The Snake who became the King's Son-in-law

There were an old man and an old woman. From their youth up to their old age they had never had any children (lit. 'made any children of their bones'). So the old woman was always scolding with the old man--what can they do, for there they are old, old people? The old woman said, 'Who will look after us when we grow older still?'

'Well, what am I to do, old woman?'

'Go you, old man, and find a son for us.'

So the old man arose in the morning, and took his axe in

p. 22

his hand, and departed and journeyed till mid-day, and came into a forest, and sought three days and found nothing. Then the old man could do no more for hunger. He set out to return home. So as he was coming back, he found a little snake and put it in a handkerchief, and carried it home. And he brought up the snake on sweet milk. The snake grew a week and two days, and he put it in a jar. The time came when the snake grew as big as the jar. The snake talked with his father, 'My time has come to marry me. Go, father, to the king, and ask his daughter for me.'

When the old man heard that the snake wants the king's daughter, he smote himself with his hands. 'Woe is me, darling! How can I go to the king? For the king will kill me.'

What said he? 'Go, father, and fear not. For what he wants of you, that will I give him.'

The old man went to the king. 'All hail, O king!'

'Thank you, old man.'

'King, I am come to form an alliance by marriage.'

'An alliance by marriage!' said the king. 'You are a peasant, and I am a king.'

'That matters not, O king. If you will give me your daughter, I will give you whatever you want.'

What said the king? 'Old man, if that be so, see this great forest. Fell it all, and make it a level field; and plough it for me, and break up all the earth; and sow it with millet by to-morrow. And mark well what I tell you: you must bring me a cake made with sweet milk. Then will I give you the maiden.'

Said the old man, 'All right, O king.'

The old man went weeping to the snake. When the snake saw his father weeping he said, 'Why weepest thou, father?'

'How should I not weep, darling? For see what the king said, that I must fell this great forest, and sow millet; and it must grow up by to-morrow, and be ripe. And I must make a cake with sweet milk and give it him. Then he will give me his daughter.'

What said the snake? 'Father, don't fear for that, for I will do what you have told me.'

The old man: 'All right, darling, if you can manage it.'

p. 23

The old man went off to bed.

What did the snake? He arose and made the forest a level plain, and sowed millet, and thought and thought, and it was grown up by daybreak. When the old man got up, he finds a sack of millet, and he made a cake with sweet milk. The old man took the cake and went to the king.

'Here, O king, I have done your bidding.'

When the king saw that, he marvelled. 'My old fellow, hearken to me. I have one thing more for you to do. Make me a golden bridge from my palace to your house, and let golden apple-trees and pear-trees grow on the side of this bridge. Then will I give you my daughter.'

When the old man heard that, he began to weep, and went home.

What said the snake? 'Why weepest thou, father?'

The old man said, 'I am weeping, darling, for the miseries which God sends me. The king wants a golden bridge from his palace to our house, and apple and pear-trees on the side of this bridge.'

The snake said, 'Fear not, father, for I will do as the king said.' Then the snake thought and thought, and the golden bridge was made as the king had said. The snake did that in the night-time. The king arose at midnight; he thought the sun was at meat [i.e. it was noon]. He scolded the servants for not having called him in the morning.

The servants said, 'King, it is night, not day'; and, seeing that, the king marvelled.

In the morning the old man came. 'Good-day, father-in-law.'

'Thank you, father-in-law. Go, father-in-law, and bring your son, that we may hold the wedding.'

He, when he went, said, 'Hearken, what says the king? You are to go there for the king to see you.'

What said the snake? 'My father, if that be so, fetch the cart, and put in the horses, and I will get into it to go to the king.'

No sooner said, no sooner done. He got into the cart and drove to the king. When the king saw him, he trembled with all his lords. One lord older than the rest, said, 'Fly not, O king, it were not well of you. For he did what you told him; and shall not you do what you promised? He

p. 24

will kill us all. Give him your daughter, and hold the marriage as you promised.'

What said the king? 'My old man, here is the maiden whom you demand. Take her to you.'

And he gave him also a house by itself for her to live in with her husband. She, the bride, trembled at him.

The snake said, 'Fear not, my wife, for I am no snake as you see me. Behold me as I am.'

He turned a somersault, and became a golden youth, in armour clad; he had but to wish to get anything. The maiden, when she saw that, took him in her arms and kissed him, and said, 'Live, my king, many years. I thought you would eat me.'

The king sent a man to see how it fares with his daughter. When the king's servant came, what does he see? The maiden fairer, lovelier than before. He went back to the king. 'O king, your daughter is safe and sound.'

'As God wills with her,' said the king. Then he called many people and held the marriage; and they kept it up three days and three nights, and the marriage was consummated. And I came away and told the story.

SNAKES,WHEN SEEN NEAR GRAVES, TO BE RESPECTED.

A snake which is near a grave, we do not kill, for, (it) is our other person, our dead person, the dead person's snake.[1] And we do not kill (it); for (we) respect it. And (if, during) many days, we see it, we do not kill (it); looking (at it), (we) let it alone.

The Snake of the Hill of Nohme

IN A LARGE waterhole under the hill of Nohme there lives a big snake with a cross on its forehead. This monster lives on water animals but sometimes it eats cattle, goats, and even people. It makes a great wind with its indrawn breath and sucks them right into its mouth. This snake's name is Acencio. He was once a maestro in the church.

But this maestro did evil things. When he died and they buried him, at once the grave began to sink. The sky became cloudy and dark and from the hole where the grave had been was heard a noise such as a lion makes.

Then a priest came who knew how to talk Yaqui, and said, "Go, Acencio, go to a place where there are no Christians."

At once the animal began to break the earth and travel below the surface of the ground. Many people walked behind the moving mound, praying, so that the monster might not remain in the pueblo. The priest also followed along, praying, until at last the snake reached the foot of the hill of Nohme. Breaking the rock, he went deep under the hill into the water which is inside of that hill. There, it is said, Acencio still lives.

A similar monster is described in the myths of the Papago, the Pueblos (Parsons 1939, Vol. 2: 1003; Benedict 1935: 326), and the Cora (Beals 1933: 79 ).



--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The Qabalistic Definition of the Snake Nachash (‏שחנ‎)

The word according to the secret tradition designates the deep interior feeling binding an entity to its own individual existence, making it ardently desire to preserve and enlarge it.

Nachash, the snake within man is the radical egotism which causes an individual being to make of itself a center and to relate everything else to it. Moses defines this sentiment as the seducing passion of elementary nature and the secret spring with which the Creator has provided all (animate) things in nature; we know it by the name of natural instinct. Nachash is not to be understood as a separate being, but rather as a central movement given to matter, a hidden spring acting in the depths of things.

The self-seeking elements within man, the blind passions common to us all in our early stages of evolution are the offspring of this snake—Nachash. This word stands

p. 22

for an unreasoning self-centered instinct in all the oriental languages, it means an internal ardour, a centralized fire, agitated by a violent movement and seeking to extend itself. The Chaldaic derives from it all ideas of fear, sorrow, anxiety and evil, and painful passions. In the Arabic, Syriac and Ethiopian it signifies a tormenting affliction.

p. 23

The Lesson of Nachash
(The Snake).
All love emotions are expansive, all emotions of hatred are restrictive.

Hope and faith are of the nature of love and expand the soul, while fear and doubt and despair are of the nature of hate and contract our souls, making us feel uneasy, and unhappy. The snake stands for contraction, for tightness and indrawing; while men fight and quarrel with one another they always resemble more or less the old snake, each drawing to its side, anxious for self-preservation. Freedom from the snake's anguish can only be had by ceasing from the snake's ways, and learning to obey the law of love, the first dictate of which is self-sacrifice.

THE WHITE MAN AND SNAKE

A WHITE MAN, it is said, met Snake upon whom a large stone had fallen and covered her so that she could not rise. The White Man lifted the stone off Snake, but when he had done so, she wanted to bite him. The White Man said, " Stop! let us both go first to some wise people." They went to Hyena, and the White Man asked him, "Is it right that Snake should want to bite me, when I helped her as she lay under a stone and could not rise?"

Hyena (who thought he would get his share of the White Man's body) said, "If you were bitten what would it matter?"

Then Snake wanted to bite him, but the White Man said again, "Wait a little, and let us go to other wise people, that I may hear whether this is right."

They went and met Jackal. The White Man said to Jackal, "Is it right for Snake to want to bite me, when I lifted up the stone which lay upon her?"

Jackal replied, "I do not believe that Snake could be covered by a stone so she could not rise. Unless I saw it with my two eyes, I would not believe it. Therefore, come let us go and see the place where you say it happened whether it can be true."

They went, and arrived at the place where it had happened. Jackal said, "Snake, lie down, and let thyself be covered."

Snake did so, and the White Man covered her with the stone; but although she exerted herself very much, she could not rise. Then the White Man wanted again to release Snake, but Jackal interfered, and said, "Do not lift the stone. She wanted to bite you, therefore she may rise by herself."

Then they both went away and left Snake under the stone.

ANOTHER VERSION OF THE SAME FABLE
A DUTCHMAN was walking by himself and saw Snake lying under a large :stone. Snake implored his help; but when she had become free she said, "Now I shall eat you."

The Man answered, "That is not right. Let us first go to Hare."

When Hare had heard the affair, he said, "It is right."

"No," said the Man, "let us ask Hyena."

Hyena declared the same, saying, "It is right."

"Now let us ask Jackal," said the Man in his despair.

Jackal answered very slowly and considerately, doubting the whole affair, and demanding to see first the place, and whether the Man was able to lift the stone. Snake lay down, and the Man, to prove the truth of his account, put the stone again over her.

When she was fast, Jackal said, "Now let her lie there."

The Serpent of the Sea

A Zuni Legend

In the times of our forefathers, under Thunder Mountain was a village called K'iákime ("Home of the Eagles"). It is now in ruins; the roofs are gone, the ladders have decayed, the hearths grown cold.

