{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_6612/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_6612","id":"gutenberg_6612","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/6612","summary":null,"tags":["Category: American Literature","Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Folklore -- United States"],"text":"Produced by David Widger\n\n\n\n\n\n                           MYTHS AND LEGENDS\n                                   OF\n                              OUR OWN LAND\n\n                                   By\n                           Charles M. Skinner\n\n                                Vol. 7.\n\n\n                         ALONG THE ROCKY RANGE\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS:\n\nOver the Divide\nThe Phantom Train of Marshall Pass\nThe River of Lost Souls\nRiders of the Desert\nThe Division of Two Tribes\nBesieged by Starvation\nA Yellowstone Tragedy\nThe Broad House\nThe Death Waltz\nThe Flood at Santa Fe\nGoddess of Salt\nThe Coming of the Navajos\nThe Ark on Superstition Mountains\nThe Pale Faced Lightning\nThe Weird Sentinel at Squaw Peak\nSacrifice of the Toltecs\nTa-Vwots Conquers the Sun\nThe Comanche Rider\nHorned Toad and Giants\nThe Spider Tower\nThe Lost Trail\nA Battle in the Air\n\n\n\n\n\nALONG THE ROCKY RANGE\n\n\n\nOVER THE DIVIDE\n\nThe hope of finding El Dorado, that animated the adventurous Spaniards\nwho made the earlier recorded voyages to America, lived in the souls of\nWestern mountaineers as late as the first half of this century. Ample\ndiscoveries of gold in California and Colorado gave color to the belief\nin this land of riches, and hunger, illness, privation, the persecutions\nof savages, and death itself were braved in the effort to reach and\nunlock the treasure caves of earth. Until mining became a systematic\nbusiness, prospectors were dissatisfied with the smaller deposits of\nprecious metal and dreamed of golden hills farther away. The unknown\nregions beyond the Rocky Mountains were filled by imagination with\nmagnificent possibilities, and it was the hope of the miner to penetrate\nthe wilderness, \"strike it rich,\" and \"make his pile.\"\n\nThus, the region indicated as \"over the divide\" meaning the continental\nwater-shed-or \"over the range\" came to signify not a delectable land\nalone, but a sum of delectable conditions, and, ultimately, the goal of\nposthumous delights. Hence the phrase in use to-day: \"Poor Bill! He's\ngone over the divide.\"\n\nThe Indian's name of heaven--\"the happy hunting ground\"--is of similar\nsignificance, and among many of the tribes it had a definite place in the\nfar Southwest, to which their souls were carried on cobweb floats. Just\nbefore reaching it they came to a dark river that had to be crossed on a\nlog. If they had been good in the world of the living they suffered no\nharm from the rocks and surges, but if their lives had been evil they\nnever reached the farther shore, for they were swept into a place of\nwhirlpools, where, for ever and ever, they were tossed on the torrent\namid thousands of clinging, stinging snakes and shoals of putrid fish.\nFrom the far North and East the Milky Way was the star-path across the\ndivide.\n\n\n\n\nTHE PHANTOM TRAIN OF MARSHALL PASS\n\nSoon after the rails were laid across Marshall Pass, Colorado, where they\ngo over a height of twelve thousand feet above the sea, an old engineer\nnamed Nelson Edwards was assigned to a train. He had travelled the road\nwith passengers behind him for a couple of months and met with no\naccident, but one night as he set off for the divide he fancied that the\nsilence was deeper, the canon darker, and the air frostier than usual. A\ndefective rail and an unsafe bridge had been reported that morning, and\nhe began the long ascent with some misgivings. As he left the first line\nof snow-sheds he heard a whistle echoing somewhere among the ice and\nrocks, and at the same time the gong in his cab sounded and he applied\nthe brakes.\n\nThe conductor ran up and asked, \"What did you stop for?\"\n\n\"Why did you signal to stop?\"\n\n\"I gave no signal. Pull her open and light out, for we've got to pass No.\n19 at the switches, and there's a wild train climbing behind us.\"\n\nEdwards drew the lever, sanded the track, and the heavy train got under\nway again; but the whistles behind grew nearer, sounding danger-signals,\nand in turning a curve he looked out and saw a train speeding after him\nat a rate that must bring it against the rear of his own train if\nsomething were not done. He broke into a sweat as he pulled the throttle\nwide open and lunged into a snow-bank. The cars lurched, but the snow was\nflung off and the train went roaring through another shed. Here was where\nthe defective rail had been reported. No matter. A greater danger was\npressing behind. The fireman piled on coal until his clothes were wet\nwith perspiration, and fire belched from the smoke-stack. The passengers,\ntoo, having been warned of their peril, had dressed themselves and were\nanxiously watching at the windows, for talk went among them that a mad\nengineer was driving the train behind.\n\nAs Edwards crossed the summit he shut off steam and surrendered his train\nto the force of gravity. Looking back, he could see by the faint light\nfrom new snow that the driving-wheels on the rear engine were bigger than\nhis own, and that a tall figure stood atop of the cars and gestured\nfranticly. At a sharp turn in the track he found the other train but two\nhundred yards behind, and as he swept around the curve the engineer who\nwas chasing him leaned from his window and laughed. His face was like\ndough. Snow was falling and had begun to drift in the hollows, but the\ntrains flew on; bridges shook as they thundered across them; wind\nscreamed in the ears of the passengers; the suspected bridge was reached;\nEdwards's heart was in his throat, but he seemed to clear the chasm by a\nbound. Now the switch was in sight, but No. 19 was not there, and as the\nbrakes were freed the train shot by like a flash. Suddenly a red light\nappeared ahead, swinging to and fro on the track. As well be run into\nbehind as to crash into an obstacle ahead. He heard the whistle of the\npursuing locomotive yelp behind him, yet he reversed the lever and put on\nbrakes, and for a few seconds lived in a hell of dread.\n\nHearing no sound, now, he glanced back and saw the wild train almost leap\nupon his own--yet just before it touched it the track seemed to spread,\nthe engine toppled from the bank, the whole train rolled into the canon\nand vanished. Edwards shuddered and listened. No cry of hurt men or hiss\nof steam came up--nothing but the groan of the wind as it rolled through\nthe black depth. The lantern ahead, too, had disappeared. Now another\ndanger impended, and there was no time to linger, for No. 19 might be on\nits way ahead if he did not reach the second switch before it moved out.\nThe mad run was resumed and the second switch was reached in time. As\nEdwards was finishing the run to Green River, which he reached in the\nmorning ahead of schedule, he found written in the frost of his\ncab-window these words: \"A frate train was recked as yu saw. Now that yu\nsaw it yu will never make another run. The enjine was not ounder control\nand four sexshun men wor killed. If yu ever run on this road again yu\nwill be recked.\" Edwards quit the road that morning, and returning to\nDenver found employment on the Union Pacific. No wreck was discovered\nnext day in the canon where he had seen it, nor has the phantom train\nbeen in chase of any engineer who has crossed the divide since that\nnight.\n\n\n\n\nTHE RIVER OF LOST SOULS\n\nIn the days when Spain ruled the Western country an infantry regiment was\nordered out from Santa Fe to open communication with Florida and to carry\na chest of gold for the payment of the soldiers in St. Augustine. The men\nwintered on the site of Trinidad, comforted by the society of their wives\nand families, and in the spring the women and camp-followers were\ndirected to remain, while the troops set forward along the canon of the\nPurgatoire--neither to reach their destination nor to return. Did they\nattempt to descend the stream in boats and go to wreck among the rapids?\nWere they swept into eternity by a freshet? Did they lose their\nprovisions and starve in the desert? Did the Indians revenge themselves\nfor brutality and selfishness by slaying them at night or from an ambush?