nthe clean-limbed and accomplished prisoners of a sacred war, been\nsacrificed on the last day of his fictitious glory than another\nstepped into the empty r\u00f4le. And, as had been said, it was the fate\nof Five-eagle, after his arrival at the Aztecan capital, to be chosen\nas a fit candidate for this dramatic death. With a true knowledge of\nthe symbolism and significance of the ceremony in the emotional fabric\nthat then was Mexico, he assumed the part proudly, and made ready his\nmind to play out the drama to the end, with minute regard for all the\ndetails and effects.\n\nA retinue of pages, the sons of chiefs and great merchants of\nTenochtitlan, accompanied him in his daily wanderings about the city.\nThese were six in number. They were dressed in fine liveries and\nit was their duty to see that their master, whom they addressed as\nTezcatlipoca, did not fall into sad thoughts. A sacred college of girls\nembroidered new garments for Five-eagle and each day braided fresh\ngarlands of fragrant blossoms to hang about his neck. Later, from this\nhouse of virgins, it was fated that four maidens should be chosen to\nact as his brides, during the last month of his earthly life, the month\nof Toxcatl, crowded with gayeties and tears.\n\nSo Five-eagle, as the Youth of Toxcatl, walked through the public\nsquares of Tenochtitlan and over the many bridges that spanned its\ncanals, and on the great wall that held back the storm winds of the\nlake. Clothed in the bright habiliments of divinity, with a laughing\nretinue, he played upon his flutes and chanted songs and danced. And\nno one in all the city remembered to have seen an understudy of the\ngreat God of Magic in other years so skilled in all the graces or so\nwell taught to tread the brief stage of vanity and pride. Five-eagle, a\ncaptive from the enslaved city of Quauhnahuac, where Xochiquetzalli had\nbeen worshiped in happier times, ruled great and small in Tenochtitlan.\n\nHe chanted many songs that the people loved, but none that was so great\na favorite as a splendid lament of fallen soldiers, a requiem of the\nyoung men who died in the sacred service of arms. All Mexico knew this\nsong composed by a famous ruler of the Toltec cities whose name was a\nsmile and a benediction after the passing of many years.\n\n Words like the saddest, drooping flowers I seek\n I, the Singer, weaving my tears in song,\n For Youths, alas!\u2014broken as spears are broken!\n And the women weep in darkened corners\n But the men lift up their heads in pride.\n\nA valiant song it was, full of high courage and the will that conquers\ndeath. Upon such songs as this, planted deep in human hearts, rest the\nbrave deeds of nations.\n\nSo Five-eagle passed through Tenochtitlan with his pages by his side,\nin the white mantle of Tezcatlipoca, with a garland of fragrant\nblossoms about his neck. His chanted verses charmed the market and the\ncourt to silence and tears, but when the song was done there was sudden\nlaughter, and he was pelted with flowers by a gay throng. And he was\ninvited to enter the houses and to eat of the choicest fruits, and to\nrest under canopies of those rare trees with crowns of cardinal, that\nnow we call poinsettia.\n\nAmong the girls who did service in the temple of Tezcatlipoca,\naccording to the law of consecration that none might escape, there\nwas one who had come to look upon Five-eagle as more than a man,\nperhaps,\u2014but less than a god. Once, as she had thrown across his\nshoulder a wreath of her own weaving, he had looked at her with\nunclouded eyes and a faint, steady smile. And she had turned away,\nthrilled and chilled with awakened interest in life and sudden visions\nof death. In the days that followed she wove other wreaths and awaited\nhis coming at a certain place. And though she greeted the Youth of\nToxcatl with a smile, she turned away in tears.\n\nA kindly priest saw and understood. He knew that women were used to\nweep and moan for all the fine burst of glory that death might bring\nto the stilled flesh. Women, in the thoughts of Aztecan poets and\nphilosophers, were flowers blooming near the ground. They were crushed\nbeneath the feet of Huitzilopochtli leading his men to war. They could\nnot be trusted for supreme sacrifices, and must be caught by surprise\nand trapped in the midst of revelry.\n\nBy the water gate against Tlaltelolco, when night was falling and mists\nwere stretching filmy hands across the lake, the priest spoke to the\ngirl of Tenochtitlan, \u201cMy child, are you envious of the gift that must\nbe given cheerfully to a god who knows all thoughts? Do you dare love\nthe consecrated sacrifice of Toxcatl?\u201d\n\n\u201cThen why do those of the upper skies put seeds of love in our hearts\nto grow and bloom when it is spring?\u201d\n\n\u201cThat sometimes we may climb, my child, to heights where only the mind\nrules. The Youth of Toxcatl is a captive of Quauhnahuac. He fought\nbravely; he will die bravely that the city and all Mexico may prosper.\nShould he falter, he will live as a vile slave unworthy of a bright\ndeath; he will live as a vile slave condemned to life\u2014beneath the whip.\nDaughters of Tenochtitlan may not mate with slaves.\u201d\n\nShe stood rigidly by the wall as the priest spoke, a mutinous and\ntragic figure, with yellow flowers in her hair. On the towers of the\nwater gate the torches were being lighted so that belated fishing boats\nmight find their way into the city. The stars were beginning to twinkle\nfaintly.\n\n\u201cBut twenty days remain for that gallant boy,\u201d said the priest softly,\n\u201cfor to-morrow is the feast of Huey Tozoztli, the great Humility, and\nthen begins the month of Toxcatl, of such gladness and sorrow. Twenty\ndays mean much when there is new love to be gathered and enjoyed. There\nare four who shall be his brides, impersonating in name and dress\nthose four gracious beings of the ninth heaven to whom the love of\nTezcatlicopa is given. If you might be the first of these, would your\nmind be content and filled with happy thoughts? Would you teach your\nwill to strengthen his and not let your soft tears plunge him in worse\nthan death, you to despair and the land to disaster?\u201d\n\nA new light shone in the eyes of the girl. \u201cSee how I shall laugh to\nthe last,\u201d she said, \u201cand be happy in the noon of love and in him who\nis noble.\u201d So among the gifts that came vicariously to Five-eagle, as\nthe impersonator of Tezcatlipoca, there was a humble gift of love for\nhim alone. But this is a tale of the stupendous lights and shadows that\npass, not of those little ones of love and hate, forever found in human\nhearts.\n\nWhen the sun rose after the feast of Huey Tozoztli, Five-eagle was\ninstalled in a royal house with many rooms and a wide court. Then the\ndancing that began with the sun ended with the paling stars. They\ndressed the hair of Five-eagle as if he were a leader in the army and\nthey put new jewels upon him. When he went out into the streets of the\ncity, the people knelt as he passed and bowed their heads and prayed.\nBut in the temple many things were prepared behind the veil.\n\nOn the tenth day before the feasts of Toxcatl a priest in the common\nlivery of the God of Magic stepped out into the marketplace and, while\nthe multitude of buyers and sellers stood in silent awe, he played a\nsummons on his clay flute. The shrill notes were directed first to the\neast and then to the north and west and south, so that the universe\nmight be aware. When the signal notes had died away, every one bent\nforward and, having taken a bit of earth upon a finger tip placed it in\nthe mouth as a sign of humility and abnegation. Then they wept strongly\nand threw themselves upon the ground, invoking the darkness of nights,\nthe invisible winds, and other unknowable manifestations through\nwhich the great god spoke, imploring that men upon the earth be not\nforgotten, nor overwhelmed with labors, nor left in misery and despair.\nAnd because the God of Magic could look into secret deeds and thoughts,\nthe thieves and murderers and those whose deeds had been secret and\nsinful were struck with great fear and sadness, and their faces altered\nwith fright so that men knew their guilt. With tears they pleaded for\nclemency to an intangible, invisible presence, while incense carried\ntheir prayers upward. And the strong men of war bowed themselves in\ngreat agonies and begged for strength against all enemies, that they\nmight return from their forays with many captives. So the shrill notes\nof the flute opened the floodgates of fear throughout the great city\nand there were tremblings and tears. In the still air, threads of smoke\nrose upward; now they were white from fragrant copal, now black from\nevil-smelling rubber.\n\nOn the fifth day before the feast of Toxcatl, the high priest of Mexico\nthat in those days was Tizoc, locked himself in an inner room of his\npalace while his courtiers bowed low and acknowledged Five-eagle as\nlord. A day of submission was granted to each quarter of the city, and\nwith pomp and pageants the temporary powers of an empire were conferred\nupon the impersonator of Tezcatlipoca. And the grandeurs crowded into\nthese days kept sorrow from the eyes of a love which could see too\nclearly.\n\nBefore dawn of the last day, the priests went into the temple and\nremoved the old garments from the stone image of Tezcatlicopa and\nrefurbished it with new clothes, and adorned it, moreover, with feather\nornaments and bangles and spread over it a bright canopy. Then they\ndrew back the curtains of the temple so that the world might see the\nhard and splendid image. As this was done, a high priest came out with\nflowers in his hand, and played again a summons addressed to the east\nand the north and the west and the south.\n\nWhen the multitude had gathered in the principal court of the city,\nbefore the temple enclosure with its serpent walls, a procession formed\nbehind Five-eagle and the stone image of the god and two priests\nwho carried ladles of incense. Five-eagle was seated on a gorgeous\nlitter carried high on the shoulders of men. Behind him rode the\nhigh priests of the cults of magic with their bodies painted black\nand their hair tied at the nape with white ribbons. Then a throng of\nyouths and maidens, comprising those specially dedicated to a year\u2019s\nservice in the temple of Tezcatlipoca, rushed forth with a rope of\nsurprising whiteness in their hands, encircling with it the line of\ngorgeous litters. This rope was made up of threaded popcorn and was\nsymbolical, so they say, of the thirstiness of the fields. The boys\nwere dressed in mantles of open network, and the girls in new smocks\nwith gay embroideries at neck and hem, but all of them wore necklaces\nof popcorn and turbans as well. Then the priests, leaning forward,\ntook long strings of the white corn to wrap around their heads and\nto loop over the sides of the litters. Then the procession moved\nslowly forward over a road of green leaves strewn with flowers. On the\nground, too, were strewn needle-like tips of the maguey with which many\npenitents perforated tongue and ears till they were bathed in blood\nthat glistened horribly in the sunlight. And there were others in the\nlong procession who lashed themselves with knotted cords. But such are\nthe ways of frenzy whenever the souls of men are stirred in common.\n\nIt would prove over-tiresome should all the happenings of the marvelous\nday be related in full detail. There was a solemn sitting in state on\nthe summit of the pyramid of Tezcatlipoca and before the door of the\ntemple, where stood likewise the grim idol of stone, while complicated\ndances were being enacted in the court below. And Five-eagle, with\na precise and certain artistry, wasted no moments of the triumph\nforecast at his birth and compromised in no feature his dignities and\nobligations.\n\nThe water pageant came at the end of the long, brilliant day when the\nsun was dropping towards the mountain crests. There was a long line\nof the largest canoes, laden with flowers and colored streamers and\nsurmounted with awnings and sunshades. In the first of these Five-eagle\nsat erect on a royal seat with his brides beside him. The waters of the\nlake were calm, with pale reflections of gossamer clouds, and the boats\nstruck a wide wake that found the distant reeds and willows.\n\nStill there was laughter and gayety, but that one who in fantasy was\na goddess of mountain crests had floating mists in her eyes while her\nlips formed a tremulous smile. On her black hair rested softly the hand\nof a lover, mortal at heart, but divine in a subtle play of mind over\nsubstance.\n\n\u201cO little Lady of the House of Mists, see how your white fogs cling to\nAjusco, dropping dew on the cosmos flowers that Xochiquetzalli loves.\u201d\n\n\u201cThey are mists of a joyful sorrow, my Lord, they are mists of sorrow\nthat obscure the world to-day that it may be fairer to-morrow.\u201d\n\n\u201cThen tell me that no shadows shall lie across your heart to-morrow\nwhen the fishing boats enter the canal at sunset. Tell me there shall\nbe no shadows but only content in what has been, O my precious Lady of\nMists.\u201d\n\n\u201cYouth of Toxcatl, there shall be no weeping.\u201d\n\nAt a rocky point called Tlapitzahuayan the procession of canoes came\nto land. Here the courtiers and the four brides of the Youth of\nToxcatl took merry leave of him, and he set out with his six boys for\nTlacuchcalco, a nearby ancient temple, neglected and unused except on\nthis one occasion of the year. A winding trail led to a rocky field\nof cactus and acacia to a temple mound overrun with desert growths. A\nbroken stair climbed upward to a crumbling sacrificial chamber whose\ndoorway was nearly closed by yellow orchids and thorny vines. Behind\nthis humble screen, the thirsty knife of the great Magician awaited\nits draft of blood. The boys of the retinue followed in the footsteps\nof Five-eagle, and from the shore rang out a last sally of uplifting\nlaughter.\n\nAt the foot of the temple stairs they took from his shoulders the white\nmantle of the god who must be kept youthful at the cost of youth, and\nthey unwrapped from his waist the gayly brocaded breechcloth, and\nthey took from his feet the sandals, and from his ears the disks of\napple-green jade, the last symbols of his year of earthly power. Only\naround his neck remained the necklace of flutes. He was a naked mortal,\ncome, in the last humility of all men, to make the sincere gift of\nhis life itself to a jealous and implacable god. With a gallant smile\nFive-eagle dismissed his pages and mounted the broken stairs; pausing\non each step to break a flute between his two hands. Only a moment\nlater and a human body, naked, horribly gaping at the breast, came\ncrashing down the temple stairs, staining the brambles and the stones\nwith blood.\n\n * * * * *\n\nWe can know the Past only as a masquerade of the Present. We can\nimagine only those smells and colors which have come into our nostrils\nand have passed before our eyes. To-day there are no gods, you say, and\nit is true that terrible Siva and the sweet face of Christ fade back\ninto the haze that covers unbelief.\n\nYet, to-day, how many a young Icarus plunges gladly to his death from\ndizzy heights. Does Necessity make us invade the airy kingdom of\nthe birds or the green depths of the sea? Or are we driven to these\nconquests by the lusts and sincerities of a new commanding over-soul,\nbuilt out of song and fellowship and ordered lives of work and play?\nFor the harnessed Powers enslave their busy masters, and the new-found\ngods of Speed and Thrill count victims as freely offered as that Youth\nof Toxcatl, who bravely climbed to the bloody altar of his sacrifice in\nTenochtitlan that is no more. The soul of the Machine comes forth to\nrule the prostrate nations that another age may see a strange mirage\nthrown upward on the pale mists of romance.\n\n HERBERT SPINDEN\n\n\n\n\n How Holon Chan Became The True Man of His People\n\n\nA youth of seventeen sat on the summit of the loftiest pyramid in the\ncity, and gazed moodily out over the surrounding temples and palaces,\nand the thatched huts of the more lowly folk beyond, to the grasslands,\nwhich swept as far as the eye could reach in every direction.\n\nHe was naked save only for a sash-like cotton breechclout, so arranged\nthat one end fell between his legs in front, the other in the same\nposition behind, the ends being elaborately broidered with green\nfeathers. A pendant of beautifully carved jade hung about his neck.\nEar-plugs of the same material and sandals of deer hide with feather\ntassels completed his costume. In height he was under five feet and\na half, slender, supple, small as to hands and feet, and a pleasing,\nwarm golden brown in color. His eyes were black and narrow and in their\nplacement somewhat slanting. His nose was aquiline and long, and merged\ninto his flattened forehead in one straight line. During his babyhood\nhis head had been bound between two boards to secure this very effect,\nan effect of beauty and distinction among his people. His hair was\nblack, glossy and long. It was braided and then wrapped around his head\nexcept for a small queue which hung behind.\n\nThe time was the month of August 531 A. D.; the place, Tikal,\nthe greatest metropolis of the Old Maya Empire; and the youth himself,\nno less a person than the ruler-to-be of the splendid city stretching\nat his feet, as well as of many smaller dependencies beyond the waste\nof grassy savannas which bounded his vision.\n\nHis discontent was of long standing and arose from a condition which\nhe could not alter. His father, Ahmeket Chan, the preceding \u201cTrue Man\u201d\nof Tikal, had died two years before, leaving this boy, Holon Chan, as\nhis sole surviving child and heir. The government of the state during\nthe period of his minority had been carried on under the regency of his\npaternal uncle, Ahcuitok Chan, High Priest of Itzamna, aided by the\npowerful priesthood of this god, head of the Maya Pantheon; but now the\npeople were clamoring for the investiture of Holon Chan in the supreme\noffice, so that certain of the highest ceremonies, which only the True\nMan might perform, could be celebrated once again, and indeed Ahcuitok\nChan was only awaiting the conclusion of the current five-year period\nto invest his nephew as True Man of Tikal. Itzamna, Lord of Heaven, had\nindicated through the mouthpiece of his priests that this event should\nbe solemnized on the closing day of this period, and preparations for\nit had now been going forward for some time.\n\nNow the boy had little heart for his coming dignity. His had always\nbeen a roving nature; he was a child of the open air, a lover of the\nforest fastnesses and solitudes, better suited to the humble lot of\nwood gatherer or corn planter than to that of ruler of a people.\n\nThe great discoveries of the preceding century, of large and\nwonderfully fertile lands far to the north of his own domains, had\nfired his imagination, and he burned to lead his people to this new\nland of promise, where the gods were said always to smile, and the\ncornfields to yield bountifully. Nor had these hopes always been\nwithout foundation. Once he had an older brother, named Chac Chan, who\nwas to have succeeded their father as True Man, but while on a communal\ndeer hunt, this brother had been bitten by a poisonous serpent, the\ndeadly wolpuch, from whose bitter sting none ever recovered, and had\ndied, leaving Holon Chan next in line of succession. And now the time\nwas come when the exacting demands of his position, the elaborate\nritual, which would fill his every hour, and the cares of the council\nchamber, would deprive him of every vestige of personal liberty.\n\nThe Maya people at this time, in Maya reckoning the close of Katin 18,\nwere at once at the zenith of their power, and at the threshold of\ntheir decline. For generations now, the heavily forested lands which\noriginally had surrounded their cities, towns and villages, had been\ngradually transformed under their primitive methods of cultivation\ninto grassy savannas. This method of cultivation consisted in felling\npatches of the forests at the end of the rainy season in January or\nFebruary, in burning the dried trees and bushes at the end of the dry\nseason in March or April, and in planting after the first rains in May.\nThe following year a new patch of forest was sought and the process\nrepeated, nor was the first patch planted again for several years until\na new growth of bush had come up, since experience showed that the use\nof the same cornfield two successive years would yield only a half crop\nthe second year. This method of cultivation however, had two serious\ndefects: not only was the greater part of the land thus always held\nidle, but also there eventually came a time when woody growth no longer\ncame back to replace the original forests. Instead only perennial\ngrasses would grow, and gradually the whole countryside was transformed\ninto savannas. These savannas the Maya could not cultivate since they\nhad no means of turning the sod, and they were thus obliged to go ever\nfarther and farther from their homes in order to find suitable land for\nplanting their corn. But the limit to which even this expedient was\npracticable had been reached at last. The cornfields now lay two, and\neven three days\u2019 journey from the cities, and people were beginning\nto lose faith in deities who permitted living conditions to remain so\nintolerable, and who either could not, or would not make possible the\ncultivation of the savannas.\n\nHolon Chan was not the only one whose eyes turned ever more anxiously\ntoward the north, to Yucatan, where life was said to be so easy, and\nYum Kax, Lord of the Harvests, always so propitious; and many a humble\ncorn planter had stolen away with his family through the great northern\nforests to this new land, in spite of the stringent laws against such a\nprocedure. Both priesthood and nobility were strongly opposed to this\ndisintegrating movement, and oracle as well as law was being invoked to\nprevent the abandonment of the country. But, despite threats of divine\nwrath and the swifter punishment of men, for the death penalty had been\nexacted more than once for this very offense, a steady stream of people\nwas pouring out of the Old Empire region, northward into Yucatan; it\nwas whispered for example, that the priests of Itzamna at the Holy\nCity of Palenque could scarcely muster enough temple servants to till\nthe fields of the god himself. This news could not be repeated openly,\nbut more and more people were coming to believe that the old land was\naccursed and that the only salvation of their race lay in a general\nexodus to the north. Indeed every one saw that if some way was not\nspeedily found to cultivate the grasslands, the people would be starved\ninto moving elsewhere.\n\nMeanwhile the priests were holding forth every inducement for greater\npiety and religious zeal. It was said that the people were lax in\ntheir offerings, and the gods were offended. The sacrifices must be\nredoubled. And latterly, with the approaching accession of Holon Chan\nas True Man, the auguries and oracles had foretold that this event\nwould usher in a new era of abundance and prosperity, the like of which\nhad never been before. The boy, the priests widely circulated, was born\non a lucky day, of which Yum Kax, Lord of the Harvests, was the patron,\nand the death of his older brother, far from being a calamity, had\nbeen a direct intervention of the gods in order that the chosen of Yum\nKax should sit in the council chamber and rule over them. Thus was the\nLord of the Harvests to be appeased, and thus would prosperity return\nonce more to the people. High hopes therefore were entertained for his\nrule, and while in other happier days, Holon Chan might possibly have\nbeen permitted to renounce in favor of his uncle, the times were too\ntroublous, and the future too uncertain thus deliberately to offend the\nHarvest God.\n\nOf all these things the boy had been thinking as he sat on the temple\nsummit, watching the shadows lengthen over the glistening white walls\nof the city. Finally with a sigh he jumped to his feet. The sun was\nsetting behind the distant savannas, a great, glowing, red disk, as\nHolon Chan turned to enter the sanctuary of Itzamna to sacrifice to the\ngod. A single aged white-robed priest squatted in the outer corridor\nguarding the sanctuary, but since the boy always had the right of\nentry because of his rank, the old man scarcely looked up from his\nmeditations as Holon Chan drew aside the elaborately embroidered cotton\ncurtain and passed within.\n\nThe sanctuary was dark save only for such fitful light as came from a\nbrazier of burning incense and two small windows not more than eight\ninches square, one at either end of the long narrow room. As the\ncurtain fell behind him, the boy stooped to a shallow platter by the\ndoor, selected from it a small, round ball of incense, the gum of the\ncopal tree, painted a brilliant peacock blue for ceremonial use, and\nadvanced to the brazier. In the half light, a wooden image some eight\nfeet high could be distinguished standing on a stone platform against\nthe back wall. It was in the form of an old man, with prominent Roman\nnose, toothless lower jaw, and piercing green eyes, made of two discs\nof highly polished jade which caught and shot back the flickering\nlight. The head was surmounted by an elaborate headdress carved in the\nlikeness of the Plumed Serpent, and the whole figure was brilliantly\npainted in red, blue, yellow, green, white and black. A necklace,\nbreast-pendant, ear-plugs, anklets and wristlets of heavy, rich jade\ncompleted the costume of the image. Holon Chan placed his offerings\non the brazier and prostrated himself before the image. However\ndisinclined he might be to follow the path Itzamna had chosen for him\nby removing his older brother from the line of succession, it never\nentered the boy\u2019s head to evade the responsibility thus thrust upon\nhim. He came of an old and distinguished family which had ruled the\nstate of Tikal for more than four centuries. From that distant ancestor\nof his, who had first led the people to their present home, down to his\nfather, all had been brave men used to facing crises and shouldering\nresponsibility, and this latest son of the Chan race had no other\nthought than to do likewise in the present emergency. And so he prayed\nlong and earnestly for wisdom to meet the many problems of the future,\nand above all for some means of alleviating the terrible agricultural\nproblems which were threatening the very existence of his people.\n\nThe prayer over, Holon Chan left the sanctuary and, nodding to its aged\nguardian in the outer corridor, he prepared to descend the pyramid.\nThe swift twilight of the tropics had already dissolved into night.\nAbove, the stars blazed forth in the cloudless sky; below, the darkness\nwas picked out here and there with little glowing points of red, the\ncooking fires of his people, who were busily preparing for the great\nceremony of his investiture, now but three days distant.\n\nCarefully picking his way down the steep stairway, Holon Chan crossed\nthe broad, paved plaza at its base, and ascending a low terrace,\nentered a long building of cut stone, which had been the home of his\nfamily for generations. It was a single story in height, more than two\nhundred feet long and three ranges of rooms in depth. These all had the\ntypical Maya arched ceiling, were narrow and long, and lighted only by\nthe exterior doorways and small, square windows about six feet above\nthe floor. The largest room in the palace, a chamber sixty feet long,\nten feet wide, and eighteen feet high, was entered directly through the\ncentral doorway. At one end was a raised stone platform with a wooden\nseat. This was without a back and the arms were carved to represent\njaguar heads. Above there was a canopy of green featherwork. This was\nthe council chamber of the state.\n\nThrough this chamber Holon Chan passed to the living quarters at the\nrear, and, clapping his hands, he summoned a slave to serve the evening\nmeal to him as he sat cross-legged on the floor. Presently the slave\nreturned bearing dishes of tortillas and black beans, a bush fowl,\nand a bowl containing an aromatic drink made of cacao. Holon Chan\ninquired for his uncle, and he was told that he was at the monastery\nof Itzamna. After eating, and rinsing out his mouth with water, a\nnot-to-be-forgotten custom of gentlefolk, Holon Chan withdrew to his\nown room, and lying down on a bench covered with soft skins soon fell\nasleep.\n\nEarly the following morning, Holon Chan arose, and after a bath in a\nwooden tub, hollowed from a mahogany log, he dressed, but partook of\nno food, since custom decreed that he must fast throughout the period\nof his investiture. Thus he waited for his uncle to fetch him to the\nassembled priesthood of Itzamna. This first day of the induction\nceremonies was to be given over exclusively to mental tests, quizzings\nby his uncle and the other priests of Itzamna, in the monastery of the\ngod just behind his temple. It was proper for Holon Chan to appear\nbefore the priests without any emblem of rank, and presently when his\nuncle came to lead him thither, he was dressed as any other boy of his\nage, a simple breechclout encircling his loins, and leather sandals on\nhis feet.\n\nOf the many subjects Holon Chan was questioned about during that long\nday, we may only touch upon a few. First his uncle asked him to recite\nthe complete ritual of the New Year\u2019s feast, one of the most important\nceremonies of the Maya year. Other old wiseheads questioned him as to\nthe stars, when would the next eclipses of the sun and moon take place,\nwhen would Venus next appear as evening star? Clean sheets of fiber\npaper were set before him, pigments and brushes were brought in, and\nhe was told to write the current date, giving the phases of the moon\ntherefor, and the presiding deity. All these tests he went through\ncreditably, and the old men nodded approval. Next a fowl was brought\nand the boy was told to kill it and read the omens from its entrails.\nAgain he acquitted himself with credit, and the old priests were\nsatisfied with his knowledge of this important part of the Maya ritual.\n\nIn conclusion his uncle again took the lead, and put searching\nquestions to him as to the condition of the people\u2014how many heads of\nfamilies were there in the tribe, and how many man-loads of corn were\nrequired to support the average family for a year? With which cities\nhe should strive to ally himself, and which to avoid? How migration\nto Yucatan could best be discouraged? When the boy replied it could\nneither be discouraged nor prevented unless the Harvest Lord permitted\ncorn to be grown on the savannas, a few of the older men shook their\nheads, but the great majority of the priests signified their approval\nof this sage answer. After these tests he was led from the monastery\nback to the palace, and later his uncle informed him that the priests\nhad adjudged him to be worthy and well qualified to be made the True\nMan of the state.\n\nThe second day was even more strenuous than the first. The day was\ndevoted to numerous rites of purification, in which by sweatings and\nblood-lettings he was supposed to be purged of all sin and wickedness,\nand thus fitted for the high office he was about to assume.\n\nFollowing this the priests led him to the Temple of Purification. Here,\nin an inner chamber, he removed his clothes and crawled, naked, into a\nlow stone closet. A bowl of water stood at the back of this low cell,\nand presently the priests passed in through the small doorway five or\nsix large, rounded, heated stones wrapped in leaves. The doorway was\nnow closed by a slab of stone, and Holon Chan dropped these heated\nbowlders, one at a time, into the bowl of water. Each succeeding\nbowlder raised the temperature of the water, and soon clouds of vapor\nfilled the cell. From time to time more hot stones were passed in and\nthe boy thus kept the water boiling. Beads of sweat broke out over his\nbody; he almost suffocated, but still he served the steaming bowl with\nheated stones, and still the temperature rose. Every pore streamed and\nhe gasped for breath. When it seemed as though he could stand it no\nlonger, the slab was suddenly removed, the vapor rushed out and he was\nleft panting and faint from the heat and his hunger, and the first step\ntoward ceremonial purification was over.\n\nNext they gave him a violent emetic, which left him completely\nprostrated from weakness. With the characteristic stoicism of his race,\nhowever, he uttered no complaint, but presently gained sufficient\nstrength to pass on to the next trial, a cruel and painful letting of\nblood. His uncle bade him put out his tongue and through the end of it,\nhe thrust a sharp stone awl. Waiting priests caught the blood on little\nballs of cotton and these were borne off to the sanctuary of Itzamna\nas an earnest of his faith and purification. At sunset a small fiber\ncord with thorns caught in it every few inches was passed through the\nstill open wound, cruelly lacerating the flesh, and fresh blood drawn\nto offer to the god in renewed proof of his constancy of purpose. That\nnight Holon Chan was so exhausted that he slept without stirring, until\nawakened before dawn to prepare himself for the long day of meditation\nand prayer in the sanctuary of Itzamna which preceded the actual\ninvestiture at sunset.\n\nPreparations for this ceremony had been going forward now for a long\ntime. It has been told how Itzamna had indicated that the investiture\nof the new True Man must coincide with the unveiling of the great stone\nshaft which had been erected to commemorate the end of the current\nfive-year period of the Maya Chronological Era. As much as a year\nbefore, this shaft had been quarried, transported to the Great Plaza\nof Tikal, set up there and a high fence of thatch built around it to\nconceal it from the people until the moment of its unveiling.\n\nAhcuitok Chan in consultation with the most learned astrologer priests\nof the state had carefully calculated what would be the nearest solar\nand lunar eclipses to the day of dedication (then still nearly a year\nahead). Other astronomical phenomena important during the current\nfive-year period, had been compiled, together with a record of the\nprincipal events of the period. These matters had been written down in\nthe Maya hieroglyphic writing, on pieces of fiber paper coated with\na sizing of fine white lime, which served as working drawings for\nthe artisans who were to carve the shaft; and finally the likeness\nof Holon Chan himself, gorgeously appareled as he would be at the\nceremony of investiture, had been laboriously carved on the front. This\nmonument, which was to mark the ending of the current five-year period,\n9.18.0.0.0. 11 Ahau 18 Mac of the Maya Era, was at last ready, and\nwould be unveiled at the proper moment, namely the instant of sunset on\nthe closing day of the period. This had to be so, since to the Maya,\ntime was conceived and measured in terms of elapsed units (like our\nown astronomical time), and not until the final day of the period\ncame to its end, that is at sunset on the last day, could the monument\ncommemorating that period be formally dedicated thereto.\n\nBut now all was in readiness for the great festival, upon which, as\nhas been noted, so many and such high hopes had been builded. For\nthe past several days, people had been pouring into Tikal. From the\nfarthest outlying villages men, women and children were moving toward\nthe religious and governmental center of the state. The surrounding\nsavannas were filled with temporary shelters of thatch, and booths\nhad sprung up everywhere for the barter of tortillas, beans, squash,\nsapotes, cacao, bush meats, gourds, pottery, mats, featherwork, hides,\ncotton stuffs, and even beads and pendants of jade, the most highly\nprized of all materials by the Maya.\n\nThe Great Plaza of Tikal had been filling with people since midnight,\neager to catch the first glimpse of their future ruler as he was being\nconducted at daybreak to the sanctuary of Itzamna for prayer and\nmeditation. His learning tried and tested by the wise men of the state\non the first day; his body purged of sin and wickedness by rites of\npurification, and his fortitude and earnestness of purpose established\nby his giving of blood to Itzamna on the second day, there remained\nonly that he should cleanse his soul of any lurking grossness, by\nprayer and meditation, and he would then be ready for the most solemn\nmoment of his life, his formal consecration as the True Man of his\npeople.\n\nAfter rising, Holon Chan bathed, and donned again the simple girdle\nworn by common folk, in token that he had not yet received the\nsupreme rank, and passed into the council chamber. Here all the great\ndignitaries of the state, the high priests of the different Maya\ndeities, the chieftains of the dependent towns and villages, the\ncollectors of taxes, deputies, and other officials had assembled in\ngala costume\u2014magnificent cloaks of featherwork, gorgeous panaches of\nplumes, mantles of deer hide, heavy necklaces, pendants, ear-plugs,\nwristlets and anklets of jade\u2014each in his bravest display. Naked male\nslaves stood about the council chamber with lighted torches of fat pine\nin their hands, for the hour of dawn had not yet come, and these cast a\nfitful light over the company. Outside on the terrace, in front of the\npalace, the musicians were assembled with long, wooden drums, rattles\nand flageolets.\n\nHigh on the topmost point of the roof of the sanctuary of Itzamna stood\na priest scanning the eastern horizon for the first sign of the orb of\nday. As dawn approached, the multitude stirred faintly and with common\nconsent all eyes turned to the portals of the palace. Slaves with\nshort staves were seen to open a passage through the crowd and stand\non either side to keep the way cleared. Suddenly a piercing cry falls\nfrom above. \u201cLo, the Lord of Day cometh.\u201d The musicians strike up, and\nmove in ordered rank down the terrace stairway and across the plaza.\nFirst come temple boys with brooms, sweeping the way, followed by\nothers swinging braziers of incense from which clouds of heavy, black,\naromatic smoke wreath upward. Next appear the temple chanters clad in\nwhite, singing an ode of welcome to the Lord of Day; next, a troop of\nthe palace guard in quilted cotton armor, armed with stone-pointed\njavelins and shields of skin. Following these are the lords of the\ndependent towns and villages, and the higher civil officers of\nthe state; these last, with their gorgeous cloaks of featherwork,\nfurnishing the brightest spot of color in the procession. Next are the\nlower orders of the priesthood of Itzamna, a long file of white-robed\nfigures moving slowly forward.\n\nNow Ahcuitok Chan leaves the palace surrounded by the higher priestly\ndignitaries. He is magnificently dressed, a cloak of rich featherwork\nhanging from his shoulders and falling over the jaguar skin draped\naround his body. His jade necklace is a work of art, beautifully\ncarved human heads hanging in front and back, and over each shoulder.\nDelicate, tendril-like feathers of the quetzal, the royal emblem,\nhang from a brilliantly painted wooden helmet carved to represent a\nserpent head, the patronymic of his family, Chan. Indeed he wears all\nthe insignia of the True Man save only the Double-headed Ceremonial\nBar which ancient practice decrees may only be borne by the True Man\nhimself. Follows last the simply clad boy of seventeen in whose honor\nall have assembled.\n\nThe procession moves slowly across the plaza and ascends the steep\nstairway to the sanctuary of Itzamna above. The musicians, sweepers,\nincensers and chanters take positions on either side of the temple\ndoorway on the summit of the pyramid, now bathed in the first rays of\nthe rising sun. The soldiers form a double cordon on each side of the\nstairway from bottom to top, between which the rest of the procession\npasses, dividing at the top and arranging itself on either side of the\ndoorway. Even Ahcuitok waits at the entrance for his nephew, and when\nthe boy has at last reached the summit, he takes his hand and leads him\nwithin, followed only by the highest officers and priests.\n\nThe crowd now dispersed since nothing visible to the eye of the common\nfolk would be going forward until the close of the afternoon, although\nwithin the sanctuary itself the ceremony would be continued all day.\nWhen the higher officers of the state had all assembled in the outer\ncorridor of the temple, Ahcuitok Chan, still leading his nephew by the\nhand, approached the curtain guarding the sanctuary, and drew it aside,\nat the same time motioning the boy to enter. After Holon Chan had\npassed within, Ahcuitok Chan let the curtain fall behind him and seated\nhimself on his haunches outside the doorway, all the others arranging\nthemselves about the chamber in the same position.\n\nNow followed a long and wearisome vigil both for those without the\ncurtain and for the hungry tired boy within. Etiquette proscribed\nconversation lest it should interrupt the devotions of the suppliant in\nthe sanctuary, and time hung heavy, as the hours dragged by.\n\nAll day long Holon Chan prayed to his father Itzamna in the\nsemi-obscurity of the holy place, leaving his orisons only long enough\nto replenish the brazier with little balls of incense or quench his\nthirst from a bowl of water by the door. He had now fasted so long that\nhe was light-headed, and it seemed to him that at times the wooden\nimage of the god smiled down upon him, even answered his prayers for\nguidance and gave him counsel; at least so he told his uncle when the\nlatter came to fetch him for the investiture an hour before sunset.\nBut this one was a wise old man, well acquainted with the frailty of\nthe flesh and the hallucinations born of an empty stomach, and he only\nnodded wisely, and did not press for further particulars.\n\nIn the outer corridor all was astir for the final act of the great\ndrama. As Holon Chan stepped out of the sanctuary all prostrated\nthemselves in obeisance. A priest now stepped forward, and painted\nhis legs, arms and torso with a bright red pigment, encircling his\neyes with a heavy band of the same color, and adding a large red daub\nto each cheek. His plain breechclout was now removed, and a heavily\nembroidered one wound around his loins instead. Next anklets and\nwristlets of jade were fastened around his ankles and wrists, and a\nheavy collar of the same material hung about his neck. This was richly\nembellished with four large medallions of jade, one in front, one\nbehind, and one over each shoulder, beautifully carved to represent the\nhuman face; a fringe of smaller jade heads hung from the collar. Square\njade ear-plugs were fitted into the lobes of his ears, and a jade ring\nslipped on his finger. These were, in truth, the state jewels; precious\nmaterial gathered by succeeding generations of True Men to adorn their\nown persons.\n\nA magnificent jaguar skin, tawny orange-red dappled with rosettes of\nblack, was hung from his shoulders, the long tail dragging on the\nground. Finally the serpent crown was placed upon his head. This was\nan ornate affair of cedar carved to represent the head of a snake with\nwidely distended mouth. It was painted a brilliant green, the mouth\nbeing red; the eyes were formed by two pieces of highly polished,\njet-black obsidian, the teeth being inset pieces of white shell.\nFrom the head of the snake rose a shower of quetzal plumes, the tail\nfeathers of an hundred of these rare tropical birds, obtained with\ninfinite hardships from the cold mountain ranges far to the South.\nThese delicate tendrils of plumage floated down behind the boy, and as\nthe evening breeze caught them, swirled around him, enveloping his body\nin a mist of translucent green.\n\nThe hour of sunset was at last drawing near. The priest on the roof of\nthe temple above shouted down a warning that the Lord of the Day was\nnearing the horizon. The Great Plaza and its surrounding terraces had,\nin the meantime, filled with people; every pyramid-stairway and summit\nthronged with spectators. A body of priests had taken positions by the\nthatched fence around the monument, ready to fell it at the instant of\nsunset. All the officers of state and the priests, including Ahcuitok\nChan, indeed all save only Holon Chan himself passed out of the temple,\nand arranged themselves on either side of the doorway. Before Ahcuitok\nChan, stood two priests supporting a brilliantly painted wooden staff;\none end carved to represent the Sun God, the other end, the Rain\nGod, the whole shaft being hung with green feathers. This was the\nDouble-headed Ceremonial Bar, the emblem of supreme authority of the\nstate, only to be carried by the True Man. Throughout his regency even\nAhcuitok Chan had never used this insignia of the highest office.\n\nThe sun was now all but touching the horizon; the watcher above uttered\na piercing cry, and the multitude below stiffened to attention. Sixty\nsilent seconds passed and then the watching priest chanted: \u201cLo, the\nLord of Day passeth.\u201d Suddenly from the temple doorway into the full\nradiance of the setting sun, now gilding the brilliant company gathered\non the pyramid\u2019s summit, stepped the new ruler, resplendent in the\nflashing green of jade against his crimson body, his cloak of glossy\njaguar skin gleaming in the sun, his form swathed in a shimmering mist\nof green, the swirling tendrils of quetzal hanging from his headdress.\n\nA mighty roar of acclaim loosed itself from the spectators below. The\ndrums on the summit pealed a roll of welcome. At the same instant the\nfence of thatch around the monument was beaten to the ground; the\nsun, striking at last fair upon its front, made glow every detail of\ncarving. From the True Man above, to his exact counterpart sculptured\non the front of the newly unveiled monument below, every eye turned and\nturned again. The mighty cheer continued. The chosen of Itzamna and Yum\nKax, he who would bring back fertility to their sterile fields, was at\nlast proclaimed ruler. Ahcuitok Chan took the Ceremonial Bar from the\nwaiting priests and, advancing to his nephew, placed it horizontally\nin his outstretched arms: \u201cHail, Ah Holon Chan, son of Ahmeket Chan!