But when it was all still perfect, and, as it were, new, there lived in this village a maiden, the daughter of the priest-chief. She was beautiful, but possessed of this peculiarity of character: There was a sacred spring of water at the foot of the terrace whereon stood the town.

We now call it the Pool of the Apaches; but then it was sacred to Kólowissi (the Serpent of the Sea). Now, at this spring the girl displayed her peculiarity, which was that of a passion for neatness and cleanliness of person and clothing. She could not endure the slightest speck or particle of dust or dirt upon her clothes or person, and so she spent most of her time in washing all the things she used and in bathing herself in the waters of this spring.

Now, these waters, being sacred to the Serpent of the Sea, should not have been defiled in this way. As might have been expected, Kólowissi became troubled and angry at the sacrilege committed in the sacred waters by the maiden, and he said: "Why does this maiden defile the sacred waters of my spring with the dirt of her apparel and the dun of her person? I must see to this." So he devised a plan by which to prevent the sacrilege and to punish its author.

When the maiden came again to the spring, what should she behold but a beautiful little child seated amidst the waters, splashing them, cooing and smiling. It was the Sea Serpent, wearing the semblance of a child,--for a god may assume any form at its pleasure, you know. There sat the child, laughing and playing in the water.

The girl looked around in all directions--north, south, east, and west--but could see no one, nor any traces of persons who might have brought hither the beautiful little child. She said to herself: "I wonder whose child this may be! It would seem to be that of some unkind and cruel mother, who has deserted it and left it here to perish. And the poor little child does not yet know that it is left all alone. Poor little thing! I will take it in my arms and care for it."

The maiden then talked softly to the young child, and took it in her arms, and hastened with it up the hill to her house, and, climbing up the ladder, carried the child in her arms into the room where she slept.

Her peculiarity of character, her dislike of all dirt or dust, led her to dwell apart from the rest of her family, in a room by herself above all of the other apartments.

She was so pleased with the child that when she had got him into her room she sat down on the floor and played with him, laughing at his pranks and smiling into his face; and he answered her in baby fashion with cooings and smiles of his own, so that her heart became very happy and loving. So it happened that thus was she engaged for a long while and utterly unmindful of the lapse of time.

Meanwhile, the younger sisters had prepared the meal, and were awaiting the return of the elder sister.

"Where, I wonder, can she be?" one of them asked.

"She is probably down at the spring," said the old father; "she is bathing and washing her clothes, as usual, of course! Run down and call her."

But the younger sister, on going, could find no trace of her at the spring. So she climbed the ladder to the private room of this elder sister, and there found her, as has been told, playing with the little child. She hastened back to inform her father of what she had seen. But the old man sat silent and thoughtful. He knew that the waters of the spring were sacred.

When the rest of the family were excited, and ran to behold the pretty prodigy, he cried out, therefore: "Come back! come back! Why do you make fools of yourselves? Do you suppose any mother would leave her own child in the waters of this or any other spring? There is something more of meaning than seems in all this."

When they again went and called the maiden to come down to the meal spread for her, she could not be induced to leave the child.

"See! it is as you might expect," said the father. "A woman will not leave a child on any inducement; how much less her own."

The child at length grew sleepy. The maiden placed it on a bed, and, growing sleepy herself, at length lay by its side and fell asleep. Her sleep was genuine, but the sleep of the child was feigned. The child became elongated by degrees, as it were, fulfilling some horrible dream, and soon appeared as an enormous Serpent that coiled itself round and round the room until it was full of scaly, gleaming circles. Then, placing its head near the head of the maiden, the great Serpent surrounded her with its coils, taking finally its own tail in its mouth.

The night passed, and in the morning when the breakfast was prepared, and yet the maiden did not descend, and the younger sisters became impatient at the delay, the old man said: "Now that she has the child to play with, she will care little for aught else. That is enough to occupy the entire attention of any woman."

But the little sister ran up to the room and called. Receiving no answer, she tried to open the door; she could not move it, because the Serpent's coils filled the room and pressed against it. She pushed the door with all her might, but it could not be moved. She again and again called her sister's name, but no response came. Beginning now to be frightened, she ran to the skyhole over the room in which she had left the others and cried out for help.

They hastily joined her,--all save the old father,--and together were able to press the door sufficiently to get a glimpse of the great scales and folds of the Serpent. Then the women all ran screaming to the old father. The old man, priest and sage as he was, quieted them with these words: "I expected as much as this from the first report which you gave me.

It was impossible, as I then said, that a woman should be so foolish as to leave her child playing even near the waters of the spring. But it is not impossible, it seems, that one should be so foolish as to take into her arms a child found as this one was."

Thereupon he walked out of the house, deliberately and thoughtful, angry in his mind against his eldest daughter. Ascending to her room, he pushed against the door and called to the Serpent of the Sea: "Oh, Kólowissi! It is I, who speak to thee, O Serpent of the Sea I, thy priest. Let, I pray thee, let my child come to me again, and I will make atonement for her errors. Release her, though she has been so foolish, for she is thine, absolutely thine. But let her return once more to us that we may make atonement to thee more amply." So prayed the priest to the Serpent of the Sea.

When he had done this the great Serpent loosened his coils, and as he did so the whole building shook violently, and all the villagers became aware of the event, and trembled with fear.

The maiden at once awoke and cried piteously to her father for help.

"Come and release me, oh, my father! Come and release me!" she cried.

As the coils loosened she found herself able to rise. No sooner had she done this than the great Serpent bent the folds of his large coils nearest the doorway upward so that they formed an arch. Under this, filled with terror, the girl passed. She was almost stunned with the dread din of the monster's scales rasping past one another with a noise like the sound of flints trodden under the feet of a rapid runner, and once away from the writhing mass of coils, the poor maiden ran like a frightened deer out of the doorway, down the ladder and into the room below, casting herself on the breast of her mother.

But the priest still remained praying to the Serpent; and he ended his prayer as he had begun it, saying: "It shall be even as I have said; she shall be thine!"

He then went away and called the two warrior priest-chiefs of the town, and these called together all the other priests in sacred council. Then they performed the solemn ceremonies of the sacred rites--preparing plumes, prayer-wands, and offerings of treasure.

After four days of labor, these things they arranged and consecrated to the Serpent of the Sea. On that morning the old priest called his daughter and told her she must make ready to take these sacrifices and yield them up, even with herself,--most precious of them all,--to the great Serpent of the Sea; that she must yield up also all thoughts of her people and home forever, and go hence to the house of the great Serpent of the Sea, even in the Waters of the World. "For it seems," said he, "to have been your desire to do thus, as manifested by your actions.

You used even the sacred water for profane purposes; now this that I have told you is inevitable. Come; the time when you must prepare yourself to depart is near at hand."

She went forth from the home of her childhood with sad cries, clinging to the neck of her mother and shivering with terror. In the plaza, amidst the lamentations of all the people, they dressed her in her sacred cotton robes of ceremonial, embroidered elaborately, and adorned her with earrings, bracelets, beads,--many beautiful, precious things.

They painted her cheeks with red spots as if for a dance; they made a road of sacred meal toward the Door of the Serpent of the Sea--a distant spring in our land known to this day as the Doorway to the Serpent of the Sea--four steps toward this spring did they mark in sacred terraces on the ground at the western way of the plaza.

And when they had finished the sacred road, the old priest, who never shed one tear, although all the villagers wept sore,--for the maiden was very beautiful,--instructed his daughter to go forth on the terraced road, and, standing there, call the Serpent to come to her.

Then the door opened, and the Serpent descended from the high room where he was coiled, and, without using ladders, let his head and breast down to the ground in great undulations. He placed his head on the shoulder of the maiden, and the word was given--the word: "It is time"--and the maiden slowly started toward the west, cowering beneath her burden; but whenever she staggered with fear and weariness and was like to wander from the way, the Serpent gently pushed her onward and straightened her course.

Thus they went toward the river trail and in it, on and over the Mountain of the Red Paint; yet still the Serpent was not all uncoiled from the maiden's room in the house, but continued to crawl forth until they were past the mountain-- when the last of his length came forth. Here he began to draw himself together again and to assume a new shape.

So that ere long his serpent form contracted, until, lifting his head from the maiden's shoulder, he stood up, in form a beautiful youth in sacred gala attire! He placed the scales of his serpent form, now small, under his flowing mantle, and called out to the maiden in a hoarse, hissing voice: "Let us speak one to the other. Are you tired, girl?" Yet she never moved her head, but plodded on with her eyes cast down.

"Are you weary, poor maiden?"--then he said in a gentler voice, as he arose erect and fell a little behind her, and wrapped his scales more closely in his blanket--and he was now such a splendid and brave hero, so magnificently dressed! And he repeated, in a still softer voice: "Are you still weary, poor maiden?"

At first she dared not look around, though the voice, so changed, sounded so far behind her and thrilled her wonderfully with its kindness. Yet she still felt the weight on her shoulder, the weight of that dreaded Serpent's head; for you know after one has carried a heavy burden on his shoulder or back, if it be removed he does not at once know that it is taken away; it seems still to oppress and pain him. So it was with her; but at length she turned around a little and saw a young man-a brave and handsome young man.

"May I walk by your side?" said he, catching her eye. "Why do you not speak with me?"

"I am filled with fear and sadness and shame," said she.

"Why?" asked he. "What do you fear?"

"Because I came with a fearful creature forth from my home, and he rested his head upon my shoulder, and even now I feel his presence there," said she, lifting her hand to the place where his head had rested, even still fearing that it might be there."

"But I came all the way with you," said he, "and I saw no such creature as you describe."

Upon this she stopped and turned back and looked again at him, and said: "You came all the way? I wonder where this fearful being has gone!"

He smiled, and replied: "I know where he has gone."

"Ah, youth and friend, will he now leave me in peace," said she, "and let me return to the home of my people?"

"No," replied he, "because he thinks very much of you."

"Why not? Where is he?"

"He is here," said the youth, smiling, and laying his hand on his own heart. "I am he."

"You are he?" cried the maiden. Then she looked at him again, and would not believe him.