\nWere they killed by banditti? Did they sink in the quicksands that led\nthe river into subterranean canals? None will ever know, perhaps; but\nmany years afterward a savage told a priest in Santa Fe that the regiment\nhad been surrounded by Indians, as Custer's command was in Montana, and\nslain, to a man. Seeing that escape was hopeless, the colonel--so said\nthe narrator--had buried the gold that he was transporting. Thousands of\ndoubloons are believed to be hidden in the canon, and thousands of\ndollars have been spent in searching for them.\n\nAfter weeks had lapsed into months and months into years, and no word\ncame of the missing regiment, the priests named the river El Rio de las\nAnimas Perdidas--the River of Lost Souls. The echoing of the flood as it\ntumbled through the canon was said to be the lamentation of the troopers.\nFrench trappers softened the suggestion of the Spanish title when they\nrenamed it Purgatoire, and--\"bullwhackers\" teaming across the plains\ntwisted the French title into the unmeaning \"Picketwire.\" But\nAmerico-Spaniards keep alive the tradition, and the prayers of many have\nascended and do ascend for the succor of those who vanished so strangely\nin the valley of Las Animas.\n\n\n\n\nRIDERS OF THE DESERT\n\nAmong the sandstone columns of the Colorado foot-hills stood the lodge of\nTa-in-ga-ro (First Falling Thunder). Though swift in the chase and brave\nin battle, he seldom went abroad with neighboring tribes, for he was\nhappy in the society of his wife, Zecana (The Bird). To sell beaver and\nwild sheep-skins he often went with her to a post on the New Mexico\nfrontier, and it was while at this fort that a Spanish trader saw the\npretty Zecana, and, determining to win her, sent the Indian on a mission\ninto the heart of the mountains, with a promise that she should rest\nsecurely at the settlement until his return.\n\nOn his way Ta-in-ga-ro stopped at the spring in Manitou, and after\ndrinking he cast beads and wampum into the well in oblation to its deity.\nThe offering was flung out by the bubbling water, and as he stared,\ndistressed at this unwelcome omen, a picture formed on the surface--the\nanguished features of Zecana. He ran to his horse, galloped away, and\npaused neither for rest nor food till he had reached the post. The\nSpaniard was gone. Turning, then, to the foot-hills, he urged his jaded\nhorse toward his cabin, and arrived, one bright morning, flushed with joy\nto see his wife before his door and to hear her singing. When he spoke\nshe looked up carelessly and resumed her song. She did not know him.\nReason was gone.\n\nIt was his cry of rage and grief, when, from her babbling, Ta-in-ga-ro\nlearned of the Spaniard's treachery, that brought the wandering mind back\nfor an instant. Looking at her husband with a strange surprise and pain,\nshe plucked the knife from his belt. Before he could realize her purpose\nshe had thrust it into her heart and had fallen dead at his feet. For\nhours he stood there in stupefaction, but the stolid Indian nature soon\nresumed its sway. Setting his lodge in order and feeding his horse, he\nwrapped Zecana's body in a buffalo-skin, then slept through the night in\nsheer exhaustion. Two nights afterward the Indian stood in the shadow of\na room in the trading fort and watched the Spaniard as he lay asleep.\nNobody knew how he passed the guard.\n\nIn the small hours the traitor was roused by the strain of a belt across\nhis mouth, and leaping up to fling it off, he felt the tug of a lariat at\nhis throat. His struggles were useless. In a few moments he was bound\nhand and foot. Lifting some strips of bark from the low roof, Ta-in-ga-ro\npushed the Spaniard through the aperture and lowered him to the ground,\noutside the enclosure of which the house formed part. Then, at the embers\nof a fire he kindled an arrow wrapped in the down of cottonwood and shot\nit into a haystack in the court. In the smoke and confusion thus made,\nhis own escape was unseen, save by a guardsman drowsily pacing his beat\noutside the square of buildings. The sentinel would have given the alarm,\nhad not the Indian pounced on him like a panther and laid him dead with a\nknife-stroke.\n\nCatching up the Spaniard, the Indian tied him to the back of a horse and\nset off beside him. Thus they journeyed until they came to his lodge,\nwhere he released the trader from his horse and fed him, but kept his\nhands and legs hard bound, and paid no attention to his questions and his\nappeals for liberty. Tying a strong and half-trained horse at his door,\nTa-in-ga-ro placed a wooden saddle on him, cut off the Spaniard's\nclothes, and put him astride of the beast. After he had fastened him into\nhis seat with deer-skin thongs, he took Zecana's corpse from its wrapping\nand tied it to his prisoner, face to face.\n\nThen, loosing the horse, which was plunging and snorting to be rid of his\nburden, he saw him rush off on the limitless desert, and followed on his\nown strong steed. At first the Spaniard fainted; on recovering he\nstruggled to get free, but his struggles only brought him closer to the\nghastly thing before him. Noon-day heat covered him with sweat and blood\ndripped from the wales that the cords cut in his flesh. At night he froze\nuncovered in the chill air, and, if for an instant his eyes closed in\nsleep, a curse, yelled into his ear, awoke him. Ta-inga-ro gave him drink\nfrom time to time, but never food, and so they rode for days. At last\nhunger overbore his loathing, and sinking his teeth into the dead flesh\nbefore him he feasted like a ghoul.\n\nStill they rode, Ta-in-ga-ro never far from his victim, on whose\nsufferings he gloated, until a gibbering cry told him that the Spaniard\nhad gone mad. Then, and not till then, he drew rein and watched the horse\nwith its dead and maniac riders until they disappeared in the yellow\nvoid. He turned away, but nevermore sought his home. To and fro, through\nthe brush, the sand, the alkali of the plains, go the ghost riders,\nforever.\n\n\n\n\nTHE DIVISION OF TWO TRIBES\n\nWhen white men first penetrated the Western wilderness of America they\nfound the tribes of Shoshone and Comanche at odds, and it is a legend of\nthe springs of Manitou that their differences began there. This \"Saratoga\nof the West,\" nestling in a hollow of the foot-hills in the shadow of the\nnoble peak of Pike, was in old days common meeting-ground for several\nfamilies of red men. Councils were held in safety there, for no Indian\ndared provoke the wrath of the manitou whose breath sparkled in the\n\"medicine waters.\" None? Yes, one. For, centuries ago a Shoshone and a\nComanche stopped here on their return from a hunt to drink. The Shoshone\nhad been successful; the Comanche was empty handed and ill tempered,\njealous of the other's skill and fortune. Flinging down the fat deer that\nhe was bearing homeward on his shoulders, the Shoshone bent over the\nspring of sweet water, and, after pouring a handful of it on the ground,\nas a libation to the spirit of the place, he put his lips to the surface.\nIt needed but faint pretext for his companion to begin a quarrel, and he\ndid so in this fashion: \"Why does a stranger drink at the spring-head\nwhen one of the owners of the fountain contents himself with its\noverflow? How does a Shoshone dare to drink above me?\"\n\nThe other replied, \"The Great Spirit places the water at the spring that\nhis children may drink it undefiled. I am Ausaqua, chief of Shoshones,\nand I drink at the head-water. Shoshone and Comanche are brothers. Let\nthem drink together.\"\n\n\"No. The Shoshone pays tribute to the Comanche, and Wacomish leads that\nnation to war. He is chief of the Shoshone as he is of his own people.\"\n\n\"Wacomish lies. His tongue is forked, like the snake's. His heart is\nblack. When the Great Spirit made his children he said not to one, 'Drink\nhere,' and to another, 'Drink there,' but gave water that all might\ndrink.