\nI invest thee with the rank of True Man of Tikal, and may the Great\nItzamna grant thee long life, and to thy people prosperity everlasting!\u201d\n\nAh Holon Chan, no longer a boy, and now entitled to a man\u2019s designation\n(the male prefix Ah) advanced to the edge of the pyramid and, raising\nthe Ceremonial Bar, signaled for silence. A profound hush fell upon the\nmultitude.\n\n\u201cOh People of my blood, my single purpose, my single thought from this\nmoment henceforth till the Father of Heaven, Great Itzamna, calls me\nhence, shall be your welfare. May the Lord of Life guide me through\nthe perils which beset our race, and endow me with wisdom to rule you\njustly and well, and above all to find that way which once again will\nbring prosperity and abundance to our failing fields. Oh People of my\nblood, accept this my solemn vow of consecration to your service.\u201d\n\nThe sun had set, a rosy afterglow enveloped the boy in a haze of\nmysterious light. It seemed, to the breathless thousands in the plaza\nbelow, as though the Lord of Life were actually infusing the new ruler\nwith that wisdom for which he had so earnestly prayed. Profound silence\nreigned. Swiftly the twilight fell. A few stars began to twinkle\nthrough the sky. At last in the gathering gloom the boy was seen to\nturn and pass within the temple. And then the multitude began to melt\naway until the court was empty....\n\n SYLVANUS G. MORLEY\n\n\n\n\n The Toltec Architect of Chichen Itza\n\n\nThe battle is over, the once glorious Chichen Itza has fallen and all\nbecause of the love of a woman. Hunac-eel, the king of Mayapan, the\nconqueror, is being borne into the ruined city. There are no shouts\nof welcome, no crowds gathered on the tops of such buildings as have\nescaped destruction. Many of the former citizens have been killed,\nothers are held prisoners, later to be enslaved, and still others have\nfled far to the southwards to find a resting place in Peten Itza.\n\nChac-xib-chac, the king of Chichen Itza, had fallen on the field of\nbattle, fighting for his bride. She was also of noble lineage and it\nwas she whom Hunac-eel had dared to desire, although she was the bride\nof his friend and ally in the famous League of Mayapan which now was to\nbe disrupted after an existence of two hundred years.\n\nThe wedding of Chac-xib-chac and Tibil had been marked by the pomp and\nluxury customary in royal marriages of the Mayas. There had been games\nand dancing, feasting and song. The kings of Mayapan, Uxmal, Izamal\nand the other kingdoms of Yucatan, had been present. Chichen was in\ngala dress. The festivities were at their height when, without warning,\nHunac-eel and his followers from Mayapan rushed up the broad but\nsteep stairway of the royal residence and burst into the very chamber\nof Chac-xib-chac and his bride. His retainers, worn out by too much\nfeasting, had made but a feeble resistance. Hunac-eel fled with the\nreluctant bride to his home at Mayapan.\n\nThere followed a long and devastating war. Chac-xib-chac had been able\nto induce all the surrounding kingdoms except that of the Xius to join\nhis forces. The Xius alone remained neutral. Hunac-eel, on seeing the\nhosts against him, had called to his aid a body of Mexican warriors who\nhappened to be in Tabasco. The war raged for many years. Izamal was\nconquered, and one after another of the famous cities fell into the\npower of Hunac-eel and his foreign allies. Finally he attacked Chichen\nitself, killed Chac-xib-chac, and, aided by the novel machines of war\nof the Mexicans, sacked the city.\n\nAnd now, the conqueror was making his triumphal entry. His son, also\nthe son of Tibil, accompanied him, a youth just arriving at manhood.\nThere was also in the train of Hunac-eel a young Mexican named\nPantemitl. Pantemitl had been trained as a warrior, but his activities\nhad taken a more peaceful turn. He had had a minor part in the erection\nof the great Temple of the Sun, at Teotihuacan in his homeland.\nHunac-eel had recognized the young man\u2019s abilities as an artist and\narchitect; he was just such a man as Hunac-eel needed in order to carry\nout his plan of building a greater and more glorious Chichen.\n\nHunac-eel soon returned to Mayapan, leaving behind him Taxcal, his son,\nand installing a Governor to rule the city.\n\nTaxcal and Pantemitl, the young architect, soon became the greatest\nof friends. Pantemitl was engaged in building a wonderful temple,\nerected on a high pyramid, with stairways on the four sides. He had\nbrought with him the ideas of his country which were new to Yucatan.\nHe had carvings of the feathered serpent made for the entrance to the\ntemple and for one of the great stone stairways. The people of Chichen\nmarveled at the art of the foreign country which was blossoming in\ntheir city.\n\nAmong the inhabitants, of whom many were serving as slaves to the\nusurpers, was a worker in jade. The beauty of his carvings had brought\nhim renown. His craftsmanship was unequalled in all the country. It was\nhe who was called upon to furnish all the head and breast ornaments\nand beads, for the regalia of those who impersonated the gods of the\nMayas in the festivals which came every twenty days. With his daughter\nthe old jade worker lived in a thatched hut on the outskirts of the\ncity. The girl was beautiful. Her frame was small, and she had bright\nbrown eyes with features sharp and finely chiselled. There was a subtle\nrefinement about her which is common even to-day to all Maya women,\nespecially when they are young. Nicte, the Flower, was a dutiful\ndaughter and when she was not grinding maize she liked to spend her\ntime sharpening the stone tools, and collecting the reeds needed by her\nfather in his jade work. Like the other women, she took little part in\nthe great religious spectacles performed so frequently in the temples.\nAnd now more than ever her father kept her at home, for he feared lest\nby chance she be selected as an offering to the new gods, introduced\nby the Toltecs who had come to the city in the armies of Hunac-eel.\nHowever her beauty attracted the attention of Pantemitl when he came\nto visit her father, who was making the jade and obsidian eyes for the\nmany figures of the feathered serpent set up by the young artist.\n\nPantemitl was about to complete a wonderful Ball Court at Chichen, for\nthe game of tlachtli which formed a part of the religious life of the\nMexicans. The people of Chichen looked with favor at the introduction\nof this game into their city, as they were fond of spectacles. The\ncourt consisted of two massive and parallel walls of masonry. Near the\ntop and at the center of each wall there projected a stone ring which\nwas carved with the feathered serpent design. But the court itself was\na very small part of the whole undertaking. There were two beautiful\ntemples at either end, and the most wonderful of all buildings on the\ntop and at the end of one of the walls. The outside was decorated with\nfriezes of tigers alternating with shields. The portico of the building\nwas borne by two serpent columns with a stone altar between, consisting\nof fifteen carved and painted human figures, supporting in their\nupturned hands a flat stone as a table. The stone jambs of the doorway\nwere carved with warriors and the carved wooden lintel had the Sun God\nupon it. Inside the temple itself Pantemitl painted the scenes of the\nbattles of Hunac-eel and his enemies. He introduced into this fresco\nalso many scenes of domestic life; he had even dared to paint in women\nand the very house of Nicte. This was sacrilegious according to the\nideas of Taxcal who believed that women should not be represented in a\ntemple of the gods, as they had no part to play in the religion of his\nfathers.\n\nNow Taxcal, too, had seen Nicte and had begun to covet her. His\nfriendship for Pantemitl had given place to rivalry and bitter enmity.\nThe quarrel had reached the ears of the Governor of Chichen who\nwas forced to take cognizance of it as it was interfering with the\ncompletion of the architectural work. The Governor\u2019s position was\ndifficult. He feared the wrath of the king and yet he hesitated to\ntake the side of Taxcal as the people had made Pantemitl, the Toltec,\na hero on account of the part he was playing in rebuilding their city.\nBesides, the Governor had learned that Hunac-eel was being surrounded\nin his city by the Cocomes, descendants of the Itzas themselves. As\nthese people were conquering everything before them, perhaps Hunac-eel\nwas no longer to be feared.\n\nThe decision of the Governor was to let the gods solve the outcome\nof the quarrel. He ordered the two rivals to play the first game of\ntlachtli in the inauguration of the new court. The gods of the Ball\nCourt would determine the victory; their solution would be a just one.\nIt was decided, therefore, that the winner of the game could claim the\njade worker\u2019s daughter as his prize. The other should be given to the\ngods, his heart cut out and offered to their images. This practice,\nso common in Mexico, was comparatively unknown in Yucatan. Here was a\nchance, thought the Governor, of providing a worthy sacrifice to the\nnew gods.\n\nEach youth eagerly accepted the wager of gaming for their gods and\nNicte. As for Nicte, she was virtually a slave, her choice in the\nmatter played no part. And yet she was inclined strongly toward the\nprince, a man of her own race, as against Pantemitl, the foreigner.\n\nThe day dawned for the inauguration of the Ball Court. News had gone\nout of the unusual circumstances connected with the first game.\nPeople were coming from all the surrounding towns, even from Itzamal,\nmany leagues distant. The usual stakes were mantles, gold, and jade\nornaments, but sometimes men played themselves into slavery. To-day the\nloser is to give his very life. The crowd line the top of the massive\nwalls, the Governor and his suite sit in the portico of the Temple of\nthe Tigers, other dignitaries fill the two small temples at either\nend. Sacrifices are made to the gods of the Ball Court in these three\ntemples. There are songs and dances in the court itself, by gayly\ndressed youths. Priests in the superb regalia of their offices are\nentering the enclosure in solemn procession. Prayers are offered and\nthe ball is thrown about the court four times in the direction of the\nfour points of the compass.\n\nThe two young men, each with five friends as fellow players, enter\nthe court. A hush falls on the multitude, followed by a murmur of\nadmiration when they see the stalwart youths, their bodies glistening\nwith paint, and their breechclouts covered with gold and jade\nornaments. Pantemitl is the favorite in the betting, as he it is who\nhas caused Chichen to rise again as a city second to none in the whole\npeninsula. Taxcal and his players have the rubber ball, bouncing it\nsteadily down the court towards the ring of their adversaries.\n\nThe ball hovers a moment at the hole but falls back again. It lands\nsquarely on the hip of Pantemitl, who leaps high into the air to\nreceive it. He and his fellow players have had long practice with\nthe game in Mexico and this fact now begins to show itself. Pantemitl\nbounces the ball to a companion, and from one to the other it quickly\npasses until he finally receives it again, directly in front of the\nring of his opponents. With great dexterity he throws it squarely\nthrough the hole and the game is ended.\n\nAccording to the rules, the mantles of the spectators belonged to\nthe victor but on this occasion none rushed from the court. All were\npreoccupied with the tragic ending of the game. For Taxcal had fallen\nexhausted at the feet of Pantemitl who raised him and carried him to\nthe Tiger Temple. Here the Governor received them. Taxcal\u2019s father was\nno longer to be feared, as word had come that he had been driven out\nof his city by the Cocomes. By sacrificing the son of Hunac-eel the\nGovernor realizes that he will curry favor with the new conquerors of\nMayapan.\n\nThe Governor decides, therefore, to have the sacrifice at once. Priests\nare dispatched to prepare for the ceremony in the portico of the\nfamous Pyramid Temple, hardly a stone\u2019s throw from the Ball Court. The\nsacrificial stone is ready to receive its offering, and Taxcal is a\nyouth without a blemish, as demanded by the gods. Resistless, he allows\nhimself to be arrayed in the magnificent robes of sacrifice. He is\nregaled with incense from vases of burning copal, and is almost buried\nin flowers. Pages follow him in the procession of priests as they wind\ntheir way up the hundred steps of the pyramid. According to Mexican\ncustom, believed to be the impersonation of a god, he is treated with\nall possible honor and respect.\n\nAt the top of the staircase, relinquishing his flowers and his mantles,\nhe is received by six priests with locks matted with the blood of\nprevious victims, their ears hanging in long strips where they have\nbeen cut as acts of penance. Led to the sacrificial stone, he is thrown\non his back upon it. Five priests hold his arms and legs while the\nsixth, clad in a scarlet mantle, dexterously opens his breast with the\nfamous sacrificial knife, its wooden handle carved with the intertwined\nbodies of two serpents. Inserting his hand into the wound, he tears\nout the palpitating heart. Holding it first toward the setting sun,\nhe casts it at the feet of the image of the god to whom the temple is\ndedicated.\n\nWhen Pantemitl next made his way to the jade maker\u2019s hut he heard from\na distance singing and wailing, and was surprised to see crowds of\npeople gathered. Presently he learned with horror that his beloved\nNicte had offered herself for sacrifice. She had announced that she too\nwould die, a sacrifice to the gods, in the sacred well of the Itzas.\n\nPriests were already preparing the ceremonies. The sixty days of\nfasting had begun. Gifts and incense were brought and Nicte, lying\non her couch, was being dressed in white robes and garlanded with\nflowers. In despair and contrition, Pantemitl spent the time in his\nTiger Temple, painting over the door of the frescoed chamber the scene\nof the sacrifice of his rival. In the chamber behind the temple he\ncarved scenes of warriors and civilians paying homage to the God of the\nFeathered Serpent. These he hoped would find favor with the gods and\nfree him from his unhappy feelings.\n\nThe Cenote of Sacrifice, a huge natural well, was situated only a\nshort distance from the temple which had been the scene of the death\nof Taxcal. Into the cenote the most precious possessions of the\npeople were thrown as offerings to the gods. Virgins were considered\nespecially welcome to the gods and the dark waters, three score feet\nfrom the surface, held many victims.\n\nAt the break of the sixtieth day, the procession starts from the house\nof the jade cutter. Numberless bowls of copal incense, incrusted with\namulets, are burned, carved wooden staffs, with heads made of stone\nmosaics or covered with gold masks, are being carried by the priests,\nall to be thrown into the dark waters. The maiden herself is dressed in\nfinely woven textiles, heavily ornamented with golden bells and jade\nbeads. She wears on her breast a gold plaque on which the sacrifice of\nher lover is depicted. Nicte is to die for the love of Taxcal, but to\nall the others it is an act of supreme devotion to the gods.\n\nThe procession winds its way to the Great Pyramid and from there a\nbroad avenue, lined with images, leads to the Cenote of Sacrifice. As\nthe band of worshipers are encircling the holy well, the priests with\nthe maiden take their places in the small temple directly at the brink.\nMore incense is burned and the precious offerings are thrown into the\nwater, with prayers and songs in praise of the gods of the cenote. In\nthe silence which follows, the main actors reach the roof of the temple\nwhence, in a few moments, the maiden is cast into the depths beneath.\nAs the ripples widen out to the edges of the great pool, prayers are\nchanted supplicating the gods to receive graciously the offering....\n\nWorn out with work and with sorrow, Pantemitl could stand the strain no\nlonger, and he sickened and died. Just before his death he completed a\nsmall replica of the Pyramid Temple planned to receive the ashes of the\npoor queen, the mother of Taxcal, Tibil, who had requested that she be\nburied in the city of her fathers.\n\nThe death of Pantemitl cast the city into mourning. His great\nachievements had made of him a hero. His masterpiece, the Pyramid Tomb,\nwas completed, and the people demanded that this beautiful temple\nwith its crypt be made the tomb of its architect. Offerings from all\ncovered the pyre on which his body was burned. His last wish was that\nthe ashes of Taxcal should be mingled with his.... The final rite is\nabout to begin. A beautiful alabaster jar, one of the most precious\npossessions of the city, a gift from a visiting monarch from a distant\ncountry, is carried in the procession of priests to the top of the\nPyramid Tomb. It holds the ashes of Pantemitl and of Taxcal. Reverently\nthe vase, surrounded by offerings of jade, is lowered from the floor of\nthe temple through the stone-lined shaft until it rests in the natural\nchamber below the mound.\n\n ALFRED M. TOZZER\n\n\n\n\n Wixi of the Shellmound People\n\n ON THE BEACH\n\n\n\u201cHere\u2019s another! Here\u2019s another! Here\u2019s another!\u201d\n\nIt is the excited voice of a naked, gesticulating youngster, little\nmore than three years old, who is pointing to a tiny hole in the smooth\nsurface of the tide beach at his feet.\n\n\u201cYes, yes, child, I am coming,\u201d is the reply, in soft, affectionate\ntones, by a woman a few steps away.\n\n\u201cBut I am hungry, I am hungry,\u201d comes the insistent, half-petulant\nvoice.\n\n\u201cWell, you can\u2019t have any clams now, you know. Mark the one you have\nand run along to find some more. Soon we shall go home.\u201d\n\nAt this the child stoops unsteadily and with a rough, pointed splinter\nof bone draws a circle around the hole, then patters away along the wet\nbeach.\n\nPresently his mother comes forward, with a rough basket in one hand\nand a short, stout, pointed stick in the other. She is barefooted and\nbareheaded. Her only garment is a sort of skirt made of loose bark\nstrands, reaching from the waist to the knees. Her heavy, glistening,\nblack hair is fastened in two locks hanging down in front, partially\ncovering her breasts. Her complexion, a shade darker than that of the\nchild, is the color of a smoked, reddish brick or of a certain shade of\nOriental bronze. Scarcely more than twenty years old, she has a fine,\ncomely figure.\n\nHaving reached the spot indicated by the child, the young woman sets\nthe basket down. Then, grasping the stick with both hands, she drives\nit into the firm beach mud and with a single, deft, prying motion\nbrings to the surface a good-sized clam. She picks it up, throws it\ninto the partly filled basket, and proceeds a few steps to where the\nchild is calling her anew.\n\nSimilar scenes are being enacted on every hand. Women and children,\nnumbering close to one hundred in all, are scattered along the beach\nfor nearly half a mile; a hundred yards or so beyond there is another,\nsomewhat smaller group. In both groups the women and older children are\nbusy with the digging-stick, while the younger children run about over\nthe beach locating the clams. Presently there is a curious splash near\nthe edge of the receding waters. The splash is repeated once or twice\nand with it a chorus of voices rings out.\n\n\u201cWixi! Wixi!\u201d (Stingaree! Stingaree!)\n\nA dozen or so half-grown children come running from different\ndirections, all shouting vehemently, \u201cHe\u2019s mine! He\u2019s mine! I saw him\nfirst! I saw him first!\u201d\n\nThere is nothing actually to be seen, except perhaps a small area\nimmediately off shore where the water is unusually muddy. Into the\nwater the children rush, keeping clear of the roiled spot, and when\nranged partly around it on the sea side, they begin to poke into it\nwith their sticks. Very soon there is another violent splash and a\nlarge, monstrous looking creature is seen to lift itself almost bodily\nout of the shallow water.\n\n\u201cWixi! Wixi! We\u2019ve got you!\u201d shouts the chorus. \u201cWe\u2019ve got you!\u201d\n\nThe steadily receding water soon reveals the cause of the excitement\u2014an\nextra large eagle ray, a kind of flat-fish, in outline something like\nan immense butterfly, plus a long whip-like tail, near the root of\nwhich appears a sharply-pronged, bony excrescence which can inflict\na severe wound. Wixi is an ugly fellow, and as he lies there in two\nor three inches of water, flopping spasmodically, lashing his tail\nviciously from side to side, the children plant their sticks firmly in\nthe ground, making a sort of fence around him, while they stand back\nout of reach. But, the moment the monster subsides, all pound and punch\nwith their sticks, screaming and carrying on like a pack of fighting\ndogs. Finally, the oldest of the children, a girl of ten or eleven,\nmanages to insert her digging-stick in the creature\u2019s eye. A few\nviolent lashings, and the ray lies still.\n\nThe girl remains leaning on the stick, holding the great fish firmly\ntransfixed. The other children fall over each other in a scramble to\nget near it. All seek to pierce the dead body with their sticks and to\npull it away. But their implements are too weak and dull. Some grasp\nwith their fingers at the slimy thing, but to no avail. The girl stands\nunmoved.\n\nIn their rage some of the children suddenly turn upon her. In an effort\nto defend herself, she lets go her stick, and at the same moment the\nbig ray is pulled away, but not by any of the original claimants.\nDuring the tumult a boy of thirteen or fourteen had approached\nunnoticed from the larger group of clam gatherers, and had wound the\ntail of the ray two or three times around his hand. Now when the girl\u2019s\nhold on the stick is released, he jerks the ray away and starts to run\nas fast as his legs can carry him toward his own people, the body of\nthe big fish dragging behind him over the slippery mud.\n\nThere is a tremendous uproar. Some of the children attempt to follow,\nbut they are soon outdistanced. The girl who killed the ray, finally\nrealizing what has happened, bursts out: \u201cYou took my wixi! You took my\nwixi! You\u2014wixi! You\u2014!\u201d Her voice chokes with sobs. But her epithet is\ntaken up by a chorus of voices in both groups of clam diggers, those of\nKawina and those of Akalan: \u201cYou wixi! You wixi!\u201d\n\nBut the boy pays no heed. When he reaches the shore proper, he winds\nthe ray\u2019s tail a few more times around his hand, swings the immense\nbody over his shoulders, and disappears among the marsh weeds in the\ndirection of his home.\n\nWixi! Wixi! Thus the boy is nicknamed for life.\n\n\n AT BREAKFAST\n\nIt is still early morning on San Francisco Bay. The tide is going out,\nand the sun, just topping the eastern hills, is reflected in the placid\nwaters as in a great oval mirror. On the horizon beyond the expanse of\nthe waters of the bay, the sunlight glitters on the snowy summit of Mt.\nHamilton; to the left, looms the hazy outline of Mt. Diablo; and to the\nright, glorious in the clear sunlight, stands green-clad Mt. Tamalpais,\nguarding the entrance to the broad channel heading north into San Pablo\nBay. The surface of the channel is slightly choppy, because here passes\nout to sea the collected volume of the great rivers that drain the\ninterior mountains and valleys. The shore of the bay is low and marshy,\nlying in sweeping curves. Along these curves faint blue smokes rise at\nintervals against the shadowy background of the hills. These smokes\nmark settlements, of which there are along the entire bay shore about\ntwo hundred, strung like pearls on a necklace.\n\nIn one of the curving arms of the bay, smoke ascends from a grayish\nspot in the marshland, some three hundred yards back of the shore line.\nIt is the village of Kawina. Four miles farther east, directly on the\nwater front, lies the village of Akalan. Beyond that the shore line\nturns, and other settlements hug the shore at every point where a fresh\nwater streamlet empties into the bay.\n\nThe clam diggers are straggling along the beach toward home. A number\nof young men from Akalan have gone to the head of the cove a few rods\naway. They are engaged in dragging a dozen or more curiously shaped\nbundles of dried tule-rushes down the muddy slope to the tide channel,\nwhich drains the extensive marshes ranging along the entire east base\nof the potrero. When the clam gatherers left home the channel was dry,\nbut the tide already is fast returning and the breakfast bringers have\nto be assisted across.\n\nIt is a lively, not to say noisy, occasion. The older children glide\ndown the slippery mud into the water, and flounder across amidst\nlaughter and shouting. Only the women with their baskets, and the\nsmaller children cross by ferry; for these tule bundles are boats or,\nrather, floats. Some of them carry only from four to six persons,\nothers as many as fifteen. The ferrying proceeds rather slowly, to the\nlively chatter of the women. The children have run on ahead, up the\ngrassy incline to the village.\n\nThe grass suddenly ceases at the foot of a blackish eminence on which\nthe village stands. The eminence is about twenty feet high and of\nan irregular contour, the slope in places being gradual, in others\nsteep, while the top is roughly flattened. On approaching nearer, the\nwhole mound-like structure appears to be composed of the shells of\nclams, mussels, and oysters. There is an occasional brightly colored\nabalone shell. Here and there are scattered pairs of deer antlers, and\nthe wing bones of ducks, geese, and other birds with feathers still\nattached. Crushed or broken bones of various animals lie everywhere.\nAnd there are fish bones. Flies are swarming about; the odor is far\nfrom enticing. Closer inspection would reveal the presence of ashes and\ncharcoal, as well as a goodly number of bowlders and pebbles of crackly\nsurface. The impression is that of a huge ash pile or refuse heap. And\nyet on top of it all stands the village!\n\nThe village is an irregularly grouped cluster of about thirty\nhive-shaped huts, with openings facing either south or east. The huts\nthemselves are constructed on a framework of slender poles set in\ncircles from twelve to sixteen feet in diameter, the top ends being\nbent together and intertwined some eight or nine feet above the ground.\nOver this is placed a layer of twigs and grass, and this again is\ncovered with earth and sod. Only the top is left open for the exit of\nsmoke. This morning, however, the fires are out in front of the doors,\neach family having its own.\n\nA number of fair-sized bowlders form a ring around the edge of the\ndying embers. Ranged about each of these circles, within reaching\ndistance, are seated the members of the family. Even the older men,\nwho do not condescend often to eat with the women and children, are\npresent. They are mostly grizzled, ill-kempt, sluggish looking fellows,\nwho have barely had time to rub the sleep out of their eyes. Through\nthe rainy winter months they have been comparatively inactive, the\nwomen have been doing the work; but now it is April and the warmth of\nspring is bringing them out of their hibernation. Soon they will be off\nfor the entire summer, and fall to leading an active life among the\nhills where food is not so easily obtained as it is on the bay shore,\nthough it can be had in greater variety if all hands, including the\nmen, make the effort.\n\nThe clams brought in from the beach are being distributed, and the\nolder folk place them, just as they are, on the hot rocks around the\nfire. The smaller children watch intently and yet uneasily, having\nrepeatedly been scolded for poking their fingers against the sizzling\nshellfish lying nearest on the rocks. Suddenly some of the clams\nopen up, ready to eat. They have been cooked in the most admirable\nfashion in their own juice. In the group around the fire, next to one\nof the rear huts, are seated a very old man, a middle-aged woman,\ntwo children, and a half-grown boy. It is the boy Wixi, who has just\nproposed to his mother to boil some of the fish.\n\n\u201cBoiled fish! Boiled fish! Who ever heard of boiled fish?\u201d blurts out\nthe old man in a cracked voice. He is blind, or nearly so, judging from\nhis dull, deeply sunken eyes. His hair, as well as his straggly beard,\nis white, and his face and neck are seamed and wrinkly, suggestive of\ntanned alligator skin. His body is thin and frail, his hands shaking.\n\n\u201cWell, fish _could_ be boiled,\u201d Wixi retorts. \u201cYou boil acorn meal and\nyou boil buckeye meal and you boil lots of things. Why couldn\u2019t you\nboil fish?\u201d\n\n\u201cWhy couldn\u2019t you boil fish? Why couldn\u2019t you boil fish?\u201d the old\nman screams, his whole frame trembling. \u201cYou couldn\u2019t boil fish\nbecause\u2014because nobody ever did such a thing! Chakalli didn\u2019t tell us\nto boil fish.\u201d\n\nThis sort of dispute has been an almost daily occurrence for many\nmoons, since the time of the boy\u2019s initiation ceremony, when he began\nto assume the responsibilities of manhood. His father, as Wixi would\nsay, is away. A shaman, he had failed to cure the poisoned wound of\na certain chief, and he had been quietly waylaid on the trail. Since\nthen, his family had had to suffer partial disgrace.\n\nThat was some years ago, and the boy, thrown thus early upon his own\nresources, had learned through stress of circumstances to practice a\nnumber of new devices. He discovered that by suspending a grass mat in\na vertical position by means of an upright stick to serve as a support,\nhe was able alone to sail his tule float speedily before the wind.\nOther young men would have copied his device, only they had elders in\ndirect authority and were prevented. But Wixi, being already something\nof an outcast in the village, was suffered to do much as he pleased,\nhis feeble old grandfather being in no position to check him.\n\nOn this occasion, Wixi, instead of arguing with the old man, dips his\nhands quickly into a basket standing in a slight hollow, well away\nfrom the fire, and brings out four or five small rocks dripping with\nwater. He throws them to one side, and by means of a couple of sticks,\npulls several rocks out of the fire and drops them, one by one, into\nthe basket, half full of water. There is a momentary splutter and rise\nof steam, and then the water in the basket begins to boil. Wixi places\nseveral chunks of the stingaree in the boiling water, and in a short\ntime is eating boiled fish.\n\n\n DRAKE PASSES\n\nThe fires have flashed more than once from mountain to mountain and\nhave been answered not only by Akalan, but by every one of the two\nhundred settlements on the bay shore. The principal event, one for\nwhich no predetermined signal existed, was the passage along the\nCalifornia coast of the _Golden Hind_, early in the summer of 1579. The\ngreat captain, Sir Francis Drake, did not see the Golden Gate because\nof the heavy fog, but the watchers on Mt. Tamalpais saw his ship and\ndid their duty as best they knew. Before evening of that day, every\ndweller on the bay shore (those on the coast could see for themselves)\nunderstood that Wasaka, the Eagle who brought the original fire to the\nMutsun people while they yet lived in the far North, had passed by.\n\nThree or four weeks later, when the vessel returned from the North,\nand was drawn ashore for repairs within the shelter of Point Reyes,\nthe signals were revised as a result of messages brought to Tamalpais\nby runners from the Tamala\u00f1os, otherwise known as the \u201cpeaked-house\u201d\npeople, who lived directly at Drake\u2019s landing place. This time the\nMutsunes were informed that it was not Wasaka, but the great Chakalli\nhimself. Chakalli, the \u201cMan Above,\u201d or the \u201cGreat One Above,\u201d was much\nin their thoughts, but to have him visit was an event foreboding ill.\nNearly every one wished to flee from his presence. As it turned out,\nthe visitor conducted himself peaceably and in due course went away,\nleaving few of the Mutsunes any the wiser.\n\nDrake\u2019s Bay, as it happened, lay in the country of the Miwok people,\nwho spoke a different tongue from the Mutsunes and who, besides, were\nordinarily jealous of their territorial rights. But a few of the\nMutsunes had gone around by sea, Wixi among them. Wixi was the only\none from Akalan who had gone, and the adventure proved a turning point\nin his life. He came back somewhat of a hero, at least in the eyes of\nthose of his own age, the older men holding aloof. Wixi had learned\nmany wonderful things during his few days\u2019 sojourn with the bearded\nwhite men, among them that other people used sails to drive their\nboats. If any doubted the story that he told, he had but to exhibit the\nproofs: a small mirror, a couple of strings of colored glass beads, a\nsquare of red cloth, and, above all, a truly marvelous thing, a knife\nof metal. These things were given Wixi by the great captain himself,\nin the general exchange of presents that followed one of the Indian\ndancing ceremonies that we read of in Drake\u2019s own log book.\n\n\n IN THE COUNCIL LODGE\n\nIn early manhood Wixi had become fairly conscious of his own strength\nand skill, as well as of his power to direct and improve the life of\nhis people. He had decided, however, to wait his time. The old men\nwould slowly give way or would \u201cdisappear.\u201d Why quarrel? Besides, it\nwas not his nature to hurry. His patience was shown in still another\nway, namely, by the fact that he was not yet married. According to\ncustom his parents should have chosen and purchased a wife for him;\nbut, having no parents, or at least only a mother who accepted his\nassistance and submitted to his authority, the matter was left largely\nto himself. He had indeed performed the acts that entitled him to a\nwife. That is, he had carried presents of food, and skins for clothing\nto the door of the girl he had chosen, and she had silently accepted\nthem. Still he did not bring her home, because she was not acceptable\nin his own village, because she belonged to the neighboring village of\nKawina. She was none other than the girl to whom he owed his name, the\ngirl from whom he had wrested the stingaree.\n\nNow the people of Kawina were not friends of the people of Akalan.\nNevertheless, Wixi had met Mah\u00fadah again and again, both on the beach\nand in the hill country, and, somehow, they had settled their quarrel\nand were friends.\n\nWixi had waited and yet, contrary to his expectations, the sentiment\nof his village people continued to harden against him. True, more and\nmore power and authority fell to him, but the stern opposition of\nthe old men was doing its work. Admired though he was by the younger\ngeneration, none dared to stand by him openly. He was constantly\nmeeting the old men in council and they listened respectfully enough\nto his words, but stood solidly against him whenever he suggested\ndeparture from the ways of old.\n\n * * * * *\n\nOne night in the council lodge at Akalan, the small blaze in the centre\nreveals Wixi and about a dozen of the old men looking unusually stern\nand solemn. The pipe is passing around the circle and the War Chief\u2014the\nyoungest man present, barring Wixi\u2014is stating the purpose of the\nmeeting.\n\n\u201cFor many winters,\u201d he is saying, his eyes averted to the roof, \u201cfor\nmany winters we have all been troubled about the future of our tribe.\nWe have not known what to do. The white man has come to the land. We\nthought first he was Wasaka, and later that he was Chakalli. But he\nis instead a powerful enemy. He has done us no harm. That is good. He\nis killing our enemies, the Longhairs beyond the Mutsun waters to the\nSouth. That is good, too. He has taken away some of our neighbors, the\nMiwok. And that also is good. But some day, when the clouds float high\nin the sky, he will discover the way into the Mutsun waters and then\nwhy should he not kill and enslave us also?\u201d\n\nThere is a nodding of grave heads all around and some exchange of\nfurtive glances, in part directed toward Wixi, who is seated alone\nopposite the main group of elders.\n\n\u201cIn these circumstances,\u201d the speaker continues, this time looking\nsharply in the direction of a very old man central in the group, \u201cin\nthese circumstances some of us have thought it well to have Kakari, our\nPeace Chief, tell us the ancient story of our people, so that together\nwe may judge from past experience what is best for the future.\u201d\n\nEvery one present, including Wixi, nods his head, and the word is taken\nup slowly and deliberately by the feeble old man, Kakari, the Peace\nChief.\n\n\u201cThe story of the Mutsunes,\u201d the old man begins, \u201cis long. It would\ntake many nights to tell it all. I shall tell only two or three things\nthat happened and which will show us what the \u2018Great Ones Above\u2019 expect\nus to do.\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, yes, what they expect us to do,\u201d echo the hearers.\n\n\u201cLong ago,\u201d the old man continues, \u201cwhen the Mutsun people first came\nto this water, they were poor. They came on foot from the far North.\nThey had no boats and they had no bow and arrow. Wasaka had brought\nthem fire and they had the digging-stick. That was all. Our people\nfirst went to live at Old-Old Akalan. At that time the place was not\nan island, it was a part of our own long Mutsun hill that shelters us\nhere on the west. And while they lived there Chakalli came. He came\nfrom the \u2018Great Ones Above\u2019 and he brought with him the boat and the\nbow and arrow and the pipe and many other things. These he gave to the\nMutsunes and he showed them also how they were to be used. But later,\nCoyote came along and told them how to make different ones and to use\nthem differently. That made Chakalli angry and he struck at Old-Old\nAkalan with his digging-stick, the lightning, and, missing the village,\nknocked a big piece out of the hill beside it. This shook the ground\nand when the piece, struck off the hill, fell into the Mutsun water,\nover where it runs out to the big sea, the Mutsun water came up high\nand ran through the hole made in our hill, and Old-Old Akalan became an\nisland. The piece knocked out of the hill also became an island, Mutsun\nIsland, where our young men rest and wait for the tide when they go out\nto the big sea after abalones. Then Chakalli went away, but he did not\ngo back to the \u2018Great Ones Above,\u2019 for every now and then the earth\nshakes and we know that somebody else has disobeyed instructions.\u201d\n\nHere old Kakari paused. It was becoming plain to Wixi why the meeting\nhad been called. But there was more for him to hear.\n\n\u201cAfter Chakalli went away,\u201d went on Kakari, \u201cthe Mutsun people had to\nmove. The beach around the small island was not large enough to give\nthem the clams they needed. Moreover, the driftwood for the fire would\nnot lodge near the village as before. It all went through the new\nchannel made by Chakalli, and across to where now live our neighbors\nthe Earth People at Kawina. Some of it came up here. Therefore the\nPeace Chief of that day\u2014Walen was his name\u2014advised the people to move\nacross to Kawina, but he himself remained with the \u2018Old People\u2019 at\nOld-Old Akalan (i. e., he died), and with him were left all the things\nthat Chakalli had brought. To-morrow we shall sail over to Old-Old\nAkalan to see them.\n\n\u201cThe Mutsunes had made other boats, as well as bows, arrows, and\neverything, all copied after those brought by Chakalli. And they had no\ndifficulty in sailing across the water to Kawina.\n\n\u201cAll went well for a long time at Kawina. Then trouble came once more.\nCoyote had brought a basket from the North, which he gave to the young\nwomen of the Miwok people over across the water at Tamalpais. He told\nthem to boil food in it. They did so and liked it. Later on, the Miwok\npeople told some of the young men from Kawina, who were over there\nlooking for wood for new bows. Chakalli must have heard about it all,\nfor he struck the earth a fierce blow over near where the bearded men\ncame with the great white-winged ship. Chakalli\u2019s blow made a long,\ndeep rent in the earth, and the big sea came in and filled it. You can\nsee it there to-day. At that time the water also came up, and drowned\nmany of the Mutsun people at Kawina, although they lived on a high\nmound they had made, like the one we now live on. Only the top of the\nmound was left above the water.\n\n\u201cSoon after that the Mutsun people left Kawina, or Old Akalan, as they\ncalled the place. Many of them went east and south, making new homes\nall around the Mutsun water. Our people alone came over here, where\nthey have been ever since. Those are the stories of Old-Old Akalan and\nof Old Akalan.\u201d\n\nOld Kakari\u2019s strength is being spent, and he leans back against the\nwall. But presently he goes on: \u201cAfter we came over here, all went well\nagain for a long time. Every one did as he was told by the elders,\nand Chakalli was pleased. One day the earth shook again and the water\nwent away from around Kawina or Old Akalan. Our people thought it was\nChakalli making ready for their going back to live once more near the\n\u2018Old People.\u2019 But before they could move over, Coyote came down from\nthe North with some of the Earth People, who settled at Kawina. Coyote\nbrought with him also the cooking basket and the fishing net.\u201d\n\nAt this point the anger and resentment of the listeners are expressed\nby low growls and explosive breaths through set teeth. Wixi alone,\nleaning forward with his elbows on his knees and his chin resting in\nhis hands, remains silent.\n\nOld Kakari makes a last effort: \u201cThe Earth People, the Poma, belong in\nthe North. They do not belong here. Some of them speak our tongue, but\nthey are not our people. At first we made war upon them, but Coyote was\ntoo clever for Chakalli. Yet though we are now at peace, we never marry\ntheir women, nor they ours. We are neighbors, not friends. To-morrow we\nshall go to see the proof of what I have told you. Katka (Be full of\ncrickets).\u201d And with this formula of conclusion the Peace Chief ceased.\n\nAfter a few moments of silence he leaned once more back against the\nwall as if in deep sleep. No one spoke, but, one after another, the\nlisteners arose and left the council house. Outside, the night was\nblack and no sound was to be heard except the sigh of the breezes over\nthe marsh grass.\n\n\n PROOF\n\nAt daybreak a large tule float stands out from the high, pointed cliff\nforming the southern extremity of Potrero San Pablo, and heads straight\nfor Brooks Island. In a moment the swiftly paddled float is gone from\nsight. It carries all the men who were in the council lodge except one.\nWixi is not there. The float left Akalan while the night was yet black,\nand the paddlers were obliged to feel their way along the shore as far\nas the pointed cliff, and to wait there until the island became faintly\nvisible. Fortunately, this happened before they themselves could be\nobserved from the home village, for their mission to Old-Old Akalan is\nsecret.\n\nThe skiff slips behind a large outlying rock and the next moment grates\non a low, narrow, curving sand bar connecting the rock with the island\nproper. As the men step ashore, they see emerging out of the dim north\na small float bearing one paddler. The solitary boatman lands on the\nopposite side of the sand bar, a few yards nearer to the island. It is\nWixi. He draws his float across the ridge to the south slope of the\nbar, to lie with the other float. It is a precaution, lest sharp eyes\nat Akalan or Kawina discover that visitors are on the island.\n\nWith the War Chief in the lead, the men proceed a few rods to the\nnorthwest corner of the island, which slopes conveniently to the\nbeach. Bearing onward to the north shore, they walk eastward across\na noticeable rise of ground toward a number of buckeye trees. Tall\ngrasses and weeds cover the place. It is the mound left by the people\nof Old-Old Akalan. Here rest the bones of the oldest ancestors of the\nMutsunes.\n\nHaving passed over the summit, the War Chief sights a line in the\ndirection of the two oldest buckeye trees, and stations Wixi on the\nline. The older men he directs to sit down. He himself walks briskly to\nthe nearest of the two trees, and returns again with steady, measured\nsteps straight toward Wixi. As he walks, he counts the steps on his\nfingers. At a point half-way down the east slope of the mound, he\nsuddenly comes to a halt and with a significant nod of his head motions\nevery one toward him. From one of the men he takes a digging-stick,\ndraws a rough circle around his standing place and says, \u201cThis is the\nplace. Dig!\u201d\n\nThe men drop to their knees, partly to keep hidden in the tall grasses,\nand none dares to stand up again for it is now almost sunrise. Some\ntake to loosening up the earth with digging-sticks, and others scoop up\nthe loosened portions with large abalone shells. In this way they make\na hole several feet in diameter. Presently, at a depth of about two\nfeet, they uncover the bones of a full-grown person with arms and legs\ndoubled up tightly against the body. All exclaim under their breath.\nFrom the presence, next the skeleton, of a mortar and pestle, as well\nas certain bone awls and needles, the old men know that these are\nthe remains of a woman. The spirit of the implements which the woman\nused in daily life, had gone, they would say, with the spirit of the\ndeparted to her new dwelling place in the far West.