"Yea, my maiden, I am he!" said he. And he drew forth from under his flowing mantle the shriveled serpent scales, and showed them as proofs of his word. It was wonderful and beautiful to the maiden to see that he was thus, a gentle being; and she looked at him long.

Then he said: "Yes, I am he. I love you, my maiden! Will you not haply come forth and dwell with me? Yes, you will go with me, and dwell with me, and I will dwell with you, and I will love you. I dwell not now, but ever, in all the Waters of the World, and in each particular water. In all and each you will dwell with me forever, and we will love each other."

Behold! As they journeyed on, the maiden quite forgot that she had been sad; she forgot her old home, and followed and descended with him into the Doorway of the Serpent of the Sea and dwelt with him ever after.

It was thus in the days of the ancients. Therefore the ancients, no less than ourselves, avoided using springs, except for the drinking of their water; for to this day we hold the flowing springs the most precious things on Earth, and therefore use them not for any profane purposes whatsoever.

The origin of the society of Rattlesnakes

A Zuni Legend

In very ancient times, there lived at Tâ'ia,' below the Zuñi Mountains, an old shíwani or priest-chief, who had a young son named Héasailuhtiwa ("Metal- hand"), famed throughout the land of the Zuñis for his success in hunting.

When very young, this lad had said to his parents: "My old ones, let me go away from the home of my fathers and dwell by myself."

"Why do you, a young boy, wish to go and dwell by yourself, my son? Know you not that you would fare but badly, for you are careless and forgetful? No, no! remain with us, that we may care for you."

But the boy answered: "Why should I fare badly? Can I not hunt my own game and roast the meat over the fire? It is because you never care to have me go forth alone that I wish to live by myself, for I long to travel far and hunt deer in the mountains of many countries: yet whenever I start forth you call me back, and it is painful to my longing thoughts thus to be held back when I would go forward."

It was not until the lad had spoken thus again and again, and once more, that the parents sadly yielded to his wish. They insisted, however, much to the boy's displeasure, that his younger sister, Waíasialuhtitsa, should go with him, only to look after his house, and to remind him here and there, at times, of his forgetfulness. So the brother and sister chose the lofty rooms of a high house in the upper part of the pueblo and lived there.

The boy each day went out hunting and failed not each time to bring in slain animals, while the sister cooked for him and looked after the house. Yet, although the boy was a great hunter, he never sacrificed to the Deer he had slain, nor to the Gods of Prey who delight in aiding the hunter who renews them; for the lad was forgetful and careless of all things.

One day he went forth over the mountain toward the north, until he came to the Waters of the Bear. There he started up a huge Buck, and, finding the trail, followed it far toward the northward. Yet, although swift of foot, the youth could not overtake the running Deer, and thus it happened that he went on and on, past mesas, valleys, and mountains, until he came to the brink of a great river which flows westward from the north. On the banks of this great river grew forests of cottonwood, and into the thickets of these forests led the trail, straight toward the river bank. just as the young man was about to follow the track to the bank, he thought he saw under a large tree in the midst of the thickets the form of the Deer, so, bending very low, he ran around close to the bank, and came up between the river and the thicket.

As he guardedly approached the tree, his eyes now following the track, now glancing up, he discovered a richly dressed, handsome young man, who called out to him: "How art thou these days, and whither art thou going?"

The young man straightened up, and quickly drawing his breath, replied: "I am hunting a Deer whose tracks I have followed all the way from the Waters of the Bear."

"Indeed!" exclaimed the stranger, "and where has thy Deer gone?"

"I know not," replied the youth, "for here are his tracks." Then he observed that they led to the place where the stranger was sitting, and the latter at the same time remarked:

"I am the Deer, and it was as I would have it that I enticed thee hither."

"Hai-í!" exclaimed the young man.

"Aye," continued the stranger. "Alas! alas! thou forgetful one! Thou hast day after day chased my children over the plains and slain them; thou hast made thyself happy of their flesh, and of their flesh added unto thine own meat and that of thy kindred; but, alas! thou hast been forgetful and careless, and not once hast thou given unto their souls the comfort of that which they yearn for and need. Yet hast thou had good fortune in the chase. At last the Sun-father has listened to the supplications of my children and commanded that I bring thee here, and here have I brought thee. Listen! The Sun-father commands that thou shalt visit him in his house at the western end of the world, and these are his instructions."

"Indeed! Well, I suppose it must be, and it is well!" exclaimed the young man.

"And," continued the Deer-being, "thou must hasten home and call thy father. Tell him to summon his Pithlan Shíwani (Priest of the Bow, or Warrior) and command him that he shall instruct his children to repair to the rooms of sacred things and prepare plumed prayer-sticks for the Sun-father, the Moon-mother, and the Great Ocean, and red plumes of sacrifice for the Beings of Prey; that fully they must prepare everything, for thou, their child and father, shalt visit the home of the Sun-father, and in payment for thy forgetfulness and carelessness shalt render him, and the Moon-mother, and the Beings of the Great Ocean, plumes of sacrifice. Hasten home, and tell thy father these things. Then tell thy sister to prepare sweetened meal of parched corn to serve as the food of thy journey, and pollen of the flowers of corn; and ask thy mother to prepare great quantities of new cotton, and, making all these things into bundles, thou must summon some of thy relatives, and come to this tree on the fourth day from this day. Make haste, for thou art swift of foot, and tell all these things to thy father; he, will understand thee, for is he not a priest-chief? Hast thou knives of flint?"

"Yes," said the young man, "my father has many."

"Select from them two," said the Deer-being--"a large one and a smaller one; and when thou hast returned to this place, cut down with the larger knife yonder great tree, and with the smaller knife hollow it out. Leave the large end entire, and for the smaller end thou must make a round door, and around the inside of the smaller end cut a notch that shall be like a terrace toward the outside, but shall slope from within that thou mayest close it from the inside with the round door; then pad the inside with cotton, and make in the bottom a padding thicker than the rest; but leave space that thou mayest lie thy length, or sit up and eat. And in the top cut a hole larger inside than out, that thou mayest close it from the inside with a plug of wood. Then when thou hast placed the sweetened meal of parched corn inside, and the plumed prayer-sticks and the sacred pollen of corn-flowers, then enter thyself and close the door in the end and the hole in the top that thy people may roll thee into the river. Thou wilt meet strange beings on thy way. Choose from amongst them whom thou shalt have as a companion, and proceed, as thy companion shall direct, to the great mountain where the Sun enters. Haste and tell thy father these things." And ere the youth could say, "Be it well," and, "I will," the Deer-being had vanished, and he lifted up his face and started swiftly for the home of his fathers.

At sunset the sister looked forth from her high house-top, but nowhere could she see her brother coming. She turned at last to enter, thinking and saying to her breast: "Alas! what did we not think and guess of his carelessness." But just as the country was growing dim in the darkness, the young man ran breathlessly in, and, greeting his sister, sat down in the doorway.

The sister wondered that he had no deer or other game, but placed a meal before him, and, when he had done, herself ate. But the young man remained silent until she had finished, then he said: "Younger sister, I am weary and would sit here; do you go and call father, for I would speak to him of many things."

So the sister cleared away the food and ran to summon the father. Soon she returned with the old man, who, sighing, "Ha hua!" from the effort of climbing, greeted his son and sat down, looking all about the room for the fresh deer- meat; but, seeing none, he asked: "What and wherefore hast thou summoned me, my son?"

"It is this," replied the son, and he related all that had been told him by the Deer-being, describing the magnificent dress, the turquoise and shell ear- rings, necklaces, and wristlets of the handsome stranger.

"Certainly," replied the father. "It is well; for as the Sun-father hath directed the Deer-being, thus must it be done."

Then he forthwith went away and commanded his Priest of the Bow, who, mounting to the topmost house, directed the elders and priests of the tribe, saying:

Ye, our children, listen!
Ye I will this day inform,
Our child, our father,
He of the strong hand,
He who so hunts the Deer,
Goes unto the Sunset world,
Goes, our Sun-father to greet
Gather at the sacred houses,
Bring thy prayer-sticks, twines, and feathers,
And prepare for him,
For the Sun-father,
For the Moon-mother,
For the Great Ocean,
For the Prey-beings, plumes and treasures.
Hasten, hasten, ye our children, in the morning!"

So the people gathered in the kiwetsiwe and sacred houses next morning and began to make prayer-plumes, while the sister of the young man and her relatives made sweet parched cornmeal and gathered pollen. Toward evening all was completed. The young man summoned his relatives, and chose his four uncles to accompany him. Then he spread enough cotton- wool out to cover the floor, and, gathering it up, made it into a small bundle. The sweet meal filled a large sack of buckskin, and he took also a little sack of sacred red paint and the black warrior paint with little shining particles in it. Then he bade farewell to his lamenting people and rested for the evening journey.

Next morning, escorted by priests, the young man, arrayed in garments of embroidered white cotton and carrying his plumes in his arms, started out of the town, and, accompanied only by his four uncles, set out over the mountains. On the third day they reached the forest on the bank of the great river and encamped.

Then the young man left the camp of his uncles and went alone into the forest, and, choosing the greatest tree he could find, hacked midway through it with his great flint knife. The next day he cut the other half and felled it, when he found it partly hollow. So with his little knife he began to cut it as he had been directed, and made the round door for it and the hole through the top. With his bundle of cotton he padded it everywhere inside until it was thickly coated and soft, and he made a bed on the bottom as thick as himself.

When all was ready and he had placed his food and plumes inside, he called his uncles and showed them the hollow log. "In this," said he, "I am to journey to the western home of our Sun-father. When I have entered and closed the round door tightly and put the plug into the upper hole securely, do ye, never thinking of me, roll the log over and over to the high brink of the river, and, never regarding consequences, push it into the water."

Then it was that the uncles all lamented and tried to dissuade him; but he persisted, and they bade him "Go," as forever, "for," said they, "could one think of journeying even to the end of the earth and across the waters that embrace the world without perishing?"