\"\n\nThe other made no answer, but as Ausaqua stooped toward the bubbling\nsurface Wacomish crept behind him, flung himself against the hunter,\nforced his head beneath the water, and held him there until he was\ndrowned. As he pulled the dead body from the spring the water became\nagitated, and from the bubbles arose a vapor that gradually assumed the\nform of a venerable Indian, with long white locks, in whom the murderer\nrecognized Waukauga, father of the Shoshone and Comanche nation, and a\nman whose heroism and goodness made his name revered in both these\ntribes. The face of the patriarch was dark with wrath, and he cried, in\nterrible tones, \"Accursed of my race! This day thou hast severed the\nmightiest nation in the world. The blood of the brave Shoshone appeals\nfor vengeance. May the water of thy tribe be rank and bitter in their\nthroats.\"\n\nThen, whirling up an elk-horn club, he brought it full on the head of the\nwretched man, who cringed before him. The murderer's head was burst open\nand he tumbled lifeless into the spring, that to this day is nauseous,\nwhile, to perpetuate the memory of Ausaqua, the manitou smote a\nneighboring rock, and from it gushed a fountain of delicious water. The\nbodies were found, and the partisans of both the hunters began on that\nday a long and destructive warfare, in which other tribes became involved\nuntil mountaineers were arrayed against plainsmen through all that\nregion.\n\n\n\n\nBESIEGED BY STARVATION\n\nA hundred years before the white men set up their trading-posts on the\nArkansas and Platte, a band of mountain hunters made a descent on what\nthey took to be a small company of plainsmen, but who proved to be the\nenemy in force, and who, in turn, drove the Utes--for the aggressors were\nof that tribe--into the hills. Most of them took refuge on a castellated\nrock on the south side of Bowlder Canon, where they held their own for\nseveral days, rolling down huge rocks whenever an attempt was made to\nstorm the height; wherefore, seeing that the mountain was too secure a\nstronghold to be taken in that way, the besiegers camped about it, and,\nby cutting off the access of the beleaguered party to game and to water,\nstarved every one of them to death.\n\nThis, too, is the story of Starved Rock, on Illinois River, near Ottawa,\nIllinois. It is a sandstone bluff, one hundred and fifty feet high, with\na slope on one side only. Its summit is an acre in extent, and at the\norder of La Salle his Indian lieutenant, Tonti, fortified the place and\nmounted a small cannon on it. He died there afterward. After the killing\nof Pontiac at Cahokia, some of his people--the Ottawas--charged the crime\nagainst their enemies, the Illinois. The latter, being few in number,\nentrenched themselves on Starved Rock, where they kept their enemies at\nbay, but were unable to break their line to reach supplies. For a time\nthey secured water by letting down bark vessels into the river at the end\nof thongs, but the Ottawas came under the bluff in canoes and cut the\ncords. Unwilling to surrender, the Illinois remained there until all had\ndied of starvation. Bones and relics are found occasionally at the top.\n\nThere is yet another place of which a similar narrative is\nextant--namely, Crow Butte, Nebraska, which is two hundred feet high and\nvertical on all sides save one, but on that a horseman may ascend in\nsafety. A company of Crows, flying from the Sioux, gained this citadel\nand defended the path so vigorously that their pursuers gave over all\nattempts to follow them, but squatted calmly on the plain and proceeded\nto starve them out. On a dark night the besieged killed some of their\nponies and made lariats of their hides, by which they reached the ground\non the unguarded side of the rock. They slid down, one at a time, and\nmade off all but one aged Indian, who stayed to keep the camp-fire\nburning as a blind. He went down and surrendered on the next day, but the\nSioux, respecting his age and loyalty, gave him freedom.\n\n\n\n\nA YELLOWSTONE TRAGEDY\n\nAlthough the Indians feared the geyser basins of the upper Yellowstone\ncountry, believing the hissing and thundering to be voices of evil\nspirits, they regarded the mountains at the head of the river as the\ncrest of the world, and whoso gained their summits could see the happy\nhunting-grounds below, brightened with the homes of the blessed. They\nloved this land in which their fathers had hunted, and when they were\ndriven back from the settlements the Crows took refuge in what is now\nYellowstone Park. Even here the soldiers pursued them, intent on avenging\nacts that the red men had committed while suffering under the sting of\ntyranny and wrong. A mere remnant of the fugitive band gathered at the\nhead of that mighty rift in the earth known as the Grand Canon of the\nYellowstone--a remnant that had succeeded in escaping the bullets of the\nsoldiery,--and with Spartan courage they resolved to die rather than be\ntaken and carried away to pine in a distant prison. They built a raft and\nplaced it on the river at the foot of the upper fall, and for a few days\nthey enjoyed the plenty and peace that were their privilege in former\ntimes. A short-lived peace, however, for one morning they are aroused by\nthe crack of rifles--the troops are upon them.\n\nBoarding their raft they thrust it toward the middle of the stream,\nperhaps with the idea of gaining the opposite shore, but, if such is\ntheir intent, it is thwarted by the rapidity of the current. A few among\nthem have guns, that they discharge with slight effect at the troops, who\nstand wondering on the shore. The soldiers forbear to fire, and watch,\nwith something like dread, the descent of the raft as it passes into the\ncurrent, and, with many a turn and pitch, whirls on faster and faster.\nThe death-song rises triumphant above the lash of the waves and that\ndistant but awful booming that is to be heard in the canon. Every red man\nhas his face turned toward the foe with a look of defiance, and the tones\nof the death-chant have in them something of mockery no less than hate\nand vaunting.\n\nThe raft is now between the jaws of rock that yawn so hungrily. Beyond\nand below are vast walls, shelving toward the floor of the gulf a\nthousand feet beneath--their brilliant colors shining in the sun of\nmorning that sheds as peaceful a light on wood and hill as if there were\nno such thing as brother hunting brother in this free land of ours. The\nraft is galloping through the foam like a racehorse, and, hardened as the\nsoldiers are, they cannot repress a shudder as they see the fate that the\nsavages have chosen for themselves. Now the brink is reached. The raft\ntips toward the gulf, and with a cry of triumph the red men are launched\nover the cataract, into the bellowing chasm, where the mists weep forever\non the rocks and mosses.\n\n\n\n\nTHE BROAD HOUSE\n\nDown in the canon of Chaco, New Mexico, stands a building evidently\ncoeval with those of the cliff dwellers, that is still in good\npreservation and is called the Broad House. When Noqoilpi, the gambling\ngod, came on earth he strayed into this canon, and, finding the Moquis a\nprosperous people, he envied them and resolved to win their property. To\ndo that he laid off a race-track at the bottom of the ravine and\nchallenged them to meet him there in games of chance and strength and\nskill. They accepted his challenge, and, as he could turn luck to his own\nside, he soon won not their property alone, but their women and children,\nand, finally, some of the men themselves.\n\nIn his greed he had acquired more than he wanted, and as the captives\nwere a burden to him he offered to make a partial restoration if the\npeople would build this house for him. They did so and he gave up some of\nthe men and women. The other gods looked with disapproval on this\nperformance, however, and they agreed to give the wind god power to\ndefeat him, for, now that he had secured his house, he had gone to\ngambling again. The wind god, in disguise as a Moqui, issued a challenge,\nand the animals agreed to help him.\n\nWhen the contest in tree-pulling took place the wind god pulled up a\nlarge tree while Noqoilpi was unable to stir a smaller one. That was\nbecause the beavers had cut the roots of the larger. In the ball contest\nNoqoilpi drove the ball nearly to the bounds, but the wind god sent his\nfar beyond, for wrapped loosely in it was a bird that freed itself before\ntouching the ground and flew away. In brief, Noqoilpi was beaten at every\npoint and the remaining captives left him, with jeers, and returned to\ntheir people.