\n\nDeeper down, perhaps five or six feet, the workers come to another\nskeleton. On the breast of the body, they uncover a large, beautifully\nshaped obsidian blade. Close to the shoulder are found a number of\narrow points, just as they were left when the wooden shafts decayed\naway. Near one hand lie, side by side, two highly polished, steatite\ntobacco pipes. On either side of the skull is a disk-shaped ear pendant\nof iridescent abalone shell, and all about the neck and shoulders are\nmany beads of clamshell. The workers are agreed that these are the\nremains of a great man and the War Chief emphatically declares them\nto be those of the ancient Peace Chief Walen, himself. All the old\nmen demur to this, however, contending that Walen, according to the\ntraditions, was buried, not in the black refuse material left by the\ninhabitants of Old-Old Akalan, but lower down in virgin soil.\n\nAll through the day the digging continues, and skeleton after skeleton\nis taken up\u2014men, women, and children. Each was originally buried\nbeneath the floor of the hut in which he or she died, and in the course\nof time, as shells and ashes accumulated above their bones, a new hut\nwas built, again to be destroyed with the succeeding death.\n\nAs the men dig deeper and deeper, the paraphernalia of the dead become\nfewer and fewer, and even where anything at all is present, the object\nis crude and unfinished. There are no more pipes, no beautiful obsidian\nblades, and no fine, ivory-like awls or needles. What can it mean?\nDid the ancestors of early days not possess these things? Some such\nthoughts are surely passing through the mind of some of the workers,\ncertainly of the War Chief, for he suddenly declares his belief that\nthey are not digging in the right place. But the old men only smile and\nwork on.\n\nAt last, shortly before dark, there are signs of bottom to the mound\nmaterial. Real earth is beginning to appear, and before long human\nbones are turned up. Very soon the complete skeleton is laid bare. No\nimplements have been found, but every one\u2019s attention is centred on a\nbright red spot near the extended right hand of the skeleton. It is a\nquantity of paint powder, such as has been noticed to accompany several\nof the men skeletons. The War Chief, now visibly excited, grasps a\nsharp-edged abalone shell and eagerly cuts into the red substance.\nThe next moment the shell drops from his hand. He, with the rest, is\nstaring blankly at seven large, beautifully clear quartz crystals\u2014the\nwhole of Walen\u2019s treasure!...\n\nIt is morning. The remains of the dead have been replaced and all\nobvious traces of disturbance removed. Let the \u201cOld People\u201d of Old-Old\nAkalan rest until the sea removes them! Wixi has labored hard and is\nweary in body, but in spirit he is a new man. Has he not had proof from\nthe graves? Knows he not for a certainty that the life of the Mutsunes\nhas not stood still in the past, and is he not determined that it shall\nunfold and develop in the future?...\n\nThe old men are sleeping after their arduous work, continued far into\nthe night. Wixi alone has watched restlessly for the dawn, and when\nthe cliff across the Mutsun channel is distinctly visible, he puts off\nwith his featherweight skiff. He is scudding along with swift, sure\nstrokes and is already near enough to the opposite shore to see a woman\nwaving to him from the top of the bluff. It is Mah\u00fadah, who has watched\nfor his return since the evening before. The sun\u2019s first rays are just\nbeginning to play around her as she stands there on high, and Wixi\nis raising his paddle in the air to wave recognition. At that moment\nMah\u00fadah utters a loud, piercing scream and turns to run from the edge\nof the precipice. Portions of rock and earth fall to the beach, and a\nrising cloud of dust obscures the figure of the fleeing woman. A moment\nlater Wixi is raised on the crest of a tremendous wave, which carries\nhim with the speed of a swooping eagle directly against the face of the\ncliff.\n\nThe old men of Akalan, awakened by the first tremors of the earth,\nwitness the whole scene. Most of them simply shake their heads. But the\nWar Chief, affecting solemnity, announces: \u201cChakalli has struck! The\nold order remains.\u201d\n\n N. C. NELSON\n\n\n\n\n All Is Trouble Along the Klamath\n\n A YUROK IDYLL\n\n\n(Mrs. Oregon Jim, from the house Erkig\u00e9r-i or \u201cHair-ties\u201d in the town\nof P\u00e9kwan, speaking): You want to know why old Louisa and I never\nnotice each other? Well, I\u2019ll tell you why. I wouldn\u2019t speak to that\nold woman to save her life. There is a quarrel between her and me, and\nbetween her people and my people.\n\nThe thing started, so far as I know, with the bastard son of a woman\nfrom that big old house in W\u00e1hsek that stands crossways\u2014the one they\ncall W\u00e1hsek-h\u00e9thlqau. They call it that, of course, because it is\n_behind_ the others. It kind of sets back from the river. This woman\nlived with several different men; first with a young fellow from the\nhouse next door, and then, when she left _him_, with a strolling fellow\nfrom Smith River. When she left him for a H\u00fapa, they all began to call\nher _k\u00edmolin_, \u201cdirty.\u201d Not one of these men had paid a cent for her,\nalthough she came of good people. She lived around in different places.\nTwo of her children died, but a third one grew up at the Presbyterian\nMission.\n\nHe had even less sense than the Presbyterians have. He came down to\nKep\u00e9l one time, when the people there were making the Fish Dam. It\nwas the last day of the work on the dam. The dam was being finished,\nthat day. That\u2019s the time nobody can get mad. Nobody can take offense\nat anything. This boy heard people calling each other bad names. They\nwere having a dance. The time of that dance is different from all other\ntimes. People say the worst things! It sounds funny to hear the people\nsay, for example, to old K\u00edmorets, \u201cWell, old One-Eye! you are the best\ndancer.\u201d They think of the worst things to say! A fellow even said\nto Mrs. Poker Bob, \u201cHow is your grandmother?\u201d; when Mrs. Poker Bob\u2019s\ngrandmother was already dead. It makes your blood run cold to hear such\nthings, even though you know it\u2019s in fun.\n\nThis young fellow I am telling you about, whom they called Fred\nWilliams, and whose Indian name was S\u00e4r, came down from the Mission\nschool to see the Fish-Dam Dance at Kep\u00e9l. He was dressed up. He went\naround showing off. He wore a straw hat with a ribbon around it. He\nstood around watching the dance. Between the songs, he heard what\npeople were saying to each other. He heard them saying all sorts of\nimproper things. He thought that was smart talk. He thought he would\ntry it when he got a chance. The next day, he went down by the river\nand saw Tuley-Creek Jim getting ready his nets. \u201cGet your other hand\ncut off,\u201d he said. \u201cThen you can fish with your feet!\u201d Two or three\npeople who were standing by, heard him. Tuley-Creek Jim is pretty mean.\nThey call him \u201cCoyote.\u201d He looked funny. He stood there. He didn\u2019t know\nwhat to say.\n\nYoung Andrew, who was there, whose mother was from the house called\n\u201cDown-river House\u201d in Q\u00f3vtep, was afraid for his life. He was just\npushing off his boat. He let go of the rope. The boat drifted off.\nHe was afraid to pull it back. He went up to the house. \u201cSomething\nhappened,\u201d he told the people there. \u201cI wish I was somewhere else.\nThere is going to be trouble along this Klamath River.\u201d\n\nThe talk soon went around that Coyote-Jim was claiming some money. It\nwas told us that he was going to make the boy\u2019s mother\u2019s father pay\nfifteen dollars. \u201cThat\u2019s my price,\u201d he said. \u201cI won\u2019t do anything to\nthe boy, for he isn\u2019t worth it. Nobody paid for his mother. Also, I\nwon\u2019t charge him much. But his mother\u2019s people are well-to-do, and they\nwill have to pay this amount that I name. Otherwise, I will be mad.\u201d As\na matter of fact, he was afraid to do anything, for he, himself, was\nafraid of the soldiers at H\u00fapa. He just made big talk. Besides, what he\nwanted was a headband ornamented with whole woodpecker heads, that the\nboy\u2019s grandfather owned. He thought he could make the old man give it\nup, on account of what his grandson had said.\n\nThe boy went around, hollering to everybody. \u201cI don\u2019t have to pay,\u201d he\nsaid. \u201cI heard everybody saying things like that! How did I know that\nthey only did it during that one day? Besides, look at me! Look at my\nshirt. Look at my pants.\u201d He showed them his straw hat. \u201cLook at my\nhat! I am just like a white man. I can say anything I please. I don\u2019t\nhave to care what I say.\u201d\n\nEvery day somebody came along the river, telling us the news. There\nwas a big quarrel going on. I was camped at that time, with my\ndaughter, above Met\u00e1, picking acorns. All the acorns were bad that\nyear\u2014little, and twisted, and wormy. Even the worms were little and\nkind of shriveled that year. That place above Met\u00e1 was the only place\nwhere the acorns were good. Lots of people were camped there. Some paid\nfor gathering acorns there. My aunt had married into a house at Met\u00e1,\nthe house they call W\u00f3ogi, \u201cIn-the-middle-House,\u201d so I didn\u2019t have to\npay anything. People used to come up from the river to where we acorn\npickers were camped, to talk about the news. They told us the boy\u2019s\nmother\u2019s people were trying to make some people at Smith River pay.\n\u201cHe\u2019s the son of one of their men,\u201d the old grandfather said. \u201cThey\u2019ve\ngot to pay for the words he spoke. I don\u2019t have to pay.\u201d The thing\ndragged on. Three weeks later they told us the old man wouldn\u2019t pay yet.\n\nSomebody died at the old man\u2019s house that fall. The people were getting\nready to have a funeral. The graveyard for that house called H\u00e9thlqau,\nin W\u00e1hsek, is just outside the house door. They went into that k\u00e4methl,\nin that corpse-place, what you whites call a cemetery. They dug a hole\nand had it ready. They were singing \u201ccrying-songs\u201d in that house where\nthe person had died.\n\nTuley-Creek Jim\u2019s brother-in-law was traveling down the river in a\ncanoe. When he got to W\u00e1hsek he heard \u201ccrying-songs.\u201d \u201cSomebody has\ndied up there,\u201d they told him. \u201cWe better stop! No use trying to go\nby. We better go ashore till the burial is over.\u201d Tuley-Creek Jim\u2019s\nbrother-in-law did not want to stop. \u201cThey owe some money to my wife\u2019s\nbrother,\u201d he said. \u201cOne of their people said something to Jim. They\ndon\u2019t pay up. Why should I go ashore?\u201d So they all paddled down to\nthe landing place. They started to go past, going down river. A young\nfellow at the landing place grabbed their canoe. \u201cYou got to land\nhere,\u201d he said. \u201cMy aunt\u2019s people are having a funeral. It ain\u2019t right\nfor anybody to go by in a canoe.\u201d The people in the canoe began to get\nmad. They pushed on the bottom with their paddles. The canoe swung\naround. Coyote-Jim\u2019s brother-in-law stood up. He was pretty mad. They\nhad got his shirt wet. He waved his paddle around. He hollered. He got\nexcited.\n\nOne of the men on the bank was Billy Brooks, from the mouth of the\nriver. \u201cHey! You fellow-living-with-a-woman-you-haven\u2019t-paid-for!\u201d he\nsaid to Billy Brooks, \u201cmake these fellows let go of my canoe.\u201d\n\nBilly was surprised. He hadn\u2019t been holding the canoe. And anyway, he\ndid not expect to be addressed that way. \u201cL\u00e4s-son\u201d is what he had heard\naddressed to him. That means \u201chalf-married, or improperly married, to a\nwoman in the house by the trail.\u201d Brooks had had no money to pay for a\nwife, so he went to live with his woman instead of taking her home to\nhim. That is what we call being half-married. Everybody called Billy\nthat way, behind his back. \u201cHalf-married-into-the-house-by-the-trail\u201d\nwas his name.\n\nWhen Billy got over being surprised at this form of address, he got\nmad. He pointed at the fellow in the canoe. He swore the worst way a\nperson can swear. What he said was awful. He pointed at him. He was mad\nclear through. He didn\u2019t care what he said. \u201cYour deceased relatives,\u201d\nis what he said to Coyote-Jim\u2019s brother-in-law, in the canoe. He said\nit right out loud. He pointed at the canoe. That\u2019s the time he said\n\u201cYour deceased relatives.\u201d \u201cAll your deceased relatives,\u201d he said to\nthose in the canoe.\n\nCoyote-Jim\u2019s brother-in-law sat down in the canoe. Nobody tried to stop\nthe canoe after that. The canoe went down river. Billy Brooks went up\nto the house. He waited. After a while the people there buried that\nperson who was dead, and the funeral was over. \u201cI\u2019ve got to pay money,\u201d\nBilly Brooks said to them then. \u201cI got mad and swore something terrible\nat Coyote-Jim\u2019s brother-in-law. That was on account of you people. If\nyou had paid what you owed to Coyote-Jim, Coyote-Jim\u2019s brother-in-law\nwouldn\u2019t have gone past your house while you were crying, and you\nwouldn\u2019t have held his canoe, and he wouldn\u2019t have addressed me as he\ndid, and I wouldn\u2019t have said what I did. Moreover, W\u00f3hkel Dave was in\nthe canoe, and when I said that which I said, it applied to him, too.\nI feel terrible mean about what I said. I\u2019ve got to have trouble with\nboth those men. There were others in the canoe, too, but they are poor\npeople, and don\u2019t amount to anything. But Dave is a rich man. Now all\nthis trouble is on your account, and you\u2019ve got to pay me two dollars\nand a half.\u201d\n\nThe old man at W\u00e1hsek was in trouble. \u201cFirst my mouse says to\nCoyote-Jim what should not in any case have been said,\u201d the old man\ncomplained. (We call illegitimate children \u201cmice,\u201d because they eat,\nand stay around, and nobody has paid for them.) \u201cNow on account of what\nmy mouse said, all this other trouble has happened.\u201d\n\nEverybody was talking about the quarrel now. That is the time they left\noff talking about the old man\u2019s troubles, and began talking about what\nBilly Brooks said to the Coyote\u2019s brother-in-law in the canoe, and to\nW\u00f3hkel Dave. It finally came out that the fellow who was steering the\ncanoe, and who called Billy Brooks \u201cL\u00e4s-son,\u201d was out of the quarrel.\nHis deceased relatives had been referred to, but, on the other hand,\nhis father had only paid twenty-five dollars for his mother, so nobody\ncared much about him. He talked around but nobody paid any attention,\nso he decided that he had better keep still about it, and maybe people\nwould forget that he had been insulted.\n\nW\u00f3hkel Dave, however, was a man of importance. His people were married\ninto all the best houses up and down the river. Everybody was wondering\nwhat he and Brooks would do. Billy Brooks was kind of a mean man\nhimself. He had a bad reputation. One time he even made a white man pay\nup for something he did. The white man took a woman from Brooks\u2019 people\nto live with him. Brooks looked him up, and made him pay for her.\nEverybody was afraid of Brooks. Some people said, \u201cBrooks won\u2019t pay.\nHe\u2019s too mean. He\u2019s not afraid. He\u2019d rather fight it out.\u201d Other people\nsaid, \u201cThat\u2019s all right, as far as ordinary people are concerned.\nW\u00f3hkel Dave, though, is not ordinary. His father paid a big price for\nhis mother. She had one of the most stylish weddings along the river.\nDave won\u2019t let anybody get the best of him.\u201d People used to argue that\nway. Some said one thing, and some said another. They used to almost\nquarrel about it.\n\nSuddenly news came down the river that Billy Brooks was going to pay\nup for what he said. Some one came along and told us that Billy was\ngoing to pay. \u201cHe offered twenty-five dollars,\u201d this fellow said. The\nnext day we heard that Dave wouldn\u2019t take it. He wanted forty dollars.\nThey argued back and forth. It was February before they got it settled.\nBilly had to pay twenty dollars in money, a shot-gun made out of an\narmy musket, bored out, and a string of shell money, not a very good\none. The shells were pretty small, but the string was long\u2014reaching\nfrom the chest bone to the end of the fingers.\n\nThe next thing that happened is what involved me and old Louisa. It\ncame about because Billy didn\u2019t have twenty dollars in cash. He had to\nget hold of the twenty dollars. About that time, certain Indians stole\nsome horses. They were not people from our tribe. They were Chilula\nfrom Bald Hills, or people from over in that direction somewhere. Those\npeople were awful poor. They couldn\u2019t pay for a woman. They couldn\u2019t\npay for anything. They had to marry each other. In the springtime they\ngot pretty wild. They were likely to do things. This time they took\nsome horses from a white man. This white man complained to the agent\nat H\u00fapa. So some soldiers from H\u00fapa went out to chase these Indians.\nBilly Brooks was a great hunter. He has been all over everywhere,\nhunting and trapping. The soldiers needed a guide. They offered Billy\ntwenty-five dollars to serve as a \u201cscout\u201d for the Government, to chase\nthese Indians. So Billy, because he had to have twenty dollars, went as\na scout, that time.\n\nThe soldiers went to Redwood Creek. Billy Brooks went along. There was\na sergeant and six men, they say. Two of the men went to that Indian\ntown six miles above the mouth of Redwood Creek, the name of which is\nOtl\u00e9p. That town belongs to the Chilula. These two soldiers went there,\nlooking for the men who stole the horses. There was trouble after a\nwhile at that place. The soldiers got into a quarrel with the Indians.\n\nThe trouble was about a woman. One of the soldiers wanted her, but\nthe woman would not go with him. She did not feel like it. I don\u2019t\nknow exactly what happened, but the soldier insisted, and the woman\ninsisted, and finally her relatives told the soldier that if the woman\ndidn\u2019t want to, she didn\u2019t have to. There was a fight that time. There\nwas a tussel about the soldier\u2019s revolver. Somebody got hit over the\nhead with it. The front sight was sharp. That soldier had filed down\nthe sight on his revolver, to make it fine. That sight dug into a man\u2019s\nface, and cut it open, from his jaw bone up to his eye.\n\nThere was big trouble there that time, they say. Everybody got to\nhollering. That woman had a bad temper. She hit a soldier with a\nrock. She broke his head open. The man whose face was cut open went\nfor his gun. He couldn\u2019t see very well. He didn\u2019t get the percussion\ncap on properly. He tried to shoot the soldier, but the gun wouldn\u2019t\ngo off. The cap had dropped off the nipple. The soldier saw the Indian\naiming the gun at him, so he fired at the Indian. There was blood in\nthe soldier\u2019s eyes, for the woman had cut his head open with a rock.\nSo he missed the Indian who was aiming at him, but he hit old Louisa\u2019s\nnephew, Jim Williams. The bullet went through his thigh. Two years\npassed before Jim Williams could walk straight after that.\n\nNow that is the trouble between old Louisa and me. Her nephew was\nhurt, and she blames Billy Brooks, because Billy Brooks was with the\nsoldiers, helping them, the time this happened. Billy would never \u201cpay\nup\u201d for this. One time it was reported that he was going to pay, but he\nnever did.\n\nNow Billy is a relative of mine by marriage. His sister married my\nfather\u2019s brother\u2019s oldest boy. That old woman, whose nephew was shot,\ndoesn\u2019t like me, because I am a relative of Billy who guided the\nsoldiers.\n\nOne time she played me a dirty trick. My nephew was fishing with a\ngill-net on the river here. The game warden made a complaint and had\nhim arrested, for he had one end of his net fast to the bank. That old\nwoman, that old Louisa, went to Eureka and told the judge there, that\none end of the net was fast to the bank. They say she got money for\ndoing that. Somebody said she got two dollars a day. My nephew was put\nin jail for sixty days. I am not saying anything to that old woman,\nbut I am keeping a watch on her. If anybody talks to her, then I have\nnothing to do with them.\n\nOne time a white man from down below came along this river, asking\nabout baskets. He wanted to know the name of everything. He was\nkind of crazy, that fellow. They used to call him \u201cH\u00e4p\u00f3\u2019o,\u201d or\n\u201cBasket-designs.\u201d He was always asking, \u201cWhat does that mean?\u201d or \u201cWhat\nis the name of that?\u201d He wanted to know all about baskets. He talked to\nold Louisa for a day and a half about her baskets. Then he came through\nthe fence to my house. I wouldn\u2019t say a word to him, and he went away.\nMy friends won\u2019t talk to Louisa, or her friends. It will be that way\nforever.\n\nIt all goes back to that boy S\u00e4r. If he had not talked about\nTuley-Creek Jim having only one hand, Jim\u2019s brother-in-law would not\nhave paddled past a house where there was a person lying dead, and his\ncanoe would not have been seized, and there would have been no quarrel\nabout the canoe, and Billy Brooks would not have sworn at anybody, so\nhe would not have had to pay money, and he would not have hired out\nas a scout to the Government, and the fellow in Redwood Creek would\nnot have been shot, and old Louisa would not have testified about my\nnephew. To make people pay is all right. That is what always happens\nwhen there is a quarrel. But to put my nephew in jail is not right.\n\nI\u2019ll never speak to that old lady again, and neither will any of my\npeople.\n\n T. T. WATERMAN\n\n\n\n\n Sayach\u2019apis, a Nootka Trader\n\n\nTom is a blind old man, whose staff may be heard any day stumping or\nsplashing along the village street of his tribal reservation, or up\nor down the hillside that slopes to the smoke-drying huts massed by\nthe Somass river. He is an honored member of the Ts\u2019isha\u2019ath, a Nootka\ntribe that is now permanently located a few miles up from the head of\nAlberni Canal, the deepest inlet on the west coast of Vancouver Island.\nThe Ts\u2019isha\u2019ath fishes and harpoons along the river, the length of the\n\u201cCanal,\u201d and down among the hundreds of islands that dot Barkley Sound,\nthe first of the large bays north of Cape Beale that are carved out on\nthe stormy coast line of the island.\n\nTom\u2019s early life was passed at the now abandoned village of Hikwis,\nwhose row of houses looked out upon the main water of the Sound, but\nfor decades he has led an uneventful existence in his river reservation\nand its vicinity, old summer fishing grounds that were conquered in the\nfirst instance by his people from an alien tribe. Within convenient\nreach are the slowly booming white men\u2019s towns of Alberni and Port\nAlberni, where one may lay in a supply of biscuits and oranges for\na tribal feast, or make periodic complaint to the Indian Agent.\nTom is now old and poverty-stricken, but the memory of his former\nwealth is with his people. The many feasts he has given and the many\nceremonial dances and displays he has had performed have all had their\ndesired effect\u2014they have shed luster on his sons and daughters and\ngrandchildren, they have \u201cput his family high\u201d among the Ts\u2019isha\u2019ath\ntribe, and they have even carried his name to other, distant Nootka\ntribes, and to tribes on the east coast of the island that are of alien\nspeech. Nowadays he spends much of his time by the fireside, tapping\nhis staff in accompaniment to old ritual tunes that he is never tired\nof humming.\n\nTom\u2019s present name is Sayach\u2019apis, Stands-up-high-over-all. It is an\nold man\u2019s name of eight generations\u2019 standing, that hails from the\nHisawist\u2019ath, a now extinct Nootka tribe with which Tom is connected\nthrough his father\u2019s mother\u2019s mother, who was herself a Hisawist\u2019ath\non her mother\u2019s side. The tribe is extinct, but its personal names,\nlike its songs and legends and distinctive ritualistic ceremonies,\nlinger on among the neighboring tribes through the fine spun network of\ninheritance. The name \u201cStands-up-high-over-all,\u201d like practically all\nNootka, and indeed all West Coast names, has its legendary background,\nits own historical warrant. The first Nootka chief to bear the name,\nobtained it in a dream. He was undergoing ritualistic training in the\nwoods in the pursuit of \u201cpower\u201d for the attainment of wealth, and had\nnot slept for a long time. At last he fell into a heavy slumber, and\nthis is what he dreamed: The Sky Chief appeared to him and said, \u201cWhy\nare you sleeping, Stands-up-high-over-all? You are not really desirous\nof getting wealthy, are you? I was about to make you wealthy and to\ngive you the name Stands-up-high-over-all.\u201d The ironical touch is a\ncharacteristic nuance in these origin legends. And so the name, a\nsupernatural gift, was handed down the generations, now by direct male\ninheritance, now as a dower to a son-in-law, resident at some village\nremote from its place of origin. This is the normal manner, actually or\nin theory, of the transmission of all privileges, and though the owner\nof a privilege may be a villager a hundred miles or more distant from\nits historical or legendary home, he has not completely established his\nright to its use unless he has shown himself, directly or by reference\nto a speaker acquainted with tribal lore, possessed of the origin\nlegend, the local provenance, and the genealogical tree or \u201chistorical\u201d\nnexus that binds him to the individual, that is believed to have been\nthe first to enjoy the privilege.\n\nTom did not always have the name of Sayach\u2019apis, nor need he keep it\nto the end of his days. He assumed it over thirty years ago on the\noccasion of his great potlatch, a puberty feast in honor of his now\ndeceased oldest daughter. At that time he had the young man\u2019s name of\nNawe\u2019ik, now borne by his oldest son, Douglas. It is a name belonging\nto the Nash\u2019as\u2019ath sept or tribal subdivision of the Ts\u2019isha\u2019ath, and\nwas first dreamt by Tom\u2019s maternal grandfather. It is thus a name of\ncomparatively recent origin, nor does it possess that aura of noble\nassociation that attaches to Tom\u2019s present name. Its exact meaning is\nunknown, but it is said to have been a command\u2014\u201cCome here!\u201d\u2014of a spirit\nwhale, dreamt of by its first possessor. Tom assumed it at a potlatch\nhe gave to his own tribe when he was not yet married. It was just about\nthe time that the discovery of placer gold in the Frazer river was\nbringing a considerable influx of whites to British Columbia.\n\nBefore this, Tom was known as Kunnuh, a Nitinat young man\u2019s name, \u201cWake\nup!\u201d, which is again based on the dream of a spirit whale. The Nitinat\nIndians are a group of Nootka tribes that occupy the southwest coast of\nthe island, and Tom\u2019s claim to the name and to other Nitinat privileges\ncomes to him through his paternal grandfather, himself a Nitinat\nIndian. The name originated with his grandfather\u2019s father\u2019s father\u2019s\nfather, who received it in a dream as he was training for \u201cpower\u201d in\nwhaling. It was assumed by Tom when he was about ten years of age, at a\nnaming feast given the Ts\u2019isha\u2019ath Indians by his Nitinat grandfather.\nIt displaced the boy\u2019s name Ha\u2019wihlkumuktli, \u201cHaving-chiefs-behind,\u201d\nthis time of true Ts\u2019isha\u2019ath origin and descending to Tom through his\npaternal grandmother\u2019s father\u2019s father, who again received the name\nin a dream from a spirit whale. This ancestor was having much success\nin whaling and, becoming exceedingly wealthy, was \u201cleaving other\nchiefs behind him.\u201d Tom was given the name at an ordinary feast by his\npaternal grandfather.\n\nThe earliest name that Tom remembers having is Tl\u2019i\u2019nitsawa,\n\u201cGetting-whale-skin.\u201d When the great chief Hohenikwop had his whale\nbooty towed to shore, the little boys used to come to the beach for\nslices of whale skin, so he made up the name of \u201cGetting-whale-skin\u201d\nfor his son. The right to use it was inherited by his oldest son,\nbut was also passed on to the chief\u2019s younger sister, who brought it\nas a dowry to the father of Tom\u2019s paternal grandfather. Tom himself\nreceived the name on the occasion of a mourning potlatch given by his\npaternal grandfather in honor of his son, Tom\u2019s father, who had died\nnot long before. Before this, Tom had a child\u2019s nickname, in other\nwords, a name bestowed not out of the inherited stock of names claimed\nby his parents, but created on the spot for any chance reason whatever.\nSuch nicknames have no ceremonial value, are not privileges, and are\ntherefore not handed down as an inheritance or transferred as a dowry.\nTom has forgotten what his nickname was.\n\nAt the very outset, in the mere consideration of what Tom has called\nhimself at various times, we are introduced to the two great social\nforces that give atmosphere to Nootka life. The first of these is\nprivilege, the right to something of value, practical or ceremonial.\nSuch a privilege is called \u201ctopati\u201d by the Indians, and one cannot\npenetrate very far into their life or beliefs without stumbling upon\none topati after another. The second is the network of descent and\nkinship relation that determines the status of the North West Coast\nIndian, not merely as a tribesman once for all, but in reference to\nhis claim to share in any activity of moment. The threads of the\ngenealogical past are wound tightly about the North West Coastman; he\nis himself a traditional composite of social features that belong to\ndiverse localities, and involve him in diverse kinship relations.\n\nAs far back, then, as he can remember, Tom has been steeped in an\natmosphere of privilege, of rank, of conflicting claims to this or that\ncoveted right. As far back as he can remember, he has heard remarks\nlike this: \u201cOld man Tootooch has no right to have such and such a\nparticular Thunder-bird dance performed at his potlatches. His claim to\nit is not clear. In my grandfather\u2019s days men were killed for less than\nthat, and the head chief of the Ahous\u2019ath tribe, who has the primary\nclaim to the dance, would have called him sharply to order.\u201d But he\nhas also heard Tootooch vigorously support his claim with arguments,\ngenealogical and other, that no one quite knows the right or wrong\nof. And as far back as he can remember, Tom has been accustomed to\nthink of himself not merely as a Ts\u2019isha\u2019ath, though he is primarily\nthat by residence and immediate descent, but as a participant in the\ntraditions, in the social atmosphere, of several other Nootka tribes.\nHe has always known where to look for his remoter kinsmen, dwelling in\nvillages that are dotted here and there on a long coast line.\n\nThe first few years of Tom\u2019s life were spent in a \u201ccradle\u201d of basketry,\nin which he was tightly swathed by sundry wrappings and braids of\nthe soft, beaten inner bark of the cedar. Even now he has a vague\nrecollection of looking out over the sea from the erect vantage of a\ncradling basket, looped behind his mother\u2019s shoulders. He also thinks\nhe remembers crying bitterly one time when left all by himself in the\nbasket, stood up on end against the butt of a willow tree, while his\nmother and four or five other women had strayed off to dig for edible\nclover roots with their hard, pointed digging-sticks.\n\nDuring the cradling period, Tom was having his head, or rather his\nforehead, gradually flattened by means of cedar-bark pads, and the\nupper and lower parts of his legs were bandaged so as to allow the\ncalves to bulge. The Indians believe that they do not like big\nforeheads and slim legs, nor do they approve of wide eyebrows, which\nare narrowed, if necessary, by plucking out some of the hairs. Later on\nin life Tom was less particular about his natural appearance, having\nbeen well \u201cfixed\u201d by his mother in infancy. Like the other men of his\ntribe, he has never bothered to pluck out the scanty growth of hair\non his face. Some of the Indians of Tom\u2019s acquaintance have tattooed\nthemselves, generally on the breast, with designs referring to their\nhunting experiences, or to crest privileges\u2014a quarter-moon or a sea\nlion or a pair of Thunder-birds,\u2014but Tom has never bothered to do\nthis. Aside from the head-flattening of infancy, Tom has never had any\nportion of his body mutilated, unless the perforation of his ears and\nthe septum of his nose, for the attachment of ear and nose pendants of\nthe bright rainbow-like abalone, strung by sinew threads, be considered\na mutilation. These pendants, which he and other Indians have long\ndiscarded, were worn purely for ornament; they had no importance as\nceremonial insignia.\n\nIn spite of the fact that neither razor nor tweezers have ever smoothed\nout the hairy surface of his face, Tom has not altogether neglected\nthe care of his body. To prevent chapping, he has often rubbed himself\nwith tallow and red paint, and in his younger days he was in the habit\nof keeping himself in good condition by a cold plunge, at daybreak, in\nriver or sea. The vigorous rubbing down with hemlock branches which\nfollowed, until the skin all tingled red, helped to give tone to his\nbody. He could not afford to miss the plunge and rub-down for more than\ntwo or three days at a time, if only because to have done so would\nhave brought upon him the contempt and derision of his comrades. No\naspiring young hunter of the seal and the sea lion could allow himself\nto be called a woman. In the course of his long life Tom has painted\nhis face in a great variety of ways, whether for festive occasions, or\nin the private quest of supernatural power in some secluded spot in\nthe woods. Some of these face paints\u2014and there are hundreds of them in\nuse among the Nootka\u2014are geometrical patterns, others are emblematic\nof supernatural beings and animals. Many of them, like the songs and\ndances with which they are associated, are looked upon as valuable\nprivileges.\n\nIt is long since Tom has worn or seen worn native costume\u2014what little\nthere was of it\u2014but he distinctly remembers the blankets and cedar-bark\ngarments that his people wore when he was a boy and, indeed, well\non into his days of manhood. The heavy rains of the Coast, and the\nconstant necessity of splashing in and out of the canoes along the\nbeach, made tight-fitting garments and cumbrous foot- and leg-wear\nundesirable. The Nootka Indians wore no clinging shirts or leggings\nor moccasins. They are a barefoot and a bare-legged people. Those\nof the men who could afford more than a breechclout wore a blanket\nrobe loosely thrown about the body, either a hide\u2014of bear or the far\nmore valuable sea otter\u2014or a woven blanket, whether of the inner bark\nstrands of the \u201cyellow cedar\u201d or the long, fleecy hair of the native\ndogs. The women wore cedar-bark \u201cpetticoats,\u201d which are nothing but\nloosely fitting girdles, fringed with long tassels of cedar bark. In\nrainy weather, they also wore woven hats of cedar-bark strands or split\nroot fibers, round topped and cone-like. When the weather was thick and\nheavy with rain\u2014and this happens often enough in the winter\u2014both men\nand women wore raincapes of cedar-bark or rush matting. The children\nran about completely naked.\n\nThe food that Tom was accustomed to in his early days did not differ\nmaterially from his present fare. It was then, and is now, chiefly\nfish\u2014boiled, steam-baked, spit-roasted, or smoked. In all his early\nhaunts, in the houses and along the beach, everywhere he was immersed\nin grateful, fishy odors. From the earliest time that he can remember\nanything at all, he has been daily confronted by some aspect of the\nlife of a fishing people, whether it be the catching of salmon trout\nby the boys with their two-barbed fish spears; or the spearing or\ntrolling or netting of salmon by the older men; or the getting in the\nsea of herrings with herring rakes, of halibut with the peculiar,\ngracefully bent halibut hooks that every Indian even now has kicking\naround in his box of odds and ends, of cod with twirling decoys and\nspears that have two prongs of unequal length\u2014\u201colder\u201d and \u201cyounger\u201d; or\nthe hanging up of salmon in rows to dry in the smoke houses, so that\nthis all-important fish may still contribute his share of the food\nsupply, long after the last salmon of the late fall has ceased to run;\nor the splitting up of the salmon by the women as a first preliminary\nto cooking; or any one of the hundreds of other scenes that make of a\nfisher folk a fish-handling and a fish-eating people.\n\nSecond in importance to fish are the various varieties of edible\nshellfish and other soft bodied inhabitants of the sea\u2014mussels and\nclams and sea urchins, sea cucumbers, and octopuses. The flesh of the\noctopus or \u201cdevil-fish,\u201d though not an important article of food, was\nconsidered quite a dainty, and feasts were often given in which it\nfigured as a special feature, like crab apples or like the apples or\noranges of present-day feasts. Far more important than these mushy\nfoods, though probably subsidiary, on the whole, to salmon and other\nfish, was the flesh of sea mammals\u2014the humpbacked whale, the California\nwhale, the sea otter, the sea lion, and, most important of all, the\nhair seal.\n\nTom has harpooned his fill of seals in the course of his life and, like\nmost other Nootka men of the last generation, has done a considerable\namount of commercial sealing for white firms in Behring Sea. He has\ncaught a few sea otters, which are now all but extinct, but no sea\nlions or whales, though he claims to have the hereditary privilege to\nhunt these animals, and to possess the indispensable magical knowledge\nwithout which their quest is believed by the Nootka to be doomed to\nfailure.\n\nBoiled whale and seal meat were highly prized and there was no more\njoyous event to break the monotony of tribal life than the towing\nto shore of a harpooned whale, or the drifting to shore of a whale\ncarcass. In either case the flensing knives were quickly got ready,\nthe carcass cut up, and feasts held in the village. Tom remembers how\nexcitedly\u2014he was then but a boy of ten or so\u2014he once reported the\nappearance of a drifting whale carcass a quarter-mile from shore, how\nthe whole village rushed into its canoes, and how they laboriously\nfloated it on to the sandy beach, with their stout lanyards of cedar\nrope wound with nettle-fiber. The whale was cut up carefully, under the\ndirection of a \u201cmeasurer\u201d into its traditionally determined portions,\nwhich were then distributed, according to hereditary right, to those\nentitled to receive them. Tom himself got the meat about the navel as\na reward for his find. There was an unusual amount of whale oil tried\nout that time, and the fires at the feasts leaped higher than ever as\nthe oil was thrown upon them, lighting up in lurid flashes the house\nposts carved into the likenesses of legendary ancestors.\n\nTom ate very little meat of land animals in his early days. Indeed,\nlike most of the Coast people, he had a prejudice against deer meat\nand it was not until, as a middle-aged man, he had come into contact\nwith some of the deer-hunting tribes of the interior of the island,\nthat he learned to prize it, though even to this day venison has not\nfor him the toothsome appeal of a chunk of whale meat. Fish and meat\nwere the staples, yet not the only foods. The women dug up a variety of\nedible roots such as clover and fern root, which made a welcome change,\nwhile blackberries, salmon berries, soapberries, and other varieties,\nfrequently dried and pressed for winter consumption, added a sweetening\nto the somewhat monotonous fare. One relish Tom has never learned to\nenjoy\u2014salt. All the older Nootka Indians detest salt in their food.\n\nAs Tom grew up, he became initiated into the chief handicrafts of his\ntribe. He got to be rather skillful at working in wood, both the soft\nred cedar and the hard yew and spir\u00e6a, familiarizing himself with the\nvarious wood-working processes\u2014felling trees with wedges and stone\nhammers, splitting out planks, smoothing with adzes, drilling, handling\nthe curved knife, steaming, and bending by the \u201ckerfing\u201d or notching\nprocess. Even in his youngest years, iron-bladed and iron-pointed tools\nhad almost completely replaced the aboriginal implements of stone and\nshell, but the forms themselves, of the manufactured objects, underwent\nlittle or no modification down to the present day. In the course of\nhis long life Tom has made hundreds of wooden articles of use\u2014boxes\nwith telescoping lids, paddles, bailers, fish clubbers, adze handles,\nladles, bows, arrow shafts, fire drills, latrines, root diggers, fish\nspears, and shafts for sealing and whaling harpoons. He has also\nassisted in making dugout canoes, and has often prepared and put in\nposition the heavy posts and beams of the large quadrangular houses\nthat were still being built in his youth. On the other hand, Tom has\nnever developed much aptitude in the artistic decoration of objects.\nSuch things as paintings on house boards and paddles, or realistic\ncarvings in masks, rattles, ornamental fish clubbers and house posts,\nare rather beyond his power and have had to be made for him, when\nrequired, by others more clever than himself. The one thing that Tom\ngrew to be most proficient in was the preparation of house planks of\ndesired lengths and widths. When he was a young man, he would travel\nabout in canoes from village to village with the stock of planks he\nhad on hand, and trade them for blankets, strings of dentalium shells,\ndried fish, whale oil, and other exchangeable commodities. It was\nthrough trading, rather than through personal success in fishing or\nhunting, that Tom amassed in time a considerable share of wealth, and\nit was through his wealth and the opportunity it gave him to make\nlavish distributions at potlatches or feasts, rather than through\nnobility of blood, that he came to occupy his present honorable\nposition among his tribesmen.\n\nWhile Tom and the other men, when they were not busy \u201cpotlatching\u201d\nor visiting some relative, or taking a run down to Victoria, were\nengaged in fishing and sea mammal hunting and wood-working, the women\nprepared the food, dug for edible roots, gathered clams, and spent\nwhat time they could spare from these and similar tasks in the weaving\nand plaiting of blankets, matting, and baskets. What receptacles were\nnot of wood were of basketry, while mats of various sorts did duty for\ntables, hangings, and carpeting. The materials of these baskets and\nmats, the omnipresent cedar bark and the rush, frayed easily, so that\nthe women were kept constantly busy replenishing the household stock.\nEven now one can hardly enter a Nootka house without seeing one or\nmore of the women twilling mats and baskets with strips of softened\ncedar bark or twining the cedar-bark strands into cordage and bags, or\nthreading a rush mat with the long needles of polished spir\u00e6a. In the\nold days, there was always in the house a great clatter of breaking up\nthe raw, yellow cedar bark with the corrugated bark beaters of bone\nof whale, and of loosening up the hard strips of red cedar bark into\nfibrous masses with the half-moon shredders. The women could work up\nthe bark into almost any degree of fineness; indeed, the cedar-bark\n\u201cwool\u201d that was used to pad the cradles is almost as soft and fluffy in\nfeel as down or cotton batting. When Tom was a boy, the women made only\nplain, unornamented baskets, whether twined or twilled, and ornamented\nthe mats with sober, but effective lines of alder-dyed red and\nmud-dyed black. Since then, however, they have taken to making also\ntrinket baskets and plaques of the peculiar wrapped weave, beautifully\nornamented with realistic and geometrical designs in the black and\nwhite weft of grass. This art came to Tom\u2019s people from the Nitinats\nor Southern Nootka, who in turn owe it to the Makah of Cape Flattery.\nTrade with the whites is the chief incentive in the making of these\nfiner specimens of basketry.\n\nNowadays the Nootka live in small frame houses, a family, in our\nnarrower sense of the word, to a house. It was not so when Tom was\nyoung. The village of Hikwis, in which he was raised, consisted of a\nrow of long plank houses, each constructed on a heavy quadrangular\nframe of posts, which were the trimmed trunks of cedars, and of\ncrossbeams of circular section resting on the posts. The roofing and\nwalls were of cedar planks, running lengthwise of the house. The floor\nwas the bare earth, stamped smooth, and a slightly raised platform ran\nalong the rear and the long sides of the house. On the inner floor one\nor more fires were built, the smoke escaping through openings in the\nroof, provided by merely shoving a roofing plank or two to a side.\nTom early learned not to stand erect in the house any more than he\ncould help. The smoke circulating in the upper reaches of the house,\nparticularly in rainy weather when the smoke-hole rafters were closed,\nwas trying to the eyes, and people found it convenient to sit or crouch\non the floor as much as possible. Some of the houses, like the one\nin which Tom was brought up, had paintings or carvings referring to\nthe crests or legendary escutcheons of the chief of the tribe, tribal\nsubdivision, or house group. In Tom\u2019s house the main escutcheons were\ntwo Thunder-birds, face to face, painted on the outside of the wall\nplanks; a series of round holes cut in the roof, and one in front that\nserved as a door, all representing moons; and paintings of wolves\non the boards that ran below the platforms. The chief of the house\ngroup, together with his immediate family, occupied the rear of the\nhouse; other families of lesser rank, kin to the chief by junior lines\nof descent, occupied various positions along the sides. Slaves were\nalso housed in the long communal dwelling. They were not, like the\nmiddle class, undistinguished relations of the chief\u2019s families, but\nstrangers, captured in war or bartered off like any chattels. The mat\nbeds of the individual families were made on the platforms and were\nscreened off from one another as required.