Then, hastily embracing each of them, the young man entered his log, and, securely fastening the door from the inside, and the plug, called out (they heard but faintly), "Kesi!" which means "All is ready."

Sorrowfully and gently they rolled the log over and over to the high river bank, and, hesitating a moment, pushed it off with anxious eyes and closed mouths into the river. Eagerly they watched it as it tumbled end-over-end and down into the water with a great splash, and disappeared under the waves, which rolled one after another across to the opposite banks of the river. But for a long time they saw nothing of it. After a while, far off, speeding on toward the Western Waters of the World, they saw the log rocking along on the rushing waters until it passed out of sight, and they sadly turned toward their homes under the Mountains of the South.

When the log had ceased rocking and plunging, the young man cautiously drew out the plug, and, finding that no water flowed in, peered out. A ray of sunlight slanted in, and by that he knew it was not yet midday, and he could see a round piece of sky and clouds through the hole. By-and-by the ray of sunlight came straight down, and then after a while slanted the other way, and finally toward evening it ceased to shine in, and then the youth took out some of his meal and ate his supper. When after a while he could see the stars, and later the Hanging Lines [the sword-belt of Orion], he knew it was time to rest, so he lay down to sleep.

Thus, day after day, he traveled until he knew he was out on the Great Waters of the World, for no longer did his log strike against anything or whirl around, nor could he see, through the chink, leaves of overhanging trees, nor rocks and banks of earth. On the tenth morning, when he looked up through the hole, he saw that the clouds did not move, and wondering at this, kicked at his log, but it would not move. Then he peered out as far as he could and saw rocks and trees. When he tried to rock his log, it remained firm, so he determined to open the door at the end.

Now, in reality, his log had been cast high up on the shore of a great mountain that rose out of the waters; and this mountain was the home of the Rattlesnakes. A Rattlesnake maiden was roaming along the shore just as the young man was about to open the door of his log. She espied the curious vessel, and said to herself in thought: "What may this be? Ah, yes, and who? Ah, yes, the mortal who was to come; it must be he!" Whereupon she hastened to the shore and tapped on the log.

"Art thou come?" she asked.

"Aye," replied the youth. "Who may you be, and where am I?"

"You are landed on the Island of the Rattlesnakes, and I am one of them. The other side of the mountain here is where our village is. Come out and go with me, for my old ones have expected you long."

"Is it dry, surely?" asked the young man.

"Why, yes! Here you are high above the waters."

Thereupon the young man opened from the inside his door, and peered out. Surely enough, there he was high among the rocks and sands. Then he looked at the Rattlesnake maiden, and scarcely believed she was what she called herself, for she was a most beautiful young woman, and like a daughter of men. Yet around her waist--she was dressed in cotton mantles-- was girt a rattlesnake-skin which was open at the breast and on the crown of the head.

"Come with me," said the maiden; and she led the way over the mountain and across to a deep valley, where terrible Serpents writhed and gleamed in the sunlight so thickly that they seemed, with their hissing and rattling, like a dry mat shaken by the wind. The youth drew back in horror, but the maiden said: "Fear not; they will neither harm you nor frighten you more, for they are my people." Whereupon she commanded them to fall back and make a pathway for the young man and herself; and they tamely obeyed her commands. Through the opening thus made they passed down to a cavern, on entering which they found a great room. There were great numbers of Rattlesnake people, old and young, gathered in council, for they knew of the coming of the young man. Around the walls of their houses were many pegs and racks with serpent skins hanging on them--skins like the one the young girl wore as a girdle. The elders arose and greeted the youth, saying: "Our child and our father, comest thou, comest thou happily these many days?"

"Aye, happily," replied the youth.

And after a feast of strange food had been placed before the young man, and he had eaten a little, the elders said to him: "Knowest thou whither thou goest, that the way is long and fearful, and to mortals unknown, and that it will be but to meet with poverty that thou journeyest alone? Therefore have we assembled to await thy coming and in order that thou shouldst journey preciously, we have decided to ask thee to choose from amongst us whom thou shalt have for a companion."

"It is well, my fathers," said the young man, and, casting his eyes about the council to find which face should be kindest to him, he chose the maiden, and said: "Let it be this one, for she found me and loved me in that she gently and without fear brought me into your presence."

And the girl said: "It is well, and I will go."

Instantly the grave and dignified elders, the happy-faced youths and maidens, the kind-eyed matrons, all reached up for their serpent skins, and, passing them over their persons,--lo! in the time of the telling of it, the whole place was filled with writhing and hissing Serpents and the din of their rattles. In horror the young man stood against the wall like a hollow stalk, and the Serpent maiden, going to each of the members of the council, extracted from each a single fang, which she wrapped together in a piece of fabric, until she had a great bundle. Then she passed her hand over her person, and lo! she became a beautiful human maiden again, holding in her hand a rattlesnake skin. Then taking up the bundle of fangs, she said to the young man: "Come, for I know the way and will guide you,"--and the young man followed her to the shore where his log lay.

"Now," said she, "wait while I fix this log anew, that it may be well," and she bored many little holes all over the log, and into these holes she inserted the crooked fangs, so that they all stood slanting toward the rear, like the spines on the back of a porcupine.

When she had done this, she said: "First I will enter, for there may not be room for two, and in order that I may make myself like the space I enter, I will lay on my dress again. Do you, when I have entered, enter also, and with your feet kick the log down to the shore waters, when you must quickly close the door and the waters will take us abroad upon themselves."

In an instant she had passed into her serpent form again and crawled into the log. The young man did as he was bidden, and as he closed the door a wave bore them gently out upon the waters. Then, as the young man turned to look upon his companion coiled so near him, he drew back in horror.

"Why do you fear?" asked the Rattlesnake.

"I know not, but I fear you; perhaps, though you speak gently, you will, when I sleep, bite me and devour my flesh, and it is with thoughts of this that I have fear."

"Ah, no!" replied the maiden, "but, that you may not fear, I will change myself." And so saying, she took off her skin, and, opening the upper part of the door, hung the skin on the fangs outside.

Finally, toward noon-time, the youth prepared his meal food, and placing some before the maiden, asked her to eat.

"Ah, no! alas, I know not the food of mortals. Have you not with you the yellow dust of the corn-flower?"

"Aye, that I have," said the young man, and producing a bag, opened it and asked the girl: "How shall I feed it to you?"

"Scatter it upon the cotton, and by my knowledge I will gather it."

Then the young man scattered a great quantity on the cotton, wondering how the girl would gather it up. But the maiden opened the door, and taking down the skin changed herself to a serpent, and passing to and fro over the pollen, received it all within her scales. Then she resumed her human form again and hung the skin up as before.

Thus they floated until they came to the great forks of the Mighty Waters of the World, and their floating log was guided into the southern branch. And on they floated toward the westward for four months from the time when the uncles had thrown him into the river.

One day the maiden said to the youth: "We are nearing our journey's end, and, as I know the way, I will guide you. Hold yourself hard and ready, for the waters will cast our house high upon the shores of the mountain wherein the Sun enters, and these shores are inaccessible because so smooth."

Then the log was cast high above the slippery bank, and when the waters receded there it remained, for the fangs grappled it fast.

Then said the maiden: "Let us now go out. Fear not for your craft, for the fangs will hold it fast; it matters little how high the waves may roll, or how steep and slippery the bank."

Then, taking in his arms the sacred plumes which his people had prepared for him, he followed the girl far up to the doorway in the Mountain of the Sea. Out of it grew a great ladder of giant rushes, by the side of which stood an enormous basket-tray. Very fast approached the Sun, and soon the Sun- father descended the ladder, and the two voyagers followed down. They were gently greeted by a kind old woman, the grandmother of the Sun, and were given seats at one side of a great and wonderfully beautiful room.

Then the Sun-father approached some pegs in the wall and from them suspended his bow and quiver, and his bright sun-shield, and his wonderful traveling dress Behold! there stood, kindly smiling before the youth and maiden, the most magnificent and gentle of beings in the world-the Sun- father.

Then the Sun-father greeted them, and, turning to a great package which he had brought in, opened it and disclosed thousands of shell beads, red and white, and thousands more of brilliant turquoises. These he poured into the great tray at the door-side, and gave them to the grandmother, who forthwith began to sort them with great rapidity. But, ere she had done, the Sun-father took them from her; part of them he took out with unerring judgment and cast them abroad into the great waters as we cast sacred prayer-meal. The others he brought below and gave them to the grandmother for safe-keeping.

Then he turned once more to the youth and the maiden, and said to the former: "So thou hast come, my child, even as I commanded. It is well, and I am thankful." Then, in a stern and louder voice, which yet sounded like the voice of a father, he asked: "Hast thou brought with thee that whereby we are made happy with our children?"

And the young man said: "Aye, I have."

"It is well; and if it be well, then shalt thou precious be; for knowest thou not that I recognize the really good from the evil,--even of the thoughts of men,-- and that I know the prayer and sacrifice that is meant, from the words and treasures of those who do but lie in addressing them to me, and speak and act as children in a joke? Behold the treasure which I brought with me from the cities of mankind today! Some of them I cherished preciously, for they are the gifts to me of good hearts and I treasure them that I may return them in good fortune and blessing to those who gave them. But some thou sawest I cast abroad into the great waters that they may again be gathered up and presented to me; for they were the gifts of double and foolish hearts, and as such cannot be treasured by me nor returned unto those who gave them. Bring forth, my child, the plumes and gifts thou hast brought. Thy mother dwelleth in the next room, and when she appeareth in this, thou shalt with thine own hand present to her thy sacrifice."

So the youth, bowing his head, unwrapped his bundle and laid before the Sun- father the plumes he had brought. And the Sun-father took them and breathed upon them and upon the youth, and said: "Thanks, this day. Thou hast straightened thy crooked thoughts."

And when the beautiful Mother of Men, the Moon-mother--the wife of the Sun- father--appeared, the boy placed before her the plumes he had brought, and she, too, breathed upon them, and said: "Thanks, this day," even as the Sun- father had.