\n\nThe gambler cursed and raged until the wind god seized him, fitted him to\na bow, like an arrow, and shot him into the sky. He flew far out of\nsight, and presently came to the long row of stone houses where the man\nlives who carries the moon. He pitied the gambler and made new animals\nand people for him and let him down to the earth in old Mexico, the moon\npeople becoming Mexicans. He returned to his old haunts and came\nnorthward, building towns along the Rio Grande until he had passed the\nsite of Santa Fe, when his people urged him to go back, and after his\nreturn they made him their god--Nakai Cigini.\n\n\n\n\nTHE DEATH WALTZ\n\nYears ago, when all beyond the Missouri was a waste, the military post at\nFort Union, New Mexico, was the only spot for miles around where any of\nthe graces of social life could be discovered. Among the ladies at the\npost was a certain gay young woman, the sister-in-law of a captain, who\nenjoyed the variety and spice of adventure to be found there, and\nenjoyed, too, the homage that the young officers paid to her, for women\nwho could be loved or liked were not many in that wild country. A young\nlieutenant proved especially susceptible to her charms, and devoted\nhimself to her in the hope that he should ultimately win her hand. His\nexperience with the world was not large enough to enable him to\ndistinguish between the womanly woman and the coquette.\n\nOne day messengers came dashing into the fort with news of an Apache\noutbreak, and a detachment was ordered out to chase and punish the\nmarauding Indians. The lieutenant was put in command of the expedition,\nbut before starting he confided his love to the young woman, who not only\nacknowledged that she returned his affection, but promised that if the\nfortune of war deprived him of life she would never marry another. As he\nbade her good-by he was heard to say, \"That is well. Nobody else shall\nhave you. I will come back and make my claim.\"\n\nIn a few days the detachment came back, but the lieutenant was missing.\nIt was noticed that the bride-elect grieved but little for him, and\nnobody was surprised when she announced her intention of marrying a young\nman from the East. The wedding-day arrived. All was gayety at the post,\nand in the evening the mess-room was decorated for a ball. As the dance\nwas in full swing a door flew open with a bang, letting in a draught of\nair that made the candles burn dim, and a strange cry, unlike that of any\nhuman creature, sounded through the house. All eyes turned to the door.\nIn it stood the swollen body of a dead man dressed in the stained uniform\nof an officer. The temple was marked by a hatchet-gash, the scalp was\ngone, the eyes were wide open and, burned with a terrible light.\n\nWalking to the bride the body drew her from the arms of her husband, who,\nlike the rest of the company, stood as in a trance, without the power of\nmotion, and clasping her to its bosom began a waltz. The musicians, who\nafterward declared that they did not know what they were doing, struck up\na demoniac dance, and the couple spun around and around, the woman\ngrowing paler and paler, until at last the fallen jaw and staring eyes\nshowed that life was also extinct in her. The dead man allowed her to\nsink to the floor, stood over her for a moment, wrung his hands as he\nsounded his fearful cry again, then vanished through the door. A few days\nafter, a troop of soldiers who had been to the scene of the Apache\nencounter returned with the body of the lieutenant.\n\n\n\n\nTHE FLOOD AT SANTA FE\n\nMany are the scenes of religious miracles in this country, although\nFrench Canada and old Mexico boast of more. So late as the prosaic year\nof 1889 the Virgin was seen to descend into the streets of Johnstown,\nPennsylvania, to save her image on the Catholic church in that place, when\nit was swept by a deluge in which hundreds of persons perished. It was\nthe wrath of the Madonna that caused just such a flood in New Mexico long\nyears ago. There is in the old Church of Our Lady of Guadalupe, in Santa\nFe, a picture that commemorates the appearance of the Virgin to Juan\nDiego, an Indian in Guadalupe, old Mexico, in the sixteenth century. She\ncommanded that a chapel should be built for her, but the bishop of the\ndiocese declared that the man had been dreaming and told him to go away.\nThe Virgin came to the Indian again, and still the bishop declared that\nhe had no evidence of the truth of what he said. A third time the\nsupernatural visitor appeared, and told Juan to climb a certain difficult\nmountain, pick the flowers he would find there, and take them to the\nbishop.\n\nAfter a long and dangerous climb they were found, to the Indian's\namazement, growing in the snow. He filled his blanket with them and\nreturned to the episcopal residence, but when he opened the folds before\nthe dignitary, he was more amazed to find not flowers, but a glowing\npicture painted on his blanket. It hangs now in Guadalupe, but is\nduplicated in Santa Fe, where a statue of the Virgin is also kept. These\ntreasures are greatly prized and are resorted to in time of illness and\nthreatened disaster, the statue being taken through the streets in\nprocession when the rainy season is due. Collections of money are then\nmade and prayers are put up for rain, to which appeals the Virgin makes\nprompt response, the priests pointing triumphantly to the results of\ntheir intercession. One year, however, the rain did not begin on time,\nthough services were almost constantly continued before the sacred\npicture and the sacred statue, and the angry people stripped the image of\nits silks and gold lace and kicked it over the ground for hours. That\nnight a violent rain set in and the town was nearly washed away, so the\npopulace hastened the work of reparation in order to save their lives.\nThey cleansed the statue, dressed it still more brilliantly, and\naddressed their prayers to the Virgin with more energy and earnestness\nthan ever before.\n\n\n\n\nGODDESS OF SALT\n\nBetween Zuni and Pescado is a steep mesa, or table-land, with fantastic\nrocks weathered into tower and roof-like prominences on its sides, while\nnear it is a high natural monument of stone. Say the Zunis: The goddess\nof salt was so troubled by the people who lived near her domain on the\nsea-shore, and who took away her snowy treasures without offering any\nsacrifice in return, that she forsook the ocean and went to live in the\nmountains far away. Whenever she stopped beside a pool to rest she made\nit salt, and she wandered so long about the great basins of the West that\nmuch of the water in them is bitter, and the yield of salt from the\nlarger lake near Zuni brings into the Zuni treasury large tolls from\nother tribes that draw from it.\n\nHere she met the turquoise god, who fell in love with her at sight, and\nwooed so warmly that she accepted and married him. For a time they lived\nhappily, but when the people learned that the goddess had concealed\nherself among the mountains of New Mexico they followed her to that land\nand troubled her again until she declared that she would leave their view\nforever. She entered this mesa, breaking her way through a high wall of\nsandstone as she did so. The arched portal through which she passed is\nplainly visible. As she went through, one of her plumes was broken off,\nand falling into the valley it tipped upon its stem and became the\nmonument that is seen there. The god of turquoise followed his wife, and\nhis footsteps may be traced in outcrops of pale-blue stone.\n\n\n\n\nTHE COMING OF THE NAVAJOS\n\nMany fantastic accounts of the origin of man are found among the red\ntribes. The Onondagas say that the Indians are made from red earth and\nthe white men from sea-foam. Flesh-making clay is seen in the precipitous\nbank in the ravine west of Onondaga Valley, where at night the fairies\n\"little fellows\" sport and slide. Among others, the Noah legend finds a\nparallel. Several tribes claim to have emerged from the interior of the\nearth. The Oneidas point to a hill near the falls of Oswego River, New\nYork, as their birthplace; the Wichitas rose from the rocks about Red\nRiver; the Creeks from a knoll in the valley of Big Black River in the\nNatchez country, where dwelt the Master of Breath; the Aztecs were one of\nseven tribes that came out from the seven caverns of Aztlan, or Place of\nthe Heron; and the Navajos believe that they emerged at a place known to\nthem in the Navajo Mountains.