\n\nIn such a house Tom early learned his exact relationship to all his\nkinsmen. He soon learned also the degree of his relationship to the\nneighboring house groups. He applied the terms \u201cbrother\u201d and \u201csister\u201d\nnot only to his immediate brothers and sisters but to his cousins,\nnear and remote, of the same generation. He distinguished, among\nall these remoter brothers and sisters, \u201colder\u201d and \u201cyounger,\u201d not\naccording to their actual ages in relation to his own, but according\nto whether they belonged to lines of descent that were senior or\njunior to his own. Primogeniture, he gradually learned, both of self\nand progenitor, meant superiority in rank and privilege. Hence the\nterms \u201colder\u201d and \u201cyounger,\u201d almost from the beginning, took on a\npowerful secondary tinge of \u201csuperior\u201d and \u201cinferior.\u201d The absurdity\nof calling some little girl cousin, perhaps ten years his junior, his\n\u201colder sister\u201d was for him immensely less evident because of his ever\npresent consciousness of her higher rank. As Tom grew older, he became\ncognizant of an astonishing number of uncles and aunts, grandfathers\nand grandmothers, of endless brothers-in-law\u2014far and near. He was very\nmuch at home in the world. Wherever he turned, he could say, \u201cYounger\nbrother, come here!\u201d or \u201cGrandfather, let me have this.\u201d The personal\nnames of most of his acquaintances were hardly more than tags for\ncalling out at a distance, or at ceremonial gatherings.\n\nAlong with his feeling of personal relationship to individuals there\ngrew up in Tom a consciousness of the existence of tribal subdivisions\nin the village. The Ts\u2019isha\u2019ath tribe, with which he was identified by\nresidence, kinship, and upbringing, proved really to be a cluster of\nvarious smaller tribal units, of which the Ts\u2019isha\u2019ath, that gave their\nname to the whole, were the leading group. The other subdivisions were\noriginally independent tribes that had lost their isolated distinctness\nthrough conquest, weakening in numbers, or friendly removal and union.\nEach of the tribal subdivisions or \u201csepts\u201d had its own stock of\nlegends, its distinctive privileges, its own houses in the village, its\nold village sites and distinctive fishing and hunting waters that were\nstill remembered in detail by its members. While the septs now lived\ntogether as a single tribe, the basis of the sept division was really\na traditional local one. The sept grouping was perhaps most markedly\nbrought to light at ceremonial gatherings. Tom learned in time that\nof all the honored seats recognized at a feast, a certain number of\ncontiguous seats in the rear of the house belonged to representatives\nof the Ts\u2019isha\u2019ath sept, a certain number of others at the right corner\nin the rear to those of another sept, and so on. Thus, the proper\nranking of the septs was ever kept before the eye by the definite\nassignment of seats of higher and lower rank.\n\nBut it must not be supposed that Tom\u2019s childhood and youth were spent\nentirely in work and in the acquirement of social and ceremonial\nknowledge. On the contrary, what interested him at least as much as\nsociology was play. He spun his tops\u2014rather clumsy looking, two-pegged\ntops they were\u2014threw his gaming spears in the spear and grass game\nand in the hoop-rolling game, hit feathered billets with a flat bat,\nthrew beaver teeth dice (though this was chiefly a woman\u2019s game),\nand, when he grew older, took part in the favorite game of \u201clehal,\u201d\nthe almost universal Western American guessing game, played with two\nor four gambling bones to the accompaniment of stirring songs. More\nproperly belonging to the domain of sport was the somewhat dangerous\ngame of canoe-upsetting, in which the contestants upset their canoes\nand quickly righted them at a hand-clap signal. This was an especially\nfavored game of Tom\u2019s. All through his life, up to the time that he\nlost his sight, he was as instinctively familiar with the run of water,\nthe dip and lurch of a canoe, and the turn of a paddle, as with the\nmovements of walking on the land. Indeed, for days on end, at certain\nseasons, his life flowed on insistently to the very rhythm of rising\nand falling wave.\n\nIn at least one class of activities and beliefs Tom constantly\nreceived definite instruction from his father and maternal uncle.\nThis was the world of unseen things, the mysterious domain of magic,\nof supernaturally compelling act and of preventive tabu. There were\nhundreds of things he must be careful to do or to avoid if he would\nhave success in hunting and fishing, if he would be certain that unseen\nbut ever present powers favor him in his pursuits or, at the least,\ndesist from visiting harm upon him. He must be particularly careful not\nto anger the supernatural powers, among whom are to be counted the\nfish and mammals of the sea, by contamination with unclean things\u2014and\nmost obnoxious of all unclean things is the presence or influence of\na menstruating or pregnant woman. For instance, a sealer or hunter of\nsea lions must not drag his canoe down to the water\u2019s edge, but have\nit carried over, as otherwise it might run over offal or some spot\nthrough which a menstruating woman had passed, and thus carry with it\na scent that would frighten away the game. And one must be careful\nabout his speech when hunting on the sea. A curious example of this\nis the fiction by which fur seal hunting is spoken of as gathering\ndriftwood, the fur seal himself being referred to as \u201cthe one that sits\nyonder under a tree.\u201d It would not do to let him know too precisely\nwhat is going on while he is being hunted! The various tabus that Tom\nhas learnt and practised in the course of his life are almost without\nnumber, and his practical success and longevity he ascribes in no small\nmeasure to his religious observance of them all.\n\nThe tabus are largely preventive measures. But Tom learned that there\nare more positive ways of working one\u2019s will in the world of magic. One\nof these is the use of certain amulets on the person, hidden in the\nhouse or woods, or in connection with hunting and fishing implements.\nAs a general good-luck amulet, Tom was fond of wearing in his hat the\nspine of the \u201crat-fish.\u201d When his father was about to die, he called\nTom to him and whispered in his ear an important secret. This was that\nthe chief life-guarding amulet of the family had been a fire drill\nthat was secreted at the bottom of an old box filled with all sorts of\nodds and ends. Its efficacy depended largely on the fact that hardly\nanybody knew of it. In general, secrecy helps tremendously in the\npower of all magic objects and formul\u00e6. An Indian likes to withhold as\nmuch as possible, even from his nearest kin, until economic urgency or\nthe approach of death compels him to transmit the magical knowledge\nto some one that is near and dear to him. Some of his most powerful\namulets Tom would secrete in the canoe or hide under the cherry bark\nwrappings around the hafts of his hunting spears. These amulets were of\nall sorts, but chiefly fragments of supernatural animals\u2014blind snakes,\ncrabs, spiders, or the like\u2014obtained in the woods.\n\nSome men are fortunate in getting power for hunting, fishing, wealth,\nlove, doctoring, witchcraft, or whatever it may be, from supernatural\nbeings or visitations. Amulets are often obtained in connection\nwith these experiences, which regularly take place in mysterious or\nout-of-the-way places\u2014the open sea, a remote island, the summit of\na mountain, the heart of the woods,\u2014and of all mysteries, it is the\nmystery of the dark woods that most fascinates and inspires with dread\nthe coast villager, so much at home on the sandy beach and on open\nsea spaces. The supernatural givers of power are a variegated and\ngrotesque lot\u2014mysterious hands pointing up out of the earth; the scaly,\nknife-tongued, lightning serpent; fairy-like beings; treacherous tree\nnymphs; hobgoblins; ogres; and strange hybrid animals that seem to\nhave stepped out of nightmares. All these denizens of the supernatural\nworld have power to bestow that may not with impunity be refused. This\npower, once obtained, must be carefully husbanded by the observance of\nrequisite tabus.\n\nTom has not had as many supernatural experiences as some men, but he\nhas nevertheless been favored by two or three striking visitations.\nA gnome-like being of the beneficent, wealth-giving class known as\nChimimis, once appeared to him as he was sitting out at dusk in company\nwith two other men. Though these companions had their eyes directed\nat the Chimimis, they could not perceive him. Tom alone, speechless\nwith astonishment, saw him place two spears on the roof of the house,\nwalk off to the neighboring house, and disappear, so it seemed, in a\nlog. When Tom came to himself, he scraped off those parts of the spear\nshafts that the hand of the Chimimis had gripped. He preserved the\nscrapings as an amulet and, in time, became one of the wealthiest men\nof his tribe.\n\nAt another time Tom obtained power from a supernatural being known as\n\u201cFull-eyed,\u201d a diminutive, brownie-like creature. He was lying very\nill in the house, gazing steadfastly at the fire, when the popping up\nof a little cinder caused him to raise his eyes. He saw what seemed to\nbe a child circling the fire in a counter-clockwise direction, which\nis the exact opposite of the Nootka direction in dancing. He knew\nimmediately that it was Full-eyed. The brownie carried a small storage\nbasket on his breast, and picked up from the floor anything he could\nlay his hands on. Though Tom had been unable to sit up straight, this\nsupernatural experience infused him with such sudden strength that\nhe was now easily able to sit up. He believed also that, from this\ntime on, wealth rolled into his house more rapidly than ever. The\nthird of Tom\u2019s supernatural experiences was less striking than the\nother two, but apparently equally potent in its practical results. Tom\nwas reclining on the sleeping platform of the house, in the dead of\nwinter, when he observed a strange thing in one of the storage baskets\non the box that marked the head of his bed. He noticed that a big\nblack bumblebee gave birth to an infant bee. This seemed remarkable\nand evidently significant in view of the fact that the young bees\nordinarily come into being in the summer, only. Because Tom was sole\nwitness to so strange an occurrence, he was more than ever favored in\nthe accumulation of wealth.\n\nSuch extraordinary occurrences as these are clearly in the nature\nof accidents; they cannot be relied upon for the necessary aid in\nthe successful prosecution of life\u2019s work. The standard, and on the\nwhole, the most useful means of securing this necessary aid is by the\nperformance of secret rituals. Nothing came to one who did not undergo\nconsiderable hardship in training. This Tom learned early in life. If\nhe wished to be a successful fisherman, or a hunter of sea mammals, or\na land hunter, he had to retire at certain seasons to secret places\nin the woods, known only to the respective families that frequented\nthem. Here, for days on end, he would bathe, rub himself down with\nhemlock branches until the skin tingled with pain, pray to the Sky\nChief for long life and success, and, most important of all, carry\nout secret, magical performances based on the principle of imitation.\nIf he wished to obtain power in sealing, he would build effigies of\ntwigs representing the seal, the harpooning outfit, and the hunting\ncanoe. The aspirants for success would dramatize the future hunt in its\nmagical setting. He himself performed imitative actions and offered\ncontinuous prayers for success. These periods of preparation tested\nphysical endurance to the utmost; fasting, continuous wakefulness,\nsexual continence, and the observance of all sorts of tabus formed part\nof the training. There was little that one could not learn to do, if\nonly he were hardy enough to undergo the necessary magical preparation.\nSuch young men as were fired with extraordinary ambitions, say unusual\nsuccess in whaling or the acquirement of potent shamanistic power,\nwould train the will and chasten the cries of the flesh for incredibly\nlong periods, their spiritual eye fixed singly on the austerities of\nmagical procedure.\n\nTom never devoted himself to unusual rigors in the acquirement of\nmagical power. He contented himself with the normal routine enjoined\nupon those planning to seal, to spear salmon, to troll, to catch\nhalibut with hooks, to spear cod with the aid of decoys, to accumulate\nwealth, to prepare for ritualistic performances, and to obtain enough\nshamanistic power to withstand the attempts of evil-minded people to\nbewitch him. He never ventured upon the more difficult and exhausting\nprocedures required to make a successful whaler or hunter of sea\nlions. Of the more unusual types of secret ritual, Tom attempted but\none. When past middle age, he was fired with the ambition to learn\nhow to interpret the speech of ravens. The ravens are believed to be\nthe supernatural messengers of the wolves, the most austere and eerie\nof all beings, in the belief of the Nootka. Could Tom have learned to\nunravel the mysteries concealed in the croakings of these supernatural\nbirds, there is little doubt that he would have been able to advance in\nritual power far beyond his fellow tribesmen. Unfortunately he found\nthe quest of this difficult knowledge too exhausting, too baffling. Tom\nacknowledges his failure with a sigh.\n\nThe secret rituals could only be performed at auspicious periods, when\nthe moon was waxing and when the days were becoming progressively\nlong. It was for this reason that Tom was always very careful to keep\ntrack of the passage of time, of the recurrence of the moons. If some\nneighbor, less wise and observant, committed the error of taking one\nmoon for another and of performing magical rituals out of season,\nTom would say nothing. He would smile and keep counsel with himself,\nknowing well that his neighbor\u2019s efforts when the hunting season came\naround, were doomed to failure. While Tom was one of those that never\nwent out of his way to bewitch his neighbors or to spoil their luck,\nhe was naturally not altogether displeased when they put themselves\nat a disadvantage. It was none of his business to correct them, to\nstrengthen the hands of possible rivals.\n\nMedicine men gained their power in a manner perfectly analogous to\nall other quests for magical assistance. The difference was simply\nthat they sought aid of such beings as were known to grant power to\ncure diseases and to counteract witchcraft. The material guardians\nand amulets obtained by medicine men, generally certain birds and\nrarer fish, were locked away in their breasts. When required for\nthe detection of sickness, for the cure of the diseased, or for the\novercoming of an evil opponent, they could be called upon to fly\ninvisibly to the desired goal and to return at will. Tom himself\nobtained a modicum of power from the mallard ducks, but not enough to\nwarrant his considering himself a regular practitioner. He had, also,\na certain inherited, shamanistic power, or rather privilege, that came\nto him from a Nitinat ancestor. This is why at public shamanistic\nperformances which form part of the Ts\u2019ayek cult, Tom\u2019s oldest son has\nthe right to initiate shamanistic novices at a certain point in the\nceremonial procedure, though he himself is not a practising medicine\nman.\n\nMany Nootka are accused of gaining power to bewitch their enemies\nor rivals, whether by the handling of their food, nail parings, and\nbody effluvia, or by the pronouncing of direful spells in connection\nwith the name and effigy of the hated person. Tom never indulged in\nsuch mean spirited pursuits, but he is very sure that many of his\nacquaintances have done so. It is the constant fear of witchcraft that\neven to this day causes the Indians to keep many dogs around the house,\nand to lock their doors securely at night. The barking of the dogs is\nuseful in calling attention to malevolent \u201cpains\u201d or minute disease\nobjects that wander about, particularly at night, while the locking of\ndoors is essential in denying these objects an entrance.\n\nThe great supernatural beings of Nootka belief, such as the Sky Chief,\nthe Thunder-bird, and the Wolves, loomed very large in Tom\u2019s life,\nwhether in prayer or in ritual. Certain Nootka are more deeply\nreligious than others. They are more fervent in their prayers and they\nwork themselves up to a greater ecstasy in the performance of rituals\nthat are sacred to divine powers. In contrast to men of this type, Tom\nhas always been rather sober, not a skeptic by any means, but not an\nemotional enthusiast. His knowledge of religious ceremonials is vast,\nbut the spirit that animates this knowledge is rather one of order, of\nlegal particularity, not of spiritual ecstasy. The practical economical\nworld, the pursuit of gain, has always been more congenial to Tom\u2019s\ntemperament. This does not mean that Tom is a rationalist in matters\nrelating to the unseen world. Only the educated or half-educated\nhalf-breeds are rationalists, and more than one of them has angered Tom\nby his ill-advised attempts to disturb him with skeptical arguments.\nHowever, there has been no change in Tom. He knows, as firmly as he\nknows his own name, that when the rumble of thunder is heard from the\nmountain, it is because the Thunder-bird is leaving his house on the\npeak, flapping his wings heavily, as he makes off for the sea to prey\nupon the whales. He knows also that when those that are not blind\nlike himself tell him that there has been a flash of lightning, it is\nbecause the Thunder-bird has dropped the belt wound about his middle.\nThis belt is the lightning serpent, zig-zagging down to the earth or\ncoiling in a flash around a cedar tree.\n\nAside from the elementary problem of making his living, a Nootka\u2019s\nmain concern is to earn the esteem of his fellow tribesmen by a lavish\ndisplay of wealth. It is not enough for him to accumulate it and to\nlive in private ease. He must, from time to time, invite the other\nfamilies of his tribe, and the neighboring tribes, to public ceremonies\nknown as potlatches, in which one or more of the important privileges\nto which he is entitled are shown and glorified by the distribution\nof property to the guests. The exhibiting of privileges may take\nseveral forms. The most important of them refer to ancestral crests,\nwhich may be shown in a dramatic performance, as a picture on a board,\nor latterly, on canvas, or symbolized in a dance. Ceremonial games\nare another frequent type of exhibitions of privileges at certain\npotlatches. Nearly all privileges have their proper songs, which are\nthemselves jealously guarded privileges, and which are sung on these\noccasions.\n\nThere are two considerations that make the public performance of the\nmore important privileges a matter of the greatest moment. In the\nfirst place, a man must clearly indicate his right to its performance\nby recounting the origin myth that it dramatizes, and by tracing his\npersonal connection with the originator of the privilege. In the second\nplace, he must be careful to distribute at least as much property as\nhas already been distributed in his family, in connection with the\npublic presentation of the privilege. If it is at all possible, he\nwill try to exceed the record, so as to add to the public prestige\nnot only of himself and his immediate family, but of the privilege\nitself. Should he fail in either of these essential respects, he is\nshamed. Hence, an important potlatch is not to be lightly undertaken.\nIt requires much careful thought and preparation, and it necessitates\nthe gathering of enough wealth to pay for all the services rendered\nby singers and other assistants, to present substantial gifts to the\nguests, and to feed the crowd of men, women and children that are\npresent at the ceremony.\n\nA potlatch is not often given as a mere display of wealth. Nearly\nalways it is combined with some definite social or religious function,\nsuch as the giving of a name, the coming to marriageable age of\na daughter, marriage, a mourning ceremony, the Wolf ritual, or a\ndoctoring ceremony. Potlatching in its fundamental sense, in other\nwords the giving away of property to the guests, is an essential of\npractically all ceremonies, big or little, religious or profane. Every\npotlatch involves at least three parties, the giver, the guest or\nguests, and the person in whose honor the potlatch is given. The last\nof these is generally some young member of the family whose prestige\nis thus furthered early in life, but it may be a stranger who has done\nthe giver a service. There are different kinds of gifts. Certain of\nthem are ceremonial grants to which the highest in rank of the tribe\nare entitled, but which they are expected to return with one hundred\nper cent interest at a subsequent potlatch. Another class of gifts,\nwhich feature the most important and picturesque part of the potlatch,\nis made to the highest in rank among the guests. There is no rigid\nrule as to the return of these gifts, but in practice they are nearly\nalways liquidated at a return potlatch, with gifts of an equal, and in\nmany cases greater, value. Finally, towards the end of the potlatch,\nthere is a general distribution of smaller amounts to the crowd. Less\ncareful account is taken of the return of such gifts than of the first\ntwo types. In part, the giving of a potlatch amounts to an investment\nof value, though it is doubtful whether, among the Nootka, the greater\npart of the expenditure incurred at a potlatch ever returned to its\nowner.\n\nA potlatch serves not only a definite social and economic purpose for\nits giver, but affords, as well, an opportunity for minor distributions\nof property, such as public payments for services, on the part of other\nindividuals present. Indeed any announcements of importance, such as\nthe handing over of a privilege or a change in name, would be most\nappropriately made at a potlatch. The assembled tribesmen and guests\nwere, to all intents and purposes, witnesses to such announcements.\n\nTom began to give potlatches on his own account when still quite a\nyoung man. The first one of any importance that he was responsible for,\nwas a potlatch in honor of his niece\u2019s husband. This was a man of low\nbirth, whom Tom had vowed to have nothing to do with. When his niece,\nhowever, gave birth to a child, Tom relented and, in order to wash\naway the stain on his family\u2019s honor, he called together thirty of his\nrelatives, and distributed four guns and a blanket to each. He also\nsang two of his privileged songs, which he then and there transferred\nto the child as its due privilege. This potlatch not only marked a\nreconcilement with his low-born nephew, but gave the little youngster a\nfair start in life in the race for status. The next of Tom\u2019s potlatches\nwas a Wolf ritual, in which he himself performed two of the ceremonial\ndances, those of the Thunder-bird and the Wolf circling about on all\nfours.\n\nSome time after this, Tom resolved to marry a Ts\u2019isha\u2019ath girl named\nWitsah. In spite of the fact that she was a member of his own tribe,\nTom wooed the girl not as a Ts\u2019isha\u2019ath, but as a member of a Nitinat\ntribe, among whom he had kinsmen on his father\u2019s side. As his own\nfather was dead, he had ten of his Nitinat uncles woo the girl on\nhis behalf. The wooing is always an important part of the marriage\npreliminaries, and consists chiefly in the placing of objects,\nsymbolizing one or more of the privileges of the suitor, outside\nthe house of the girl\u2019s family. The suitor himself is not present.\nSometimes the objects are refused, when the suit may be continued until\nan acceptance is gained, though this does not necessarily follow. The\nsuitor privileges deposited by Tom\u2019s representatives consisted of ten\nfires and a carving, representing the lightning serpent. These were\naccepted and returned to Tom\u2019s uncle as an indication of willingness on\nthe part of the bride\u2019s parents to proceed with the marriage ceremony.\nNot long after the return of the privileges, the marriage ceremony was\ncelebrated among the Ts\u2019isha\u2019ath people. The money distributed at that\ntime by Tom and his Nitinat relatives constituted a bridal purchase,\nbut when Tom\u2019s first child was born, the property then distributed was\nreturned to Tom and the Nitinats with interest.\n\nThe greater part of the marriage ceremony consists of the performance\nof ceremonial games, each of which is accompanied by special songs,\nand followed by distributions of property. These games symbolize the\ndifficulty of obtaining the hand of the bride, referring as they do\nto legendary tests that suitors were compelled to undergo in the past,\nbefore they could be admitted by the bride\u2019s father. One of the tests,\nfor instance, might be the lifting of an especially heavy stone, or\nstanding for some time without flinching between two fires. According\nto legendary theory such tests should be endured by the bridegroom\nhimself, but in actual ceremonial practice any one of the bridegroom\u2019s\nparty may be the winner in the contest, and receive the prize from the\nbride\u2019s father or whoever of her people is the proud possessor of that\nparticular marriage-game privilege.\n\nSome time after his marriage Tom gave two potlatches in a single month.\nThe first of these was a puberty potlatch in behalf of a younger sister\nof his. The second was a birth feast or, as the Nootka term it a \u201cnavel\nfeast\u201d for his first child, a boy. About a year later Tom invited the\nUcluelet people, one of the Nootka tribes, to a feast at which many\ndance privileges were performed and much property distributed. By this\ntime Tom was getting to be pretty well known among the tribes of the\nwest coast of Vancouver Island, for his rapidly growing wealth and\nfor his potlatches. It was, therefore, no surprise to him, though it\nproved very gratifying, to have the chief of the Ahousat, one of the\nmost powerful of the northern Nootka tribes, especially invite him to\na potlatch at which he was given four of the chief\u2019s ceremonial songs.\nIn return, Tom gave a potlatch to the Ahousat and the Comox, a tribe\nof alien speech from the east coast of the Island. He distributed four\nhundred blankets to the former, three hundred to the latter.\n\nA year or two after this potlatch, occurred the decisive event in\nTom\u2019s social career. This was the birth of his first daughter. The\nmost magnificent Nootka potlatches are generally given in connection\nwith a daughter\u2019s puberty ceremony. Ever since his marriage, Tom had\nbeen hoping to be able, in the fullness of time, to make a record in\npotlatching among his people, and to show his most valued privileges at\nthe puberty potlatch of a daughter. Now that he was actually blessed by\nthe arrival of a little girl, Tom\u2019s plans took immediate shape. He set\nabout the accumulation of property with more zest than ever, driving\nmany a sharp bargain with the Indians and whites, and he revolved\nfrequently in his mind what tribes he was to invite, and what dramatic\ndisplays, dances and songs he was to use at the great ceremony. His\nfirst concern was to build a large house of native construction that\nthe guests were to enter when invited to the Ts\u2019isha\u2019ath people.\nAppropriate timbers for posts and beams are not easy to find,\nespecially since the white man\u2019s sawmill has made its appearance in the\ncountry. Hence, Tom was indefatigable in making inquiries of various\npersons and keeping his eye out for sufficiently large and conveniently\nlocated cedars. As he found such trees, he had them felled, hauled up\nto the Ts\u2019isha\u2019ath village along the Somass river, and put in place as\nopportunity presented itself. The actual construction of the house was\nthus spread over a period of some ten or fifteen years.\n\nAt one time an unfortunate casualty occurred. One of the heavy\ncrossbeams fell to the ground, fortunately without injuring any one,\nbut the event was considered an ill omen. Nevertheless, Tom did\nthe best he could to ward off the evil influence by having a dance\nperformed in honor of the spirit of the beam. Special songs that he\npossessed for this purpose were sung at the time.\n\nTom hoped that he could have the house completed before his daughter\narrived at maturity. He was doomed to disappointment. His house still\nlacked one of the crossbeams and all the lighter wood-work, when his\nwife announced to him one morning that their daughter had come of age,\nwas menstruating, in other words, for the first time. There was nothing\nfor it but to have the puberty ceremony performed at once, reserving\nthe main puberty potlatch for a few months later. Tom painted his face\nred and invited the neighboring Hopach\u2019as\u2019ath tribe to the puberty\nceremony, the \u201ctorches standing on the ground,\u201d as it is termed.\n\nThis ceremony marks the beginning of the period of seclusion of the\ngirl. She is painted and ornamented for the occasion, generally with\nlegendary insignia belonging to the family, is made to stand in front\nof two long boards painted with representations of Thunder-birds and\nwhales, and has water thrown four times at her feet. Four or ten poles,\nthe so-called \u201ctorches,\u201d are lighted and later distributed with gifts\nto those entitled to receive them. Songs of various types are sung,\nparticularly satirical songs twitting the opposite sex. Ceremonial\ngames, some of them anticipating later marriage games, are also\nperformed and prizes are distributed. After a general distribution of\ngoods, the guests depart, leaving the girl to fast for four days and\nto enter upon a secluded period of various tabus behind the painted\nboards in the rear of the house.\n\nAfter the puberty ceremony, Tom proceeded to Victoria to lay in his\nstore of supplies for the impending potlatch. He bought an enormous\nnumber of boxes of biscuits, and to this day nothing pleases him\nmore than to tell of how he compelled the white merchant to give him\na special rate on the unusual order. As soon as the provisions were\nsafely deposited at his village, Tom invited twelve tribes to his\npotlatch. To the nearer tribes he sent messengers; the more remote\ntribes of the east coast he invited in person. When the appointed day\narrived, the Ts\u2019isha\u2019ath found that they had on their hands by far the\nlargest number of guests that had ever visited the tribe at a single\ntime. It was the proudest moment of Tom\u2019s life. Everything went well.\nThere was enough food for all, the distributions of property were\ngenerous, and all the privileges were interestingly presented. There\nwere a considerable number of these privileges performed, one or two\nof them being fairly elaborate dramatic representations that were new\neven to the most northern Nootka tribes, great potlatchers though they\nare. Tom\u2019s hereditary claim to the performances, the dances and the\nsongs, was carefully explained by the ceremonial speaker. The ancestral\nlegends were in every case recounted at length. Tom\u2019s title to the\nspecial crests of the whale and the Thunder-bird was duly set forth.\nThe explanation of the carved house posts took the speaker back to the\ncreation of the first Ts\u2019isha\u2019ath man from the thigh of a woman. Due\naccount, as usual in these origin legends, was taken of the flood. The\npotlatch securely established Tom\u2019s position among the Indians of the\nIsland. To this day it is often referred to by the Ts\u2019isha\u2019ath and\ntheir neighbors. Tom\u2019s family was \u201cput high\u201d as never before. More\nthan once, Tom\u2019s grandson has found himself, when visiting comparative\nstrangers, say among the East Coast tribes, received with open arms\nand honored with gifts of great value, all on the strength of his\ngrandfather\u2019s potlatch.\n\nTom\u2019s potlatching career did not end here. Some time later he\ninvited the Kyuquot, a Nootka tribe adjoining the Kwakiutl. At this\npotlatch he gave a dramatic representation of a number of privileges,\nincluding two Thunder-birds, a spouting whale, the supernatural\nquartz-beings known as He\u2019na, and a supernatural bird known as Mihtach,\na sort of mallard duck that haunts the top of the mountain called\n\u201cTwo-bladders-on-its-summit.\u201d The Heshkwiat tribe of Nootka was the\nnext to be invited to a potlatch. A year or two after this, the second\ngreatest ceremonial event in Tom\u2019s career took place, in the form\nof his second Wolf ritual or Tlokwana. The ritual was given for the\nspecial benefit of his oldest son Douglas and his newly married wife.\nThese were the chief initiates in the ritual. Curiously enough, Tom\u2019s\nlittle grandson, as yet unborn, was also initiated. This is an extreme\ninstance of the tendency of the Nootka Indians to heap honors upon\ntheir offspring at the earliest possible opportunity.\n\nThe Wolf ritual is the most awesome, the most fascinating and\nfear-inspiring ceremony that the Nootka possess. Whatever religious\nexaltation or frenzy they are capable of, finds expression in this\nelaborate ritual. The performance, which generally lasts eight days,\npreferably in the winter, is dominated throughout by the spirit of\nthe wolves who are believed to be hovering near at the outskirts of\nthe village. The more important parts of the ceremonial are open to\nonly such members of the tribe as have been initiated. Many tabus must\nbe observed by those participating, and an attitude of high-minded\nseriousness must be maintained throughout. In the old days, frivolity\nduring the more strictly religious parts of the ritual, aside of course\nfrom the ceremonial buffoonery, was very severely punished by the\nmarshaling attendants. Spearing to death on the spot was the penalty\nfor infraction of the most sacred tabus.\n\nThe ritual begins with the songs and other ceremonial activities of an\nordinary potlatch. Rumors are set going of the appearance of wolves in\nthe neighborhood of the village. These rumors, accentuated by tales\nof narrow escapes and bloody casualties, act powerfully upon the\nimagination of the children, who are soon reduced to a state of panic.\nAll of a sudden the lights are extinguished, and the four \u201cwolves\u201d\nbreak through the side of the house. In the confusion that ensues\nthey make off with the youngsters that are to be initiated. From this\nmoment, begins the ritual proper. A certain number of the tribe have\nthe hereditary privilege to \u201cplay wolf,\u201d that is, to act as wolves\nduring certain parts of the ritual beyond the confines of the village,\nto make off with the novices, and keep these as supposed prisoners in\nthe woods. For a number of days, there are supposed to be unsuccessful\nattempts to take back the captured novices, but the wolves remain\nobdurate until certain songs are sung, when the novices are brought\nout in view of the people and the series of attacks finally succeeds\nin routing the wolves. The novices are supposed to be frenzied by the\nspirits of various supernatural beings that possess them. They must be\nbrought back by force. Those privileged to do so lasso them, and, to\nthe accompaniment of sacred songs, the struggling novices are conducted\nto the potlatch house, whistling furiously all the while. The hubbub of\nmingled whistling, drumming and simultaneous singing of many distinct\nritual songs, continues for the greater part of the night. The din is\nindescribable. During the following day is performed the most sacred\nepisode in the ritual. The whistling spirits that possess the novices\nmust be exorcised by means of sacred dances and songs. A purification\nceremony of bathing in the river or sea follows. The remainder of the\nritual consists of the performance of a number of special dances, each\nof which is appropriate to the particular supernatural being that is\nsupposed to have possessed one of the initiates. There are many of\nthese dances, varying greatly in their prestige as privileges, and in\ntheir character of religious frenzy. Probably the most austere of the\ndances is that of the supernatural wolf, who crawls about in reckless\npursuit of destruction and has to be restrained with great difficulty\nby a number of attendants. Other dances represent various types of\nwoodsy creatures or ogres. Many of them are pantomimic representations\nof animals, while human activities of various kinds are represented in\nstill others.\n\nWith this Wolf ritual Tom\u2019s ceremonial activities gradually lessened.\nHe continued to take an active interest in whatever potlatches were\ngiven by his family, and he often helped with his advice and active\nco\u00f6peration in the singing of songs and the delivering of ceremonial\naddresses, particularly of the formal speeches of thanks. Now that he\nhad done his share in establishing the glory of his family, Tom sat\nback and allowed his eldest son to take the initiative, at least in\ntheory, in all ceremonies affecting their standing in the tribe.\n\nIt is long since Tom has been able to do useful work. He is entirely\ndependent on his oldest son\u2019s family, with whom he lives, but they do\nnot feel his presence to be a burden. For one thing, he is uniformly\ngood-natured, very talkative about his own past and in judging his\nneighbors, and always ready to help with his advice in matters of\nimportance, whether it be the preparations for a potlatch or some\ncontested sealing claim. But back of the garrulous, shabby Tom of the\npresent, looms up the Tom of the great potlatches of former days. It is\nto this Tom that his children and grandchildren almost entirely owe the\nhigh standing that they maintain among their people.\n\nWhen Tom dies he will be put in a coffin and buried in the ground. This\nwas not the old Nootka custom. The more important families had caves in\nwhich their deceased members were put away; others were laid in burial\nboxes or rush mats which were then put up in trees back of the village.\nNear the place of the burial there would be put up a grave post,\nconstructed of roof rafters of the house, on which would be painted one\nof the crests of the deceased.\n\nThough the old burial customs are no longer followed, some of the\nbeliefs and practices attending death have not yet died out. Thus, the\nimmediate personal effects of the deceased, as well as considerable\nadditional property, are always destroyed. In the old days the whole\nhouse might be burned down, and tales are told of how the mourning\nsurvivors would move off to another spot to build them a new house.\nIn all likelihood there will be performed immediately after Tom\u2019s\ndeath a ceremony intended to comfort the family of the deceased and to\ninduce Tom\u2019s spirit to leave the house and its vicinity. Tom\u2019s soul\nwill have left his body in the shape of a tiny shadow-like double of\nhimself, through the crown of his head, to assume eventually the form\nof a full-fledged ghost. It is safe to assume that the tabu of the\ndead person\u2019s name will be carefully observed. Not only will Tom\u2019s\nname not be mentioned by his tribesmen for a stated period, but all\nwords that involve the main element of his name will be carefully\navoided. This element denotes the idea of \u201cdistant.\u201d People will have\nto get along as best they can without it, whether by beating about the\nbush, by stretching the meaning of some other element so as to enable\nit to take its place, or, if need be, by borrowing the corresponding\nelement, provided it be of different sound, from some other dialect.\nWailing sounds will be heard in the village for some time after Tom\u2019s\ndeath, and it is very likely that at a mourning potlatch a number of\nprivileges belonging to the family, say four songs, will be thrown\naway. Such privileges are tabued during the mourning period. At the\nend of the mourning period, which may be anything from a year to ten,\nanother potlatch is given by one of the family and the tabus are\nlifted. When that time arrives Tom\u2019s name will have passed into native\nhistory. The name Sayach\u2019apis, \u201cStands-up-high-over-all,\u201d will then be\nfreely referred to with pride or with envy.\n\n EDWARD SAPIR\n\n\n\n\n Windigo, a Chipewyan Story\n\n\n I\n\nBehind the Hudson\u2019s Bay Company\u2019s post at Fort Hearne, they were\nwrestling for wives. Forgotten were the words of Catholic priests\non the sanctity of marriage, forgotten the precepts of Episcopal\nmissionaries. In the twinkling of an eye those high-flown, newfangled\nnotions had been swept aside by the deep rooted usage of ancient days.\nThe Indians had been peaceably playing at \u201cButton, button, who has the\nbutton?\u201d with half the spectators staking shirts and blankets on the\nissue of the game. The real fun started when drunken Ramsay MacCrae\nreeled into the crowd and hugged Blanche Lecouvreur. Her husband sent\nhim staggering to the ground, but the toper rose and, thrusting his\nfingers into Lecouvreur\u2019s face, challenged him to an old-time combat\nfor his spouse.\n\nThere was no more guessing game after that, there was genuine sport.\nRamsay was laid low, but he had set the example and another young\nswashbuckler fell foul of Casimir; and so it went on. There was\nnothing riotous about the affair, it was as nicely regulated as a\nprize fight. There was never more than one contest at a time for no\none would miss part of the spectacle by engaging in a side show of\nhis own. The wrestlers pulled each other about by the hair and ears,\nafter the approved Athabaskan fashion before attempting other holds.\nWhat amusement when Angus had thrown the gauntlet to little Gordon and\nwas on the point of carrying off buxom Peggy by default! But there was\nstill more laughter when the crafty wag of the camp, supposed to be\ncowering in a hiding-place, popped out of his tent, his skull cropped,\nears and body glistening with grease, and, seizing his handicapped\nadversary by his long locks, dragged him to the ground. Cries of\nencouragement and admiration filled the air. One wagered his gun on a\nfriend\u2019s victory, another staked his net or tent. The women fought for,\nlooked on stolidly while the battle was waging, but when Ramsay had\nfallen, Blanche heaved a sigh of relief, and Peggy could not suppress\na sneer at her would-be captor. Others were hauled away whimpering,\nbut with Marie every one knew that she was wailing only to satisfy the\nproprieties, for she was well rid of her brute of a husband who had\nnearly beaten her to death after his last journey.\n\nBut the climax came when big Douglas thrust his paw in Pierre\nVilleneuve\u2019s face. To be sure, Louise was as comely as any young matron\nin or near the settlement, yet until now the bullies had refrained\nfrom challenging her husband. Every one respected her for her virtue\nand her kindness; and every one, too, was fond of Pierre. He was such\na harmless, easy-going, good-natured chap, so handy with packstrap\nand toboggan, a prime companion after a two days\u2019 trip without food,\nkeeping up his blithe old ditty about \u201c_ma belle patrie_\u201d or warbling\nsome native melody, when every one else was ready to sink down from\nexhaustion. But what was all that to crazy Douglas when he was in drink\nand lusting for a woman? He had the advantage of four inches in height,\nand of at least two stone in weight,\u2014good enough reason for trying for\na prize. Still, Pierre was no mean antagonist with his sinewy, agile\nframe and his widely famed strength of grip. Nor was it long before\nDouglas discovered that he had caught a tartar. Twice he was on the\npoint of scoring, only to have Pierre wriggle unhurt from his grasp.\nAt last a cry of anguish from Louise as the inevitable was about to\nhappen. Douglas had lifted her husband and was about to hurl him to the\nground. But then things happened quickly, no one knew how, and Douglas\nlay stretched out on the ground panting. He limped off with a sprained\nankle, amidst the mocking and jubilations of Pierre\u2019s friends, while\neven his backers had sportsmanship enough to congratulate the conqueror.\n\nThen through the laughing, shouting, gesticulating crowd a Titanic\nfigure elbowed his way. In the midst of the din and excitement the\nstrange half-breed\u2019s approach had passed unnoticed. He had arrived only\nyesterday, with a letter of credit from the Company of Gentlemen and\nAdventurers\u2019 Trading into Hudson\u2019s Bay. His name was George MacDonald;\nbeyond that nothing was known about him. What a frame was his! Beside\nit, huge Douglas looked puny. Pierre seemed a mere babe. MacDonald was\nnot a man of many words. He strode towards Louise, lightly touched\nher arm and said, \u201cI want you.\u201d She shrank back shrieking, and Pierre\nrushed at the giant in a blind fury, only to be firmly grasped and\ngently deposited on the ground. Once more he leaped at his conqueror\nbut was caught in a vise-like grip and laid low again, raging and\nimpotent. In his madness he unsheathed his knife, but now Casimir and\nGordon pinioned his arms and the crowd shouted, \u201cPeace, peace! The\nstranger has won fairly!\u201d\n\nMacDonald stood there calm and supercilious. \u201cI have won,\u201d he said to\nLouise, \u201ccome.\u201d Without looking back he walked towards his tent, and\nthe woman followed sobbing. That was the last wrestling bout that day.\n\n\n II\n\nMacDonald stayed at Fort Hearne and built himself a cabin at the other\nend of the post. He went off for a few days and returned with a retinue\nof Slaveys. Then he began trading against the Company itself. He had a\nway of dealing with the Indians that no other man had. He paid less,\nrather than more, for their furs, and disdained to coddle them with\ngifts and favors. Yet, when the peltry hunters caught a silver fox or\nsome other valuable fur, the prize went to the gruff giant\u2019s shack\nrather than to the Company\u2019s warehouse. There was no competing with\nhim. One factor was sent to relieve another, but without avail. At last\nthe Commissioner himself braved the journey to the Fort, bought out\nMacDonald, and set him up as head of the post.