Then the Sun-father turned to the youth and said: "Thou shalt join me in my journey round the world, that thou mayest see the towns and nations of mankind--my children; that thou mayest realize how many are my children. Four days shalt thou join me in my journeyings, and then shalt thou return to the home of thy fathers."

And the young man said: "It is well!" but he turned his eyes to the maiden.

"Fear not, my child," added the Father, "she shall sit preciously in my house until we have returned."

And after they had feasted, the Sun-father again enrobed himself, and the youth he dressed in appearance as he himself was dressed. Then, taking the sun-dress from the wall, he led the way down through the four great apartments of the world, and came out into the Lower Country of the Earth.

Behold! as they entered that great world, it was filled with snow and cold below, and the tracks of men led out over great white plains, and as they passed the cities of these nether countries people strange to see were clearing away the snow from their housetops and doorways.

And so they journeyed to the other House of the Sun, and, passing up through the four great rooms, entered the home of the aunts of the Sun-father; and here, too, the young man presented plumes of prayer and sacrifice to the inmates, and received their thanks and blessings.

Again they started together on their journey; and behold! as they came out into the World of Daylight, the skies below them were filled with the rain of summer-time.

Across the great world they journeyed, and they saw city after city of men, and many tribes of strange peoples. Here they were engaged in wars and in wasting the lives of one another; there they were dying of famine and disease; and more of misery and poverty than of happiness saw the young man among the nations of men. "For," said the Sun-father, "these be, alas! my children, who waste their lives in foolishness, or slay one another in useless anger; yet they are brothers to one another, and I am the father of all."

Thus journeyed they four days; and each evening when they returned to the home where the Sun-father enters, he gave to his grandmother the great package of treasure which his children among men had sacrificed to him, and each day he cast the treasures of the bad and double-hearted into the great waters.

On the fourth day, when they had entered the western home of the Sun- father, said the latter to the youth: "Thy task is meted out and finished; thou shalt now return unto the home of thy fathers--my children below the mountains of Shíwina. How many days, thinkest thou, shalt thou journey?"

"Many days more than ten," replied the youth with a sigh.

"Ah! no, my child," said the Sun-father. "Listen; thou shalt in one day reach the banks of the river whence thou camest. Listen! Thou shalt take this, my shaft of strong lightning; thou shalt grasp its neck with firm hands, and as thou extendest it, it will stretch out far to thy front and draw thee more swiftly than the arrow's flight through the water. Take with thee this quiver of unerring arrows, and this strong bow, that by their will thou mayest seek life; but forget not thy sacrifices nor that they are to be made with true word and a faithful heart. Take also with thee thy guide and companion, the Rattlesnake maiden. When thou hast arrived at the shore of the country of her people, let go the lightning, and it will land thee high. On the morrow I will journey slowly, that ere I be done rising thou mayest reach the home of the maiden. There thou must stop but briefly, for thy fathers, the Rattle-tailed Serpents, will instruct thee, and to their counsel thou must pay strict heed, for thus only will it be well. Thou shalt present to them the plumes of the Prey-beings thou bringest, and when thou hast presented these, thou must continue thy journey. Rest thou until the morrow, and early as the light speed hence toward the home of thy fathers. May all days find ye, children, happy." With this, the Sun-father, scarce listening to the prayers and thanks of the youth and maiden, vanished below.

Thus, when morning approached, the youth and the maiden entered the hollow house and closed it. Scarce did the youth grasp the lightning when, drawn by the bright shaft, the log shot far out into the great waters and was skimming, too fast to be seen, toward the home of the Rattle-tailed Serpents.

And the Sun had but just climbed above the mountains of this world of daylight when the little tube was thrown high above the banks of the great island whither they were journeying.

Then the youth and the maiden again entered the council of the Rattlesnakes, and when they saw the shining black paint on his face they asked that they too might paint their faces like his own; but they painted their cheeks awkwardly, as to this day may be seen; for all rattlesnakes are painted unevenly in the face. Then the young man presented to each the plumes he had brought, and told the elders that he would return with their maiden to the home of his father.

"Be it well, that it may be well," they replied; and they thanked him with delight for the treasure-plumes he had bestowed upon them.

"Go ye happily all days," said the elders. "Listen, child, and father, to our words of advice. But a little while, and thou wilt reach the bank whence thou started. Let go the shaft of lightning, and, behold, the tube thou hast journeyed with will plunge far down into the river. Then shalt thou journey with this our maiden three days. Care not to embrace her, for if thou doest this, it will not be well. journey ye preciously, our children, and may ye be happy one with the other."

So again they entered their hollow log and, before entering, the maiden placed her rattlesnake skin as before on the fangs. With incredible swiftness the lightning drew them up the great surging river to the banks where the cottonwood forests grow, and when the lad pressed the shaft it landed them high among the forest trees above the steep bank. Then the youth pressed the lightning-shaft with all his might, and the log was dashed into the great river. While yet he gazed at the bounding log, behold! the fangs which the maiden had fixed into it turned to living serpents; hence today, throughout the whole great world, from the Land of Summer to the Waters of Sunset, are found the Rattlesnakes and their children.

Then the young man journeyed with the maiden southward; and on the way, with the bow and arrows the Sun-father had given him, he killed game, that they might have meat to eat. Nor did he forget the commandments of his Sun- father. At night he built a fire in a forest of piñons, and made a bower for the maiden near to it; but she could not sit there, for she feared the fire, and its light pained her eyes. Nor could she eat at first of the food he cooked for her, but only tasted a few mouthfuls of it. Then the young man made a bed for her under the trees, and told her to rest peacefully, for he would guard her through the night.

And thus they journeyed and rested until the fourth day, when at evening they entered the town under the mountains of Shíwina and were happily welcomed by the father, sister, and relatives of the young man. Blessed by the old priest-chief, the youth and the maiden dwelt with the younger sister Waíasialuhtitsa, in the high house of the upper part of the town. And the boy was as before a mighty hunter, and the maiden at last grew used to the food and ways of mortals.

After they had thus lived together for a long time, there were born of the maiden two children, twins.

Wonderful to relate, these children grew to the power of wandering, in a single day and night; and hence, when they appeared suddenly on the housetops and in the plazas, people said to one another:

"Who are these strange people, and whence came they?"--and talked much after the manner of our foolish people. And the other little children in the town beat them and quarreled with them, as strange children are apt to do with strange children.. And when the twins ran in to their mother, crying and complaining, the poor young woman was saddened; so she said to the father when he returned from hunting in the evening:

"Ah!, 'their father,' it is not well that we remain longer here. No, alas! I must return to the country of my fathers, and take with me these little ones," and, although the father prayed her not, she said only: "It must be," and he was forced to consent.

Then for four days the Rattlesnake woman instructed him in the prayers and chants of her people, and she took him forth and showed him the medicines whereby the bite of her fathers might be assuaged, and how to prepare them. Again and again the young man urged her not to leave him, saying: "The way is long and filled with dangers. How, alas! will you reach it in safety?"

"Fear not," said she: "go with me only to the shore of the great river, and my fathers will come to meet me and take me home."

Sadly, on the last morning, the father accompanied his wife and children to the forests of the great river. There she said he must not follow but as he embraced them he cried out:

"Ah, alas! my beautiful wife, my beloved children, flesh of my flesh, how shall I not follow ye?"

Then his wife answered: "Fear not, nor trouble thyself with sad thoughts. Whither we go thou canst not follow, for thou eatest cooked food (thou art a mortal); but soon thy fathers and mine will come for thee, and thou wilt follow us, never to return." Then she turned from him with the little children and was seen no more, and the young man silently returned to his home below the mountains of Shíwina.

It happened here and there in time that young men of his tribe were bitten by rattlesnakes; but the young man had only to suck their wounds, and apply his medicines, and sing his incantations and prayers, to cure them. Whenever this happened, he breathed the sacred breath upon them, and enjoined them to secrecy of the rituals and chants he taught them, save only to such as they should choose and teach the practice of their prayers.

Thus he had cured and taught eight, when one day he ascended the mountains for wood. There, alone in the forest, he was met and bitten by his fathers. Although he slowly and painfully crawled home, long ere he reached his town he was so swollen that the eight whom he had instructed tried in vain to cure him, and, bidding them cherish as a precious gift the knowledge of his beloved wife, he died.

Immediately his fathers met his breath and being and took them to the home of the Maiden of the Rattlesnakes and of his lost children. Need we ask why he was not cured by his disciples?

Thus it was in the days of the ancients, and hence today we have fathers amongst us to whom the dread bite of the rattlesnake need cause no sad thoughts,--the Tchi Kialikwe (Society of the Rattlesnakes).

How the Rattlesnakes came to be what they are

A Zuni Legend

Know you that long, long ago there lived at Yathlpew'nan, as live there now, many Rattlesnakes; but then they were men and women, only of a Rattlesnake kind.

One day the little children of one of the houses there wished to go out to play at sliding down the sand-banks south of the Bitter Pond on the other side of our river. So they cried out to their parents: "Let us go, O mother, grandmother, father and take our little sister to play on the sunny side of the sand-banks."

"My children," said the mother, "go if you wish, but be very careful of your little sister; for she is young. Carry her gently on your shoulders, and place her where she will be safe, for she is very small and helpless."

"Oh, yes!" cried the children. "We love our little sister, don't we, little one?" said they, turning to the baby girl. Then they took her up in their mantles, and carried her on their shoulders out to the sunny side of the sand-banks; and there they began to play at sliding one after another.

The little girl, immensely delighted with their sport, toddled out from the place where they had set her down, just as one of the girls was speeding down the side of the sand-hill. The little creature ran, clapping her hands and laughing, to catch her sister as she came; and the elder one, trying in vain to stop herself, called out to her to beware; but she was a little thing, and knew not the meaning of her sister's warning; and, alas! the elder one slid down upon her, knocked her over and rolled her in the sand, crushing her so that she died, and rolling her out very small.

The children all gathered around their little sister, and cried and cried. Finally they took her up tenderly, and, placing her on their shoulders, sang as they went slowly toward home:

Tchi-tola tsaaana! (Rattlesnake little-little!)