\n\nIn the under world the Navajos were happy, for they had everything that\nthey could wish: there was no excess of heat or cold, trees and flowers\ngrew everywhere, and the day was marked by a bright cloud that arose in\nthe east, while a black cloud that came out of the west made the night.\nHere they lived for centuries, and might have been there to this day had\nnot one of the tribe found an opening in the earth that led to some place\nunknown. He told of it to the whole tribe. They set off up the passage to\nsee where it led, and after long and weary climbing the surface was\nreached. Pleased with the novelty of their surroundings, they settled\nhere, but on the fourth day after their arrival their queen disappeared.\n\nTheir search for her was unavailing until some of the men came to the\nmouth of the tunnel by which they had reached the upper land, when,\nlooking down, they saw their queen combing her long, black locks. She\ntold them that she was dead and that her people could go to her only\nafter death, but that they would be happy in their old home. With that\nthe earth shut together and the place has never since been open to the\neye of mortals. Soon came the cannibal giants who ravaged the desert\nlands and destroyed all of the tribe but four families, these having\nfound a refuge in a deep canon of the Navajo Mountains. From their\nretreat they could see a beam of light shining from one of the hills\nabove them, and on ascending to the place they found a beautiful girl\nbabe.\n\nThis child grew to womanhood under their care, and her charms attracted\nthe great manitou that rides on a white horse and carries the sun for a\nshield. He wooed and married her, and their children slew the giants that\nhad destroyed the Navajos. After a time the manitou carried his wife to\nhis floating palace in the western water, which has since been her home.\nTo her the prayers of the people are addressed, and twelve immortals bear\ntheir petitions to her throne.\n\n\n\n\nTHE ARK ON SUPERSTITION MOUNTAINS\n\nThe Pima Indians of Arizona say that the father of all men and animals\nwas the butterfly, Cherwit Make (earth-maker), who fluttered down from\nthe clouds to the Blue Cliffs at the junction of the Verde and Salt\nRivers, and from his own sweat made men. As the people multiplied they\ngrew selfish and quarrelsome, so that Cherwit Make was disgusted with his\nhandiwork and resolved to drown them all. But first he told them, in the\nvoice of the north wind, to be honest and to live at peace. The prophet\nSuha, who interpreted this voice, was called a fool for listening to the\nwind, but next night came the east wind and repeated the command, with an\nadded threat that the ruler of heaven would destroy them all if they did\nnot reform.\n\nAgain they scoffed, and on the next night the west wind cautioned them.\nBut this third warning was equally futile. On the fourth night came the\nsouth wind. It breathed into Suha's ear that he alone had been good and\nshould be saved, and bade him make a hollow ball of spruce gum in which\nhe might float while the deluge lasted. Suha and his wife immediately set\nout to gather the gum, that they melted and shaped until they had made a\nlarge, rounded ark, which they ballasted with jars of nuts, acorn-meal\nand water, and meat of bear and venison.\n\nOn the day assigned Suha and his wife were looking regretfully down into\nthe green valleys from the ledge where the ark rested, listening to the\nsong of the harvesters, and sighing to think that so much beauty would\npresently be laid waste, when a hand of fire was thrust from a cloud and\nit smote the Blue Cliffs with a thunder-clang. It was the signal. Swift\ncame the clouds from all directions, and down poured the rain.\nWithdrawing into their waxen ball, Suha and his wife closed the portal.\nThen for some days they were rolled and tossed on an ever-deepening sea.\nTheir stores had almost given out when the ark stopped, and breaking a\nhole in its side its occupants stepped forth.\n\nThere was a tuna cactus growing at their feet, and they ate of its red\nfruit greedily, but all around them was naught but water. When night came\non they retired to the ark and slept--a night, a month, a year, perhaps a\ncentury, for when they awoke the water was gone, the vales were filled\nwith verdure, and bird-songs rang through the woods. The delighted couple\ndescended the Superstition Mountains, on which the ark had rested, and\nwent into its valleys, where they lived for a thousand years, and became\nthe parents of a great tribe.\n\nBut the evil was not all gone. There was one Hauk, a devil of the\nmountains, who stole their daughters and slew their sons. One day, while\nthe women were spinning flax and cactus fibre and the men were gathering\nmaize, Hauk descended into the settlement and stole another of Suha's\ndaughters. The patriarch, whose patience had been taxed to its limit,\nthen made a vow to slay the devil. He watched to see by what way he\nentered the valley. He silently followed him into the Superstition\nMountains; he drugged the cactus wine that his daughter was to serve to\nhim; then, when he had drunk it, Suha emerged from his place of hiding\nand beat out the brains of the stupefied fiend.\n\nSome of the devil's brains were scattered and became seed for other evil,\nbut there was less wickedness in the world after Hauk had been disposed\nof than there had been before. Suha taught his people to build adobe\nhouses, to dig with shovels, to irrigate their land, to weave cloth, and\navoid wars. But on his death-bed he foretold to them that they would grow\narrogant with wealth, covetous of the lands of others, and would wage\nwars for gain. When that time came there would be another flood and not\none should be saved--the bad should vanish and the good would leave the\nearth and live in the sun. So firmly do the Pimas rely on this prophecy\nthat they will not cross Superstition Mountains, for there sits Cherwit\nMake--awaiting the culmination of their wickedness to let loose on the\nearth a mighty sea that lies dammed behind the range.\n\n\n\n\nTHE PALE FACED LIGHTNING\n\nTwenty miles from the capital of Arizona stands Mount Superstition--the\nscene of many traditions, the object of many fears. Two centuries ago a\ntribe of Pueblo dwarfs arrived near it and tilled the soil and tended\ntheir flocks about the settlements that grew along their line of march.\nThey were little people, four feet high, but they were a thousand strong\nand clever. They were peaceful, like all intelligent people, and the\nmystery surrounding their incantations and sun-worship was more potent\nthan a show of arms to frighten away those natural assassins, the\nApaches.\n\nAfter they had lived near the mountain for five years the \"little people\"\nlearned that the Zunis were advancing from the south and made\npreparations for defence. Their sheep were concealed in obscure valleys;\nprovisions, tools, and arms were carried up the mountain; piles of stone\nwere placed along the edges of cliffs commanding the passes. This work\nwas superintended by a woman with a white face, fair hair, and commanding\nform, who was held in reverence by the dwarfs; and she it was--the Helen\nof a New-World Troy--who was causing this trouble, for the Zunis claimed\nher on the ground that they had brought her from the waters of the rising\nsun, and that it was only to escape an honorable marriage with their\nchief that she had fled to the dwarfs.\n\nBe that as it might, the Zunis marched on, meeting with faint resistance\nuntil, on a bright afternoon, they massed on a slope of the mountain,\nseven hundred in number. The Apaches, expecting instant defeat of the\n\"little men,\" watched, from neighboring hills, the advance of the\ninvaders as they climbed nimbly toward the stone fort on the top of the\nslope, brandishing clubs and stone spears, and bragging, as the fashion\nof a red man is--and sometimes of a white one.\n\nAt a pool outside of the walls stood the pale woman, queenly and calm,\nand as her white robe and brown hair fluttered in the wind both her\npeople and the foe looked upon her with admiration. When but a hundred\nyards away the Zunis rushed toward her with outstretched arms, whereupon\nshe stooped, picked up an earthen jar, emptied its contents into the\npool, and ran back. In a moment sparks and balls of fire leaped from\ncrevices in the rocks, and as they touched the Indians many fell dead.\nOthers plunged blindly over the cliffs and were dashed to pieces.