\n\nNow, things began to hum at Fort Hearne. Never had such a factor been\nseen as MacDonald. He spoke Dogrib and Chipewyan and Cree and French\nas well as his father\u2019s Orkney Island brogue: there was no hunter for\nhundreds of miles with whom he could not converse in his own tongue.\nHe was on his feet from morning until night and kept every one else on\nthe go. As a freetrader he had beaten the Company at its own game. With\nthe Company\u2019s prestige behind him he allowed no freetrader to raise\nhis head. By fair means none could compete, and who dared try force or\ntrickery against MacDonald? In the long winter evenings, when boresome\nhours of sloth were whiled away with story telling, strange tales began\nto circulate about the big factor. Since little or nothing was known of\nhis early life, imagination ran riot. Angus knew that the factor could\ntransform himself into a wolf, and hunt deer thus disguised. Casimir\npictured him in his youth, pulling cargo-laden scows, single-handed,\nthat were wont to be towed by a half-dozen strapping Indians. Jean\nhad it from an aunt that MacDonald had once swum a river in pursuit\nof a bear, had stabbed it with a knife and carried the carcass twenty\nmiles to camp. Some said he was bulletproof, and others with a tincture\nof Christian lore spoke of his pact with the devil. He grew into the\ncentral figure of a new mythology.\n\nThe hero himself moved across his stage with the saturnine grandeur\nof a Norse god. He never boasted, never faltered, never failed. He\nran unscathed through rapids never attempted since two parties of\ncanoemen had been capsized and drowned. He walked toward the cocked gun\nof a drink-crazed competitor, and calmly knocked it out of his hand.\nMacDonald did not know what it was to be afraid.\n\nBetween the trader and Pierre a curious relationship developed. The\nfactor of course used men as pawns, and knew a good lieutenant when he\nsaw one. But for Pierre he showed more consideration than was due to\neven the best of assistants. Perhaps it was because Louise prompted\nkindness to her former husband; perhaps there was some spontaneous\nsentimentalism for a man he had wronged. However that might be, Pierre\nbecame a sort of attendant-in-ordinary on MacDonald, his companion on\ntrips of inspection and the rarer jaunts of pleasure.\n\nFor Pierre, his sullen, imperious master became the one and only\nsubject of interest. He studied his habits and gestures and speech. He\nhad set out eager to detect weakness, but his prying skepticism had\nchanged to grudging admiration, and later to despondent amazement. He\nhad begun by hating his wife\u2019s abductor, and he came to hate with an\never intenser hatred the man who was without peer. It was not merely\nthe giant\u2019s strength or dauntless courage, it was the way he had with\nmen. How he ordered about Casimir or Angus or Ramsay! A word was enough\nto quell rebellion. Again and again, in the beginning, Pierre had\nresolved to bid him defiance, yet when the moment came his resolution\nhad failed. Yes, people liked Pierre and after a fashion they respected\nhim, but that was a different thing. It was not in him to issue\ncommands to others. If he ever mustered courage to do so, they would\nthink he was putting on airs and laugh in his face, so that he would\nslink off in shame and humiliation. Why were men born so different?\nWhy was he not born superior to the rest, like MacDonald? Why born at\nall only to be lorded over by another? Thus he brooded and brooded for\nhours at night, losing all hope and joy in life.\n\nThen one day, unexpectedly, his despair was lifted. He had been on a\nfruitless hunting trip with the factor, and the two were approaching\nthe post at the close of a rainy day. They were walking through a\ndense wood. Both were drenched to the skin, and Pierre was nearly\nexhausted. Suddenly, odd fancies crossed his mind. Weird tales of\nchildhood, retold round many a winter camp fire, surged in memory and\nwould not down. At dark, the forest was peopled with mysterious beings.\nThe Windigo were about then\u2014cadaverous shapes with glaring eyes, and\nfeeders on human flesh. They lurked in the shadows of trees, and rose\nupon wayfarers from the depths of the swamps. What chance of escape\nwhen they had once sighted a victim? Rattling their skeletons, they\nflitted after him faster than a hawk can fly, tore him apart like a\nrabbit or swallowed him whole. The very wood Pierre was now traversing\nhad been once entered by a trapper who was never seen again. Pierre\nbegan to feel oppressed by a sense of uncanniness. He peered cautiously\ninto the gathering darkness, then glanced eagerly behind him. He was\nglad MacDonald was near. The great man could protect him if any one\ncould. Pierre felt reassured, yet it was best to take no chances, so he\nhurried on.\n\nOf a sudden there was a snapping of boughs, and he heard his name\ncalled as if in mockery as a long form swished through the wood, and\na grim face was gaping at him not ten feet away. He turned in horror\nand fled towards MacDonald, crying, \u201cWindigo! Windigo!\u201d as he pointed\nat a spot ahead. But MacDonald did not smite the ogre with one of his\nhuge fists, or seek to grapple with it as he was said to have once\nwrestled with a bear. His face turned an ashen hue, his mighty body\nwas quivering like an aspen. That was the half-breed of it. Then with\na bound he ran through the wood as fast as his legs would carry him,\ndown to the river bank and along the rocky water front, till at length\nhe caught sight of the big warehouse. There he paused panting, with the\ncold perspiration on his forehead. Pierre had followed as swiftly as he\ncould, and at last overtook his master. Both were trembling from head\nto foot and MacDonald kept muttering, \u201cWindigo! Windigo!\u201d Thus they\nwalked toward the Fort. And Pierre felt happier than he had ever been\nsince that wrestling bout when he had lost Louise: for all his way,\nMacDonald was afraid of the Windigo!\n\n\n III\n\nCasimir was dangerously ill. His appetite was gone and his limbs seemed\nparalyzed. There came rumors that a famous Cree doctor was visiting the\nChipewyan of a nearby settlement, and Pierre was dispatched to lure him\nto Fort Hearne with promise of fabulous fees. The Cree consented. He\nwas a garrulous old man and on their joint trip Pierre tried to sound\nhim about his powers, but on that subject he was mum. \u201cYou will see,\u201d\nhe answered, and Pierre was obliged to wait.\n\nWhen they arrived at the Fort, the medicine man erected a little booth\nand had himself thrust in, with his hands and feet firmly tied. He\nsang his incantations and the lodge began to shake. It seemed filled\nwith strange beings, for unearthly sounds were heard, followed by a\ndeath-like silence. Opening the lodge they saw the conjuror unbound,\nand as if awakening from a trance. He proclaimed that the spirits had\nvisited him and declared that Casimir would recover. Next, the patient\nhimself was stretched out in the booth and the doctor entered it,\nstripped stark naked. He knelt and sang and blew at Casimir\u2019s heart,\nsucked at his breasts, and talked as if with his guardian spirits.\nThen he swallowed a stick three feet long, and retched it up again,\nannouncing that all was well. In sooth, Casimir was carried from the\ntent clamoring for food, and in a week he was able to walk about. Then\nhis kin showered gifts on the great magician, and all the other Indians\nsought to curry favor with him by every manner of attention.\n\nPierre was less ostentatious than others in his entertainment of\nthe old sage, but sometimes when the rest were fast asleep he would\nsteal to the conjuror\u2019s tent with liquor and tobacco, to ply him with\nquestions about the magic art. And after a while his host\u2019s reticence\nwaned. He even confessed to having bewitched a rival by drawing his\nimage on the ground with an arrow pointed at his heart. Yet when Pierre\nhinted that he, too, had a strong enemy on whom he would fain cast\na spell, the old fox hedged and said that sorcery was a dangerous\nbusiness. Some men had power of their own, and could hurl the evil\ncharm back with redoubled force against the sorcerer. Besides, he\nhimself was old and wanted to live his few years in peace.\n\nWhen Pierre found it hopeless to make the Cree bewitch his master, he\nchanged his tactics. What was the truth about the Windigo? He had heard\nhis mother tell about them, but did they really exist? That proved a\nless delicate subject for the medicine man. He himself had never seen\na Windigo, but he knew all about them from another conjuror. Yes, the\nWindigo were dangerous spirits and fearfully strong. How strong? Surely\nno stronger than the factor? Why, they would rend him asunder like a\ndry twig. They swooped down upon men to tear out their vitals, and\nplayed ball with their skulls. There was a way to gain their favor,\nbut it was very hard. If one fasted for three or four days in a wood\nthey haunted, and freely offered them of one\u2019s flesh, they were pleased\nand might adopt him as their child. True, they were likely to swallow\nthe sufferer whole, but when they spewed him out he was like one of\nthemselves ever after, fierce and cannibalistic. The other Indians\nhad better keep a wide berth of such as these, or placate them by\ngifts lest they break loose and destroy every one in sight. And now\nPierre himself recalled a gaunt man who had terrorized the camp of his\nchildhood, and whose bare glance had thrown timid folk into convulsions.\n\nPierre slipped home and sat musing for a long time. Should he tempt the\nspirits of the woods? Would they answer his prayer? What if they ate\nhim before he could make his offering? Yet, why should he live? He had\nlost Louise; and her captor was master of Fort Hearne. Life mattered\nnot, unless the Windigo chose to bless him.\n\nThe next day he entered the wood he had traversed with MacDonald that\nmemorable evening. He ate not a morsel of food all day, and continued\nhis fast next day, praying to the Windigo. At last he mustered up\ncourage, gashed his chest with a big knife, and offered his body to\nthe spirits. Then he fell down in a dead swoon. When he woke up, there\nwas joy in his heart for all his pain. A Windigo had really come and\nblessed him! It had seized him as a boy seizes a moth, but when it saw\nthe blood streaming from his breast it took pity on him, swallowed and\ndisgorged him. Next spring he was to wreak vengeance as a Windigo. He\nmust merely bide his time.\n\nAs he walked homeward, he exulted in his new powers. Why not try them\nfor a joke? He, too, would show people his strength now. The first man\nhe encountered he would terrify into fits. Yonder was Angus, mending\na net in front of his tent. He would do as well as the next. Pierre\nquickly stepped up to him, and assuming a ferocious grimace, he cried,\n\u201cI am Windigo! I have come to eat you!\u201d\n\nBut Angus burst into a guffaw, \u201cYou a Windigo! You, who never hurt a\nfly! You are crazy. You\u2019ve been drinking. Go home and sleep it off!\u201d\nPierre slunk home like a whipped cur, and threw himself on his bed\ncrestfallen and humiliated. The Windigo had blessed him, yet he could\nnot be Windigo. It was not in him. Even the Windigo could help only men\nlike MacDonald. Thus he lay in impotent grief till exhaustion brought\nsleep. Then the Windigo loomed in sight and whispered, \u201cIn the spring,\nfool! I said, in the spring!\u201d\n\n\n IV\n\nSpring came, and word reached Fort Hearne that the factor was to meet\na fleet of scows at Fort Batise. That was a post he had never visited,\nso he summoned Pierre to make ready for the trip as his guide. They\nlaid in an ample stock of provisions, for it was a long journey and\nthere might be a protracted wait for the boats at their destination:\nHudson\u2019s Bay Company transports do not run on schedule time. One\nfine morning the two men set out in a canoe, struggling up-stream\nagainst the powerful current. Now and then they landed to shoot some\npartridges, and one day MacDonald killed a moose. Otherwise there was\nlittle to relieve the monotony of the journey. From morning till night,\nnot a soul crossed their path. With MacDonald lapsing into his wonted\nsilence, hours would pass without a sound but the splashing of the\npaddles and the quaint, plaintive notes of Pierre\u2019s Red River melodies.\nOnce in a while an abandoned site, with tent poles standing, suggested\nformer human occupation. Every night the two men camped near the water\nedge, played a game or two of cribbage, and then stretched out to rest\ntill four or five o\u2019clock the next morning. And in the night Pierre\nwould hear strange sounds, and as they grew nearer they turned into\nwords: \u201cIn the spring! In the spring!\u201d\n\nWhen they reached Fort Batise, the post was all but deserted. The\nCompany\u2019s trader had gone on a hunting trip and the dozen Indians in\nhis charge were scattered though the woods. A single half-witted breed\nwas holding down the Fort, and pointed out the uninhabited island,\nalready known to Pierre, where the scows from time immemorial had been\nunloading the cargoes destined for Northern posts. The factor and\nPierre paddled across and threw their bedding into a long, tumble-down\nshack reserved for the Company\u2019s servants. It was still somewhat too\nearly for retiring, so MacDonald suggested a walk, and they set out for\na stroll through the dense wood.\n\nPierre had been unusually silent that evening, as though by contagion\nwith the factor\u2019s taciturnity. Now, of a sudden, his tongue was\nloosened. Did MacDonald know why the post had never been transferred\nto the island for all its fine landing place? The Indians would not\nlive there, they never came there alone, for the spot was haunted, they\nsaid. It was called Simon\u2019s island. There was a long story about it, a\nfoolish tale, but one the Indians told about their camp fires as though\nit were true. Of course Simon had really lived; Pierre remembered him\nwell from the days of his boyhood\u2014a ne\u2019er-do-well, not a bad sort, but\none always in bad luck. First, none of the girls would have him, then\nhe got married and his wife died in childbirth. He would get a job\ntowing a boat, stumble over a windfall on his first trip, and break his\nleg. It was always that way with poor Simon. When he gave up tracking,\nhe became a pelt hunter. For years he roamed over the country and eked\nout a miserable livelihood. At last he had a stroke of luck and caught\na silver fox. Now he thought he should live in plenty. But while on\nhis way to the nearest trader\u2019s, he fell in with another trapper. They\nslept side by side, and in the morning the stranger and the silver fox\nwere both gone. High and low, Simon looked for them, but in vain. Then\nhe turned crazy in his grief and became a Windigo. Whomever he chanced\nupon, men or women, he killed and ate. The Indians made up parties to\nhunt him like a wild beast. He laughed at them; he was Windigo. They\ncould never catch him. Then some time after, those who had hunted him\nwere found murdered in their tents, and people ceased pursuing him.\nNow they tried to buy him off. As soon as he had been sighted near\na camp, heaps of meat were piled up outside the settlement, and the\nhandsomest clothing was laid beside the food. Then he would leave the\ncamp alone\u2014till some fine day the fancy seized him once more, and he\nstole into a camp to gratify his craving. That was long ago, and Simon\nhad died on this very island, where he lay buried. Yet the natives\nbelieved that his ghost still walked as a Windigo from time to time,\nthough the Company said it was all nonsense and put up its shack there,\nin defiance of Indian tales. Of course the Company knew best.\n\nMacDonald had been listening with growing attention, and throughout the\ntale Pierre\u2019s gaze had been riveted on his features. Had not a faint\ntremor passed down his spine when he first heard the word \u201cWindigo\u201d?\nHad he not caught his breath when he learned of the ghost\u2019s reported\nwanderings? And why this sudden turning on his heels at the close of\nthe story? Pierre was whistling a tune on the return walk, and the\nfactor roared at him to keep still. He was plainly nervous; the tale\nhad done its work.\n\nArrived at the cabin, MacDonald picked up his bedding and muttered,\n\u201cPerhaps we had better go across to the post, we won\u2019t be able to\nsleep here for mosquitoes.\u201d He did not expect Pierre to have faith in\nhis pretext; neither did he expect to be openly flouted by his meek\ncompanion. But Pierre, looking him up and down, asked drily, \u201cAfraid of\nSimon\u2019s ghost?\u201d \u201cAfraid of nothing!\u201d thundered MacDonald, hurling his\nblankets on the floor and glowering at his mate. He began to pace the\nroom with giant strides. There was no doubt of it, he was troubled. He\nwould not play cribbage. He was too tired, he said. MacDonald, who had\nnever been tired before! So, soon both men sprawled out on the floor\ncovered with their four-point blankets. But neither fell asleep.\n\nAfter a while MacDonald rose softly, and tiptoed toward the door.\nPerhaps he could make his way to the bank unnoticed, and put the\nriver between Simon\u2019s ghost and himself. But Pierre was wide awake\nand staring at him in the gloaming of a Northern night. \u201cI was just\nstretching a bit,\u201d the big man offered in explanation, and Pierre did\nnot even deign to tell him he lied. He sat up against the door now, and\nwas eyeing the factor steadily, scornfully. The big man was nonplussed.\nWhat was Pierre\u2019s game? How could he be so calm in a haunted spot? A\nmad hatred against him suddenly rose in MacDonald\u2019s breast. He would\nbrain this puny dolt with a blow of his fist, and say he had been\ndrowned in the rapids. Then he would escape to the post and no soul\nwould know of his weakness. Still Pierre sat looking at him with his\ngun across his knees. MacDonald cared little for the gun. There was at\nleast a chance for him to take Pierre by surprise, and wrest the weapon\nfrom his grasp, and when had MacDonald been afraid to take chances? But\nthere was something in Pierre\u2019s gaze that cowed and subdued him. So he\nmerely sat up facing Pierre and the door, with neither uttering a word.\n\nAs the minutes passed, strange noises became audible. The floor\nwas creaking and the door began to rattle, and over on the other\nbank the dogs were barking as dogs never barked before. There was a\nsomething\u2014was it a bat?\u2014that kept flitting against the roof, and on\nthe door came an unaccountable rhythmic tapping. The factor fidgeted\nand peered in this direction and that, while Pierre sat now six feet\naway, immobile and pitiless. Then there was a different sound. A slow,\nheavy tread was coming up from the water edge. It was approaching the\nshack from the rear, passed round and got to the door. MacDonald sprang\nto his feet, but the steps went on, and he sank on the floor relieved\nthough faint. But what was that? The steps were coming closer again:\nthe wanderer was circling the shack a second time. Yet it seemed he\nhad no intention of coming in, for, without halting at the door, the\nmysterious being started on its third round. But if it cared not to\nenter, neither was its purpose to leave the inmates in peace, for a\nfourth circuit began.\n\nNow Pierre burst forth: \u201cIt is Simon! He is walking round four times,\nthen he will stop and pay you a visit.\u201d MacDonald leaped up\u2014a beast\nat bay, afraid to stay, afraid to go out now, straining to hear the\nweird footfalls first passing away then returning, ever more and more\ndistinct. And now there was a dead halt at the door. Would it fly open\nand usher in the hideous shape of Simon\u2019s ghost? The door remained\nclosed. But now Pierre rose with a grim laugh, dropping his gun. He\nwalked toward his master and thrust his thumb at his face. \u201cSimon has\ncome to see us wrestle. I will wrestle you for Louise. Simon has made\nme Windigo. I will throw you and kill you and eat you, and he wants to\nlook on.\u201d Fearlessly and madly he sprang at the giant\u2019s throat. The\nfactor had not watched him, he had not heard his speech, he was still\nlooking and looking at the door. Where now were those puissant arms\nthat had held Pierre like an infant at Fort Hearne? Limp and powerless,\nthey were hanging from a twitching heap that fell resistless at the\nfirst impact. Pierre beat him and kicked him and choked him. Without\nknife or gun, with his bare hands he murdered the great factor. And\nthen\u2014he was Windigo!\n\nHe rose jubilant. The Windigo had spoken truly: his enemy lay\nconquered. What next? Return to the post and tell of his deed? Would\nthey believe him? They would say he was drunk or crazed, _he_ who could\nnot kill a fly. They would say some enemy of MacDonald\u2019s, a party of\nfreetraders perchance, had shot him from ambush. And _he_ would be once\nmore good, meek Pierre Villeneuve. It had all been in vain. To kill\nMacDonald was nothing, nothing even to regain Louise. He wanted to be\nmaster like the dead giant, and that he could never be.\n\nHe staggered to the door and flung it open. What was that? A pallid\nface recoiling in terror, a horror-stricken cry of \u201cWindigo!\u201d and a man\nfleeing to the river and paddling across. He had forgotten the breed\nhe had bribed, on plea of a practical joke, to cross from the post and\nprowl round the shack. The man had peeped in and seen everything. Now\nPierre was saved, now he had won. His witness would spread the news\nand warn the people against the new Windigo. Pierre was greater now\nthan MacDonald had ever been. His fame would travel from Hudson\u2019s Bay\nto the Rocky Mountains and from the Red River to Fort Macpherson. How\nthey would pamper him\u2014Crees and half-breeds, Chipewyans and Slaveys\u2014as\nhe roamed over their country that now was his. He would steal their\nfurs and eat their game and kidnap their wives, snapping his fingers in\ntheir faces. He was master now, for now he was Windigo.\n\n ROBERT H. LOWIE\n\n\n\n\n Cries-for-salmon, a Ten\u2019a Woman\n\n\nYou ask me to tell you the story of somebody\u2019s life at Anvik, my home\nin Alaska. I will tell the story of the woman who gave me the moccasins\nI showed you\u2014there is more to tell about a girl than a boy. But I shall\nhave to tell about a boy, too, for you can\u2019t tell about the girls\nwithout telling about the boys.\n\nWhen Cries-for-salmon was to be born, they called in Havetse-k\u0115dtsa,\nTheir-little-grandmother, an old woman of experience, to help. For\nthree days after the birth Their-little-grandmother stayed by the side\nof the bed of skins, nor might the mother leave her bed without the\npermission of Their-little-grandmother. I don\u2019t know much about these\ndays because boys and men do not stay in the house at this time; they\ngo to the kadjim (the men\u2019s house). All I know is that the after-birth\nis wrapped in a cloth, and placed in the fork of a tree\u2014the after-birth\nis a part of the body and you would not want to destroy it, just as\nwhen you cut yourself, you wipe off the blood with shavings and place\nthe shavings in the fork of a tree. Even what is left of an old garment\nyou would not destroy, you would not throw it into the fire as the\nwhite people do, but put it into a bag which in course of time you will\nplace in a spruce tree. Whatever is put away in the woods is thought of\nas being still a part of the village, so that when a ceremonial circuit\nhas to be made of the village, a half mile or so of woods is covered so\nthat these things in the trees may be included.\n\nThe baby\u2019s cord is tied around the wrist or the neck of the baby with\nsinew, and left on for two or three years. An ax head is placed on\nthe body of a boy baby for a certain number of days\u2014I don\u2019t know how\nmany, nor what they put on top of a girl. Should a white person come\ninto the house at this time, the object is removed. If the child dies\nunder three or four years of age the object, the ax or other thing, is\nput with the corpse. I don\u2019t know why, and when I have asked the old\nmen they would answer, \u201cWho of us knows?\u201d as they often answer when\nthey _do_ know but have not enough confidence in you to tell. Besides,\nyoung fellows are not expected to ask questions; you must learn by\noverhearing, and coming that way to understand.\n\nFor twenty days after Cries-for-salmon was born, her father had to stay\nat home, indoors, \u201cunder his smoke hole,\u201d as people used to say when\nthey lived in igloos or underground houses. Nowadays, all or almost all\nlive in frame houses. During these twenty days a man is not to touch\nany object made by white people, more particularly things of steel or\niron, knife or ax or ice pick. Copper, got in trade from the coast,\nwhich has been melted down and hand beaten, a man may use; and he would\neat out of dishes of wood or bone. Work tools of any kind he would not\nhandle, unless in a household emergency he had to go to the forest for\nwood or game, when he would first go to the dyiin, the shaman, to get a\nsong to sing in the circumstances. For this song, as for other songs,\nthe shaman would be paid loftak\u2014skins, meat, or oil.\n\nEven if a man goes out during the twenty days, he should be careful not\nto pass over the water of a stream or lake\u2014it would be othlang, and the\nfish would cause a skin eruption in the child. Our skin is usually very\nsmooth and clear, and whenever any one has an eruption or rash we know\nit is from othlang.\n\nHad Cries-for-salmon been born in the spring, then the following fall\nher father would not go eeling\u2014that too would be othlang and it would\ncause a dearth of eels. Nor would a man go eeling for a year after a\ndeath in his family. If you knew how much we depended on eels for food,\nyou would understand why we have to be so careful. The first sign of\nthe eel coming is the finding of an eel in the stomach of a lush, the\nfish which is our main food in winter. Some one may find an eel in a\nlush, miles away from the village, and then at once he sends word, and\nthe men go out to the places on the river where the channel is narrow\nand there are good feeding grounds for the eel. Here they come so thick\nthat they cause the water to rise, and you have but to throw them out\non the bank with a stick. As people eel together in this way, every one\nwould know if a man went eeling after a death or birth in his family.\n\nAs with work after a birth in his family, so with amusements\u2014a man\nshould not take part. He should sit quiet, with his head down, for at\nthis time he is supposed to be in connection with his spirits. His\nspirits are not any stronger than the strongest songs he has, and at\nthis time a man must be watchful lest his songs lose their virtue or\npower, or lest from violations of the rules the baby die.\n\nWhen Cries-for-salmon was restless as a little child, and cried, no\ndoubt her mother called out to her, \u201cLia! the Evil One! Keep quiet!\u201d to\nscare her. (To abuse any one, people will say, Li den\u00e1! Blood of the\nEvil One.) And when Cries-for-salmon was able to walk, she was watched\nall the time by her father or mother, for she had to be taught from the\nvery beginning not to step on anything pertaining to the welfare of\nthe family that might be lying on the floor. Should a stick be lying\nthere, for example, that was being worked for an arrow or fish trap,\nthe little girl would have to walk around it, not over it. The spirit\nof the boy is stronger than the spirit of the girl, so a boy may step\nwhere he pleases.\n\nAnd the girl, as she grows a little older, has to be taught to be\nextremely careful about whatever she finds on the floor, of bits of\nfood, of bone or feather or hair or skin. It is a rule that all such\nwaste bits be put separately into baskets by the women, and carried to\nthe haunts, in forest or on river, of the creatures to which the bits\nbelonged. Cries-for-salmon would go along with her mother to see how\nshe dumped into the river from her canoe the feathers of duck or goose\nor swan, that they might change back into birds such as they had come\nfrom\u2014as the feathers drifted down the current, although invisible to\nher, Cries-for-salmon was told, they became birds again to return to\nfeed in their old haunts of mud and goose grass. Similarly she saw her\nmother empty out fish bones to become fish, and she saw her take to the\nforest the bones of game animals. Were such bones left on the floor and\nstepped on, it would be othlang.\n\nSometimes, as men sit on the floor with their heels drawn back to the\nbuttocks, or as they sit cross-legged, left leg over right, with a bowl\nof food propped on their legs, a bone may snap out on the floor instead\nof back from their fingers into the bowl. It is a spirit of the family,\na hungry spirit, who is after the food. The spirit of the food goes\nto feed the family spirit, and although the particle is picked up and\ntaken to the forest, it has lost its power, it will not become animal\nagain.\n\nWhen we men kill willow or ruffed grouse (ptarmigan), we take out some\nof the tail feathers and throw them on the ground, giving them back to\nthe forest to become birds again. I remember that the first time I\nshot a grouse I took out some feathers above the tail. The fellow with\nme laughed. \u201cThat is not right,\u201d said he. \u201cIt is the tail feathers you\nmust take.\u201d In selling grouse to the Mission, people will first skin\nthem, just as they will first pluck the geese or ducks they sell, and\nremove the entrails. Similarly, they skin and clean the rabbits they\nsell. (Before a ceremonial the men engage in a rabbit drive. They pick\nout an island or a point of land, and spread out, each man in sight of\nanother. Each yells and beats on the trees to scare out the rabbits,\nand then they form the arc of a circle and close down to the water.\nThey keep the rabbits for the feast, but a few they may sell.) Bear\nmeat and lynx meat they would not sell at all to white people.\n\nWe do not eat rabbit meat in summer and no doubt Cries-for-salmon was\ntold, as are other children, that it was wormy. She was told, too,\nnever to eat in the dark, lest she swallow the eye of the Evil One,\nwhich in going back to the Evil One, would choke her. Nor in eating\nmeat should she cut off a piece in her teeth. In pouring out tea or\nliquids, Cries-for-salmon was taught to be very careful to pour only to\nwell below the brim, almost an inch below, not to risk spilling. If the\ncup ran over it would be othlang to the person served\u2014he would fail to\nrun down his game, to catch fish, or to do well in leadership\u2014and to\novercome the othlang he would have to go to the shaman for a song.\n\nIn all these particulars a girl has to learn how to behave, how to\ncarry herself. A young man is rated by his ability in making snowshoes\nand in running down game, fox, deer and, before the portaging of the\nwhites drove them out, caribou. A girl is rated by her ability in\nhandicrafts and in providing food, but she is also esteemed for her\nhousehold behavior. If she is gifted with strength, with virtue, as she\ngrows old she is likely to have given into her keeping an old wooden\nbowl which has been passed down from generation to generation of women,\nwithin the same rank, to be used in ceremonies to honor hunters of\ndistinction. Moreover, the presents of a careful woman are welcome.\nPeople hate to see a young man as he grows up wear things made by any\nor everybody. Were he to wear mittens or boots or parki (shirt) made\nby a careless woman, his own ability might be reduced and his spirits\nweakened.\n\nCries-for-salmon was taught, like other little girls and boys, never\nto sing or whistle when eating, and never to imitate at any time in\nthe winter the birds of summer\u2014that would prolong the winter, perhaps\nmaking it run into two winters (a frequent expression of the narrator\nmeaning that the already short summer is further shortened), and so\ncausing famine. Nor was Cries-for-salmon ever to make snowballs or snow\nimages. There is but one time a snow man may be made\u2014when people want a\nfreezing spell in the spring. Travelers are afraid of being caught away\nfrom home by the spring floods. One early spring I remember that there\nwere many traders at Anvik when it turned warm. The men had to get home\nto make their fish camps and set their fish nets. Some of them had a\nportage of twenty miles to make through tundra and woods. The soft snow\nin the woods and the slush would tire out their dogs. So they went to\nthe shaman and got permission to make a snow man to face the north, and\ndraw from it the cold winds. As image maker they chose an unmarried man\nwho had been born in a month of changing weather.\n\nSnow fights the children may not play, but they play at war in another\nway. Almost anything will start a sham fight. Perhaps a child will call\nthe family of another child dirty or say, \u201cMy father has more skins\nthan yours.\u201d Then they gather fireweed, strip the stalks and use them\nfor spears and darts. These weapons take the skin off your forehead,\nbut the more you bleed the better you like it, and you never cry, no\nmatter how hard hit. Two or three boys will pretend to be killed, the\ngirls will set up a wail, they have a big feast, and they make friends\nagain.\n\nThe boys play, too, at duck-hunting and deer-stalking. They will make a\nduck of grass and fasten it to a long, slender stick. Then they put it\ninto a muddy place and throw short wooden spears at it. The game should\nbe played only in the spring, for if it is played later it will cause\nfamine. It is a very exciting game, and often, out of season, we boys\nwould carry cans of water into the woods to make a duck pond out of\nsight of the old people.\n\nTo play deer-stalking, boys take a bunch of grass and make it into the\nfigure of a deer. For the belly they insert strips of salmon. They\nset the figure up on sticks and then go off into a cover of stumps\nand grass. One boy says to the other, \u201cI see a deer.\u201d \u201cWhere?\u201d \u201cOver\nthere.\u201d They creep up on it. They shoot, and the boy who sends his\narrow nearest to the heart is deemed the killer. They skin the deer,\ntalking all the while\u2014\u201cHow fat it is, how limber.\u201d\u2014\u201cIt was hard to\nget.\u201d They take out the dried fish, the killer cuts it up and, as would\nan adult, he sees to it that the food is divided up among the hunters.\nWhen a man returns from a long and successful hunt he goes to the\nkadjim, while his wife prepares the food and invites all the people to\ncome and partake of it. She goes from house to house, saying, \u201cCome and\ndrink tea and eat meat.\u201d (By \u201cmeat\u201d she would always mean bear meat, as\nthat being the most powerful meat, is called just meat. Other flesh she\nwould call deer meat, porcupine meat, etc.) Similarly when a woman gets\na full trap of fish all the people are invited to eat.\n\nLittle girls and boys together play at fishing and housekeeping. The\nboys will gather willows and make them into a great bundle, a foot and\na half thick and fifteen feet long. They choose a shallow place in the\nriver where there are little fish, and they lay the willow trap in an\noval. After the catch the girls take the fish to cook, and boys and\ngirls pair off together to make fish camps like their elders. Once when\nI was about ten, I paired off with Cries-for-salmon. She got roots to\nsew into a basket, and grasses to make a doll. She sang to the doll\nand pretended to nurse it. I went into the woods and gathered bark and\nwood. I shot a squirrel and a little bird with my bow and arrows, and\nCries-for-Salmon skinned the squirrel and picked the bird and cooked.\nWe even made a kadjim to have a feast in. In winter, we children built\nsnow houses and snared rabbits and stole pieces of dried meat or salmon\nfrom home. It is not stealing unless we are caught. But our games in\nwinter were cut down.\n\nI wish I could tell you about the time when the children, girls and\nboys, are turned over to the shaman, that they may belong to the\nvillage, to be a part of the village. I know there is a ceremony at\nthat time, but I don\u2019t know much about it. At that time I was at the\nMission house. The children are little\u2014about four or five years old.\nHenceforward, should anything happen to the family, the village would\nlook after the child, and the village is responsible for the child\u2019s\nlearning as much as possible about village custom. The old men talk to\nthe boys, and the old women to the girls. They tell them old stories\nto teach them what they may not have learned at home. Of course there\nare other stories that people tell; but these are never told except at\nnight in the kadjim and in the early part of the winter before it is\ntime to prepare for the big ceremonies, to make the masks and rehearse\nthe songs. Many of these stories are about the bird nobody will ever\nkill, Raven, who can change himself into anything and who made the\nYukon river by drawing a furrow with his feet, and the hills and\nmountains, by carrying earth. And many stories are about the beginnings\nof a town, of how it was started by a couple who survived a massacre\nand of what happened up to the present day.... It is improper to tell a\nstory when nobody is listening, so every other sentence or two somebody\nmust say \u201chen, hen\u201d to show that there is a listener.\n\nThere is a ceremony for getting a name, too, which I know little about.\nPersons may be named according to what they do or according to their\ncharacter. One girl I know is called Swollen-face; another, Pointing-at\n(she had a mean habit of pointing her finger [index finger of left\nhand] at people in scorn); another, Does-not-like-any-one (i. e. men;\nshe would refuse suitors); another, One-the-Evil-One-does-not-like.\nThis last girl got her name because she was never sick or subject\nto epidemics; she had good eyes; she was big at heart; she was a\nsuccessful basket maker and net maker and rabbit snarer; she had a\ncheerful face and looked helpful, just the opposite of the kind of\nwoman who hurts people by looking at them in scorn, and of whom people\nare afraid. I know a man called He-creeps-towards because his gait is\nstealthy, as if he were stalking something. Because of the way the name\nis given, and because it has so much meaning the name is little used.\nYou go around it. A man will call out \u201cLook here!\u201d and his child will\nrecognize his father\u2019s voice and know it is he who is being called.\nWhen the Mission children call a village child by his name, it makes\nhim very angry.\n\nWe go on now to when Cries-for-salmon is a big girl. When she first\nmenstruated, she was placed in the corner of her father\u2019s house to be\nout of sight of young men, and to stay so for a year, as we count by\nmoons. The space assigned to Cries-for-salmon was just long enough\nto lie down in. In this corner Cries-for-salmon had to keep all the\nthings she used, more particularly her own cup and bucket of water.\nWhen no one was about, she went to fill the bucket, but, as with her\nother things, she had to be scrupulous about not leaving the bucket\nwhere young men could by any chance come in contact with it. Girls\nare supposed not to go outdoors at all; but if a girl has to go, she\nmust walk with head bent so that if she passed by a young man her eyes\nwould not get a direct line on his eyes, or his eyes on hers. That\nwould be othlang. The man would lose his hunting and fishing powers\nand what I may call his community power. (For example, he would not\nknow how to speak in meeting, where there are rules for speaking in\norder to cut out loose talkers.) Once I went to Cries-for-salmon\u2019s\nhouse while she was in the corner. We do not knock on the door like\nwhite people, and I would have gone in, making the customary quavering\nsound of hihihihihihi and saying something perhaps about the weather,\nexpecting to be told to sit down and to be served with food\u2014a guest\nis never allowed to leave without food\u2014but Cries-for-salmon\u2019s father\nsaw me approaching and met me at the door, saying, \u201cLet us go to the\nkadjim.\u201d I knew what that meant; he had a daughter in the corner; he\nwas protecting me.\n\nIn the corner, a girl wears continually a beaded forehead band to which\nbear claws are attached. Her behavior during this time determines\nwhether or not she is to be a worthy woman for life, and how skilled\nshe will be in the domestic arts. For at this time she makes everything\nshe is going to use after she marries\u2014what I have heard the students\nhere (at Hampton Institute) call a hope chest. She learns to sew, to\nmake beadwork and porcupine-quill work, to make baskets, and fish\nnets. The first few months she is not allowed to cook, but towards the\nclose of the period the cooking, the bulk of the housework, indeed, is\nput upon her. And it is then that suitors take notice of her work and\naccomplishments. They notice whether the seams of the boots and mittens\nshe has made look strong and durable; whether her bead embroidery\nis fine, whether she is industrious and competent, how she carries\nherself. A man knows how important to his welfare the character of\nhis wife is. A man has to run his chase, but, after he marries, that\nis all; his wife does all the hard work. She gets wood and water, she\nsnares grouse and rabbits, she sets fish traps, and she prepares all\nthe clothing and all the food, not only for the family but for the\nceremonies at which the man is called upon to contribute.\n\nBut there is more to tell about the girl in her first stage, as well as\nabout the feeling about women until they have a change of life, until\nthey are old. If a girl goes into the corner in the summer, when we\nare all at the fish camp, her family, in returning to winter quarters,\nwill probably have to cross the river or go along it. This happened,\nI recall, in the case of Cries-for-salmon. Her father had to go to\nthe shaman. He went to Salmon-clubber, who lived with his two wives\nand several families who had followed him because of his services, to\nsettle down twenty miles or so away from Anvik. Cries-for-salmon\u2019s\nfather gave Salmon-clubber what he asked for\u2014several bundles of fish,\nsome seal oil, and a deerskin. And then Salmon-clubber went into a\ntrance and, as the feeling he had in it was good, he gave permission\nto the family to move. Cries-for-salmon had to stay in the bow of the\ncanoe, crouched down that her head might not be above the gunwale, and\nher face had to be covered over. Had she not observed these rules, it\nis likely that some time later a rash would have come out on her face.\n\nSalmon-clubber would have had to withhold permission had any men been\nout hunting ducks or geese, as they do hunt after the fishing season\ncloses. The birds and animals are sensitive, as you would say, to girls\n\u201cin the corner.\u201d To have animals respect them, men must respect their\nsongs. After I returned home in 1917, I went on a bird hunt\u2014this was\nin the spring. I got only one goose and one crane, and the other five\nmen got much less, too, than usual. On our return one of the old men\nsaid to me, \u201cMy son, are you thoroughly familiar with all our rules? I\nhave been talking with the shaman and he has seen you bathing where the\ngirls bathe. There are three girls in their first stage.\u201d \u201cHow did you\nknow?\u201d \u201cWe have ways of knowing.\u201d And he used one of the phrases the\nold men use which we do not understand. The old men talk to us, only\non the outside of things. They tell us enough for us to understand if\nwe think as they think. He went on, \u201cIt was because of that, you got\nso little on your hunt, and the snow fell and heavy northwest winds\nblew.... We could put you aside; but we think too much of you; and I\nspeak to you as a friend.\u201d Had I been stubborn or not seen through\nwhat he meant at this time or another, I would have become known for\nit from one village to the other, and it would be hard for me to get a\nwife.\n\nThis old man knew, of course, that boys of the Mission were apt to be\ncareless of the old rules. He may have seen the boys, for example, go\ninto the basement of the girls\u2019 dormitory, a violation of a strict\nrule, for, until a woman is old, she is, as we say, in an unfavorable\nstate, and she should never be above the head of a man. In the spring,\nfamilies move out to the fishing grounds where they open the season by\nmaking canoes or boats they will use. In cutting the wood they use a\nwhipsaw. Now it is a rule that if a man and a woman are sawing together\nthe man must always stand at the higher end of the saw, the woman\nbelow. Similarly, in putting away the fish in the cache, the post-built\nstoreroom, the man must do the overhead work; a woman would never work\non a rack above a man. In the kadjim, women sit on the floor, and men\noverhead on the benches which they also use to sleep on. Not only the\nMission house, but other houses built on the American two-storied plan\nare making it difficult to follow this rule of overhead.[17]\n\nAgain, while a woman is still young she should not be present at a\nbirth. Nor may she eat a certain species of duck or their eggs, and\n\u201cmeat\u201d i. e. bear, she may not eat.[18]\n\nDuring the menstrual periods, for about a week, were a young man to\ncome into the house or a man to stay home, it would cause the woman\npain at childbirth, so at these times a woman\u2019s husband leaves their\nbed and goes to stay in the kadjim, sleeping there with the boys and\nyoung men. A boy leaves his mother, to live at the kadjim as soon as he\nhas courage enough, perhaps at fourteen or fifteen. If plucky, he may\ngo earlier; but if a weakling, he may not go until he is eighteen.