Tchi-tola tsaaana! (Rattlesnake little-little!)

Tchi-tola tsaaana! (Rattlesnake little-little!)

Ama ma hama seta! (Alas, we bear her!)

Ama ma hama seta! (Alas, we bear her!)

As they approached the village of the Rattlesnakes, the mother of the little one looked out and saw them coming and heard their song.

"O, my children! my children!" she cried. "Ye foolish little ones, did I not tell ye to beware and to be careful, O, my children?" Then she exclaimed - rocking herself to and fro, and wriggling from side to side at the same time, casting her hands into the air, and sobbing wildly -

Ayaa mash toki!

Ayaa mash toki!

Hai! i i i i!"

and fell in a swoon, still wriggling, to the ground.

When the old grandmother saw them coming, she too said:

Ayaa mash toki!

Ayaa mash toki!

Hai! i i i i!"

And as one after another in that village saw the little child, so beloved, brought home thus mutilated and dead, each cried out as the others had cried:

Ayaa mash toki!

Ayaa mash toki!

Hai! i i i i!"

and all swooned away; and the children also who were bringing the little one joined in the cry of woe, and swooned away. And when they all returned to life, behold, they could not arise, but went wriggling along the ground, faintly crying, as Rattlesnakes wriggle and cry to this day.

So you see that once, as was the case with many, if not all, of the animals-the Rattlesnakes were a people, and a splendid people too. Therefore we kill them not needlessly, nor waste the lives even of other animals without cause.

A Rattlesnake kills the Chief's Daughter

A Wintu Legend

Long ago some women gathered, put a blanket on the ground, and lay down. They made their leaders, the chief's daughter, lie in the middle. And they sang songs.

The chief's daughter was a good singer and many people gathered to see her. Some wanted to abduct her, but could not get close to her because she was the chief's daughter and everyone kept an eye on her.

She was rich because her father was rich. The people who wanted to abduct her were not from the area; they had come from somewhere else. They watched her, but there was no way of taking her because many people kept a close eye on her.

The women lay down and sang. Chief Tisasa's daughter was a good singer with a beautiful strong voice. This is not a tale, but a story about real Indians. Tisasa was a real Indian chief who was my father's grandfather. The woman was Tisasa's daughter.

The Indians thought very highly of Tisasa and he had many sons who were good people. He helped everybody, and when he hired people to do things, he always paid them well. The women lay down and sang many songs. At midnight they all left. But the others were still watching. They watched those who were watching the chief's daughter. Tisasa was a real chief. His family's home was called Kensunus, "Next Below."

When the chief's daughter went to pick clover, all the women followed the "little chief" and picked clover too. She was bitten by a rattlesnake, and they took her some. She died before many days had passed. The rattlesnake had killed her.

Her mother, the chief's wife, grieved the loss of her daughter. She made many sticks, packed them, and went out. She went west to a snake den called Snake Rock. There she dug for rattlesnakes and killed those she saw coming out, with a long green stick. She also had a short stick with her.

She killed off all the rattlesnakes that came out and strung them on a trimmed sharp stick. She strung them and tied them up. She dug up their rocky nest. She killed many rattlesnakes that were in the den. She killed forty rattlesnakes and strung them up on the stick. When she could not find any more, she leveled the den. She wiped them out. Their dens stink terribly, but the woman who had lost her daughter did not give up looking for rattlesnakes everywhere.

When she found some, she killed them and strung them up. She went everywhere looking for rattlesnakes and did not give up. For five years she did not forget to kill rattlesnakes. There were no more rattlesnakes close by, for she had killed them all. She had lost her daughter and did not want to stop. Their home was Kensunus. They buried their daughter in an elk hide with all her belongings. She took many good beads, clamshell beads, and things with her. They gathered everything, wrapped her in elk hide and buried her. She took much with her. That was because they were never going to see their daughter again.

But the mother grieved so that for thirty days after her daughter's death she did not want to stay at home. She went all over the mountains, steep hills, and rock piles, looking for rattlesnakes. When she saw a rattlesnake, she killed it. She did not kill any of the other snakes, water snakes or bull snakes. When she saw king snakes, she did not kill them. She only killed rattlesnakes. And then after some five years she stopped. She did not hunt rattlesnakes any more. She stopped hunting rattlesnakes.

The Snake with the big feet

An American Indian Legend - Nation Unknown

Long ago, in that far-off happy time when the world was new, and there were no white people at all, only Indians and animals, there was a snake who was different from other snakes. He had feet-big feet. And the other snakes, because he was different, hated him, and made life wretched for him. Finally, they drove him away from the country where the snakes lived, saying, "A good long way from here live other ugly creatures with feet like yours. Go and live with them!" And the poor, unhappy Snake had to go away.

For days and days, he traveled. The weather grew cold and food became hard to find. At last, exhausted, his feet cut and frostbitten, he lay down on the bank of a river to die.

The Deer, E-se-ko-to-ye, looked out of a willow thicket, and saw the Snake lying on the river bank. Pitying him, the deer took the Snake into his own lodge and gave him food and medicine for his bleeding feet.

The Deer told the Snake that there were indeed creatures with feet like his who would befriend him, but that some among these would be enemies whom it would be necessary to kill before he could reach safety.

He showed the Snake how to make a shelter for protection from the cold and taught him how to make moccasins of deerskin to protect his feet. And at dawn the Snake continued his journey.

The sun was far down the western sky, and it was bitter cold when the Snake made camp the next night. As he gathered boughs for a shelter, Kais- kap the porcupine appeared. Shivering, the Porcupine asked him, "Will you give me shelter in your lodge for the night?"

The Snake said, "It's very little that I have, but you are welcome to share it."

"I am grateful," said Kais-kap, "and perhaps I can do something for you. Those are beautiful moccasins, brother, but they do not match your skin. Take some of my quills, and make a pattern on them, for good luck." So they worked a pattern on the moccasins with the porcupine quills, and the Snake went on his way again.

As the Deer had told him, he met enemies. Three times he was challenged by hostile Indians, and three times he killed his adversary.

At last he met an Indian who greeted him in a friendly manner. The Snake had no gifts for this kindly chief, so he gave him the moccasins. And that, so the old Ones say, was how our people first learned to make moccasins of deerskin, and to ornament them with porcupine quills in patterns, like those on the back of a snake. And from that day on the Snake lived in the lodge of the chief, counting his coup of scalps with the warriors by the Council fire and, for a long time, was happy.

But the chief had a daughter who was beautiful and kind, and the Snake came to love her very much indeed. He wished that he were human, so that he might marry the maiden, and have his own lodge. He knew there was no hope of this unless the High Gods, the Above Spirits took pity on him, and would perform a miracle on his behalf.

So he fasted and prayed for many, many days. But all his fasting and praying had no result, and at last the Snake came very ill.

Now, in the tribe, there was a very highly skilled Medicine Man. Mo'ki-ya was an old man, so old that he had seen and known, and understood, everything that came within the compass of his people's lives, and many things that concerned the Spirits. Many times, his lodge was seen to sway with the Ghost Wind, and the voices of those long gone on to the Sand Hills spoke to him.

Mo'ki-ya came to where the Snake lay in the chief's lodge, and sending all the others away, asked the Snake what his trouble was.

"It is beyond even your magic," said the Snake, but he told Mo'ki-ya about his love for the maiden, and his desire to become a man so that he could marry her.

Mo'ki-ya sat quietly thinking for a while. Then he said, "I shall go on a journey, brother. Perhaps my magic can help, perhaps not. We shall see when I return." And he gathered his medicine bundles and disappeared.

It was a long and fearsome journey that Mo'ki-ya made. He went to the shores of a great lake. He climbed a high mountain, and he took the matter to Nato'se, the Sun himself.

And Nato'se listened, for this man stood high in the regard of the spirits, and his medicine was good. He did not ask, and never had asked, for anything for himself, and to transform the Snake into a brave of the tribe was not a difficult task for the High Gods. The third day after the arrival of Mo'ki-ya at the Sun's abode, Nato'se said to him, "Return to your own lodge Mo'ki-ya, and build a fire of small sticks. Put many handfuls of sweet-grass on the fire, and when the smoke rises thickly, lay the body of the Snake in the middle of it."

And Mo'ki-ya came back to his own land.

The fire was built in the center of the Medicine lodge, as the Sun had directed, and when the sweet-grass smouldered among the embers, sending the smoke rolling in great billows through the tepee, Mo'ki-ya gently lifted the Snake, now very nearly dead, and placed him in the fire so that he was hidden by the smoke.

The Medicine-drum whispered softly in the dusk of the lodge: the chant of the old men grew a little louder, and then the smoke obscuring the fire parted like a curtain, and a young man stepped out.

Great were the rejoicing in the camp that night. The Snake, now a handsome young brave, was welcomed into the tribe with the ceremonies befitting the reception of one shown to be high in the favor of the spirits. The chief gladly gave him his daughter, happy to have a son law of such distinction.

Many brave sons and beautiful daughters blessed the lodge of the Snake and at last, so the Old ones say, his family became a new tribe-the Pe-sik-na-ta- pe, or Snake Indians.

Native American Legends

The Eagle and the Snake

An American Indian Legend - Nation Unknown

In the beginning, the Great Creator formed Mother Earth in the heavens and was pleased. Mother Earth was a beautiful sight. The Great Creator decided to add living creatures to take care of Her. The creatures were all beautiful in the Great Creators mind, but he decided to give two of them greater power and knowledge in order to help protect the great Mother Earth. The Great Creator chose the eagle and the snake to bestow this great honor upon. The eagle was the master of the skies and the snake was so close to Mother Earth that the Great Creator felt it would make the perfect protector on the ground.