\n\nIn a few minutes the remainder of the force was in full retreat and not\nan arrow had been shot. The Apaches, though stricken with terror at these\npyrotechnics, overcame the memory of them sufficiently in a couple of\nyears to attempt the sack of the fort on their own account, but the queen\nrepelled them as she had forced back the Zunis, and with even greater\nslaughter. From that time the dwarfs were never harmed again, but they\nwent away, as suddenly as they had come, to a secret recess in the\nmountains, where the Pale Faced Lightning still rules them.\n\nSome of the Apaches maintain that her spirit haunts a cave on\nSuperstition Mountain, where her body vanished in a blaze of fire, and\nthis cave of the Spirit Mother is also pointed out on the south side of\nSalt River. A skeleton and cotton robes, ornamented and of silky texture,\nwere once found there. It is said that electrical phenomena are frequent\non the mountain, and that iron, copper, salt, and copperas lying near\ntogether may account for them.\n\n\n\n\nTHE WEIRD SENTINEL AT SQUAW PEAK\n\nThere is a cave under the highest butte of the Squaw Peak range, Arizona,\nwhere a party of Tonto Indians was found by white men in 1868. The white\nmen were on the war-path, and when the Tontos fell into their hands they\nshot them unhesitatingly, firing into the dark recesses of the cavern,\nthe fitful but fast-recurring flashes of their rifles illuminating the\ninterior and exposing to view the objects of their hatred.\n\nThe massacre over, the cries and groans were hushed, the hunters strode\naway, and over the mountains fell the calm that for thousands of years\nhad not been so rudely broken. That night, when the moon shone into this\npit of death, a corpse arose, walked to a rock just within the entrance,\nand took there its everlasting seat.\n\nLong afterward a man who did not know its story entered this place, when\nhe was confronted by a thing, as he called it, that glared so fearfully\nupon him that he fled in an ecstasy of terror. Two prospectors\nsubsequently attempted to explore the cave, but the entrance was barred\nby \"the thing.\" They gave one glance at the torn face, the bulging eyes\nturned sidewise at them, the yellow fangs, the long hair, the spreading\nclaws, the livid, mouldy flesh, and rushed away. A Western paper,\nrecounting their adventure, said that one of the men declared that there\nwas not money enough in Maricopa County to pay him to go there again,\nwhile the other had never stopped running--at least, he had not returned\nto his usual haunts since \"the thing\" looked at him. Still, it is haunted\ncountry all about here. The souls of the Mojaves roam upon Ghost\nMountain, and the \"bad men's hunting-grounds\" of the Yumas and Navajos\nare over in the volcanic country of Sonora. It is, therefore, no unusual\nthing to find signs and wonders in broad daylight.\n\n\n\n\nSACRIFICE OF THE TOLTECS\n\nCenturies ago, when Toltec civilization had extended over Arizona, and\nperhaps over the whole West, the valleys were occupied by large\ntowns--the towns whose ruins are now known as the City of Ovens, City of\nStones, and City of the Dead. The people worked at trades and arts that\nhad been practised by their ancestors before the pyramids were built in\nEgypt. Montezuma had come to the throne of Mexico, and the Aztecs were a\nsubject people; Europe had discovered America and forgotten it, and in\nAmerica the arrival of Europeans was recalled only in traditions. But,\nlike other nations, the Toltecs became a prey to self-confidence, to\nluxury, to wastefulness, and to deadening superstitions. Already the\nfierce tribes of the North were lurking on the confines of their country\nin a faith of speedy conquest, and at times it seemed as if the elements\nwere against them.\n\nThe villagers were returning from the fields, one day, when the entire\nregion was smitten by an earthquake. Houses trembled, rumblings were\nheard, people fell in trying to reach the streets, and reservoirs burst,\nwasting their contents on the fevered soil. A sacrifice was offered. Then\ncame a second shock, and another mortal was offered in oblation. As the\nearth still heaved and the earthquake demon muttered underground, the\nking gave his daughter to the priests, that his people might be spared,\nthough he wrung his hands and beat his brow as he saw her led away and\nknew that in an hour her blood would stream from the altar.\n\nThe girl walked firmly to the cave where the altar was erected--a cave in\nSuperstition Mountains. She knelt and closed her eyes as the\nofficiating-priest uttered a prayer, and, gripping his knife of jade\nstone, plunged it into her heart. She fell without a struggle. And now,\nthe end.\n\nHardly had the innocent blood drained out and the fires been lighted to\nconsume the body, when a pall of cloud came sweeping across the heavens;\na hot wind surged over the ground, laden with dust and smoke; the\nstorm-struck earth writhed anew beneath pelting thunder-bolts; no tremor\nthis time, but an upheaval that rent the rocks and flung the cities down.\nIt was an hour of darkness and terror. Roars of thunder mingled with the\nmore awful bellowing beneath; crash on crash told that houses and temples\nwere falling in vast ruin; the mountainsides were loosened and the rush\nof avalanches added to the din; the air was thick, and through the clouds\nthe people groped their way toward the fields; rivers broke from their\nconfines and laid waste farms and gardens! The gods had indeed abandoned\nthem, and the spirit of the king's daughter took its flight in company\nwith thousands of souls in whose behalf she had suffered uselessly.\n\nThe king was crushed beneath his palace-roof and the sacerdotal\nexecutioner perished in a fall of rock. The survivors fled in panic and\nthe Ishmaelite tribes on their frontier entered their kingdom and\npillaged it of all abandoned wealth. The cities never were rebuilt and\nwere rediscovered but a few years ago, when the maiden's skeleton was\nalso found. Nor does any Indian cross Superstition Mountains without a\nsense of apprehension.\n\n\n\n\nTA-VWOTS CONQUERS THE SUN\n\nThe Indian is a great story-teller. Every tribe has its traditions, and\nthe elderly men and women like to recount them, for they always find\nlisteners. And odd stories they tell, too. Just listen to this, for\nexample. It is a legend among the tribes of Arizona.\n\nWhile Ta-Vwots, the hare god, was asleep in the valley of Maopa, the Sun\nmischievously burned his back, causing him to leap up with a howl. \"Aha!\nIt's you, is it, who played this trick on me?\" he cried, looking at the\nSun. \"I'll make it warm for you. See if I don't.\"\n\nAnd without more ado he set off to fight the Sun. On the way he stopped\nto pick and roast some corn, and when the people who had planted it ran\nout and tried to punish him for the theft he scratched a hole in the\nground and ran in out of sight. His pursuers shot arrows into the hole,\nbut Ta-Vwots had his breath with him, and it was an awfully strong\nbreath, for with it he turned all the arrows aside. \"The scamp is in\nhere,\" said one of the party. \"Let's get at him another way.\" So, getting\ntheir flints and shovels, they began to dig.\n\n\"That's your game, is it?\" mumbled Ta-Vwots. \"I know a way out of this\nthat you don't know.\" With a few puffs of his breath and a few kicks of\nhis legs he reached a great fissure that led into the rock behind him,\nand along this passage he scrambled until he came to the edge of it in a\nniche, from which he could watch his enemies digging. When they had made\nthe hole quite large he shouted, \"Be buried in the grave you have dug for\nyourselves!\" And, hurling down a magic ball that he carried, he caved the\nearth in on their heads. Then he paced off, remarking, \"To fight is as\ngood fun as to eat. Vengeance is my work. Every one I meet will be an\nenemy. No one shall escape my wrath.\" And he sounded his war-whoop.\n\nNext day he saw two men heating rocks and chipping arrow-heads from them.\n\"Let me help you, for hot rocks will not hurt me,\" he said.\n\n\"You would have us to believe you are a spirit, eh?\" they questioned,\nwith a jeer.\n\n\"No ghost,\" he answered, \"but a better man than you. Hold me on those\nrocks, and, if I do not burn, you must let me do the same to you.