\n\nDuring her periods, a girl or woman will protect men against herself\nif she can. For example, if a boy starts to wrestle with a girl\u2014to\nfuss her, as you say, only it is not done your way, a boy wrestles\nand throws a girl down, and tumbles about, it is much gayer and more\nlively\u2014the girl, if she is in her period, will claw his face to make\nhim leave her alone. The old people see him scratched up and they know\nwhy, and they laugh at him.... Once when Cries-for-salmon\u2019s mother\nwas in the kadjim at a ceremonial, she was called upon to dance on\nthe skin she was giving to the shaman for a deceased relative. We saw\nher hesitate. \u201cGo ahead. What\u2019s the matter with you?\u201d some one said.\nShe was in her period. \u201cThat\u2019s all right,\u201d they said to her. \u201cStand\non one corner of the skin. We\u2019ll fix it up.\u201d She took her place with\nCries-for-salmon next to her, and they went through their own dance,\ntheir eyes on the ground, and making the motions with their arms that\nbelonged to the dance.... In this way, you see, Cries-for-salmon\nlearned the dance that belonged to her mother.\n\nLike all dancers, the girl and her mother faced the doors of the\nkadjim\u2014there are two doors, the outer of bearskin, meaning strength,\nthe inner, about four feet away, of wolferene, meaning speed and skill.\nThe space of about four feet, between the doors, allows for the first\ndoor to close on the person entering on all fours, and shut out Li,\nthe Evil One, before the second door is opened. When masks are set out\nunder their covers they, too, face the doors. The smoke hole of the\nkadjim has a cover of bear gut. Below it, in the center of the floor,\nis the fire. The kadjim is always warm. After the fire flares up, it is\nkilled with split logs.\n\nThere is a ceremonial in the kadjim for a girl after she comes out\nfrom the corner. I know that she wears a new parki given to her by her\nparents or by her suitor; but I have never seen the ceremonial and I\ncan\u2019t tell about it.\n\nAs I said before, a girl may have a suitor while she is in the corner\nor before\u2014that is a young man, who has noticed her and knows he wants\nher, has set to work for her family. He cuts wood for them and fetches\nwater and gives them the bulk of his game. If he does enough to create\nan interest in him on the part of the old people, they will accept\nhim. The girl herself has no say. Even if she likes him, if the old\nman does not like him, thinking he has not done enough, the young man\ncan not get the girl. On the other hand, the girl may not like the\nyoung man whom the old man likes. As soon as she came out of the corner\nCries-for-salmon was married to a man her father liked because he had\ndone so much. This man, Thleg\u2019athts\u2019ox, Fish-skin-hat, after giving\nloftak, had also to get the consent of the shaman, or perhaps it was\nthe chief of the village. Cries-for-salmon did not like Fish-skin-hat;\nand yet although his father is a miser, Fish-skin-hat himself is a good\nman of ability and power\u2014songs had been bought for him and his name was\none no ordinary fellow would have. (For such a name a man must have\npowers and must live up to them.)\n\nCries-for-salmon\u2019s parents knew that since Cries-for-salmon would be a\nwoman of ability, a good snarer and fisher, a woman who would be highly\nesteemed for the amount of fish she could cut up in a day, and for the\nskill and rapidity of her sewing, she should get a husband equally\ncompetent, one who would run his chase well, who would save his furs\nand trade. The old people knew, too, that unless Cries-for-salmon got\na good husband, it would be a slave\u2019s life for her. She would have to\nwork for her husband\u2019s relatives as well as for him. For the first two\nor three years, a girl will live on with her man in her parents\u2019 home;\nbut then he builds his own house and takes her to this house. It may\nbe near her parents\u2019 house, but it belongs to her husband. She will\nleave it, if she quarrels with him, and is scolded or beaten up by him,\nand she will return to her parents\u2019 house, or to her grandmother\u2019s or\nnearest relative\u2019s, to stay there until he comes for her.\n\nFish-skin-hat belonged to Anvik, but Cries-for-salmon had seen little\nof him before he began to come in at night to visit her. Older boys\nand girls do not go about together in the day time; you never see\nthem paddling together in a canoe. A girl would not speak to you on\nthe road. If she wants to talk, it must be in the dark or under the\ncover of a roof\u2014under cover because, as people say, \u201cThere is some one\nwatching you.\u201d\n\nAfter the ice breaks up and people live in tents, when a man wants to\ntake a girl, he will slip in at night under the tent wall to the side\nwhere he knows she sleeps, and he will slip out again when the birds\nbegin to make noise. People of position see to it that nobody visits\ntheir daughter this way, except the man she is to live with openly\nafter a while, i. e. marry. Parents would say to a girl, \u201cYou watch\nyourself.\u201d If the wrong young man came in, the girl would know because\nhe would not make the signs agreed upon, holding her perhaps in a\ncertain way, and parents would expect the girl to cry out and wake\nup the family. But\u2014some people are careless, and there are young men\nwho do browse about. Sometimes the family will so embarrass the young\nman that he has to marry the girl; they will say that the girl has\nconceived by him\u2014\u201cfrom him she has man inside.\u201d A man who persisted\nin not marrying in these circumstances, would be shunned by the other\ngirls.\n\nAt the ceremonies, young men see the girls in a formal way. The chief\nwill appoint a girl to be a man\u2019s partner, sohaldid. When I returned\nhome in 1917, the chief appointed three girls to be my partners, and\ntwo of the three girls, Cries-for-salmon and one other, accepted.\nDuring the intervals of the ceremonial, your partner invites you to\nher house, and sets out, for you to eat and drink, tea and whatever\nthe season has produced, bear, caribou, etc. What you can not eat you\nare expected to carry away, and you judge the girl according to the\ngenerosity of her service. Always there is great lavishness in setting\nout food. At bear feasts, for example, the woman serving would set out\nten times more than I could eat. (Never forgetting at the conclusion\nto give me a bowl of water to wash with and a cloth, that I might not\ntake out carelessly any waste particle.) The dance leaders call out for\nthe presents. When you give them, you go through a short dance. Once\nwhen it was my turn, two women, thinking I did not know the dance, got\nup, without being asked, and danced in my place. One woman was gifted\nwith bear songs, the other, with hunting songs. I had given some tea in\nbulk. A cupful was given to every one present except to me, the giver,\nand then of what was left over they gave first to the shaman, and then\nto the elders and so down. On another occasion I received a skein of\ntwine, an ax, a saw, a steel trap, two large white fish, and some ice\ncream of seal oil, berries, boneless fish and snow. Somebody made a\njoke. \u201cWe have given him things as if he were married. He ought to go\nand take some of these old women around here who are looking for old\nmen.\u201d I did not like the ice cream, so I gave it to Cries-for-salmon\nwho saw to it, as a partner is always supposed to do, that my presents\nwere taken out and put away. Women give feasts to men, where the women\ndance and give out presents, inviting the men between dances to eat.\nThe day following, the men give the feast to the women, seeing to it\nlikewise that the women get all they can eat. I may say here that it is\nthe interest a man expresses in the feasts, in the ceremonials, that\nhelps to make him a chief. Who helps most at these times and at other\ntimes (whenever one man can help another, help is expected of him)\nqualifies as a chief.\n\nThe sohaldid or partner relationship lasts. Whenever you return to the\nvillage where your partner lives, she will provide for you. Married\nwomen as well as unmarried are assigned as partners, and this sometimes\nmakes trouble with the husband. But I remember one case where all the\ntrouble was made by the missionary. Two men had each the other\u2019s wife\nas partner, and after a while they agreed each to take his partner as\nhis wife, that is they exchanged wives. Five years later the missionary\nheard about it and, although by that time one of the women was dead, he\ndecided to make the other woman go back to her first husband.\n\nWith the marshal and me he went at night to Myuli\u2019s house. They\nknocked. \u201cWho\u2019s that?\u201d called Myuli.... \u201cWhy don\u2019t you come in the\nlight as we do when we want to speak to any one?\u201d... The woman went to\nthe door. A woman always goes to the door, as the newcomer might be an\nenemy, and she goes to protect her husband. The missionary wanted the\nmarshal to arrest Myuli on the spot. \u201cDo you think I am a white man to\nrun away?\u201d asked Myuli.... Myuli got sixty days, the other man thirty\ndays, and the woman six months. \u201cI can\u2019t see through this,\u201d Myuli said\nto me, \u201cthe other man was satisfied, I was satisfied, and she was\nsatisfied, and now they come and break up things for us.\u201d... Myuli\nsent in food to her after he got out, and after she got out they lived\ntogether again.\n\nAt the ceremonies the old men saw that I was well provided for, and\nbecause I had been away four years I was given a seat with the chief\nmen of the village; and people tried to attach me to Anvik in other\nways. Women are the berry gatherers, and so women would ask me to come\nand eat berries at their houses. At other times men would invite me.\nOnce one of the chiefs met me as he came in from a hunt. He invited me\nto his house to eat. Instead of saying, however, \u201cDo you want to come\nnow?\u201d or \u201cLet\u2019s go,\u201d he said, \u201cWait a while.\u201d From that I understood\nthat he did not want me to follow him directly to the house because\nhe had a daughter in the corner, and I knew too that he wanted me to\nbecome a suitor. He was afraid if I went along with him I might ask a\nquestion about her in the open sky\u2014that would be othlang.\n\nMore than once an old man would say to me, \u201cWe want to see you settled\ndown with a good-hearted girl who will take good care of you and\nkeep to the customs. We don\u2019t want to see you with a Mission girl.\nThey don\u2019t amount to much, they have lost their pride.\u201d (You see the\nMission girls don\u2019t have to make their clothing or look ahead. Because\nof famines we always look ahead. People become greatly alarmed when\nthey are down to a few skins, etc.; they are prudent, they watch\nthemselves\u2014except in ceremonies when they give away everything.)\n\nAnd the old man might go on to say, \u201cA man is no more than his wife.\nYou must use your head enough to get a village girl. If you will go\nwith the right kind of a girl here, we won\u2019t say anything. We don\u2019t\ncare if you slip in at night and slip out again.\u201d Some one else then\nmight laugh out and make a joke. \u201cIf you went in you might upset a\nbowl and have to get out!\u201d Being a Mission boy they thought I might be\nawkward.\n\nPeople do not want young men to marry out of their village, and so,\njust as soon as a boy kills his first game, as soon as he can run his\nchase down and trap\u2014perhaps he is only sixteen or so\u2014they want him to\ntake a girl. Nor do people welcome foreign suitors. They suspect them.\nA man never gives up connections with his own people\u2014at ceremonies,\nfor example, men who have wandered off may return home, and then they\nsit in the old place with their own people, even if the wife\u2019s people\nare there too. Outsiders are invited to ceremonies. Two messengers are\nsent out to carry the invitation to other villages. From the masks the\nmessengers wear, people know whether the performance is to be a mask\nceremonial, a spirit ceremonial, or an ordinary \u201cfeast.\u201d In the old\ndays of raids of one village upon another, when all but the chiefs\nand the girls were killed, a foreigner might betray his wife\u2019s people\nto his own people, telling them of weakness from an epidemic or from\nlack of warriors for various reasons, or telling about an abundance of\nstored food. And so even now people are suspicious of foreigners. If\nyou do not marry within your village, they joke about you\u2014they joke so\nmuch that it makes it disagreeable.\n\nWhen I had volunteered to go into the American army, people said to\nme, \u201cIf you died among us, we would see to it that you were sent off\nright; but if you die on a battlefield you might be blown to pieces;\nmen would track over you.\u201d\n\n\u201cI am not afraid,\u201d I answered.\n\n\u201cYou are not afraid; but we want to look out for you.... Give a minx\nskin to the shaman; he thinks highly of you, he would not expect much\nto safeguard you.\u201d Three men and two women came to me to urge this.\nFinally the shaman himself came. He said, \u201cI will not ask you to pay\nanything. Let me but tattoo on your back the image of cross-guns.\u201d\n\n\u201cNo,\u201d I said, \u201cit would not do when I came to be examined by the white\narmy doctor.\u201d\n\n\u201cI will give you a skin-tight shirt with the cross-guns on it. You can\ntake off the shirt before the examination.\u201d\n\n\u201cNo, in the army you may wear only what the government gives you to\nwear.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell,\u201d ended the shaman, \u201cwe will perform secretly to protect you.\u201d\nThe idea about the cross-guns was that as a spirit will not go against\na spirit of its own kind, with the image on my back other guns and\nbullets would not attack me.\n\nAgain last year when I had the influenza here, and they wired home\nabout it, my friend Cries-for-salmon gave fifteen dollars in gold to\nthe shaman to have him visit me through his fox, the one who carries\nhis messages. Weasels and wolferenes, wolferenes are the most powerful\nof all, may be messengers for the shamans, but the commonest messenger\nis the fox. The fox is swift and sly.\n\nA boy should marry among his own people, but it is not customary for\nhim to marry near kin, a first cousin. To have relations with a sister\nis othlang. Of such a boy, people would say, \u201cThere are so many girls,\nyet he did not have the courage to go with them, he went with his\nsister.\u201d If he did go with his sister, he would be thinking at the same\ntime of another girl. And for this reason, a sister, realizing she was\na substitute, would feel outraged. A really weak-minded boy would even\ngo with his mother. It is possible, for it is all in the dark, and no\none speaks; merely some one will come, some one will go.\n\nCries-for-salmon has a brother who is dead or, as we say, \u201chas gone.\u201d\nIn telling of his death you will hear about the death rites and the\nway the people mourn. I will tell you, too, of a woman relative of\nCries-for-salmon, who died.\n\nBut first I would tell you of another relative of Cries-for-salmon who\nhas been such an invalid since the birth of her first child that she\ncan not sit up, and who will never have another child. She had been a\nwoman who menstruated with the waning moon\u2014the character of such women,\nit is thought, is poor. So, as women do, she went to the shaman to\nhave him regulate her periods to fall with the growing moon\u2014the best\nhearted, best natured women menstruate at that time. Again there was a\ntime when this woman was much frightened because the menstrual flow did\nnot stop. This time she asked an old woman shaman\u2014sick women are apt\nto go to women shamans and to the wives or widows of shamans, and sick\nmen, to men shamans\u2014if she should consult a white doctor. \u201cYes,\u201d said\nthe old woman, \u201cwe don\u2019t know what is going to happen nowadays.\u201d Since\nthe whites have come people have lost self-confidence. Formerly they\nwere far more certain that the cause of sickness, of an epidemic, let\nus say, was not keeping the rules.\n\nWell, when Cries-for-salmon\u2019s relative was sick after her first child\nwas born, she went again to the man shaman. On this occasion the shaman\nexpressed a desire for her, but she refused. Ordinarily women will not\nrefuse the shaman. Nor would their husbands expect them to. The old\nwomen tell you never to go against the will of the shaman. \u201cThat is one\nof the things you will have to watch,\u201d an old woman once said to me.\nNevertheless Cries-for-salmon\u2019s relative refused, and she has been sick\never since, and ever since the other women have sneered at her.\n\nHer husband, too, has been down and out. They were poor to start with,\nhe lived in one of the few underground houses left at Anvik, and now\nhe has only three poor dogs, bale-back dogs we call them, nor can he\nborrow a dog team. Not long since, he was charged with stealing green\nfish (fish fresh from the trap) from another man\u2019s cache. \u201cWhy did you\nsteal?\u201d the old men asked him. \u201cDon\u2019t you know if you are hungry we\nwill feed you?\u201d And so they would. Food would be given to any one who\nwas hungry, although sometimes in return he might be asked to help at\nthe fish traps or in making snowshoes. With us it is only when a man is\nput into a mean position, when he has lost pride in himself, that he\nwill steal. In this case, the man denied the theft, so the old men kept\nat him. \u201cWhy do you deny?\u201d they asked. \u201cWe know what you have done.\nDon\u2019t you know that there is somebody watching you?\u201d You see, since it\nis customary for the young men to be most of the time in the kadjim,\nexcept when they are away hunting or in other settlements\u2014on their\nreturn they go directly to the kadjim to tell the news and to give the\njokes they have heard about the persons they know\u2014the old men know\npretty well what the young men are about, where they are. Besides there\nis the shaman. A man believes that the shaman knows what he is doing\nall the time. It is just because of this knowledge that the shaman is\nhead of the village.\n\nIt is not only for cures, and to buy songs for hunting and trapping,\nthat people go to the shaman: the shaman has to blow upon the masks\nwhich we put on to represent other beings (when we put them on we\nare not ourselves), and the shaman has to give power to the dancers\nby blowing on them at the ceremonies or, as we say, the annual\nperformances, of which each has its own name. Until the shaman blows on\nit, a spirit mask is just like any other mask. Besides downy feathers,\nfrom the leg and breast of duck and goose, are fastened to a spirit\nmask and from the forehead there is the quill of a goose feather with a\ndowny tuft tied to the tip. The masks of the fun makers are not blown\non. The fun makers come out at intervals to give the dancers time to\nrest. The fun makers are usually young men, but sometimes a witty old\nman will act. I remember one old man\u2014he was a shaman\u2014and one of his\njokes. He acted like a woman and he said, \u201cHalf of me belongs up river\nand half down river. How are you going to \u2018fuss\u2019 me?\u201d\n\nMen may wear female masks. There are certain parts women may not take,\nso men act for them. But there are female masks that women wear. Women\nnever wear male masks. Women sing in the kadjim, too, to big drums,\nfour feet in diameter, made of a sea animal\u2019s stomach on a spruce\nframe\u2014five drums that can be heard a mile or more away. There may be as\nmany as a hundred and fifty persons singing at one time in the kadjim.\nBut in the powerful dances\u2014the hagerdelthlel\u2014ordinary women do not\nsing, only the wives of chiefs and shamans.\n\nAfter a mask is made, it belongs in the kadjim for a year, and some\nman will appropriate it to wear for the year\u2014or longer if he likes, and\nif he performs well what the mask represents. The shaman does not make\nthe masks\u2014he is too busy. He is charged with the welfare of the whole\nvillage, and he may be called upon in any emergency\u2014at an eclipse,\nfor example. Once long ago, it is said, there was a great famine, the\nwinter ran into two winters, and Moon said to the shaman, \u201cWhenever I\ngo out of the sky, the people may not look, they should go inside and\ncover the smoke hole until I have performed my duty.\u201d Since then, at an\neclipse, the shaman will send out fast runners to cry out, \u201cMoon has\ngone under the sky! Stay indoors!\u201d The shaman himself will go on top of\nthe kadjim and chant and go through the motions the moon taught. When\nthe moon reappears, the shaman will re\u00ebnter the kadjim where every one\nhas been sitting silent,\u2014if a dance had been on at the time, it had\nstopped. The following morning all form a long line, the shaman in the\nlead. They encircle the village, forming an arc starting from the river\nand ending at the river, and, as I said before, taking in a half mile\nof woods above the village and half a mile below. They drum and sing\nand go through certain motions, each having a bundle of fish on his\nback.\n\nThere are many other times, too, when the shaman takes charge or tells\npeople what to do. I remember a great to-do over a frog that appeared\nin a house in the middle of the floor. The house had been built in the\nfall, after the ground was frozen, and one warm day in the dead of\nwinter the frog thawed out of its hole and came out on the floor. This\nwas an othlang, and it had to be righted at once. The shaman had to be\npaid to find out about it. Such an incident would never be forgotten.\n\nMuskrats come out from their holes in the bank of pond or lake, when\nthe ice breaks loose in the spring. If a muskrat came out before, say\nin February or March, this, too, would be othlang and would have to be\nrighted.\n\nSometimes a whale will stray up the Yukon River, and when this happens,\nunless the whale is killed, there will be a great famine. Once, a\nwhale went up river as far as Tenana, about nine hundred miles. There\nwas great alarm, and one of the shamans, a shaman of medium powers\n(there are shamans of high, medium, and low powers; nowadays, however,\nthere are no very great shamans who, as in the ancient days, can do\neverything; nowadays some shamans do one kind of thing, others, other\nthings), this Tenana shaman went out single-handed and speared the\nstray whale. It was forty to fifty degrees below zero, he was nude\nfrom the waist up, and from the great exposure and the great strain,\nwithin a few days he died. The people were so grateful to the shaman\nfor saving the village that they made a carving in split spruce of the\nshaman spearing the spouting whale, to place near his grave-box.\n\nWhen the caribou and deer began to decrease at Anvik, the people became\ngreatly alarmed, they were afraid it was because of something they had\ndone, and they consulted the shaman. When he came out of his trance,\nhe told them to paint seven deer on the board over the ridge pole of\nthe grave-building of a certain shaman who had been a great hunter of\ncaribou. Each deer was to represent a year\u2019s kill. Once, long ago, to\npreclude othlang, the shaman ordered a man to be thrown off the side of\na certain mountain.\n\nAt every death the shaman has to give the death stroke, that is, when\nit is time to send the spirit of the deceased away\u2014on the fourth day\nfor an ordinary person, some days later for a person of distinction\u2014the\nshaman has to strike the corpse on the chest. He sends him on his\njourney under the river to the village of the spirits\u2014kethagyiye\u2014a way\nwhere there are, at intervals, pillars of fire at which the dead may\nwarm himself, and may cook. At the time of giving the death stroke,\nthe shaman also drives away all the evil spirits that are around the\nvillage.\n\nI mentioned a cousin of Cries-for-salmon who died in childbirth. Her\nchild was born alive, but as it was a girl and as the family were\nordinary people\u2014the deceased woman was a sister of the invalid woman\nI told about\u2014the baby was put in the grave-box of the mother, in her\nbosom. Strong families with many songs, with spirit powers and hunting\npowers, might save babies in these circumstances, particularly a boy\nbaby; some woman in the family would adopt him. But the girl baby of an\nordinary family would certainly not be let live. I remember the case of\na girl baby the Mission people wanted to save. They took her, and she\nhad the best of care from them, but in four months she died.\n\nShould a child die while it is still creeping, it is wrapped in\nsomething the animals will not devour, like bark, and placed in the\nwoods under a spruce sapling. As long as the tree lives, the spirit of\nthe child lives, too, under its protection. The spirit dies with the\ntree.... I may say here that in getting wood or bush from the forest we\ndo not take all there is in any place. We depend on the wood and bark.\nIf we destroyed it, we would become vagabonds.\n\nThe death of Cries-for-salmon\u2019s brother was by drowning. He had been\ndrinking with the white trader, they were out in a boat together, the\nboat upset, and the Indian was drowned. When Cries-for-salmon\u2019s mother\nheard the news, she rushed out of the house, wailing with heart-rending\ncries, pulling her hair, and stripping herself to her waist. \u201cMy son,\nwhy have you left me?\u201d she cried, looking to the North where the dead\nlive. We could hear her cries a mile away, and we knew from her wailing\nsongs the family of the deceased. Distinguished families have their\nown songs, and they make a greater outcry at death. Cries-for-salmon\u2019s\nmother is a woman with power. She has many strong songs. Her father\nhad been a great hunter, with wolferene and bear songs. She is always\nconsulted in the village, she knows her power, and there is no one to\ncheck her or to talk about her. So she stripped to the breeches\u2014an\nordinary woman would be afraid to strip lest people would talk\u2014and she\nthrew herself into the ice-cold water. She wanted to go on with her\nson, he was the only son left her. But they pulled her out. And they\npulled out her husband who had also thrown himself in.\n\nAfter two or three hours, they found the body and took it home,\ntransporting it in the oldest or most worn-out canoe at hand. As the\nspirit of the drowned man was supposed to be still in the water, nobody\nwas allowed to go into the water. It would cause othlang. People were\ntold not to use that channel for a year, and women were not to set out\ntheir fish nets in a place where there was a good place for pickerel.\nThe evil spirit of the place might pull them overboard. I recall\nanother place in the river where there are sand bluffs where, unless\npeople pay homage, they do not feel safe.\n\nAs usual, the mourners made new garments, new mittens, new moccasins,\nand a new cap for the dead man. The second night they danced and\nsang old songs, and the third night they danced to new songs.\nCries-for-salmon\u2019s brother was a good bear hunter, so they danced bear\ndances which showed how a bear behaves and which would promote the\nincrease of bears. Had he been a good seal hunter or hunter of other\nanimals, similarly they would have danced seal dances or other animal\ndances. Besides, had he died during a good game year, they might have\ncarved the game animal on his grave-box. I recall a hunter with a good\nheart, who died in a good deer year, having a string of deer carved on\nhis grave-box\u2014to continue the abundance of the deer.\n\nDuring the mourning time of work, of dancing and feasting, the corpse\nis placed so that the dead man can see what is going on and absorb it\nall. He is in a sitting position or, even if he is laid out, as happens\nnowadays, the body is propped up. The dead man has to report in the\nvillage of the dead how his favorite food was placed near him and how\nhe was honored, up to the last. On the sixth day, after waiting for\nrelatives from another village to arrive, after the death stroke,\u2014in\nthis case the white man was not allowed in to pray, for everything\nwas done in the old way,\u2014the dead man was put in the grave-box in a\nsitting position, his eyes open, frozen open, and his hands placed in a\nposition to show his interest. He is thought to return to his grave-box\nfrom time to time, more particularly in summer, and he wants to see\nwhat is going on. For this reason, too, the sinew corded grave-box\nis set on a hillside overlooking the river, the face of the corpse\nturned towards the river, that the dead may see who are passing and\nwhat is going on in the village; likewise that the dead may be near\nhis food supply, i. e. the fish in the river. In the late autumn,\nafter the leaves have fallen, the older women take bits of their most\nvalued food, salmon and, since the coming of the whites, biscuit, to\nplace by the side of the grave-box for the dead to eat, and to bless\nthe givers. At the same time the men, if not the old women, will put\nthe grave place (tudatonte, where the body lies stiff, as we say) in\norder, removing vegetation and restoring implements to their place.\nThus engaged, every one will be continually breathing out to the North.\nTowards spring these attentions to the dead are repeated, on a smaller\nscale.\n\nAt death, food is put near the head of the corpse in the grave-box and,\nin the case of Cries-for-salmon\u2019s brother, the bows and arrows of the\ndeceased were tied to a cross piece supported by upright sticks by the\ngrave-box; but, as he was not a shaman or chief, no roof was built over\nthe grave-box nor was the box ornamented. The dead man\u2019s things were\ngiven away to relatives; his rifle in particular was given to a member\nof the family distinguished for his ability and for his songs. After\nthe distribution was complete, they set fire to the man\u2019s house, to\ndrive away the evil spirit.\n\nCries-for-salmon\u2019s brother, like most men to-day in Anvik, had only\none wife\u2014formerly a man might have as many wives as he could support,\ngenerally he had two wives, sometimes three. And she had not yet\nreached middle age, the time when women tattoo lines on their chin\u2014they\ntattoo according to the songs they have or their husband has, a\nshaman\u2019s wife will have more lines than a chief\u2019s wife\u2014nevertheless,\nshe decided not to marry again and she bobbed her hair. In this way\nshe showed, even to men from other villages who did not know about\nher, that she grieved and that she was unwilling to associate with one\nwithout her husband\u2019s power. She wanted to prolong his powers, and to\nkeep the atmosphere she was left in by him, from going over to another\nman. Having his atmosphere and songs, she was strong and she felt\nspurred to care for herself, to accomplish almost anything.\n\nSometimes a dying person will send for one to whom he wishes to\npass on his powers. Then the dying one looks to the North, breathes\non the other and spits on him (spittle is a part of you). Once,\nCries-for-salmon said to me, \u201cI think a great deal of you. I would\ndo almost anything for you, and I would like to give you some of\nmy power, but if I did, I would die within the year. I must live\nfor my children\u2014providing the Good One sees fit for me to live.\u201d\nCries-for-salmon spoke this way to me because a while before she had\nsaid something to me which I did not understand, and it hurt her. An\nold man present said, \u201cYou can\u2019t expect much of him\u201d (as a Mission\nboy). So Cries-for-salmon said to me, \u201cWith all the white man\u2019s\nknowledge, you have no intelligence whatsoever. Had I completed my\nduties to my children, I could tell you more.\u201d\n\nMany widows do not bob their hair, but even so, unless a woman were of\nno account, she would not remarry within the year, she would wait two\nor three years. A woman is esteemed not only for waiting, she is valued\naccording to the way she cared for her husband before he died, when he\nwas helpless. A man\u2019s feelings are badly hurt if he is neglected in\nthese circumstances.\n\nIf a man and his wife died at the same time, let us say, from eating\npoisonous berries, \u201cdevil berries\u201d people call them, the two would be\nburied in the same grave-box. I had to move such a box once\u2014the Mission\nwanted to make some use of the place. A string of beads fell out, not\nthe kind we use to-day, these were very old, I think, got from Siberia\nin trade. They asked me for the beads in the village, but I kept\nthem\u2014until they disappeared. The people wanted them very much.\n\nThe deceased is referred to as \u201cthe one who has gone from us.\u201d The term\nfor dead is used only of animals. Once I referred to some one as dead.\nThey said, \u201cWhat! He is not a dog. You are referring to a human being.\u201d\nNor is the name of the dead ever mentioned; but people think of them,\nand whenever they think of them they turn to the North and breathe out.\n(A prolonged, gentle expiration, as Reed showed me.) So on return from\na hunt, passing the cemetery, a man will take a berry, eat half, and\nthrow half in the direction of the cemetery, to some chief dying in a\ngood season, and then look to the North and breathe out.\n\nI recall a visit up river I paid to Shagr\u016bk where lives my mother\u2019s\nsister. \u201cMy grandmother,\u201d I said to her. \u201cWhose blood is this\naddressing me?\u201d she asked. When she knew me, she began to wail, looking\nto the North\u2014she was recalling my mother: \u201cMy sister, my sister, and\nhere is my blood come again to me!\u201d People think that if ever they said\nanything disrespectful about the dead, they would be laughing, as we\nsay, at their own corpse. (In thinking of the dead, people appreciate\nthe experience awaiting them.)\n\nAbout Christmas time there are ceremonials for the dead for three or\nfour days. Persons who have lost their relatives in the past year are\ncalled upon by the shaman to contribute the bulk of the feast. \u201cWho\nwill contribute so many bundles of salmon?\u201d asks the shaman, \u201cso many\nsacks of seal oil, so many sealskins or caribou skins, so many cords\nof sinew (for sewing), the \u0153sophagus of a white whale (used in\ntrimming)?\u201d People eat to their heart\u2019s content. Sometimes they eat\nfor the dead, sometimes they set aside the food\u2014the best that can be\ngot from the woods and waters. The missionaries are told that these\nare merely social feasts. Not that many of the old ceremonies have not\nindeed been cut out at Anvik. If a ceremonial can not be performed\nfully, in the proper way, people do not want it performed at all.\nYet it is much against the wish of the people to go without their\nceremonials. The \u201cfeasts,\u201d as I have often told the missionary, are the\nonly amusements of the people, and they would like to keep on with them\njust as they do at the conservative village of Shagr\u016bk.\n\n T. B. REED AND ELSIE CLEWS PARSONS\n\n\n\n\n An Eskimo Winter\n\n\nThe skin boat, propelled by the oars of the women, approached the\nshores. On the bundles of caribou skins which were piled up in the\nstern, steering cautiously through the floes of drift ice that dotted\nthe surface of the sea, sat Pakkak, the boat-owner. The boat was\nheavily laden and a strong tide was running so that the women had\nto exert themselves, two on each oar, to make headway. Pakkak\u2019s son\naccompanied the boat in his kayak. He had been out seal hunting in\norder to keep the traveling party supplied with provisions. The seals\nlay on the narrow deck of his boat which zig-zagged swiftly through the\nwater, propelled by the strokes of the single paddle which he held in\nthe middle, and which struck the water, now at the right and now at the\nleft.\n\nThe young man was the first to reach the shore. He brought his boat\nsideways close to the beach and climbed out of the small central hatch\nin which he had been sitting. He took off his harpoon and lance, his\nbird spear and float from under the holding thongs. Then he unlashed\nthe seals, and hauled them ashore. After everything had been taken off,\nhe lifted the light boat out of the water, turned it over, put his head\ninto the opening and carried it up the shore.\n\nMeanwhile, the whole party in the large boat had reached the land. It\nwas nearly high water. The travelers jumped ashore. The children and\nold people scrambled out of the boat, and the tent covers, poles and\nhousehold goods were taken ashore. The caribou skins, which were the\nspoils of the summer\u2019s hunt inland, were deposited on a dry spot. While\nthe women climbed the barren hills to gather brush for building a fire,\nthe men hauled up the boat, and put up the tent. The framework was\nquickly set up, the skin cover was thrown over it, and the lower part\nof the skin was ballasted with stones. When the women came back, the\nshrubs were put down in the rear of the tent. They were covered with\nheavy caribou skins, and thus the bed of the family was prepared. The\nseals were put down at the right and left of the doorway, inside.\n\nAfter a short time, the boats of Pakkak\u2019s brothers came in. They had\nstarted together in the morning, but had made unequal progress through\nthe lanes of water that opened between the shifting ice floes. After\nunloading the boats, the brothers also put up their tents.\n\nSome of the women had piled up the fuel nearby. Pakkak fanned into\nflames the smoldering slow match which he was carrying along. As\nsoon as he had obtained fire, the shrubs were lighted. Meanwhile,\nthe hunter had opened one of the seals and removed the skin with the\nattached blubber. He cut off pieces of the blubber and threw them into\nthe flames. The rectangular kettle, hollowed out of a block of soft\nsoapstone, was filled with water and placed over the fire. The seal\nmeat was put into it, and soon the water began to boil. When the meat\nwas done, the men and women had finished their work, and Pakkak stood\nnext to the kettle and shouted, \u201cBoiled meat, boiled meat!\u201d\n\nThe men sat down in a circle near the fire. The women formed another\ncircle. Pakkak took one piece of the meat out of the kettle, and handed\nit to one of the men; he gave another piece to one of the women. The\nfirst person bit into the meat and cut off a mouthful close to his\nlips. Then he passed the meat to his neighbor, who in the same way cut\noff a mouthful and passed the meat on. Thus, the whole company was\nprovided for.\n\nThe travelers were tired from their exertions, and retired to their\nbeds in the rear of the tent where the whole family lay down, their\nheads toward the door. They covered themselves with the large blanket\nof caribou skins which extended over the whole width of the bed from\none side of the tent to the other.\n\nPakkak and his brothers, and Usuk, the half-witted old bachelor who\nlived with them, were the first to arrive at the place of the winter\nvillage, but within a few days other families came, who had been\nhunting in various districts. Men and women would sit together until\nlate at night, telling of their summer experiences and of their success\nin hunting. Pakkak and his brothers had been hunting on the shores of\nthe inland lake to which they used to resort, where they had fallen in\nwith large herds of caribou. Some of the men drove the animals into the\nwater, while others pursued them in their frail boats. The animals were\neasily overtaken and killed with the lance.\n\nPakkak was the oldest one of five brothers who were all skillful\nhunters, and provided well for their families. They were renowned for\ntheir daring and enterprise. Therefore, their friendship was valued\nand their enmity feared. Pakkak was held in particular awe, for he was\nnot only strong in body and skilled in the use of the knife, lance and\nbow, but he was endowed with supernatural powers. As a child he had\nsat on the knees of the old medicine man, Shark, who had been known\nto visit the moon and the great deity that controls the supply of sea\nanimals. Through contact with him, the supernatural power had passed\ninto Pakkak\u2019s body, and now his services were needed whenever sickness\nand famine visited the village. Thus it happened, that Pakkak and his\nbrothers were both sought as protectors and shunned as possessed of\nunusual power.\n\nPakkak did not misuse his power, but one of his brothers, Ikeraping,\nwas rash in anger and overbearing in manner, and he was feared and\nhated. If it had not been for the combined strength of the brothers,\nthe people of the winter village would have agreed to do away with\nIkeraping in order to rid themselves of his aggressions.\n\nAmong the later arrivals was No-tongue, whose party had been\nunsuccessful in the summer hunt. He had hunted in the narrow valleys\nbetween the ice covered highlands, and by mischance he had come at a\ntime when the caribou had left for another feeding ground. He had only\na few skins for his whole family, hardly sufficient to provide himself,\nhis old mother Petrel, his wife, Attina, and his children, with the\nnecessary winter clothing. However, he was not greatly perturbed. He\nrelied upon good luck and the help of his friends who might be expected\nto assist him, in case they should have skins to spare.\n\nGradually, one party after another arrived, and on the island which\na short time ago had been solitary and quiet, little groups of huts\nsprang up and there was great activity. The women were busy with their\nhousehold duties, getting fuel and mending clothes, while the men went\nout hunting in their kayaks and brought home game for their evening\nmeal. The skins of the seals were scraped by the women, and stretched\non the ground to be dried and later on worked into tent covers.\n\nThe wind had shifted seaward, and the floating ice had been driven away\nfrom the shore. It was getting cold, and the ponds began to be covered\nwith a thin sheet of ice. Before the sea began to freeze over, it was\nnecessary to bring the dogs back from the islands on which they had\nbeen placed over summer, and where they lived on what they could find\non the beach or what they could hunt on the hills. Only a few of them\nhad been taken along on the summer hunt, and with them were brought\nback a few litters of pups that were carefully nursed by the women.\n\nWhen the new ice began to form on the sea, the hunters could not go\nout any more in their boats, because the sharp edges of the ice would\nhave cut the skin covers. For a few days, all were confined to the\nland. The hunters brought in ptarmigans and hares, but everybody looked\nanxiously forward to the time when the ice would be strong enough for\nthe hunters to go out. A few days without new supplies are likely to\nempty the larder all too quickly. Besides, it was getting cold, and\nwork on winter clothing could not be started until the sea was covered\nwith ice. The Sea-Goddess would take bitter revenge if such a sin were\ncommitted.\n\nThis year the weather was favorable, and the anxious days between\nsummer and winter were not needlessly prolonged. After three cold days,\nthe men could go out on the sea ice and wait at the edge of the open\nwater for the seals to come up to breathe. Since the wind had brought\nback the drifting ice, the stretch of open water was not very wide, and\nthe seals came near enough to be harpooned without difficulty, and to\nbe drawn up to the ice. It was even possible to venture out in the open\nwater in the kayak, for the ice was not forming very rapidly. Thus an\nample supply of meat was obtained.\n\nMeanwhile, the women were busy scraping and cleaning the caribou\nskins, and making the winter clothing for the family\u2014the warm shirts\nand drawers of young caribou skins, and the heavy jackets and trousers\nof heavy skins; the stockings of light skins of young caribou, and\nthe boots made from the skin of caribou legs, with soles of ground\nsealskins. Poor No-tongue had just enough for his family, and a few\nskins to spare. Unfortunately the catch of the whole community had been\nrather light, notwithstanding Pakkak\u2019s good luck.\n\nFrom now on, the men went out regularly every morning and came back in\nthe evening, generally with an ample catch. One day they had gone out\nagain and were scattered along the edge of the ice, watching for seals.\nDuring the day the sky clouded up, and a strong, seaward wind began to\nblow. It increased in strength, and an ominous cracking of the ice gave\nwarning of danger. Hurriedly the men loaded their sledges, and sped\nlandward. Under their feet the ice began to crack and to yield to the\npressure of the wind, but they succeeded in reaching land before the\nfloe gave way and drifted out to sea.\n\nOnly No-tongue\u2019s sledge was missing. He had been hunting on a\nprojecting point of ice, and before he was even aware of his danger,\nthe whole point had broken off and was rapidly drifting out to sea.\nThere was nothing for him to do but yield to his fate, and see whether\nthe gale would exhaust itself soon, and whether by chance the floe that\ncarried him might be blown back to land. Fortunately he had just killed\na seal. He flensed it and made a little shelter of the fresh hide.\nHis lance had to serve as a tent pole. He protected his tent cover\nagainst the wind by piling snow all over it. He made a receptacle for\nthe blubber out of a piece of skin, and thus improvised a little lamp.\nFortunately, too, he carried his fire drill and a little of the moss\nwhich is used for wicks; so that he was able to start a little fire in\nhis shelter. The gale was still blowing, and the angry waves threatened\nto break up the floe on which he was drifting. When day dawned the\nland was far away. Soon, however, the wind subsided, and a swift tide\ncarried the ice floe back, nearer and nearer the land.\n\nIt had grown very cold. An icy slush was forming on the surface of the\nsea and the waves were rapidly calming down. The breaking up of the\nfloe which seemed imminent through the night was no longer to be feared\nand immediate danger of drowning had passed. Still it was doubtful\nhow the drift would end. With the changing tide, the current changed\nagain, and the floe drifted away from the shore. The play of tides\ncontinued for days. Now the shore seemed near, so that the hopes of\nNo-tongue were raised to a high pitch, and now the shore receded. In\nthese days of anxiety No-tongue never lost courage, but, mocking his\nown misfortune, he composed this song:\n\n Aya, I am joyful; this is good!