The majority of eagles and snakes got along very well initially. They communicated freely with each other and all of the other creatures were in awe of them. However, there was one snake named "White Eye" that seemed to have more power than all of the other snakes. White Eye was not friendly to his brother the eagle. White Eye was very jealous that the Great Creator enabled the eagle to be such a beautiful creature and have the ability to fly free through the skies. White Eye thought "I am jusssssst assssss powerful assssss the eagle, yet I am ugly and musssssst crawl along the ground like a lower form of life. Ssssssomeday, I will take Mother Earth completely away from the eagle and be the complete ruler of all creaturessssss. Of thissssss I PROMISSSSSSE!"

As time passed, the greatest eagle of all, named "Redman" became aware that he possessed superior powers that all other eagles were unaware of. He was also aware that White Eye was a powerful trouble maker and that certain discoveries of powers from the Great Creator must never fall into the possession of that evil snake. Redman discovered an art called "shape shifting".

He discovered that he could, after deep, silent prayer and soft chanting, actually change his physical body into an all together different form. As Redman began to experiment with his newly discovered power, he discovered that he could assume the shape of an upright being with two legs and two arms. As Redman looked into Chilhowie lake one day, he discovered that his two-legged form was actually a beautiful shape with a reddish hue to the skin covering. The two-legged form also looked very impressive with two arms with hands and fingers and toes on the feet attached to the two legs. Redman was very happy. As he began to experiment with his new form, he was impressed to see that he would be able to do many things that could be very helpful in taking loving care of Mother Earth.

Redman met with eight of the most trusted eagles to discuss the new power. The eight eagles were named "Sioux", "Cherokee", "Cheyenne", "Apache", "Chippewa", "Iroquois" and "Seminole". These eight eagles together began to experiment with the new form that Redman had discovered and they agreed that there was much that could be done for mother earth with this new form. The eight then returned to their respective eagle families and met secretly with the wisest male and female eagles to discuss their plan. The plan was simple enough. These chosen eagles would select the best male and female eagles to shape shift to the new form and from their different locations upon Mother Earth, they would reproduce in the new form and be even better able to take care of Her and all of Her creatures.

One day when Redman was walking through the woods, he came across White Eye. Needless to say, White Eye was stunned. "SSSSSSSoooooo Redman ... what issssss thissssss?" Redman was immediately fearful of White Eye's evil powers and was momentarily speechless. "SSSSSSSooooo Redman! I ssssssaid ... what issssss thissssss?" "Oh, hello White Eye", said Redman. "This is a new form that I have discovered and I believe that this form may enable me to better serve the Great Creator in protecting Mother Earth." "I sssssssee." said White Eye. "Won't you be ssssssso kind assssss to sssssshow me how to do that, sssssso that I may alsssssso help protect our dear Mother Earth?"

Redman thought quickly and said "Well White Eye, right now I am simply experimenting with the form. If it ends up being as good as I think it may be, I'll talk to all of the creatures to discuss it. I have to go now. Farewell White Eye."

Now White Eye was furious! He must know how to assume that beautiful form! White Eye returned home and gathered together the most evil snakes that he could find to discuss this new situation. The other snakes were amazed! They all agreed to a secret pact that would enable them to search hard and secretly to discover how Redman had been able to assume this beautiful new form!

Low and behold, the snakes began seeing these new upright creatures all around their areas of Mother Earth, and the eagles seemed to be multiplying rapidly in the new form. White Eye was absolutely furious! He called a meeting of the evil snakes and they decided to kill one of the new upright eagles with the two-legged shape.

One day White Eye and his evil friends saw a lone upright eagle and they approached him in a seemingly friendly manner, complimenting his new form. As the snakes questions became more aggressive, the eagle decided to run. However, it was too late. The snakes attacked. As the eagle was dying, in his weakened condition, White Eye summoned his greatest, most focussed power, which was the ability to telepathically impart knowledge and ideas from other creatures. If the eagle were healthy, he would have been able to escape, or mentally try to block White Eyes mind reading. Unfortunately, the poor eagle was very weak from the attack of the evil snakes and White Eye successfully gained the process of shape shifting.

White Eye let out an enormous, evil, blood curdling laugh. That was the final sound the dying eagle heard in his physical life on Mother Earth. White Eye was laughing hysterically! The other snakes gathered around. "What issssss it White Eye? What issssss sssssso funny?" Suddenly White Eye's beady little snake eyes narrowed and he became very nasty looking. "Now I know how to transsssssform; my ugly body into the beautiful new form!" said White Eye. White Eye ordered the other evil snakes to leave him alone for awhile, and he promised that he would rejoin them as soon as he had tried the new shape shifting idea that he had taken from the poor dying eagle. The other snakes left as White Eye had requested.

Now White Eye became very quiet and began to really focus on the energy of the universe. After a few moments, he felt a very unusual tingling and began to softly chant the words that the dying eagle had known to utter in order to successfully shape shift to the upright, two-legged form. "Hey - Ya...Hey-Ya...Hey - Ya...Hey Ya." White Eye knew the exact cadence and inflections for the chant. After a few more minutes, White Eye felt an enormous rushing of energy entering his ugly snake body. White Eye suddenly screamed out in pain, as the energy rush was beyond description. White Eye passed out of consciousness. When he felt himself awakening, he felt very different and strange. As his eyes began to regain their sight, White Eye saw something that he could not believe! He had arms and hands and legs and feet! Just like Redman! He was ecstatic! The only difference was that his skin covering was a white color. Redman's had been slightly reddish. White Eye was actually glad that he was a different color than the eagle! He thought, "This will make it easy for us snakes to know what upright creatures are snakes and what upright creatures are the loathsome eagles!"

White Eye found that at first, it was hard to make the new form work. He practiced for awhile and then could not wait to show his evil friends! He ran through the woods to the place where he was to meet them. The other snakes at first were frightened, but then excited! "Issssss that really you, White Eye?" "Yes it is." Said White Eye without any trace of the hissing that always had been part of his language. He immediately showed the other evil snakes how to shape shift, and they began to try it. They too were white, but very happy!

The evil snakes spent time practicing shape shifting and did many different things in order to master the new shape shifting idea that White Eye had discovered. None of the snakes had any tell tale sign of the evil hissing that accompanied their language when in the upright form. However, when they shape shifted back to their original snake form, the hissing would return. The snakes made a pact to act friendly at first to the upright eagles in order to make them believe that they were their friends. But White Eye had vowed long ago that the snakes would take everything away from the eagles and this vow would never be forgotten! Then the upright snakes would have control of Mother Earth and all of her creatures.

As the snakes began to experiment with their new form, they discovered that they could take things from mother earth that would help them become even more powerful. The evil snakes began to get very greedy and no longer even remembered, let alone did they act like that they were actually supposed to protect Mother Earth. No, now the snakes thought only of themselves and their greedy plan to take over Mother Earth from the beautiful upright eagles.

In the beginning, the upright snakes were congregated in the east, where their meeting had taken place, and where they had originally killed the upright eagle. In their self-serving greed, they forgot all about their family's and simply stayed where they were to reproduce and learn more about their new upright form. The upright snakes began to discover how to make deadly weapons from the gifts of Mother Earth. They began to kill other creatures simply for a strange, sick enjoyment that they began to feel in their new, powerful, upright form. The other creatures became very frightened of the upright snakes, and that fear continues even today.

Meanwhile, the upright eagles continued their peaceful, loving care for Mother Earth. Some of the eagles made some unwise choices as to who would be the appropriate selections for the shape shifting plan and some of the shape shifted eagles also became overly aggressive in their new form. Redman was very upset about these aggressive eagles, but it was beyond his control. He did however banish them from the circle of good eagles until such time that they would exist peacefully with their fellow eagles.

The Great Creator soon became concerned about the problems that were occurring on Mother Earth as a result of the shape shifting. He sent word with his most trusted raven for Redman and White Eye to meet him on Mt. LeConte, the next Sunday morning at sunrise. When sunrise came on Mt. LeConte that Sunday morning, only Redman had come to meet with the Great Creator. The Great Creator expressed to Redman disappointment. The Great Creator explained to Redman that he should have discussed his new plan with him first. He still loved Redman and he made that clear. He went on to explain to Redman that he would eliminate the ability to shape shift from all creatures except for Redman himself. The Great Creator went on to explain to Redman that from then on, only the highest medicine eagles could be taught about shape shifting, and they were to understand that they were not then to teach it to anyone else!

The Great Creator passed over Mother Earth and did as he said he would. He eliminated the shape shifting ability of all creatures, except Redman. At first White Eye was very angry. He new that he had defied the Great Creator by not attending the meeting at Mt. LeConte, but in his greed, he did not care. White Eye knew that enough snakes had already shape shifted and were reproducing rapidly enough, so that his great plan to take Mother Earth from the eagles would still be possible.

As time passed, the upright snakes and eagles lost even the memory that they had originally been different creatures. The upright snakes became known simply as "white eyes". The upright eagles became simply known as "red men". Only Redman himself retained the knowledge of how all of this had come to pass. Even the evil White Eye soon forgot about how he had become upright. However, White Eye did still have the intense, burning desire to control Mother Earth. In his mind, as well as all of the other white eye creatures, the hatred of the redskin creatures continued, and their collective greed could not be denied. They took, and took, and took from Mother Earth.

As more time passed, the white eyes multiplied and soon needed additional space to greedily take the resources from Mother Earth that they had grown to need. The white eyes began to move westward, where they encountered more red men. The red men tried to help the white eyes understand that Mother Earth should be loved and taken care of. At first, the white eyes pretended to befriend the red men. The white eyes were really not interested in what the red men said. They really just wanted to steal from them and take their land. The white eyes lied to the red men and even began killing them.

White Eye had become a great military leader with the white eyes and was determined to take all of Mother Earth from the red men. He was willing to kill as many of them as was necessary in order to keep his promise of long ago. There came a great, greedy hostility that even brought death to the women and children of the red men. The white eyes lied, cheated and stole their beloved lands from them.

As more time passed and these treacheries grew more outrageous, great war erupted. The white eyes far outnumbered the red men, and even though the red men were fierce, tenacious fighters, the odds were simply impossible. Finally, the white eyes and their evil leader White Eye had militarily conquered the red men. However, they could never conquer their spirit.