\"\n\nThe men complied, and heating the stones to redness in the fire they\nplaced him against them, but failed to see that by his magic breath he\nkept a current of air flowing between him and the hot surface. Rising\nunhurt, he demanded that they also should submit to the torture, and,\nlike true Indians, they did so. When their flesh had been burned half\nthrough and they were dead, he sounded his warwhoop and went on.\n\nOn the day following he met two women picking berries, and told them to\nblow the leaves and thorns into his eyes. They did so, as they supposed,\nbut with his magic breath he kept the stuff away from his face.\n\n\"You are a ghost!\" the women exclaimed.\n\n\"No ghost,\" said he. \"Just a common person. Leaves and thorns can do no\nharm. See, now.\" And he puffed thorns into their faces and made them\nblind. \"Aha! You are caught with your own chaff I am on my way to kill\nthe Sun. This is good practice.\" And he slew them, sounded his war-whoop,\nand went on.\n\nThe morning after this affair some women appeared on Hurricane Cliff and\nthe wind brought their words to his ears. They were planning to kill him\nby rolling rocks upon him as he passed. As he drew near he pretended to\neat something with such enjoyment that they asked him what it was. He\ncalled out, \"It is sweet. Come to the edge and I will throw it up to\nyou.\" With that he tossed something so nearly within their reach that in\nbending forward to catch it they crowded too near the brink, lost their\nbalance, fell over, and were killed. \"You are victims of your own greed.\nOne should never be so anxious as to kill one's self.\" This was his only\ncomment, and, sounding the warwhoop, he went on.\n\nA day later he came upon two women making water jugs of willow baskets\nlined with pitch, and he heard one whisper to the other, \"Here comes that\nbad Ta-Vwots. How shall we destroy him?\"\n\n\"What were you saying?\" asked the hare god.\n\n\"We just said, 'Here comes our grandson.'\" (A common form of endearment.)\n\n\"Is that all? Then let me get into one of these water jugs while you\nbraid the neck.\"\n\nHe jumped in and lay quite still as they wove the neck, and they laughed\nto think that it was braided so small that he could never escape,\nwhen--puff! the jug was shattered and there was Ta-Vwots. They did not\nknow anything about his magic breath. They wondered how he got out.\n\n\"Easily enough,\" replied the hare god. \"These things may hold water, but\nthey can't hold men and women. Try it, and see if they can.\" With their\nconsent, Ta-Vwots began weaving the osiers about them, and in a little\nwhile he had them caged. \"Now, come out,\" he said. But, try as they\nmight, not a withe could they break. \"Ha, ha! You are wise women, aren't\nyou? Bottled in your own jugs! I am on my way to kill the Sun. In time I\nshall learn how.\" Then, sounding his war-whoop, he struck them dead with\nhis magic ball and went on.\n\nHe met the Bear next day, and found him digging a hole to hide in, for he\nhad heard of the hare god and was afraid. \"Don't be frightened, friend\nBear,\" said the rogue. \"I'm not the sort of fellow to hide from. How\ncould a little chap like me hurt so many people?\" And he helped the Bear\nto dig his den, but when it was finished he hid behind a rock, and as the\nBear thrust his head near him he launched his magic ball at his face and\nmade an end of him. \"I was afraid of this warrior,\" said Ta-Vwots, \"but\nhe is dead, now, in his den.\" And sounding his war-whoop he went on.\n\nIt was on the day following that he met the Tarantula, a clever rascal,\nwho had a club that would deal a fatal blow to others, but would not hurt\nhimself. He began to groan as Ta-Vwots drew near, and cried that he had a\npain caused by an evil spirit in his head. Wouldn't Ta-Vwots thump it\nout? Indeed, he would. He grasped the club and gave him the soundest kind\nof a thwacking, but when the Tarantula shouted \"Harder,\" he guessed that\nit was an enchanted weapon, and changing it for his magic ball he\nfinished the Tarantula at a blow. \"That is a stroke of your own seeking,\"\nhe remarked. \"I am on my way to kill the Sun. Now I know that I can do\nit.\" And sounding his war-whoop he went on.\n\nNext day he came to the edge of the world and looked off into space,\nwhere thousands of careless people had fallen, and there he passed the\nnight under a tree. At dawn he stood on the brink of the earth and the\ninstant that the Sun appeared he flung the magic ball full in his face.\nThe surface of the Sun was broken into a thousand pieces that spattered\nover the earth and kindled a mighty conflagration. Ta-Vwots crept under\nthe tree that had sheltered him, but that was of no avail against the\nincreasing heat. He tried to run away, but the fire burned off his toes,\nthen his feet, then his legs, then his body, so that he ran on his hands,\nand when his hands were burned off he walked on the stumps of his arms.\nAt last his head alone remained, and that rolled over hill and valley\nuntil it struck a rock, when the eyes burst and the tears that gushed\nforth spread over the land, putting out the flames. The Sun was\nconquered, and at his trial before the other gods was reprimanded for his\nmischievous pranks and condemned thereafter to travel across the sky\nevery day by the same trail.\n\n\n\n\nTHE COMANCHE RIDER\n\nThe ways of disposing of the Indian dead are many. In some places ground\nsepulture is common; in others, the corpses are placed in trees. South\nAmericans mummified their dead, and cremation was not unknown. Enemies\ngave no thought to those that they had slain, after plucking off their\nscalps as trophies, though they sometimes added the indignity of\nmutilation in killing.\n\nSachem's Head, near Guilford, Connecticut, is so named because Uncas cut\na Pequot's head off and placed it in the crotch of an oak that grew\nthere. It remained withering for years. It was to save the body of Polan\nfrom such a fate, after the fight on Sebago Lake in 1756, that his\nbrothers placed it under the root of a sturdy young beech that they had\npried out of the ground. He was laid in the hollow in his war-dress, with\nsilver cross on his breast and bow and arrows in his hand; then, the\nweight on the trunk being released, the sapling sprang back to its place\nand afterward rose to a commanding height, fitly marking the Indian's\ntomb. Chief Blackbird, of the Omahas, was buried, in accordance with his\nwish, on the summit of a bluff near the upper Missouri, on the back of\nhis favorite horse, fully equipped for travel, with the scalps that he\nhad taken hung to the bridle.\n\nWhen a Comanche dies he is buried on the western side of the camp, that\nhis soul may follow the setting sun into the spirit world the speedier.\nHis bow, arrows, and valuables are interred with him, and his best pony\nis killed at the grave that he may appear among his fellows in the happy\nhunting grounds mounted and equipped. An old Comanche who died near Fort\nSill was without relatives and poor, so his tribe thought that any kind\nof a horse would do for him to range upon the fields of paradise. They\nkilled a spavined old plug and left him. Two weeks from that time the\nlate unlamented galloped into a camp of the Wichitas on the back of a\nlop-eared, bob-tailed, sheep-necked, ring-boned horse, with ribs like a\ngrate, and said he wanted his dinner. Having secured a piece of meat,\nformally presented to him on the end of a lodge-pole, he offered himself\nto the view of his own people, alarming them by his glaring eyes and\nsunken cheeks, and told them that he had come back to haunt them for a\nstingy, inconsiderate lot, because the gate-keeper of heaven had refused\nto admit him on so ill-conditioned a mount. The camp broke up in dismay.\nWichitas and Comanches journeyed, en masse, to Fort Sill for protection,\nand since then they have sacrificed the best horses in their possession\nwhen an unfriended one journeyed to the spirit world.\n\nMyths and Legends\n\n\n\n\nHORNED TOAD AND GIANTS\n\nThe Moquis have a legend that, long ago, when the principal mesa that\nthey occupy was higher than it is now, and when they owned all the\ncountry from the mountains to the great river, giants came out of the\nwest and troubled them, going so far as to dine on Moquis. It was hard to\nget away, for the monsters could see all over the country from the tops\nof the mesas. The king of the tribe offered the handsomest woman in his\ncountry and a thousand horses to any man who would deliver his people\nfrom these giants. This king was eaten like the rest, and the citizens\ndeclined to elect another, because they were beginning to lose faith in\nkings. Still, there was one young brave whose single thought was how to\ndefeat the giants and save his people.