\n Aya, there is nothing but ice around me, that is good!\n Aya, I am joyful; this is good!\n My country is nothing but slush, that is good!\n Aya, I am joyful; this is good!\n Aya, when indeed, will this end? this is good!\n I am tired of watching and waking, this is good!\n\nHis endurance and patience were finally rewarded. After a week of\nprivations, he reached the shore not very far from the winter village.\nA few days of hard travel over the ice covered sea, and rocky hills\nbrought him home to his family and friends. They had almost given him\nup for lost.\n\n * * * * *\n\nAs it grew colder the light tent no longer offered adequate protection.\nThe women sewed a new cover of sealskins and gathered loads of brush.\nThey placed them on the outside of the summer tent, and spread the new\ncovers over the whole structure. The door flap was also transformed\ninto a solid wall, and only a low opening was left, through which the\npeople had to pass, stooping down low. This darkened the inside of the\ntent, which before had been fairly light because the front part of the\ntent cover was made of the transparent inner membrane of sealskin.\nTherefore the lamps were put into place. The long, rectangular entrance\nof the tent with its roof-shaped cover still served for keeping\nprovisions, but just in front of the beds, the soapstone lamps\u2014long\ncrescent-shaped vessels\u2014were placed. The wife of the tent owner took\nher seat on the bed in front of the lamp, where she sat in kneeling\nposition letting her body rest between her heels. The lamp was filled\nwith blubber that had been chewed to release the oil, and the straight\nfront edge of the lamp was provided with a wick of moss which, when\ncarefully treated with the bone pointer, gave an even, yellow flame\nthat lighted and heated the hut pleasantly.\n\nSoon the snow began to fall, and the autumnal gales packed it solid in\nevery hollow in the ground, and piled it up against the sides of the\nhuts. The heather-like shrubs were deeply buried under the snow, and\nall domestic work had to be done inside. The soapstone cooking vessels\nwere placed over the lamps, and all the meals were prepared in the\nhouse. The entrance to the hut was protected against the cold by a\nlow passage, built of snow. As it grew colder, the snow accumulated,\nand most of the people exchanged their tents for snow houses. The men\ncut out of an even snow bank blocks about thirty inches by eighteen\ninches high, and six inches wide. These they placed on edge, in the\nform of a circle. At one point, the upper edge of the row was cut down\nto the ground, and then sliced down to the right, so that it slanted\nup gradually. At the place where it had been cut down, a new block of\nsnow was put on, leaning against the end of the first row and slightly\ninclined inward. One man was cutting the snow blocks outside, while\nhis helper was placing the blocks from the inside,\u2014each block being\ninclined slightly more inward so that a spiral wall was gradually\nformed. Finally the key block was inserted, and the builder cut a\nlittle door through which he came out. In the rear half of the circular\nroom, a platform was built for the bed which was elevated a couple of\nfeet above the ground, and at the same level, at the right and left of\nthe entrance, a bank was erected. The bed platform was covered with\nshrubs and skins. The tent cover was used to line the inside of the\nsnow house, being held to the wall by means of pegs and ropes, thus\nprotecting the snow against the heat of the living room. The lamps were\nput in place on each side of the front of the bed platform, and the\npots were hung over them. In front, just above the door, a window was\ncut which was covered with a translucent sheet, made of seal intestines\nsewed together, and a series of low vaulted structures was erected in\nfront of the door, forming a passageway which protected the inside\nagainst the wind.\n\nWhen everything was done the family moved into the snow house. Two\nfamilies occupied one house and each housewife had her seat in front of\nher lamp. The stores of meat were placed on the platforms at the right\nand left. Now the regular winter life began. It was bitter cold. The\ndogs huddled together in the entrance passages of the snow houses.\n\nEarly in the morning, the men went out to the sledges. The shoeing of\nthe runners, which were made of split and polished bone of whale, was\ncovered with a thin sheet of ice. The hunter took some water in his\nmouth, and allowed it to run slowly over the shoeing. Then he polished\nit with his mittened hand. After the icing had been made smooth, he\nturned the sledge right side up. The harpoon was lashed on, the knife\nwas suspended from the antlers that form the back of the sledge, which\nare used in steering it through rough ice. The hunters then put the\ndogs in harness. The light team started down to the beach. During\nthe continued cold weather, the rise and fall of the high tides was\nforming a broken mass of heavy ice on the beach which, as the winter\nprogressed, was constantly increasing in thickness. A beaten path led\ndown through the broken masses to smooth floe. The sledge sped down,\nand the hunters went off to the sealing ground. At first the unwilling\ndogs had to be coaxed to go forward, and even spurred on by cries and\nby the use of the short handled whip, which the driver handled with\nskill and accuracy, calling upon the lazy dogs, and hitting them at the\nsame time with the points of the whip. Gradually, the dogs warmed up,\nand ran along swiftly over the smooth floe. When they reached a part of\nthe ice that was broken up by gales, and in which the uplifted floes\nwere frozen together, the driver had to lift his sledge over the sharp\nedges and broken masses, and progress was slow and difficult.\n\nFinally the hunting ground was reached. The dogs took the scent of the\nbreathing hole of a seal, and they rushed forward with such speed that\nthe driver could hardly restrain them. At some distance from the hole\nhe succeeded in stopping his team. He tied the dogs to a hummock so\nthat they should not run away and then he inspected the seal hole to\nsee whether it was still being visited by the seal. It was completely\ncovered by snow, and discernible only to the experienced eye. He piled\nup a few blocks of snow on which he sat down. He laid his harpoon down\ncautiously, and waited. For hours he remained seated there, waiting for\nthe snorting of the seal. The slightest noise would frighten away the\nwary animal, and, notwithstanding the intense cold, the hunter could\nnot stir. At last he heard the seal. Cautiously he lifted his harpoon,\nand sent it down vertically into the snow. It hit the seal which tried\nin vain to escape. The hunter broke the snow covering of the hole, and\nhauled the animal upon the ice where, with a swift blow on the head, he\nkilled it. Before he loaded it on his sledge he cut it open, and took\nout the liver which served him as lunch.\n\nMeanwhile the short day had come to an end! The dogs were harnessed\nto the sledge, and the hunters returned home. When they arrived, they\nunloaded the sledge, unharnessed the dogs, and took off the heavy\nouter clothing. The hunter patted his coat carefully to remove the\nice formed by the freezing of his breath. Then he put his coat in the\nstoreroom and entered the house. As soon as he came in he took off his\nsealskin slippers, bird-skin slippers and stockings, which protected\nhis feet against the cold, and his wife placed them on the rack over\nthe lamp to dry. Then she looked them over and mended them carefully so\nthat they should be ready on the following day.\n\nWhen all the hunters had come back, those who had brought home no game\nflocked to the house of one of the successful hunters, who butchered\nhis seal and gave to each man a share to eat in the house, or to take\nhome to his family. They talked over the events of the day until late\nat night.\n\n * * * * *\n\nThis life had been going on quietly for all, without exciting events,\nwhen No-tongue\u2019s youngest child became ill. The boy refused food and\ndrink, and household remedies did not avail. In her anxiety for the\nlife of her darling, Attina appealed to Pakkak and asked him to find\nout what ailed the child, and if possible to cure him. Pakkak went\nto No-tongue\u2019s hut. As soon as he came in, the lamps were lowered.\nHe sat down on the bed facing the rear wall of the hut and began his\nincantation. His body shook violently when he called his protecting\nspirits to help him. He uttered unintelligible sounds and cries.\n\nFinally his incantation stopped. He addressed himself to Attina and\nsaid, \u201cHave you sinned? Have you eaten forbidden food? Have you done\nforbidden work? What tabus have you transgressed?\u201d She had asked\nherself what she might have done to bring about her child\u2019s sickness,\nand she remembered that she had scraped the frost from the window of\nher house, and that she had eaten seal meat and caribou meat on the\nsame day.\n\nShe replied, at once, \u201cI confess! I have scraped frost from the window\nof my house. I have eaten caribou meat and seal meat on the same day. I\nhave sinned.\u201d\n\nPakkak replied, \u201cIt is well, my daughter that you have confessed. Now\nthe evil consequences of your sins are forgiven. The black halo that\nI saw surrounding your body, and that has affected your child, has\ndisappeared and the boy will soon recover.\u201d\n\nThe lamps were lighted again. The confession of Attina\u2019s transgressions\nhad appeased the supernatural powers and therefore the parents hoped\nfor the recovery of their son.\n\nFor a while the little boy seemed to improve, but suddenly he suffered\na severe relapse, and before the help of Pakkak could be summoned, he\ndied. At once No-tongue prepared to bury the boy. He stuffed his own\nnostrils with caribou hair to prevent contamination by the exhalation\nfrom the corpse. The limbs were tied up with thongs and No-tongue\ncarried his dead child out of the hut and up the hills. There he cut\nthe thongs, and thus released the soul of the child. No-tongue covered\nthe body with a vault of stones, being careful that no stone should\nweigh on it. He deposited the child\u2019s toys and returned home. For three\ndays the whole family stayed in the house. No-tongue did not go out\na-hunting. Attina did not clean her lamps. She did not move the caribou\nskin of the bed. She did not mend any clothing. To transgress these\nrules would have resulted in new misfortunes.\n\nAfter four days all the members of the family threw away their clothing\nwhich had been contaminated by the breath of the dead child, and it was\nonly with the greatest difficulty that they secured enough skins from\ntheir neighbors to make a new set for the whole family. Through the\ncharity of friends they were finally provided for.\n\nThe death of the child, and the cares of the family weighed heavily on\nthe mind of Petrel, No-tongue\u2019s mother. He himself was light-hearted\nand consoled himself with the thought that they might have other\nchildren in the future; but she was an old woman, and felt that she\ncould not carry the burden of her years much longer. She loved her son\nand her grandchildren, and the thought haunted her mind that she might\ndie in the hut, and that they might be compelled to throw away another\nset of winter clothing and be exposed to the hardships of the winter\nwithout adequate protection. If only she could die away from home,\nand thus spare her dear ones the consequences of another sickness and\ndeath. The thought preyed on her mind and finally she resolved to end\nher own life.\n\nThe long Arctic night had set in, and only at noon came the sun near\nenough to the horizon to spread the faint light of dawn over the ice\nand mountains. One night when it was bitterly cold and the snow was\ndrifting, lashed by a strong wind, old Petrel left the house and walked\nacross the ice to a small island. There in a nook of barren rocks she\npiled up a wall of stones, and sat down behind it, in order to allow\nherself to freeze to death. Her thoughts dwelled with her children,\nand she was satisfied that she was not going to die of sickness in her\nbed, for then her future life would have been one of agony and torture\nin the lower world where there is only want and famine, where cold and\nstruggle prevail all the year round. By choosing her own death she\nlooked forward to a happy life in the upper world. There she was going\nto play ball, and her friends would see her joyful motions in the rays\nof the Aurora Borealis. She would enjoy comfort and plenty and the\ncares of this world, as well as the tortures of the lower world would\nbe spared her. Her limbs became numb with the cold and she went to\nsleep, her mind filled with pleasant visions.\n\nDuring the night Attina roused herself to trim her lamp. She chanced\nto look about, and noticed that Petrel was not there. She called her\nhusband who at once guessed what had happened. He gave the alarm\nand soon all the sledges were out. No tracks were to be seen in the\ndrifting snow, and the whole party scattered in different directions\nto search for the old woman. To right and left along the coast, north\nand south they went on their sledges. Usuk, the bachelor, who did\nmenial work for Pakkak, had joined the party. He, the despised and\nridiculed one, found the old woman in time to save her from death.\nNotwithstanding her resistance, he carried her to his sledge, and\nhurried home. She was taken into the house, covered with a warm blanket\nand scolded for the unnecessary worry that she had given to her family\nand to her neighbors. She was ill-satisfied with her rescue, but\nsubmitted to the friendly influence of her light-hearted son.\n\nIt seemed that with this event the ill luck of No-tongue had spent\nitself, and the rest of the winter passed quietly. The weather was\npropitious and no long continued gales kept the hunters at home. The\nsnow was hard and crisp so that the hunting ground could be reached\nwithout difficulty. Early in February, the first rays of the sun\nstruck the high mountains and although the cold was still intense, the\ndaylight made hunting and work easier.\n\nNow and then visitors came in from distant villages to see their\nrelatives. Everybody flocked to the hut where they were visiting, to\nhear the news. There was much to tell about success in hunting, about\nmarriage and birth, sickness and death. For months, the village had\nbeen cut off from all intercourse with the outside world, because the\nstrong currents that washed the foot of the promontories prevented the\nformation of ice, and only after the cold had continued long enough,\nwas the sea covered by a continuous floe, which allowed the villagers\nto travel unhampered from place to place.\n\nOne day a number of travelers were discovered, whose sledge, dogs and\ngait did not seem familiar. The news spread rapidly through the village\nand the women and children assembled on a point of vantage, straining\ntheir eyes in an attempt to discover who the visitors were. Soon,\nPakkak recognized an old friend who lived many days\u2019 journey away, and\nwhom he had not seen for many years. He shouted, \u201cThere is Eiderduck.\u201d\nWhen the women knew that the visitors were friends of Pakkak, they\nburst forth in song and laughter. They waved their arms and jumped\nabout. The frightened children hid, crying, behind their mothers. Most\nof the men went down to the ground ice to meet the strangers, and\nto help them to unload their sledges. Pakkak led Eiderduck and his\ncompanions to a snow house, and treated them hospitably with frozen\nseal meat.\n\nWhile they were eating, the people crowded into the house. They sat on\nthe bed platform, and squatted on the floor until there was no more\nroom. Those who could not get into the house crouched in the entrance\nto get a glimpse of the visitors, and to hear what they had to say. All\nthe older people had some friends in the villages through which the\ntravelers had passed, and therefore their reports were listened to with\nkeenest interest, interest which communicated itself to the younger\ngeneration, who thus learned about the family relationships and the\nhistory of all the people who lived many miles up and down the coast\nline.\n\nOne of the saddest stories that Eiderduck had to tell was that of some\npeople who had been caribou hunting in the fjord Muddy-Water. In the\nfall, when they were preparing to move camp, the frost set in very\nsuddenly, covering the sea with ice. Heavy snows fell in calm weather.\nThe sledges and the dogs sank deeply into the soft snow so that the\npeople were practically unable to move. Soon they were starving.\nMany died. In one house lived an old woman with her three sons and\na daughter. Her oldest son, Powlak, decided to go to the neighboring\nvillage to seek aid of the people. He left his only surviving dog with\nhis mother, that she might use it for food after he was gone. Then he\nstarted on his dangerous tramp through the soft snow.\n\nA short time after Powlak had left, his mother missed the dog. She\nwent in search of it, and found that its footprints led to one of the\nneighboring huts and did not come out again. For some time no sound\nhad been heard in that hut. She thought that the people were dead and\nshe had avoided going in. Now, however, when she needed the dog, she\novercame her fear. She called in through the entrance and found that\nthe people were alive, although hardly able to stir. She asked, \u201cIs my\ndog here?\u201d The house owner denied that it was there, saying that she\nhad not seen it. The old woman, however, searched, and finally when she\nlifted the heather on the bed she found its skinned body. She became\nvery angry and took the meat. The people were so weak and famished that\nthey could not resist. She took the dog home and she and her children\nlived on it. Her neighbors soon died of exhaustion. The pangs of hunger\nhad so hardened Powlak\u2019s mother, at other times a kind-hearted woman,\nthat she only thought of her own salvation, and felt no pity for the\nsufferings of others.\n\nWhen Powlak reached the neighboring village, he found that the people\nhad caught two whales in the fall of the preceding year. He told them\nthat the people in Muddy-Water were starving,\u2014that a few had tried to\nreach other places, but that they must have perished in the attempt,\nsince nothing had been heard from them. Powlak\u2019s friends were very\nkind to him. They gave him food to eat and for a few days they did\nnot let him return to his starving mother. They said to him, \u201cStay\nhere. Why do you want to perish? Your mother, your brothers and your\nsister are certainly dead by this time.\u201d Powlak, however, said, \u201cI am\nsure they are alive.\u201d When he insisted on returning as soon as he had\nrecuperated, his friends gave him an old dog and a whale-bone toboggan\nwhich they loaded with whale meat, skin and blubber. He started on his\nway back.\n\nWhen he reached his home after untold difficulties, he went to the\nwindow of his mother\u2019s hut and asked, standing outside, \u201cAre you all\ndead?\u201d His mother replied, \u201cThere is life in us yet.\u201d Then he went\nin, gave them the whale meat and whale skin, and learned of what had\nhappened during his absence. The food which he had obtained gave him\nthe strength to go out, and he had the good fortune to find a seal hole\nand as the season progressed, conditions became better and he was able\nto supply his family with food and clothing. A great number of the\nvillagers, however, had starved to death....\n\nIt was late in the night when the crowd began to dwindle leaving\nEiderduck and the other visitors to sleep.\n\n * * * * *\n\nAs the season progressed and the sun rose, the seals whelped. The\nskin of the young seal is white and wooly and highly prized for warm\nclothing. Therefore, the whole village set out to hunt for them. The\ndogs take the scent of the seal hole, and the poor pup is dragged out\nwith a hook and the hunter kills it by stepping on it.\n\nOne day when Pakkak was out hunting young seals, he found himself\nsuddenly confronted by a great polar bear, which was also out in\npursuit of seals. He always made it a point to raise good hunting dogs,\nand the large wolf-like gray creatures were eager to attack the bear\nwhich tried to escape. Pakkak never hesitated when there was a chance\nto get a bear. He cut the traces of two of his strongest dogs, which\nran in pursuit. When the bear saw that the dogs were about to overtake\nhim, it climbed an iceberg and took its position on a narrow ledge\nwhere its back was protected by the sheer ice wall. It sat up on its\nhaunches. The dogs scrambled up the slippery ice, and when Pakkak saw\nthat they held the bear at bay, he cut the traces of the others, jumped\noff the sledge, and approached lance in hand. His knife was hanging in\nits scabbard at his side.\n\nThe bear defended itself with its paws and teeth, and already one of\nthe dogs lay bleeding on the ice. The bear, however, could not move on\naccount of the swift attacks of the dogs. Pakkak approached fearlessly.\nWith a swift throw he tried to pierce the bear\u2019s heart His position was\ndangerous. The bear held the ledge, and by a single movement of its\nforelegs might throw the hunter down the steep side of the iceberg.\nWith a swing of its powerful forelegs, it broke the lance. If Pakkak\nhad not jumped back, he might have been caught in the embrace of the\nbear. There was nothing to do now, but attack the bear with the long\nhunting knife. He approached again, and watched until the bear, turning\nto the worrying dogs, exposed its side. Then with a powerful stroke,\nPakkak stabbed it in the side. However, he was not quick enough, and,\nwith its claws, the bear tore a deep gash in his shoulder. Then it\nrolled over, and fell down to the ice floe.\n\nWithout paying any attention to his wound, Pakkak skinned the bear and\nbutchered it and rolled it on the sledge. He spliced the traces of the\ndogs and turned back home where his success was greeted with joy.\n\nThen Pakkak tied the bladder and gall of the bear, together with his\ndrill, to the tip of his spear which he put upright in the ground in\nfront of his house. By this rite, the bear\u2019s soul which remains for\nthree days with the body, must be appeased.\n\nThe people asked Pakkak about his wound and his battle with the bear.\nHe scoffed at the danger in which he had been pretending that to kill\na fierce bear was to him no more of a task than to harpoon a harmless\nseal. His wife tended his wound, which was so deep that it took weeks\nto heal.\n\n * * * * *\n\nOne day, No-tongue had been out sealing with Pakkak\u2019s brother,\nIkeraping. As luck would have it he was very successful, while\nIkeraping, the strong and skillful hunter, had not killed a single\nseal. This annoyed Ikeraping, who was ashamed to go home without game.\nTherefore, he demanded of No-tongue that he should give up his seals to\nhim. No-tongue refused, but Ikeraping became so furious and aggressive\nthat No-tongue, who was by nature timid, gave way and let him have\nwhat he wanted. The injustice, however, rankled in No-tongue\u2019s mind.\nIt was not the first time that Ikeraping had lorded it over No-tongue,\nand No-tongue was afraid that sometime, in a quarrel with Ikeraping,\nhe might be killed. No-tongue talked the matter over with the other\npeople, but they were all too much afraid of Ikeraping and Pakkak and\ntheir brothers, to venture to do away with the aggressive Ikeraping.\n\nNow No-tongue was prompted to leave the village in which he had spent\nmany years. For a long time he had been talking of the distant home\nfrom which he had come with his mother, when he was a very young man.\nAt that time he wanted to see the world, and he had drifted from\nvillage to village along the whole coast line until finally he had\nsettled down with his wife. The memory of his old home had never left\nhim, and he longed to go back and see his relatives and the scenes of\nhis childhood. The quarrel with Ikeraping strengthened his decision to\nleave this year, despite the ties which held him to the village where\nhis children were born and were growing up.\n\nAlthough the feeding of many dogs was a burden, on account of the\nlarge amount of meat they demanded, No-tongue had strengthened his dog\nteam by raising a number of pups. He had now an excellent team of ten\ndogs. His sledge was in good repair. And so, before the melting of the\nsnow made traveling difficult, No-tongue was determined to depart. His\nwife would accompany him into the distant country which, to her, was a\nforeign land. It would take several years to accomplish the journey.\n\nThe departure of No-tongue was the beginning of the breaking up of\nthe winter village. The families were already planning for the summer\nhunt. Soon, the brooks would be running. The walrus would come near the\nshore. Whales would come blowing in the open water. Salmon would ascend\nthe rivers. Young geese would be plentiful, and the caribou would come\nback. The time of happiness was approaching of which No-tongue once\nsang:\n\n Ayaya, beautiful is the great world when summer is coming at last!\n Ayaya, beautiful is the great world when the caribou begin to come!\n Ayaya, when the little brooks roar in our country.\n Ayaya, I feel sorry for the gulls, for they cannot speak,\n Ayaya, I feel sorry for the ravens, for they cannot speak.\n Ayaya, if I cannot catch birds I quickly get plenty of fish.\n Ayaya!\n\n FRANZ BOAS\n\n[Illustration: DISTRIBUTION OF NORTH AMERICAN TRIBES\n\nNAMES OF TRIBES DESCRIBED IN THIS BOOK ARE PRINTED IN RED INK]\n\n\n\n\n APPENDIX\n\n\n\n\n NOTES ON THE VARIOUS TRIBES[19]\n\n\n Crow\n\nThe Crow Indians number about 1750. They now occupy a reservation in\nsoutheastern Montana between Billings, Montana and Sheridan, Wyoming.\nThis is near the center of their historic habitat, for their two main\nbands, the River Crow and Mountain Crow, roamed respectively from the\nYellowstone-Missouri confluence southwards, and from east-central\nMontana southward into Wyoming.\n\nIn point of language, the Crow belong to the Siouan family, forming\ntogether with the Hidatsa of North Dakota a distinct subdivision.\nThere is no doubt that some centuries ago they must have formed one\ntribe with the Hidatsa, since the languages are very closely related.\nIn culture many differences have developed between the two tribes; e.\ng., the Hidatsa were always semi-sedentary tillers of corn as well as\nhunters in historic times, while the Crow remained pure nomads before\nwhite influence. On the other hand, some important traits persisted in\nboth groups after their separation. The principal enemies of the Crow\nwere the Dakota; to a somewhat lesser extent the Blackfoot and Cheyenne.\n\nThe most important publications on the Crow are:\n\n CURTIS, EDWARD S. The North American Indian, vol. IV, New York, 1909.\n\n LOWIE, ROBERT H. Social Life of the Crow Indians (_Anthropological\n Papers of the American Museum of Natural History_, vol.\n IX, part 2.). New York, 1912.\n\n Societies of the Crow, Hidatsa and Mandan Indians (_ibid._, XI,\n part 3.). New York, 1913.\n\n The Sun Dance of the Crow Indians (_ibid._, XVI, part 1.). New\n York, 1915.\n\n Notes on the Social Organization and Customs of the Mandan,\n Hidatsa and Crow Indians (_ibid._, XXI, part 1.). New\n York, 1917.\n\n Myths and Traditions of the Crow Indians (_ibid._, XXV, part\n 1.). New York, 1918.\n\n The Tobacco Society of the Crow Indians (_ibid._, XXI, part 2.).\n New York, 1919.\n\n\n Blackfoot\n\nAt the time of discovery, these Indians resided east of the Rocky\nMountains in what is now Montana, and Alberta, Canada, and were grouped\ninto three tribes: Blackfoot, Blood, and Piegan. The Piegan were the\nlargest and dominant tribe, but all were in the habit of speaking of\nthemselves as Blackfoot. How this name originated is not known, though\nthere is a story that it was given them by other Indians because their\nmoccasins were always stained with the black loam of the rich prairies\nof Alberta.\n\nClosely affiliated with the Blackfoot were the Sarsi, a small\nAthabascan-speaking tribe, and the Prairie Gros Ventre, closely\nrelated to the Arapaho. Thus the Blackfoot group\u2014confederacy of early\nwriters\u2014was composed of at least five distinct tribal units. Their\nnearest cultural contemporaries are the Plains-Cree, Assiniboin, Crow,\nand Shoshoni.\n\nThe Blackfoot speak a language belonging to the great Algonkian family\nof eastern North America. The presumption is, therefore, that they\nmigrated from the woodlands of the east to the western plains, but this\nwas very long ago.\n\nThe surviving remnants of the tribe now number less than 5,000, fully\nhalf of whom live in the State of Montana, and less than half of these\nare of pure descent.\n\nFor further information on the Blackfoot and other Plains tribes, the\nreader is referred to:\n\n North American Indians of the Plains (Handbook series, No. 1\n American Museum of Natural History, 1912), by Clark Wissler,\n and the following monographs by Dr. Wissler, published in the\n _Anthropological Papers of the American Museum of Natural History_:\n\n Mythology of the Blackfoot Indians. vol. II, part 1.\n\n The Material Culture of the Blackfoot Indians. vol. V, part 1.\n\n The Social Life and Ceremonial Bundles of the Blackfoot Indians.\n vol. VII.\n\n Societies and Dance Associations of the Blackfoot Indians. vol. XI,\n part 4.\n\n Sun Dance of the Blackfoot Indians. vol. XVI, part 3.\n\n Some Protective Designs of the Dakota. vol. I, part 2.\n\n Societies and Ceremonial Associations in the Oglala Division of the\n Teton-Dakota. vol. XI, part 1.\n\n Riding Gear of the North American Indians. vol. XVII, part 1.\n\n Costumes of the Plains Indians. vol. XVII, part 2.\n\n Structural Basis to the Decoration of Costumes among the Plains\n Indians. vol. XVII, part 3.\n\n Decorative Art of the Sioux Indians (Bulletin, American Museum,\n vol. XVIII, part 3.).\n\n\n Menomini\n\nThe Menomini are a small tribe (1745 in number) of the Algonkian stock,\nwho formerly lived on the west shore of Green Bay, Wisconsin, and who\nnow dwell on their reservation, about forty miles inland from their\nformer headquarters, on the upper waters of the Wolf River, one of\ntheir old hunting grounds.\n\nIn culture the Menomini belong to the Central Algonkian group of\nWoodland Indians, and have long been closely associated with the Siouan\nWinnebago and the Algonkian Sauk, Fox, Potawatomi, and Ojibwa.\n\nDr. Skinner\u2019s publications on the Menomini are as follows:\n\n In the _Anthropological Papers of the American Museum of Natural\n History_, vol. XIII which is composed of:\n\n Social Life and Ceremonial Bundles of the Menomini Indians.\n\n Societies and Ceremonies of the Menomini.\n\n Folk Lore and Mythology of the Menomini Indians,[20] and in\n _Indian Notes and Monographs_, Museum of the American Indian, Heye\n Foundation:\n\n Medicine Ceremony of the Menomini Indians, vol. IV, 1920.\n\n Material Culture of the Menomini Indians, (unnumbered), 1921.\n\n\n Winnebago\n\nThe Winnebago number to-day about 3000 people of whom 1100 to 1500 live\nin Nebraska directly north of the Omaha reservation, and the rest in\nWisconsin, mainly in Jackson county but scattered all over the region\ndirectly to the north, east and west of that county, also. When first\ndiscovered, toward the middle of the seventeenth century, they occupied\nthe region between Green Bay and the Wisconsin River to the west, and\ntheir villages extended to the southern portions of Lake Winnebago to\nthe south. Toward the end of the seventeenth century and beginning of\nthe eighteenth century, we find them as far west as the Mississippi and\nas far south as Madison, Beloit, and even northern Illinois. While,\nunquestionably, they had been in part forced into this region by the\nwarlike activities of the Fox Indians, there seems sufficient evidence\nto show that they had always roamed over the greater part of this\ncountry.\n\nAfter their discovery by the French, much of their time was spent\nin fighting with the Foxes by whom they seem generally to have been\ndefeated. They were, from the beginning, exceedingly faithful to the\nFrench. To what degree they were influenced by the French missionaries\nand traders, it is difficult to say, but in all probability this\ninfluence was greater than has generally been supposed. After the\ncession of the old Northwest to the United States, they remained rather\nquiet but were definitely implicated in the Black Hawk War.\n\nAbout the middle of the nineteenth century, they were forcibly\ntransferred to Nebraska but many of them made their way back to\nWisconsin, and these, together with scattered Winnebago, who had\nmanaged to escape the enforced transference to Nebraska, form the\nmajority of those now living in Wisconsin. Since their partial removal\nto Nebraska, a number of minor differences in dialect and customs have\ndeveloped between the two divisions. The division in Wisconsin is\nundoubtedly the more conservative.\n\nThe immediate neighbors of the Winnebago were the Menomini to the\nnorth, and the Fox to the south; with these tribes they were always\nin intimate contact. With the Menomini they seem always to have been\non peaceful terms, but with the Fox they were frequently at war. They\nseem to have known the Potawatomi quite well, and the Ojibwa fairly\nwell. The eastern Dakota they also knew to a certain extent. In the\nmain, however, they knew their Algonkian neighbors (Menomini, Fox,\nPotawatomi) best and they were profoundly influenced by these tribes\nin their material culture. The mythology and certain religious notions\nof their Central Algonkian neighbors they also adopted, but these\nseem to have been kept apart and distinct from their old Winnebago\nmythology and religion. In their social organization, they were\ntotally uninfluenced and, on the contrary, influenced their neighbors\nprofoundly.\n\nThey present the interesting spectacle of a people entirely surrounded\nby alien tribes, absolutely cut off from all communication with groups\nspeaking related languages and having similar civilizations, who\nnevertheless have preserved many archaic Siouan cultural traits. What\nthey have, however, they have in part completely assimilated, in part\nkept distinct.\n\n BIBLIOGRAPHY\n\n RADIN, PAUL. The Ritual and Significance of the Winnebago Medicine\n Dance. (_Journal of American Folklore_, vol. XIV, pp.\n 149-208. 1911.)\n\n Winnebago Tales. (_Journal of American Folklore_, vol. XXII, pp.\n 288-313, 1909.)\n\n Social organization of the Winnebago Indians. In Geological\n Survey of Canada. (Museum Bulletin, 10. Anthrop. ser. 5.\n 1915.)\n\n The Peyote Cult of the Winnebago. (_Journal of Religious\n Psychology_, vol. VII [1914], pp. 1-22.)\n\n Autobiography of a Winnebago Indian. (University of California\n Publications in American Archaeology and Ethnology, XVI\n [1920], No. 7.)\n\n The Winnebago Indians. (Report of Bureau of American Ethnology.)\n (In press.)\n\n\n Meskwaki\n\nThe Meskwaki Indians at present live in the vicinity of Tama, Iowa, and\nare 350 in round numbers. Officially, all are listed as full-bloods,\nbut the fact is that there is a good deal of old white (French and\nEnglish) mixture\u2014practically none within the last sixty years. And many\nhave Sauk, Potawatomi, and Winnebago blood. On the rolls the Meskwaki\nare carried as Sauk and Fox of the Mississippi; but this is due to the\nfact that the Federal government long ago legally consolidated the two\ntribes, though they are, even to-day, distinct in language, ethnology,\nand mythology. Fox is but one of the many synonyms for the Meskwaki\nIndians.\n\nTheir native name, me sgw A ki A ki, in the current syllabary, means\n\u201cRed-Earths.\u201d\n\nThe Meskwaki linguistically are closely related to the Sauk and\nKickapoo, more remotely to Shawnee, and to the Penobscot, Malecite,\netc., of Maine and adjacent parts of Canada. They are also\ncomparatively close to the Cree and Menomini. Culturally the Sauk,\nFox, and Kickapoo are very near each other, and show woodland traits\npredominantly, with touches of those of the plains. They are also close\nto the adjacent Siouan tribes. The physical type of the Meskwaki has\nnot been worked out; from Michelson\u2019s unpublished data it would appear\nthat beside a mesocephalic tribe, a brachycephalic one also occurs.\nThis last is probably due to intermarriage with Winnebagos. Moderate\noccipital deformation occurs owing to the use of hard cradle boards;\nand so the problem is not simple, for moderate deformation is not\nalways easy to detect.\n\nA practically complete bibliography on the Meskwaki is given by\nMichelson, _Journal of the Washington Academy of Sciences_, vol. IX,\npp. 485, 593-596. Since that time (1919) but little has appeared. A\nnumber of volumes on the Meskwaki by Michelson will eventually be\npublished by the Bureau of American Ethnology.[21] The most important\npublications on the Meskwaki are:\n\n MAJOR MARSTON. Letter to the Rev. Jediah Morse, 1820.\n\n FORSYTH, THOMAS. Account of the Manners and Customs of the Sauk and\n Fox Nations of Indians\u2019 Traditions, 1827. (This, and the\n preceding are readily accessible in E. Blair\u2019s Indian\n Tribes of the Upper Mississippi and Great Lakes Region,\n vol. II, pp. 137-245).\n\n JONES, WILLIAM. Fox Texts, 1907.\n\n The Algonkin Manitou (_Journal of American Folklore_, vol.\n XVIII, pp. 183-190 [1905]).\n\n Mortuary observances and the adoption rites of the Algonquin\n Foxes of Iowa (Congr\u00e8s International des Americanists,\n XVI: 263-277 [1907]).\n\n Algonquian (Fox) (revised by Truman Michelson: Handbook of\n American Indian Languages, Bulletin 40, of the Bureau of\n American Ethnology part 1; pp. 735-873 [1911]).\n\n MICHELSON, TRUMAN. Preliminary report on the linguistic classification\n of Alqonquian Tribes (28th Annual Report of the Bureau of\n American Ethnology, pp. 221-290b [1912]).\n\n\n Montagnais\n\nThe Indians of the Algonkian linguistic stock known in literature as\nthe Montagnais, inhabit the vast region north of the St. Lawrence river\nfrom the coast of Labrador on the Atlantic, westward through to the St.\nMaurice river near Quebec, and northward to the height of land dividing\nthe Arctic watershed from that of the St. Lawrence. They number not far\nfrom 3,000 souls widely scattered in small bands comprising certain\ndialectic and ethnical groupings. Within certain limits they are\nnomadic, subsisting entirely by hunting and fishing, never warlike\nexcept in their resistance to the Iroquois, docile and orderly. They\nwere visited early in the 17th century by Jesuit missionaries who have\nleft us the only specific literature dealing with their mode of life.\nTheir culture is characterized by extreme simplicity, almost barren in\nits social, political and ceremonial aspects though rich in the field\nof activity concerned with hunting, fishing and traveling. Roughly\nspeaking, the Montagnais group lends itself to a threefold division,\nthe ethnological and dialectic peculiarities following somewhat the\nsame limits: those of the coast, the typical so-called Montagnais;\nthose of the interior of the northwestern part of the Labrador\npeninsula, and those of the northeastern interior. The latter have come\nto be known as the eastern Naskapi. The whole group is closely related\nto the Cree of Hudson\u2019s Bay, outside of which area its next closest\naffinities lie with the Wabanaki group of the region south of the St.\nLawrence, from New Hampshire to Newfoundland.\n\n\n Iroquois\n\nThe Iroquois Confederacy consisted of five, later six, tribes,\nspeaking the Iroquois language. In addition to these tribes there were\nothers belonging to the same linguistic stock, such as the Hurons,\nthe Cherokee, and others. The Confederacy or League of the Iroquois\nwas formed towards the end of the sixteenth century and embraced, at\nthat time, the following tribes: Mohawk, Oneida, Onondaga, Cayuga and\nSeneca. In the beginning of the eighteenth century they were joined by\nthe Tuscarora.\n\nThe original area occupied by these tribes embraced the following\ndistrict: nearly the entire valley of the St. Lawrence, the basins of\nLake Ontario and Lake Erie, the southeast shores of Lake Huron and\nGeorgian Bay, all of the present New York State except the lower Hudson\nvalley, all of central Pennsylvania, and the shores of Chesapeake Bay\nin Maryland, as far as Choptank and Patuxent Rivers.\n\nAccording to some computations, the number of Iroquois villages about\n1657 was about twenty-four; towards 1750 their number may have grown\nto about fifty. Towards the end of the seventeenth century, the total\nnumber of confederated Iroquois may have reached 16,000, which is also\nthe approximate number of the present Iroquois, including numerous\nmixed breeds, who occupy a number of reservations in northwest New York\nand southeastern Canada.\n\nThe tribes of the League are usually classed in the so-called Woodlands\nculture area. They have, however, developed a civilization which is\ngreatly specialized when compared with other tribes of that area,\nespecially in social and political organization. The Iroquois exerted\na powerful influence on some of their neighbors, notably on some of\nthe eastern Algonkian tribes, whose socio-political organization bears\nunmistakable traces of Iroquois influence. The Iroquois of the League\ngreatly developed a consciousness of what to-day might be designated\nas a historic mission. Their leaders believed that the Great Peace,\nfor which the League stood, was fated to spread over all of the\nIndian tribes. In their attempts to induce other tribes to accept the\nprinciples of the League, they carried on an almost unceasing warfare\nagainst such tribes as the Neutrals, the Algonkians and the Sioux, and\ntheir combined forces proved irresistible to their less efficiently\norganized neighbors. Ultimately, they were checked in the south by\ntheir own relatives, the Cherokee.\n\n BIBLIOGRAPHY\n\n HALE, HORATIO. The Iroquois Book of Rites.\n\n MORGAN, LEWIS H. The League of the Iroquois (The 1904, one volume\n edition.)\n\n PARKER, A. C. The Iroquois Uses of Maize and Other Food Plants.\n\n Handsome Lake Doctrine.\n\n The Constitution of the Iroquois League.\n\n HEWITT, J. N. B. Orenda and a Definition of Religion. (_American\n Anthropologist_, vol. IV, 1902.).\n\n Iroquoian Cosmology (21st Annual Report of the Bureau of\n American Ethnology.).\n\n Seneca Fiction, Legends and Myths (32nd Annual Report of the\n Bureau of American Ethnology.).\n\n GOLDENWEISER, ALEXANDER A. Summary Reports on Iroquoian Work\n (Geological Survey, Ottawa, Canada, 1912-13, 1913-14.).\n\n\n Lenape or Delaware Indians\n\nThe Lenape or Delaware Indians were once a numerous people forming a\nconfederacy of three closely related tribes: the Unami or Delawares\nproper, the Unalachtigo or Unalatko, and the Minsi or Muncey, first\nencountered by the whites in what is now New Jersey, Delaware, eastern\nPennsylvania, and southeastern New York, but at last accounts reduced\nto some 1900 persons, scattered about in Oklahoma and in the Province\nof Ontario, Canada, with a few in Wisconsin and Kansas.\n\nAlgonkian in language, their culture was typical of the northern half\nof the Eastern Woodland area, being most nearly related, as might be\nexpected, to that of the Nanticoke and other Algonkian tribes adjoining\nthem to the south, and that of the Mohican of the Hudson valley and of\nthe Long Island tribes; and resembling in many general features the\ncultures of the New England tribes, of the Central Algonkian peoples,\nand of the Shawnee. The culture of the Lenape, that of the Minsi, in\nparticular, also shows some special resemblances in addition to the\ngeneral ones common to the whole Eastern Woodland, to that of the\nIroquois tribes, although the latter speak dialects of an entirely\ndifferent language.\n\nAmong the works dealing wholly or mainly with Lenape ethnology are the\nfollowing:\n\n BRINTON, DANIEL G. The Lenape and their Legends, Philadelphia, 1885.\n\n HARRINGTON, M. R. Some Customs of the Delaware Indians. (_Museum\n Journal of the Museum of the University of Pennsylvania_,\n vol. I. No. 3.).\n\n Vestiges of Material Culture among the Canadian Delawares.\n (_American Anthropologist_, N. S. vol. X, No. 3,\n July-Sept., 1908.).\n\n A Preliminary Sketch of Lenape Culture. (_American\n Anthropologist_, N. S. vol. XV, No. 2, April-June, 1913.).\n\n Religion and Ceremonies of the Lenape (in press).\n\n Political and Social Organization of the Lenape (in Ms.).\n\n Material Culture of the Lenape (in Ms.).\n\n Lenape Folklore (in Ms.).\n\n HECKEWELDER, JOHN. An Account of the History, Manners and Customs of\n the Indian Nations who once inhabited Pennsylvania and the\n neighboring States. (Transactions of the American\n Philosophical Society, vol. I, Philadelphia, 1819.).\n\n LOSKIEL, GEORGE HENRY. History of the Mission of the United Brethren\n among the Indians in North America, London, 1794.\n\n SKINNER, ALANSON. The Indians of Greater New York, Cedar Rapids, 1915.\n\n The Lenape Indians of Staten Island. (_Anthropological Papers of\n the American Museum of Natural History_, vol. III, New\n York, 1909.).\n\n The Indians of Manhattan Island and vicinity. (Guide leaflet No.\n 41, American Museum of Natural History.)\n\n ZEISBERGER, DAVID. David Zeisberger\u2019s History of the Northern American\n Indians. Edited by Archer Butler Hulbert and William\n Nathaniel Schwarze. (_Ohio Archaeological and Historical\n Quarterly_, vol. XIX, Nos. 1 and 2, Columbus, 1910.)\n\n\n Creeks\n\nThe Creek confederacy was based upon a number of tribes speaking the\nMuskogee language, usually called Creek, but many other tribes were\ntaken into the organization in course of time, most of them speaking\nrelated tongues but a few of entirely distinct stocks. From estimates\nmade by early writers it would seem as though the Creek population had\nincreased from about 7000 in 1700 to 20,000 at the time of the removal\n(1832). This shrunk again after that date so that the Indian Office\nreport of 1919 gives 11,952 \u201cCreeks by blood,\u201d to which must be added\n2141 \u201cSeminole by blood,\u201d 585 \u201cFlorida Seminole,\u201d and 192 Alabama in\nTexas. The Seminole and Alabama formerly belonged to the Confederacy.