The red men were treated in a terrible fashion. They were forced to live in communities against their will, far from their beloved homelands. Their rights were completely stripped away from them. They were humiliated and disgraced by the white eyes. Through all of this, Redman became very bitter. He was saddened that he had brought all of this to pass. He vowed to reclaim Mother Earth from the white eyes.

Redman struggled to try to develop a plan to reclaim Mother Earth for the rest of his life in the physical world. Redman banished himself in self-imposed shame. He retreated to a remote, but beautiful area known as Gregory's Bald near Cades Cove in the Great Smoky Mountains of eastern Tennessee.

It was early spring when Redman arrived at Gregory's Bald and the area was alive with beautiful creatures and beautiful wild flowers were everywhere. Redman loved this spot and the beauty of it helped ease his pain. Each and every spring Gregory's Bald virtually comes to life and is absolutely covered with the most splendid display of wild azaleas imaginable. The sight was so magnificent that it always seemed to renew Redman's spirit. However, his thoughts of what had happened as a result of white eyes greed could never escape his tormented mind. Redman continuously searched his soul about how to regain his beloved red mans homelands.

However, the real opportunities seemed to diminish more and more as time passed by and Redman grew older and older. Finally, Redman's time in the physical world was drawing to an end. He spoke daily with the Great Creator through ceremonies, chants and words. The Great Creator was sympathetic to Redman's plight, but could do very little for him.

Redman fell into a deep sleep one beautiful spring morning. In his sleep, the Great Creator appeared to him. The Great Creator told Redman that his time in the physical world was ending. The Great Creator told Redman that he would allow him certain abilities to interact with the physical world on a limited basis, once he passed into the spirit world. The Great Creator told Redman that he would be allowed to maintain his spirit world existence in very close parallel to the physical world and that he would be able to see what was happening in the physical world. This way, if and when Redman saw an opportunity to influence earthly events in his limited capacity, then he was to feel free to do so. In this way, the Great Creator had allowed Redman an opportunity to guide his peoples destiny if the right opportunity presented itself. Redman was extremely grateful and was filled with great hope for the future of the red men.

Time in the spirit world is completely unlike time in the physical world. There are no human emotions to confuse or distort reality, and time is immaterial. Redman was finally able to exist in peace and happiness. He knew that someday, somehow the opportunity would present itself for the red men to return to a peaceful, harmonious time when they could once again provide the dear Mother Earth with the loving care that once had been possible. He knew that he would be ready and when the right time did come, the red men would have the Great Creator to thank for their opportunity to reclaim their beloved Mother Earth. This we know is true, for the legend says that it is so.

Coyote and the Rattlesnake

A Sia Legend

Coyote's house was not far from Rattlesnake's home. One morning when they were out walking together, Coyote said to Rattlesnake, "Tomorrow come to my house."

In the morning Rattlesnake went to Coyote's house. He moved slowly along the floor, shaking his rattle. Coyote sat at one side, very much frightened. The movements of the snake and the rattle frightened him. Coyote had a pot of rabbit meat on the fire, which he placed in front of the snake, saying, "Companion, eat."

"I will not eat your meat. I do not understand your food," said Rattlesnake.

"What food do you eat?"

"I eat the yellow flowers of the corn."

Coyote at once began to search for the yellow corn flowers. When he found some, Rattlesnake said,

"Put some on top of my head so that I may eat it."

Coyote stood as far off as he could and placed the pollen on the snake's head.

The snake said, "Come nearer and put enough on my head so that I may find it."

Coyote was very much afraid, but after a while he came nearer and did as he was told.

Then the snake went away, saying,

"Companion, tomorrow you come to my house."

"All right," said Coyote. Tomorrow I will come."

Coyote sat down and thought about tomorrow. He thought a good deal about what the snake might do. So he made a small rattle by placing tiny pebbles in a gourd and fastened it to the end of his tail. He shook it a while and was much pleased with it.

The next morning he started for the snake's house. He shook the rattle on the end of his tail and smiled, and said to himself,

"This is good. When I go into Rattlesnake's house, he will be very much afraid of me."

Coyote did not walk into Snake's house, but moved like a snake. But Coyote could not shake his rattle as the snake shook his. He had to hold it in his hand. But when he shook his rattle, the snake seemed much afraid, and said,

"Companion, I am afraid of you."

Now Rattlesnake had a stew of rats on the fire, and he placed some before Coyote. But Coyote said,

"I do not understand your food. I cannot eat it because I do not understand it."

Rattlesnake insisted upon his eating, but Coyote refused. He said,

"If you put some of the flower of the corn on my head, I will eat. I understand that food."

The snake took some corn pollen, but he pretended to be afraid of Coyote and stood off some distance. Coyote said,

"Come nearer and place it on top my head."

Snake replied, "I am afraid of you."

Coyote said, "Come nearer. I am not bad."

Then the snake came closer and put the pollen on top of Coyote's head.

But Coyote did not have the long tongue of the snake and he could not get the pollen off the top of his head. He put out his tongue first on one side of his nose and then on the other, but he could only reach to the side of his nose.

His efforts made the snake laugh, but the snake put his hand over his mouth so Coyote should not see him laugh. Really, the snake hid his head in his body.

At last Coyote went home. As he left the snake's house, he held his tail in his hand and shook the rattle.

Snake cried, "Oh, companion! I am so afraid of you!" but really the snake shook with laughter.

When Coyote reached his home he said to himself,

"I was such a fool. Rattlesnake had much food to eat and I would not take it. Now I am very hungry."

Then he went out in search of food.

The Great Snake Battle

A Seneca Legend

In olden times the Indians had a great battle with snakes, and this is how it happened: One day when a man was hunting he saw a rattlesnake and tormented it. He caught the snake, made a hole through its body and putting a bark string through the hole fastened the snake to the ground. Then he built a fire and saying, "Now fight me," he burned the snake alive. Afterwards he tormented many snakes in this way, always challenging them to fight.

One day a man, who was in the woods, heard a great noise and going toward it saw a large number of snakes traveling in one direction. He listened and heard them say, "We will have a battle, Djissaa (Fire) has challenged us. The battle will be four days from now."

The man hurried back to the village and told the people what he had seen and heard. The chief sent a number of men to the place, and, as far as they could see, there were snakes, all going in one direction. They were going to a council.

The men went back and told the chief. He said, "We can't help it; they will force us to fight, we must get ready."

They drove two rows of stakes the whole length of the village, then, some distance beyond, piled up a great quantity of wood in long lines. On the fourth day they set fire to the wood.

When the snakes came, they sprang through the fire; many of them were burned, but so many rushed into the fire that they put it out. Live snakes climbed over the dead and in spite of the men, who were trying to kill them, they reached the second row of stakes and again they were killed till the living climbed over the dead, got above the second stakes, and were in the village. Then the battle for life began.

The first man killed was Djissaa, the man who had challenged the snakes. The people fought till the chief, seeing how many were being killed, screamed that he surrendered.

Then a snake, with an enormous body and head, came out of the ground, and said, "I am chief of all the snakes, we will go away from your village if you will promise that as long as the world lasts your people will not injure or torment my people."

The chief promised and the snakes went away.

Rain Old Man and the Horned Snake (Lightning)

A Seneca Legend

Once, when the Senecas were at war with the Cherokees, they got very hungry and seeing a bear they chased it till it came to a den and one of the men followed it into the den. When some distance in, he no longer saw the bear but he saw a fire and around it a number of men. A very old man looked up, and asked, "Why did you try to shoot one of my men? I sent him out to entice you to us. I want to send word to the oldest man in your camp. Tell him from me that his friend is here and in need of tobacco. Tomorrow as many of your people as care to can come to us."

The young man went back to camp and the next day five of his companions, each with a pouch of tobacco went to the den. When they gave the tobacco to the old man, he was glad, and said, "This will last me a long time."

One of the men in the den said, "I am tired."

"Lie down," said the old man.

He lay down. The old man got up and going to him rubbed his body from the feet to the top of the head. Then, putting down a vessel he had been holding in his hand, he unjointed every joint in the man's body and cut the body to pieces. He put each piece into a mortar and taking a pestle pounded the flesh and bones to jelly and poured the mass into a bowl. Then he took the bowl and the other vessel to another part of the den. After a time he came back, sat down and began to smoke.

Soon he called, "Come out, Nephew, you have slept long enough."

When the man came out, he looked as light and fresh as a young boy.

One of the Senecas asked, "Can you do this for me?"

"I can," said the old man, "if you want me to."

The Seneca lay down and the old man did with him exactly as he had with the other man. After he had carried the two vessels to another part of the den he came back and began to smoke. Soon he called, "Come out, Nephew, you have slept long enough."

The man rose up and came out fresh and young. He felt no weight in his body.

Another Seneca asked to be treated in the same way, the old man consented, and he too came out light and young.

A third Seneca asked the old man to change him, but he refused, saying, "I have done enough, now I will tell you why I did this. There is a wide opening extending from one end of the world to the other. In this opening there is a great rock and in the rock is a person with enormous horns. He is our enemy and we have tried to kill him, but cannot. I want the men, whom I have made young and strong, to try and crush the rock and destroy this person. But first you two must test your strength."

The two went outside and shot at a rock; it crumbled to pieces. They shot at a large tree; it fell to the ground, only a stump was left.

"Now," said the old man, "you may go to the opening and see what you can do. You will never die for we never die. Your companions can stay here. I always help my grandchildren. I cover their trail whenever they need to hide it. It is I who makes rain come."

The two went to the opening and seeing the rock, shot at it. Then they went back to the old man.

He asked "Did you use all of your strength?"

"We could have struck harder," said one of the men.

"Go back," said the old man, "and use all of your strength."

This time they struck the rock with all their strength. After listening a while they heard someone coming, and soon saw a man and, strapped on his back was the head of an enormous horned snake--they had killed the snake.

The two men said, "Our work is done, Rain Old Man's enemy, the great horned snake, is dead."

And they went back to their camp.