\n\nAs he was walking down the mesa he saw a lizard, of the kind commonly\nknown as a horned toad, lying under a rock in pain. He rolled the stone\naway and was passing on, when a voice, that seemed to come out of the\nearth, but that really came from the toad, asked him if he wished to\ndestroy the giants. He desired nothing so much. \"Then take my horned\ncrest for a helmet.\"\n\nLolomi--that was the name of him--did as he was bid, and found that in a\nmoment the crest had swelled and covered his head so thickly that no club\ncould break through it.\n\n\"Now take my breastplate,\" continued the toad. And though it would not\nhave covered the Indian's thumb-nail, when he put it on it so increased\nin bulk that it corseleted his body and no arrow could pierce it.\n\n\"Now take the scales from my eyes,\" commanded the toad, and when he had\ndone so Lolomi felt as light as a feather.\n\n\"Go up and wait. When you see a giant, go toward him, looking in his\neyes, and he will walk backward. Walk around him until he has his back to\na precipice, then advance. He will back away until he reaches the edge of\nthe mesa, when he will fall off and be killed.\"\n\nLolomi obeyed these instructions, for presently a giant loomed in the\ndistance and came striding across the plains half a mile at a step. As he\ndrew near he flung a spear, but it glanced from the Indian's armor like\nhail from a rock. Then an arrow followed, and was turned. At this the\ngiant lost courage, for he fancied that Lolomi was a spirit. Fearing a\nblow if he turned, he kept his face toward Lolomi, who manoeuvred so\nskilfully that when he had the giant's back to the edge of a cliff he\nsprang at him, and the giant, with a yell of alarm, fell and broke his\nbones on the rocks below. So Lolomi killed many giants, because they all\nwalked back before him, and after they had fallen the people heaped rocks\non their bodies. To this day the place is known as \"the giants' fall.\"\nThen the tribe made Lolomi king and gave him the most beautiful damsel\nfor a wife. As he was the best king they ever had, they treasured his\nmemory after he was dead, and used his name as a term of greeting, so\nthat \"Lolomi\" is a word of welcome, and will be until the giants come\nagain.\n\n\n\n\nTHE SPIDER TOWER\n\nIn Dead Man's Canon--a deep gorge that is lateral to the once populated\nvalley of the Rio de Chelly, Arizona--stands a stark spire of weathered\nsandstone, its top rising eight hundred feet above its base in a sheer\nuplift. Centuries ago an inhabitant of one of the cave villages was\nsurprised by hostiles while hunting in this region, and was chased by\nthem into this canon. As he ran he looked vainly from side to side in the\nhope of securing a hiding-place, but succor came from a source that was\nleast expected, for on approaching this enormous obelisk, with strength\nwell-nigh exhausted, he saw a silken cord hanging from a notch at its\ntop. Hastily knotting the end about his waist, that it might not fall\nwithin reach of his pursuers, he climbed up, setting his feet into\nroughnesses of the stone, and advancing, hand over hand, until he had\nreached the summit, where he stayed, drinking dew and feeding on eagles'\neggs, until his enemies went away, for they could not reach him with\ntheir arrows, defended as he was by points of rock. The foemen having\ngone, he safely descended by the cord and reached his home. This help had\ncome from a friendly spider who saw his plight from her perch at the top\nof the spire, and, weaving a web of extra thickness, she made one end\nfast to a jag of rock while the other fell within his grasp--for she,\nlike all other of the brute tribe, liked the gentle cave-dwellers better\nthan the remorseless hunters. Hence the name of the Spider Tower.\n\n\n\n\nTHE LOST TRAIL\n\nThe canon of Oak Creek is choked by a mass of rock, shaped like a\nkeystone, and wedged into the jaws of the defile. An elderly Ute tells\nthis story of it. Acantow, one of the chiefs of his tribe, usually placed\nhis lodge beside the spring that bubbled from a thicket of wild roses in\nthe place where Rosita, Colorado, stands to-day. He left his\nwife--Manetabee (Rosebud)--in the lodge while he went across the\nmountains to attend a council, and was gone four sleeps. On his return he\nfound neither wife nor lodge, but footprints and hoofprints in the ground\nshowed to his keen eye that it was the Arapahoes who had been there.\n\nGetting on their trail he rode over it furiously, and at night had\nreached Oak Canon, along which he travelled until he saw the gleam of a\nsmall fire ahead. A squall was coming up, and the noise of it might have\nenabled him to gallop fairly into the group that he saw huddled about the\nglow; but it is not in the nature of an Indian to do that, and, tying his\nhorse, he crawled forward.\n\nThere were fifteen of the Arapahoes, and they were gambling to decide the\nownership of Manetabee, who sat bound beneath a willow near them. So\nengrossed were the savages in the contest that the snake-like approach of\nAcantow was unnoticed until he had cut the thongs that bound Manetabee's\nwrists and ankles--she did not cry out, for she had expected rescue--and\nboth had imperceptibly slid away from them. Then, with a yell, one of the\ngamblers pointed to the receding forms, and straightway the fifteen made\nan onset.\n\nSwinging his wife lightly to his shoulders Acantow set off at a run and\nhe had almost reached his horse when his foot caught in a root and he\nfell headlong. The pursuers were almost upon him when the storm burst in\nfury. A flood of fire rushed from the clouds and struck the earth with an\nappalling roar. Trees were snapped, rocks were splintered, and a\nwhirlwind passed. Acantow was nearly insensible for a time--then he felt\nthe touch of the Rosebud's hand on his cheek, and together they arose and\nlooked about them. A huge block of riven granite lay in the canon,\ndripping blood. Their enemies were not to be seen.\n\n\"The trail is gone,\" said Acantow. \"Manitou has broken it, that the\nArapahoes may never cross it more. He would not allow them to take you.\nLet us thank the Manitou.\" So they went back to where the spring burst\namid the rose-bushes.\n\n\n\n\nA BATTLE IN THE AIR\n\nIn the country about Tishomingo, Indian Territory, troubles are foretold\nby a battle of unseen men in the air. Whenever the sound of conflict is\nheard it is an indication that many dead will lie in the fields, for it\nheralds battle, starvation, or pestilence. The powerful nation that lived\nhere once was completely annihilated by an opposing tribe, and in the\nvalley in the western part of the Territory there are mounds where\nhundreds of men lie buried. Spirits occupy the valley, and to the eyes of\nthe red men they are still seen, at times, continuing the fight.\n\nIn May, 1892, the last demonstration was made in the hearing of John\nWillis, a United States marshal, who was hunting horse-thieves. He was\nbelated one night and entered the vale of mounds, for he had no scruples\nagainst sleeping there. He had not, in fact, ever heard that the region\nwas haunted. The snorting of his horse in the middle of the night awoke\nhim and he sprang to his feet, thinking that savages, outlaws, or, at\nleast, coyotes had disturbed the animal. Although there was a good moon,\nhe could see nothing moving on the plain. Yet the sounds that filled the\nair were like the noise of an army, only a trifle subdued, as if they\nwere borne on the passing of a wind. The rush of hoofs and of feet, the\nstriking of blows, the fall of bodies could be heard, and for nearly an\nhour these fell rumors went across the earth. At last the horse became so\nfrantic that Willis saddled him and rode away, and as he reached the edge\nof the valley the sounds were heard going into the distance. Not until he\nreached a settlement did he learn of the spell that rested on the place.","title":"Myths and Legends of Our Own Land \u2014 Volume 07 : Along the Rocky Range","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":11960}