\nProbably this includes a great many individuals with very little Indian\nblood, because the Census of 1910 returned only about 9000 all told.\n\nWhen first known to Europeans the tribes of this connection occupied\nthe eastern two-thirds of Alabama and all of what is now Georgia,\nexcept the northernmost and easternmost parts. Some of the Indians,\nthen found upon the Georgia coast, seem afterward to have moved into\nthe hinterland to unite with the confederate body.\n\nThe confederacy was gradually extending itself by taking in smaller\npeoples driven from their own country or suffering from more powerful\nneighbors, among them the Yuchi and a part of the Shawnee. Even\nthe Chickasaw, though sometimes at war with them, had a sort of\nsemi-official membership and it is probable that more of the tribes\neast and south would have been gathered into the league had it not been\nfor the coming of the whites. They were, however, equalled and probably\nexcelled in numbers by the Cherokee on their northeastern border, and\nthe Choctaw to the southwest, with both of which tribes they waged\nbitter wars as well as with the Apalachee and Timucua southeast of\nthem. These differences were, however, aggravated considerably by the\nrival Spanish, English, and French colonists. It should be understood\nthat the Creek Confederacy was a growing American national organism,\ncomparable to the Iroquois Confederacy, the states of Central America\nand Mexico and some of those of the Old World.\n\n BIBLIOGRAPHY\n\n ADAIR, JAMES. History of the North American Indians.\n\n BARTRAM, WILLIAM. Travels. (His paper in vol. III, American\n Ethnological Society. Trans.)\n\n BOSSU, M. Nouveaux Voyages, etc., (Alabama Indians.), 1768.\n\n GATSCHET. A Migration Legend of the Creek Indians, (vol. I in\n Brinton\u2019s Library of Aboriginal Literature; vol. II in\n Trans. Academy of Science of St. Louis.).\n\n HAWKINS, BENJAMIN. A Sketch of the Creek Country, (Georgia Historical\n Society Collections, vol. III, 1848.).\n\n SWAN. Schoolcraft, Indian Tribes, vol. V.\n\n SWANTON, JOHN R. Early History of the Creek Indians and Their\n Neighbors. (Bureau American Ethnology [in press]).\n\n\n Apache\n\nThe various Apache tribes of Arizona number about 5000. They are about\nequally divided between the two adjoining reservations, San Carlos and\nWhite Mountain. Their habitat was the upper drainage systems of the\nSalt and Gila Rivers. Culturally, they are related to the Pima and the\nYuman-speaking Yavapai and Walapai to the west. They are related also\nlinguistically, and in pre-Spanish times culturally, to the Navaho who\nlive north of them. In a general way they participate in the social and\nreligious life characteristic of the whole Southwestern area.\n\n BOURKE, JOHN G. The Medicine Men of the Apache (9th Annual Report of\n the Bureau of American Ethnology.)\n\n GODDARD, P. E. In the _Anthropological Papers of the American Museum\n of Natural History_, vol. XXIV:\n\n Myths and Tales from the San Carlos Apache, part 1.\n\n Myths and Tales from the White Mountain Apache. part 2.\n\n\n Navaho\n\nThe Navaho are an Athabascan tribe of nomadic or semi-nomadic habit\noccupying a reservation in northeast Arizona, northwest New Mexico\nand southeast Utah. In 1906 they were roughly estimated at 28,500.\nSheep raising and weaving are their main industries. In many ways\ntheir ceremonial life appears like that of their neighbors, the Pueblo\nIndians, but the relationship of the two peoples in ceremonialism, as\nin other respects, has not been studied.\n\n BIBLIOGRAPHY\n\n MATTHEWS, WASHINGTON. Navaho Legends (Memoirs American Folklore\n Society, V. 1897. [See bibliography]).\n\n The Night Chant, a Navaho Ceremony. (Memoirs American Museum of\n Natural History, VI, 1902.)\n\n FRANCISCAN FATHERS, THE. An Ethnologic Dictionary of the Navaho\n Language. 1910.\n\n GODDARD, P. E. Indians of the Southwest. (Handbook Series, No. 2.\n American Museum of Natural History, 1921.)\n\n\n Zu\u00f1i Indians\n\nZu\u00f1i is one of the towns of the Pueblo or Town Indians of the\nsouthwest. It is situated about the middle of New Mexico, near the\nArizona border. The population of Zu\u00f1i and its outlying settlements is\nestimated at about 1600.\n\nThe Pueblo Indians live in about thirty towns in New Mexico and\nArizona, and number about 10,000. They are usually classified according\nto language into four or five stocks, the Hopi of Arizona, the Ashiwi\nor people of Zu\u00f1i, the Keres of Acoma and Laguna to the west and, to\nthe east, of five towns on the Rio Grande, and, also in the east, the\nTanoans including the Tewa and the people of Jemez.\n\nWhen the Spanish conquistadores came up from Mexico into this country,\nthey found the people distributed more or less as they are to-day,\nalthough since that time many old sites have been deserted and new\nsites built upon. With increasing protection for life and property,\nthere has been a tendency to move down from the mesa tops to the better\nwatered and more fertile valleys.\n\nAt the arrival of the Spaniards, and no doubt long before, the people\nwere not only builders, but skillful potters and farmers, practising\nalike dry farming and irrigation. From their economy and complex\nceremonial life, they may be considered the northernmost fringe of the\nmaize culture area of Middle and South America, that great reach which\nincluded the Inca Kingdom of Peru and the Mayas and Aztecs of Mexico.\n\nWheat, peach trees and watermelons were brought to the Pueblo Indians\nby the Spaniards, as well as sheep, cattle, horses and donkeys. And the\nSpaniards established Franciscan missions and a secular governorship,\nthereby affecting religion and form of government, to what extent\nis still an open question. Less obscure, but no less interesting is\nthe effect that modern industry is having upon the culture; as might\nbe expected, American trade has been disintegrating, but entirely\ndestructive it has not been, as yet.\n\nThe ceremonial Mr. Culin describes, belongs either to the Thlewekwe\nSociety or to the Big Fire-brand Society. See \u201cThe Zu\u00f1i Indians,\u201d pp.\n483-8, 502-1. After the dance, the saplings with butts tapered and\npainted red are thrown down a rocky pitch in one of the buttes of the\nmesa to the north. Specimens may be seen in the American Museum of\nNatural History and in the Museum of the University of California.\n\nThat the skull acquired by Mr. Cushing was of questionable authenticity\nis a fact at present known at Zu\u00f1i; for it is said there that it was\nbecause of this Tenatsali came to his premature death.\n\n BIBLIOGRAPHY\n\n CULIN, STEWART. American Indian Games. (24th [1906] Annual Report of\n Bureau of American Ethnology.)\n\n CUSHING, F. H. Zu\u00f1i Fetiches. (2nd [1880-1] Annual Report of Bureau\n of American Ethnology.)\n\n My Adventures in Zu\u00f1i. (_The Century Magazine_, N. S. III,\n 1882.)\n\n Outlines of Zu\u00f1i Creation Myths. (13th [1891-2] Annual Report of\n Bureau of American Ethnology.)\n\n Zu\u00f1i Folk Tales. New York & London, 1901.\n\n Zu\u00f1i Breadstuffs. (Republished in _Indian Notes and Monographs_,\n vol. VIII. Museum of the American Indian, Heye Foundation,\n 1920.)\n\n DUMAREST, N. Notes on Cochiti, New Mexico. (Memoirs American\n Anthropological Association, vol. VI, No. 3. 1919)\n\n FEWKES, J. W. (For Hopi monographs see his Biography and\n Bibliography.)\n\n KROEBER, A. L. Zu\u00f1i Kin and Clan. (_Anthropological Papers of the\n American Museum of Natural History_, vol. XVIII, part 2.\n 1917.)\n\n PARSONS, E. C. Notes on Zu\u00f1i. (Memoirs, American Anthropological\n Association, vol. IV, Nos. 3, 4. 1917.)\n\n Notes on Ceremonialism at Laguna. (_Anthropological Papers of\n the American Museum of Natural History_, vol. XIX, part 4.\n 1920.\n\n _American Anthropologist_, vols. XVIII, XIX, XX, XXI, XXII,\n XXIII.\n\n _Journal American Folklore_, vol. XXIX No. 113; vol. XXXI, No.\n 120; vol. XXXIII, No. 127.\n\n _Man_, vol. XVI, No. 11; vol. XVII, No. 12; vol. XIX, No. 3; No.\n 11; vol. XXI, No. 7.)\n\n STEPHEN, A. M. (For articles on Hopi ceremonials see _American\n Anthropologist_, vol. V; _Journal American Folklore_,\n vols. V. VI.)\n\n STEVENSON, M. C. The Zu\u00f1i Indians (23rd [1901-2] Annual Report of\n Bureau of American Ethnology.)\n\n The Sia. (11th [1889-90] Annual Report of Bureau of American\n Ethnology.)\n\n VOTH, H. R. (Several valuable monographs on Hopi ceremonials in the\n Anthropological Series of the Field Museum.)\n\n\n Havasupai\n\nThe Havasupai are a small Yuman-speaking tribe whose permanent village\nis in Cataract Canyon, a southern tributary of the Grand Canyon of\nColorado, in northern Arizona. Their hunting territory is that portion\nof the Arizona Plateau seen by tourists to the Grand Canyon. The tribe\nnumbers 177 (214 in 1881) and is therefore dependent on friendly\nrelations with the neighboring Walapai, who share their tongue, to\nthe west, and the Navaho and pueblo-dwelling Hopi to the east. Their\nenemies were the Yavapai and Apache south of their range and the\nPaiute, north across the Grand Canyon. Of the little that has been\nwritten about these people, the following are dependable:\n\n COUES, ELLIOT. On the Trail of a Spanish Pioneer. The Diary and\n Itinerary of Francisco Garc\u00e9s. (A curious record by their\n discoverer, written in 1776), vol. II, pp. 335-347,\n 403-409. New York, Francis P. Harper, 1900.\n\n CUSHING, F. H. The Nation of the Willows. (A vivid account of the\n country and the first description of its people.)\n _Atlantic Monthly_, vol. I, Sept., Oct., 1882, pp.\n 362-374, 541-559.\n\n SHUFELDT, R. W. Some Observations on the Havesu-pai Indians.\n (Proceedings, U. S. National Museum, Washington, D. C.,\n 1891, vol. XIV, pp. 387, et seq.)\n\n SPIER, LESLIE. The Havasupai of Cataract Ca\u00f1on. (_American Museum\n Journal_, New York, December, 1918, pp. 636-645.)\n\n (A full account of tribal customs is to be published by the same\n author in the _Anthropological Papers of the American\n Museum of Natural History_.)\n\n\n Mohave\n\nThe Mohave are of Yuman stock. They have lived for more than three\ncenturies in the bottomlands of the Colorado river where the present\nstates of California, Nevada, and Arizona adjoin. Down-stream to the\nmouth of the Colorado were half a dozen kindred but often hostile\ntribes, of whom the Yuma proper are the best known survivors. The\nmountains to the east, in Arizona, were held by still other Yuman\ngroups\u2014Yavapai, Walapai, Havasupai\u2014of rather different habits from\nthe river tribes. To the north and east, the deserts of Nevada and\nCalifornia were occupied by sparse groups of Shoshonean lineage.\n\nThe Mohave may have numbered 3000 in aboriginal times. In 1910 the\ngovernment counted 1058. Part of these had been transferred to a\nreservation down-stream at Parker.\n\n BIBLIOGRAPHY\n\n BOLTON, H. E. Spanish Exploration in the Southwest. (pp. 268-280\n contain a translation of Z\u00e1rate-Salmer\u00f3n\u2019s Relacion or\n account of O\u00f1ate\u2019s expedition of 1604-05.) New York, 1916.\n\n COUES, ELLIOT. On the Trail of a Spanish Pioneer. The Diary and\n Itinerary of Francisco Garc\u00e9s, 1775-1776. New York, 1900.\n\n WHIPPLE, A. W., EWBANK, T., and TURNER, W. W. Report of Explorations\n for a Railway Route near to the 35th Parallel of North\n Latitude from the Missouri River to the Pacific Ocean.\n part 1, Itinerary; part 3. Report upon the Indian Tribes.\n Washington, 1855.\n\n STRATTON, R. B. The Captivity of the Oatman Girls. New York, 1857.\n\n BOURKE, J. G. Notes on the Cosmogony and Theogony of the Mojave\n Indians. (_Journal of American Folklore_, vol. II, pp.\n 169-189, 1889.)\n\n CURTIS, E. S. The North American Indian, vol. II.\n\n KROEBER, A. L. Preliminary Sketch of the Mohave Indians. (_American\n Anthropologist_, N. S., vol. IV, pp. 276-285, 1902.)\n\n Yuman Tribes of the Lower Colorado. (University of California\n Publications in American Archaeology and Ethnology. vol.\n XVI, pp. 475-485, 1920.)\n\n Chapters L and LI, \u201cThe Mohave,\u201d of \u201cThe Indians of California,\u201d\n (in press as Bulletin of the Bureau of American Ethnology,\n Washington, D. C.).\n\n\n Tepecanos\n\nThe Tepecanos were formerly a tribe of some importance, occupying\nconsiderable territory on the southern slopes of the Sierra Madre range\nin Western Mexico. Here they were found by the early Spanish conquerors\nwho refer to them as Chichimec tribes. Their subsequent history is yet\nto be culled from prosy Mexican records. They probably fought valiantly\nagainst the white invaders but were defeated. As the country became\nsettled and European blood introduced, the conservative members of the\ntribe continually retreated, until to-day they occupy but one village,\nAzquelt\u00e1n, in the northern part of the state of Jalisco, and a few\nsquare miles of surrounding territory. Their numbers are reduced to a\nfew hundred and many of these are mixed-bloods.\n\nPhysically the Tepecanos are closely akin to the other native tribes of\nwestern Mexico. The same may be said as regards their language, though\nin this respect the differences are greater. The Tepecano language is\nvery closely related to the Tepehuane, Papago and Pima of northwestern\nMexico and Arizona and more distantly related to Huichol, Cora, Aztec\nand Ute.\n\nLittle of a connected nature has been written on the Tepecano. The\nfollowing list includes practically all the extant literature:\n\n OROZCO Y BERRA, MANUEL. Geograf\u00eda de las lenguas y carta etnogr\u00e1fica\n de M\u00e9xico; M\u00e9xico, 1864. pp. 49, 279, 282.\n\n LUMHOLTZ, CARL. Unknown Mexico, vol. II, p. 123, New York, 1902.\n\n H\u0158DLI\u010cKA, ALE\u0160. The Chichimecs and their Ancient Culture. (_American\n Anthropologist_, N. S., vol. III, 1903.)\n\n Physiological and Medical Observations. (Bulletin 34, Bureau of\n American Ethnology, Washington, 1908.)\n\n LE\u00d3N, NICOL\u00c1S. Familias Ling\u00fc\u00edsticas de M\u00e9xico, Mexico, 1902.\n\n THOMAS, CYRUS, and SWANTON, JOHN R. Indian Languages of Mexico and\n Central America. (Bulletin 44, Bureau of American\n Ethnology, Washington, 1911.)\n\n MASON, J. ALDEN. The Tepehuan Indians of Azquelt\u00e1n. (Proceedings 18th\n International Congress of Americanists, London, 1912.)\n\n The Fiesta of the Pinole at Azquelt\u00e1n. (_The Museum Journal_,\n III, University Museum, Philadelphia, 1912.)\n\n Tepecano, A Piman Language of Western Mexico. (Annals of the New\n York Academy of Science, vol. XXV, New York, 1917.)\n\n Tepecano Prayers. (_International Journal of American\n Linguistics_, vol. I, II, 1918.)\n\n Four Mexican Spanish Folk Tales from Azquelt\u00e1n, Jalisco.\n (_Journal of American Folklore_, vol. XXV, 1912.)\n\n Folk Tales of the Tepecanos. (_Journal of American Folklore_,\n vol. XXVII, 1914.)\n\n\n Aztecs\n\nFor general account and bibliography see Spinden, H. J. Ancient\ncivilizations of Mexico and Central America. (American Museum of\nNatural History, Handbook series. No. 3. 1917.)\n\n\n Mayas\n\n I\n\nThe picture of life in the Old Maya Empire of Central America during\nthe sixth century after Christ is reconstructed almost entirely from\nthe arch\u00e6ological evidence. Unlike many of the indigenous cultures of\nour own country which have survived with all their wealth of legend,\nmyth, rite and ceremonial, down to the present day, the Old Maya Empire\nhad vanished centuries before the Discovery of America. The episode in\nthe life of a boy who might have lived in those colorful times must\nnecessarily be based upon what we may glean from the monuments, temples\nand palaces of the period, helped out here and there by some few\nethnological facts about the New Maya Empire gathered a millenium later.\n\nThe term \u201cTrue Man,\u201d _halach vinic_, was that given by the Maya only to\ntheir highest chiefs, their hereditary rulers, who would seem to have\nlived in a state not unlike feudalism, even discounting the indubitable\nfeudalistic bias with which all the early Spanish chroniclers wrote.\nThe rulers together with the priesthood would appear to have been\nnearly, if not quite absolute; succession to the supreme office passed\nby hereditary descent, though probably individual unfitness therefor\ncould and did modify the operation of strict primogeniture; finally a\nsystem of vassalage, of lesser chieftains dependent upon an overlord,\ncertainly obtained. Indeed, such are the extent and magnificence of\nthe architectural and monumental remains of the Maya civilization that\nin order to have achieved them, it is necessary to postulate a highly\ncentralized form of government, administered by a small, powerful caste.\n\n II\n\nChichen Itza has had a long and varied history. Founded by the Mayas\nabout 500 A. D. in their northern migrations from their original homes\nin Honduras and Guatemala, abandoned for four hundred years and settled\nagain about the year 1000, Chichen was now to have two hundred years\nof growth and prosperity. Many of the older buildings still standing,\ndate from this period. The famous League of Mayapan, Uxmal, and Chichen\nItza, was a working alliance which resulted in all the cities of\nYucatan making great strides forward in many of the arts. Several of\nthe more famous structures at Chichen were erected in this epoch. Our\nstory begins with the disruption of this League, when Mayapan brought\nin Mexican forces to prey upon the other cities of the peninsula. Peace\ngave way to many years of civil strife. The final destruction of\nMayapan, about the middle of the fifteenth century, marked the end of\nthe Maya civilization. The Spaniards found only the lingering remnants\nof the former splendor.\n\nNone of the ruined cities of Yucatan is more wonderful than Chichen\nItza, stately and grand even now when many of its temples have fallen\ninto decay, and others are buried in the depths of the forest. The\nsharp outlines of the Great Pyramid still rise above the level line\nof the trees of the jungle. The fine proportions of the pyramid, and\nthe temple still standing on its top, mark it as perhaps the most\ncomplete and perfect building still extant in the whole Maya area. The\nsubstantial walls of the Ball Court remain as solid as when they were\nbuilt. One of the stone rings still projects from the wall, a witness\nto the love of sport of the ancient people. The beautiful Temple of the\nTigers, standing on the end of one of the walls, has been a prey to the\ndevastating forces of man, of beast, and of nature. Vines and the roots\nof trees have gained a foothold on the roof, and many of the carved\nstones have fallen. Iguanas run in all directions when the chance\nvisitor approaches. The frescoes of the inner chamber are but blurred\nremains of a former art.\n\nAnd the Cenote of Sacrifice, that famous well, so vividly described by\nthe early Christian priests, is now but a deserted shrine. Trailing\nvines, ferns, and palms almost cover the precipitous sides. The dark\ngreen waters are almost concealed by the slime of decaying vegetation.\nBut the sight of the silent, sinister pool, surrounded by the unbroken\nforest, makes it easy, even now, to picture the scenes of sacrifice\nwhich it has witnessed.\n\nThe country is still peopled by the Mayas but their greatness is a\nthing of the past. The present-day native may well pause to wonder what\nthe ruined buildings of his country were really for. He knows only\nwhat his white masters have told him. \u201cThey are the temples of your\nancestors who have had a past unequaled in the early history of the New\nWorld, a past stretching back almost to the beginning of the Christian\nEra.\u201d He only shakes his head and murmurs in his adopted language,\n\u201c_Quien sabe_.\u201d\n\nThe Maya civilization formerly embraced the whole peninsula of Yucatan,\nChiapas and Tabasco, states of Mexico, the greater part of Guatemala,\nBritish Honduras, northern Honduras, and northern Salvador. This\ncountry is still occupied in general with peoples speaking various\ndialects of the Maya language.\n\nThe Mayas, both linguistically and culturally, are distinct from the\nZapotecs in Oaxaca and the Nahua-Aztec peoples of Central Mexico. There\nis little doubt, however, that all the cultures of Mexico and Central\nAmerica go back to a common origin. The Maya civilization is older\nthan that of the Toltecs in Mexico which, in turn, preceded that of\nthe Aztecs. The Toltec culture greatly influenced the late Maya of\nnorthern Yucatan about 1200 A. D.\n\n MAYA CHRONOLOGY (CHICHEN ITZA)\n\n ?-200 A. D. Period of migrations.\n 200-600 Chichen Itza founded.\n 520 Chichen Itza abandoned.\n 640-960 Itzas at Chakanputun.\n 700-960 Chichen rebuilt. League of Mayapan.\n 960-1200 Old Empire. Great cities of Guatemala and Honduras\n flourished.\n 1200-1442 Toltec influence, especially at Chichen Itza.\n 1442 Fall of Mayapan and end of Maya civilization.\n\n The historical accounts upon which parts of our story are based are:\n\n MOLINA, J. Historia del discubrimiento y conquista de Yucatan, 1896,\n pp. 47-51\n\n HERRERA, Historia General, 1601-1605.\n\n PRESCOTT, Chapter III, after Herrera, Torquemada, etc.\n\n LANDA (156), Brasseur de Bourbourg ed. 1864, pp. 344-346.\n\n Relacion de Valladolid (1579) in Col. de Doc. Ineditos,\n 1898-1900, vol. XIII, p. 25\n\n Other historical and general references are:\n\n _History_:\n\n COGOLLUDO, D. L. Historia de Yucatan, 1688.\n\n VILLAGUTIERRE, J. Historia de la conquista de la Provincia del Itza,\n 1701.\n\n MEANS, P. A. A history of the Spanish conquest of Yucatan and of the\n Itzas, in _Papers of the Peabody Museum_, vol. VII, 1917.\n\n _Chronology_:\n\n MORLEY, S. G. The correlation of Maya and Christian chronology.\n (_American Journal of Archaeology_, 2nd series, vol. XIV,\n pp. 193-204.)\n\n The historical value of the Books of Chilam Balam (_American\n Journal of Archaeology_, 2nd series, vol. XV, pp.\n 195-214.)\n\n _Ruins_:\n\n STEPHENS, J. L. Incidents of travel in Yucatan, 1843.\n\n Incidents of travel in Central America, Chiapas, and Yucatan,\n 1841.\n\n MAUDSLAY, A. P. Biologia Centrali-Americana Archaeology, 1889-1902.\n\n HOLMES, W. H. Archaeological Studies among the Ancient Cities of\n Mexico. (_Field Columbian Museum_, _Anthropological\n Series_, vol I, 1895-1897.)\n\n JOYCE, T. A. Mexican Archaeology. 1914.\n\n SPINDEN, H. J. A study of Maya art. (Memoirs of the Peabody Museum,\n vol. VI, 1913.)\n\n GORDON, G. B., THOMPSON, E. H., and TOZZER, A. M. in Memoirs of the\n Peabody Museum.\n\n _Hieroglyphic writing_:\n\n BOWDITCH, C. P. The numeration, calendar systems and astronomical\n knowledge of the Mayas, 1910.\n\n MORLEY, S. G. An introduction to the study of the Maya hieroglyphs,\n (Bulletin 57, Bureau of American Ethnology, 1915.)\n\n The inscriptions at Copan, (Carnegie Institution, 1920.)\n\n _Present population_:\n\n TOZZER, A. M. A comparative study of the Mayas and the Lacandones,\n 1907.\n\n _Maya language_:\n\n TOZZER, A. M. A Maya grammar with bibliography and appraisement of the\n works noted (_Papers of the Peabody Museum_, vol. IX,\n 1921.)\n\n _Relation with surrounding cultures_:\n\n SPINDEN, H. J. Ancient civilizations of Mexico and Central America.\n (Handbook Series, No. 3, American Museum of Natural\n History, 1917.)\n\n The origin and distribution of agriculture in America.\n (Proceedings of the 19th International Congress of\n Americanists, New York, 1917.)\n\n TOZZER, A. M. The domain of the Aztecs, (Holmes Anniversary Volume,\n 1916.)\n\n\n The Shellmound People\n\nThe Shellmound people who lived on the shores of San Francisco Bay for\nperhaps three or four thousand years, down to early historic times,\nare regarded as having belonged towards the end to the Costanoan\nlinguistic family. These Costanoans inhabited the portion of California\nextending from the Golden Gate south to Soledad, and from the Pacific\nOcean east to the San Joaquin River. Although totalling more than\n7000 square miles in extent, this territory was nevertheless largely\noccupied by mountains and marshes unsuitable for permanent habitation.\nThe principle settlements were in consequence confined to the ocean\nshore, the bay shore, and the portion of the San Joaquin valley lying\nbetween the marsh and the Coast Range foothills. Seven Spanish missions\nwere established in the territory during the latter part of the 18th\ncentury, and from the old records of these institutions Bancroft has\nextracted the names of some two hundred villages, several of which,\nhowever, were outside the Costanoan territorial limits. The estimated\npopulation may be placed conservatively at about 10,000.\n\nOne of the principal dialectic divisions of the Costanoan stock was\nknown as the Mutsuns or Mutsunes; and for purposes of the story the\nAhwashtee tribe, to which Wixi and his villagers of Akalan belonged,\nhas been connected with this group. As a matter of fact, the Ahwashtees\nare definitely reported to have lived on the bay shore, though probably\nthe Mutsunes did not.\n\nThere is next to no available historical data about the Shellmound\npeople, as such, and very little arch\u00e6ological evidence in the\nshellmounds themselves that the Indians continued to inhabit them after\nthe arrival of the white man. The principal references are:\n\n BANCROFT, H. H. Native Races of the Pacific States of North America,\n vol. I, 1874.\n\n MASON, J. A. The Mutsun Dialect of Costanoan. (University of\n California Publications in American Archaeology and\n Ethnology, vol. XI, No. 7. 1916.)\n\n NELSON, N. C. Shellmounds of the San Francisco Bay Region. (University\n of California Publications in American Archaeology and\n Ethnology, vol. VII, No. 4. 1909.)\n\n POWERS, STEPHEN. Tribes of California. (Contributions to North\n American Ethnology, vol. III. 1877.)\n\n UHLE, MAX. The Emeryville Shellmound. (University of California\n Publications in American Archaeology and Ethnology, vol.\n VIII, No. 1. 1907.)\n\n\n Yurok\n\nThe Yurok are one of half a dozen tribes in northwestern California who\nexhibit jointly a surprisingly complex way of living. Others of this\nhighly cultured group are the Hupa, the Karok, the Tolowa, the Chilula,\nand the Wiyot. One element especially in the tribal life of the region,\nis the notion of aristocracy based upon wealth. This makes them rather\ngrasping. Every injury, from slander to rape, demands its money price.\nThe Yurok, accordingly, become adept at the art of taking offense.\nQuarrelsomeness is a religion, and wrangling for a price, a fine art.\nSome Yurok are born \u201cstinkers\u201d in money matters. The remainder have\nthat quality thrust upon them by the pressure of tribal feeling. They\nspeak an Algonkian language, live along the lower part of the Klamath\nRiver, subsist mostly on fish (though they eat a lot of acorns) and\nare nice folks when you know their ways (not until then, however). The\nprincipal works which describe the Yurok are:\n\n POWERS, STEPHEN. Tribes of California (U. S. Interior Department,\n Contributions to North American Ethnology, vol. III.)\n\n WATERMAN, T. T. Yurok Geography (University of California Publications\n in American Archaeology and Ethnology, vol. XVI.)\n\n Notes on Yurok Culture (Museum of the American Indian, Heye\n Foundation, [in press]).\n\n A book which has no title, except a dedication \u201cTo the American\n Indian,\u201d by a Yurok woman, privately printed at Eureka, California, in\n 1916.\n\n GODDARD, P. E. Life and Culture of the Hupa, University of California\n Publications in American Archaeology and Ethnology, vol.\n I. (a very fine work, describing not the Yurok, but the\n neighboring Hupa, who follow the same mode of life.)\n\n\n Nootka\n\nThe Nootka Indians, sometimes known as Aht, are a group of tribes\noccupying the west coast of Vancouver Island, from about Cape Cook\nsouth to Sooke Inlet, also the extreme northwest point, Cape Flattery,\nof Washington. The Indians of Cape Flattery, generally known as Makah,\nare sometimes considered distinct from the Nootka, but their speech\nis practically identical with that of the Nitinat, the southern group\nof Vancouver Island Nootka. The dividing line between the Nitinat and\nnorthern Nootka (Nootka proper) is a little south of Cape Beale. It\nis determined by linguistic considerations, the Nitinat dialects and\nthose of the northern Nootka being mutually unintelligible groups.\nThe dialectic differences within the groups are comparatively slight.\nDirectly north of the northernmost Nootka are the Quatsino, one of\nthe Kwakiutl tribes; south of the southernmost island Nitinat are the\nSooke, a Coast Salish tribe of the Lkungen-Clallam group; while south\nof the Makah are the Quilleute, a Chimakuan tribe.\n\nThe total number of Nootkas in 1906 was about 2500, of which over 400\nbelonged to the Makah. The Nootkas in no sense form a political unit.\nThey are merely a group of independent tribes, related by language,\ninter-tribal marriage, and close cultural inter-influences.\n\nThe Nootkas, using the term in its widest sense, are fairly remote\nlinguistic relatives of the Kwakiutl (including Kwakiutl proper, Bella\nBella, and Kitamat), who occupy the northernmost part of the island and\nadjoining parts of the mainland of British Columbia as well. Nootka and\nKwakiutl are often combined by ethnographers into the \u201cWakashan\u201d stock.\n\nThe Nootka tribes are culturally quite distinct from both the Kwakiutl\nand the Coast Salish tribes of the southeastern part of Vancouver\nIsland, but have been much influenced, particularly in ceremonial\nrespects, by both.\n\nThe chief works on the Nootka are:\n\n BOAS F. The Nootka (Report of British Association for the Advancement\n of Science, Leeds meeting, 1890, pp. 582-604; reprinted,\n pp. 30-52, in Sixth Report on the Northwestern Tribes of\n Canada.)\n\n The Nootka ([Religious Ceremonials] pp. 632-644 of The Social\n Organization and the Secret Societies of the Kwakiutl\n Indians, in Report of U. S. National Museum, 1895).\n\n Sagen der Nutka (pp. 98-128 of _Indianische Sagen von der\n Nord-Pacifischen K\u00fcste Amerikas_, Berlin, 1895).\n\n HUNT, GEORGE (collector). Myths of the Nootka (pp. 888-935 of Boas,\n F.: Tsimshian Mythology, 31st Annual Report of the Bureau\n of American Ethnology, 1909-10.)\n\n JEWITT, JOHN R. (also JEWETT) Adventures and Sufferings of John R.\n Jewitt, only Survivor of the Crew of the Ship _Boston_\n during a captivity of nearly three years among the Indians\n of Nootka Sound (Middletown, 1815; Edinburgh, 1824; often\n reprinted, see edition of Robert Brown, London, 1896);\n also published as The Captive of Nootka, or the Adventures\n of John R. Jewett (Philadelphia, 1841).\n\n SAPIR, E. A Flood Legend of the Nootka Indians of Vancouver Island\n (_Journal of American Folklore_, 1919, pp. 351-355).\n\n A Girl\u2019s Puberty Ceremony among the Nootka Indians (Transactions\n of the Royal Society of Canada, 3rd series, vol. VII,\n 1913, pp. 67-80).\n\n Some Aspects of Nootka Language and Culture (_American\n Anthropologist_, N. S., vol. XIII, 1911, pp. 15-28).\n\n Vancouver Island, Indians of (in Hastings\u2019 Encyclop\u00e6dia of\n Religion and Ethics; deals with Nootka religion).\n\n SPROAT, G. M. Scenes and Studies of Savage Life (London, 1868).\n\n SWAN, JAMES G. The Indians of Cape Flattery (Smithsonian Contributions\n to Knowledge, vol. XVI, part 8. pp. 1-106, Washington,\n 1870).\n\n\n Chipewyan\n\nA Northern Athabascan group extending over a considerable area in\nCanada, from the Churchill River to Lake Athabaska and the Great Slave\nLake. They are sometimes mistaken for the Algonkian Chippewa (Ojibwa).\nTheir number is set at nearly 1800.\n\n BIBLIOGRAPHY\n\n HEARNE, SAMUEL. Journey from Prince of Wales\u2019s Fort in Hudson\u2019s Bay,\n to the Northern Ocean. (London, 1795).\n\n PETITOT, E. Traditions indiennes du Canada nord-ouest. (Alen\u00e7on,\n 1887.)\n\n RUSSELL, FRANK. Explorations in the Far North. (Des Moines, 1898.)\n\n GODDARD, P. E. Chipewyan Texts. (_Anthropological Papars American\n Museum of Natural History_, vol. X, pp. 1-65.)\n\n LOWIE, ROBERT H. Chipewyan Tales. (_ibid._, vol. X, pp. 171-200.)\n\n\n Ten\u2019a\n\nAnvik is a village on the Anvik River, a tributary of the Yukon River,\nabout four hundred miles from its mouth and about one hundred and\ntwenty-five miles from the coast. The village is populated by the\nmost northern of one of the Athabascan peoples, called Ingalik or\nIngilik by the Russians, meaning Lousy, according to Jett\u00e9, an Eskimo\nname, or Tinneh or Ten\u2019a, a native name. The native name for Anvik is\nGudrinethchax; it means Middle People, a place name, as are the other\nnative names for the river villages.\n\nThe only published accounts of the Ten\u2019a are those of the French\nmissionary Jett\u00e9, stationed at Konkrines and the American missionary\nChapman, stationed at Anvik. At the American mission Mr. Reed was\neducated, and his opportunities to observe his own people have been\nin certain particulars limited. In spite of his knowledge of English,\nand of American culture he is, however, unusually unsophisticated and\nhe has been an acute and sympathetic observer of the life at Anvik,\nWhite and Indian. He is therefore what we frequently look for among\nschool-taught Indians but rarely find\u2014a qualified interpreter of native\nculture. As the time available for working with him was quite limited,\nhe was asked to present his information as if he were telling the story\nof an Anvik villager from birth to death.\n\n BIBLIOGRAPHY\n\n JETT\u00c9, J. On the Medicine-Men of the Ten\u2019a. (_Journal of the Royal\n Anthropological Institute_, XXXVII [1907], 157-188.)\n\n On Ten\u2019a Folklore (_ibid._ XXXVIII [1908], 298-367).\n\n On the Superstitions of the Ten\u2019a Indians, (_Anthropos_, VI\n [1911], 95-108, 241-259, 602-615, 699-723).\n\n Riddles of the Ten\u2019a Indians, (_ibid._ VIII [1913], 181-201,\n 630-651.)\n\n CHAPMAN, JOHN W. Notes on the Tinneh Tribe of Anvik, Alaska. (Congr\u00e8s\n International des Am\u00e9ricanistes, 15th Session, II, 7-38.\n Quebec, 1907.)\n\n Athabascan Traditions from the Lower Yukon. (_Journal of\n American Folklore_, XVI [1903], 180-5.)\n\n Ten\u2019a Texts and Tales. (Pub. American Ethnological Society, VI,\n Leyden, 1914.)\n\n\n Eskimos\n\nThe Eskimos occupy the whole Arctic coast from Behring Strait to\nLabrador and Greenland. They have also a few isolated villages on the\nextreme eastern point of Siberia. Notwithstanding a general uniformity\nof cultural life, there are marked differences between the Eskimo of\nthe region west of the Mackenzie River and the eastern group. The\nEskimo of Greenland are considerably modified by European contact. The\ngroup to which the tale refers are the Eskimo of Baffin Land, the large\nisland extending from Hudson Strait northward and forming the west\ncoast of Davis Strait and Baffin Bay, more particularly of the eastern\nshore of the island. The total number of individuals living in this\narea does not exceed 400.\n\nIndividuals belonging to these villages make extensive travels and come\ninto contact with the natives of the northern coast of Hudson Bay and\nof the mainland northwest of Hudson Bay. Only Eskimo tribes are known\nto them.\n\nThe principal descriptions of these tribes are found in the following\npublications:\n\n BOAS, FRANZ. The Central Eskimo (6th Annual Report of the Bureau of\n Ethnology, Washington, 1888).\n\n The Eskimo of Baffin Land and Hudson Bay (Bulletin, vol. XX,\n American Museum of Natural History, New York, 1901, 1907).\n\nOther important publications may be found in the bibliographies\nattached to these volumes. The most important recent publication on the\nEskimo of Greenland is:\n\n THALBITZER, WILLIAM. The Ammassalik Eskimo; Meddelelser om Gronland,\n vol. XXXIX, Copenhagen, 1914.\n\n\n\n\n ILLUSTRATOR\u2019S NOTES\n\n\n Takes-the-pipe, a Crow Warrior\n\nThe center, a pair of Crazy-Dog sashes. Also the figures connected with\nthe warrior\u2019s visions\u2014the moon, the buffalo, the bear. The stick used\nby the Hammer Stick Society; that used in counting \u201ccoup\u201d; that planted\nin the ground by the aspirant for the rank of chief, as he leads in\nfight. At top, the moths the boy rubbed on his chest; Takes-the-pipe\u2019s\nmoccasins; at bottom his captured horses. At sides, a skin ornament\nworn by Crow medicine men.\n\n\n Smoking-star, a Blackfoot Shaman\n\nA Blackfoot medicine man\u2019s tepee, by the shore of a lake, in the\nfoothills. The border, typical beadwork pattern. At bottom, a medicine\npipe, a medicine bundle, wand used by medicine man, and beavers.\n\n\n Little-wolf Joins the Medicine Lodge\n\nCenter, a medicine lodge, roofed with sheets of birch-bark; the walls\nare upright sticks. At sides, otter-skin medicine bags. Below, a\nceremonial drum of wood covered with stretched buckskin. A medicine\npipe. The shells used in \u201cshooting medicine,\u201d with their bead\nnecklaces. At top, gourd medicine rattles. The patterns are from\ntypical beadwork and the dyed mats used in lodges.\n\n\n Thunder-cloud, a Winnebago Shaman, Relates and Prays\n\nCenter, the Beings invoked in the prayers, appearing in the smoke from\na medicine pipe. Ornament, typical beadwork.\n\n\n How Meskwaki Children Should Be Brought Up\n\nCentral background, typical beadwork. Center, a warrior\u2019s neck ornament\nwith bear claws; woman\u2019s necklace of bone and beads; crossed below,\na war club and the stick used in the ball game. At sides, the beaded\ncylinders are those through which a woman\u2019s hair passes; the long\nstraps hang as ornaments. Typical moccasins.\n\n\n In Montagnais Country\n\nAn Indian calling moose with a birch-bark horn. Across top a ceremonial\ncarrying-strap. Snowshoes. At sides, knives, spearhead, fishhook.\nAt bottom, birch-bark baskets, wooden spoons, ceremonial pipe. The\npatterns, typical beadwork.\n\n\n Hanging-flower, the Iroquois\n\nFour masks used by the Society of False Faces. A turtle-shell medicine\nrattle. Tomahawks and war clubs. A tall basket, and the wooden pestle\nused by the women for making corn meal.\n\n\n The Thunder Power of Rumbling-wings\n\nRumbling-wings invoking the Thunder Bird. At bottom, the little mask\nRumbling-wings wears. War clubs.\n\n\n Tokulki of Tulsa\n\nAt top sides, beaded pouches. Sides, cloth with beaded ornament. At\nbottom, a ceremonial drum, of earthenware with buckskin stretched over\nit; ball-game sticks; balls; spoons; the head ornament of white deer\nhairs and feathers worn by the ball players. Center, reference to the\nmyth that the eclipse of the sun is caused by a giant toad. At sides of\ncenter, gourd medicine rattles and a carved stone pipe.\n\n\n Slender-maiden of the Apache\n\nUpper center, the mask with its fan-like ornament, worn in the dance. A\ngirl\u2019s buckskin shirt; below it the pendant ornament worn at her waist.\nAn Apache basket. At either side of shirt, ornaments of cloth and\ncut-out leather. The other ornaments, typical beadwork. The oak-leaf\nborders indicate the Apache use of acorns.\n\n\n When John the Jeweler was Sick\n\nThe center is a part of one of the Navaho sand paintings made for\ncuring ceremonial. The figures are supernaturals, the central objects\nrepresent growing corn; the bent rectangular figure, the rainbow. In\nthe four corners are dance masks used in the same ceremony, and at the\nbottom is the rug, with the various ceremonial objects laid upon it,\nwhich is a feature of the ceremony.\n\n\n Waiyautitsa of Zu\u00f1i, New Mexico\n\nThe figure is a conventionalization showing how the girls let the bang\nfall over the face in the dance; the painted flat board headdress worn\nby them in the harvest dance, and the tablet they carry in each hand.\nThe jar, out of which the figure grows, is a typical Zu\u00f1i water jar.\nThe bowl at top is a sacred meal bowl. The side borders are from altar\npaintings, showing animal spirits. Prayer sticks.\n\n\n Zu\u00f1i Pictures\n\nBackground and borders, a paraphrase of the ceremonial blanket, of\nHopi weave. At bottom, the box with notched stick on top, used in the\nsword-swallowing ceremony. Over it, the war-god image. The sticks with\nturkey feathers are the \u201cswords\u201d that are swallowed. Zu\u00f1i masks.\n\n\n Havasupai Days\n\nView in Cataract Ca\u00f1on. Bow and skin quivers. Cooking bowls of\nearthenware. Horn ladles. A carrying-basket.\n\n\n Earth-tongue, a Mohave\n\nView of the Needles, on Colorado River. Above, Spiders, Scorpion,\nAnt, Serpent. The two Ravens. Below, bow, arrows, war clubs, pottery\nutensils.\n\n\n The Chief Singer of the Tepecano\n\nThe landscape pictures the belief in the omnipresence of the sacred\nserpent in nature\u2019s manifestations: the storm cloud, rain, springs,\nrivers, wind. The hawk is a sacred bird. The ornament is typical\nof a rich variety of patterns; those used here are largely rain or\nwater symbols. Ears of corn, and under the shield, the conventional\nrepresentation of the steel for striking fire.\n\n\n The Understudy of Tezcatlipoca\n\nBackground, a reconstitution of the vanished temple in Mexico City; the\ndata for this are very meagre. At top, the great stone Aztec calendar.\nAt sides, the serpent motif. Below, the carving or bowlder, still\nexisting, which records the taking of Cuernavaca.\n\n\n How Holon Chan Became the True Man of His People\n\nFrom the existing remains of temples, and from various details of\nthe same period, a reconstitution has here been made of the color\nand form that may have characterized the doorway in which Holon Chan\nstood at sunset. His figure is arrived at in somewhat the same way:\nfrom the author\u2019s description and from the highly complicated and\nconventionalized detail of the sculptures.\n\n\n The Toltec Architect of Chichen Itza\n\nCenter, the stone ring through which, in the ball game, the ball\nwas thrown. Background, a detail from the great colored frieze upon\nthe interior walls of one of the temples. Sides, stone columns,\nrepresenting the Plumed Serpent, at either side of the doorway of the\nBall Court Temple. Above, two conventional plumed serpents.\n\n\n Wixi of the Shellmound People\n\nThe landscape is the Ellis Island Mound in San Francisco Bay. Below,\nshell pendants, necklaces, fishhooks, beads.\n\n\n All Is Trouble Along the Klamath\n\nA view of the Klamath. Typical patterns.\n\n\n Sayach\u2019apis, a Nootka Trader\n\nAt sides, the human figures are wooden house posts. At top, two masks;\none at left represents a mythical bird; one at right, the wolf mask.\nCenter, a Nootka drum, painted with symbols of Thunder Bird, Plumed\nSerpent and Whale. The figures in background, conventionalized whales.\nAt bottom, a mask representing a cuttlefish. Behind it, Sayach\u2019apis\npaddling his canoe. At sides, painted canoe-paddles and clubs used to\nkill seals.\n\n\n Cries-for-salmon, a Ten\u2019a Woman\n\nAt top, two dance masks. At bottom wooden bowls. Center, a ceremonial\nfigure representing Salmon. A woman\u2019s bag, made of fish skin,\nembroidered and painted. Bone awls. Two little ornaments at central\nsides are bobbins.\n\n\n An Eskimo Winter\n\nThe arctic hare, the ptarmigan, the seal. Below, caribou, feeding.\nAbove them a kayak. In borders, fish and seal spears, bows and arrows,\nskinning knives.\n\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n +--------------------------------------------------------------------+\n | |\n | FOOTNOTES: |\n | |\n | [1] In this connection Grinnell\u2019s recent story of the Cheyennes, |\n | \u201cWhere Buffalo Ran\u201d should not be overlooked. Ed. |\n | |\n | [2] Meaning: \u201cthe star who smoked my pipe.\u201d |\n | |\n | [3] In 1832 a post was founded near the present site of Fort |\n | Benton, Montana, known as Fort Mackenzie. In 1833 it was |\n | visited by the famous German traveler, Maximilian, Prince of |\n | Wied, accompanied by the artist, Charles Bodmer. Maximilian |\n | gives us an interesting and detailed account of his travels |\n | in the Missouri country and is the first to give us good |\n | information as to the culture of the Blackfoot. See his |\n | _Travels in the Interior of North America_, translated by H. |\n | E. Lloyd, Cleveland, 1906. |\n | |\n | [4] Manuscript contributed by Mr. Stewart Culin. |\n | |\n | [5] I am under the impression that the ceremonies Dr. Washington |\n | Matthews observed several years ago at Fort Defiance were |\n | addressed to the Y\u00e8s of the Half-red-house, but the motive in |\n | those ceremonies and in these of the Y\u00e8s of the |\n | Half-white-house is the same, and the rites and songs very |\n | similar. |\n | |\n | [6] It was this biography, published originally in \u201cThe |\n | Scientific Monthly\u201d (Nov. 1919) and now revised, which |\n | suggested to us the comprehensive biographic plan of this |\n | book. Ed. |\n | |\n | [7] Frank Hamilton Cushing. Tenatsali, one of the medicine |\n | plants, was his Zu\u00f1i name. |\n | |\n | [8] Agave brandy. |\n | |\n | [9] Gourd cup. |\n | |\n | [10] Corn meal. |\n | |\n | [11] Jamestown weed. |\n | |\n | [12] Shawls. |\n | |\n | [13] Twelve cents. |\n | |\n | [14] Cooked corn meal wrapped in corn husk. |\n | |\n | [15] Gourd bottle. |\n | |\n | [16] At the request of the author, there has been no editing.\u2014E. |\n | C. P. |\n | |\n | [17] What an interesting illustration of how custom and belief |\n | may be affected by a change in material culture, caused by |\n | foreign contact! |\n | |\n | [18] The Rev. J. Jett\u00e9 notes that a peculiar fear of bears is |\n | universal among Ten\u2019a women, concluding that the fear is due |\n | to the bear tales in which the bear is represented as |\n | peculiarly hostile to women. The view that the tale is the |\n | outcome of the fear is also tenable. |\n | |\n | [19] The notes for this appendix have been contributed, except in |\n | a few instances, by the respective authors of the tales. |\n | |\n | [20] In collaboration with John V. Satterlee, a Menomini. |\n | |\n | [21] See The Owl Sacred pack of the Fox Indians. Bulletin 72, |\n | Washington, 1921. |\n | |\n +--------------------------------------------------------------------+\n\n\nTranscriber\u2019s Notes:\n - Text enclosed by underscores is in italics (_italics_).\n - Blank pages have been removed.\n - Redundant title page removed.\n - Silently corrected typographical errors.\n - Spelling and hyphenation variations made consistent.\n - Full page illustrations removed from the text version, as they are\n purely decorative with no captions.\n - Misplaced text in Maya chronology corrected.","title":"American Indian life","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":158762}