Part 2 (1/2)

”Not this time; he will eat with Sholoc and the men when the fish are ready,” replied his mother.

”This is good soup,” said Gesnip. ”I am glad I worked hard before the water came up. But, Payuchi, didn't you and Nopal get any clams?”

”Yes,” said her brother, making a face; he had dipped down where the stones were hottest and the soup thickest, and had taken a mouthful that burned him. ”Yes, we got some clams, more than I could carry; but Nopal was running races with the other boys and would not come, so I left him to bring them. He will lose his fish dinner if he doesn't hurry.”

”Mother,” said Cleeta, ”may we stay up to the fish bake?”

”No,” answered her mother. ”You and Nakin must go to bed, but I will save some for your breakfast. You are tired, Cleeta.”

”Yes, I am tired,” said the little girl, leaning her head against her mother's shoulder, ”but I am warm in my rabbit-skin dress. We all have warm dresses now. Please tell me a good-night story,” she begged. ”We have been good and brought in much food.”

”Yes, tell us how the hawk and coyote made the sun,” said Gesnip.

”Very well,” said the mother, ”only you must be quite still.”

”It was in the beginning of all things, and a bowl of darkness, blacker than the pitch lining of our water basket, covered the earth. Man, when he would go abroad, fell against man, against trees, against wild animals, even against Lollah, the bear, who would, in turn, hug the unhappy one to death. Birds flying in the air came together and fell struggling to the earth. All was confusion.”

”Once the hawk, by chance, flew in the face of the coyote. Instead of fighting about it as naughty children might, they, like people of good manners, apologized many times. Then they talked over the unhappy state of things and determined to remedy the evil. The coyote first gathered a great heap of dried tules, rolled them together into a ball, and gave them to the hawk, with some pieces of flint. The hawk, taking them in his talons, flew straight up into the sky, where he struck fire with his flints, lit the ball of reeds, and left it there whirling along with a bright yellow light, as it continues to whirl to-day; for it, children, is our sun, ruler of the day.”

”The hawk next flew back for another ball to rule the night, but the coyote had no tule gathered, and the hawk hurried him so that some damp stems were mixed in. The hawk flew with this ball into the sky and set it afire but because of the green tules it burned with only a dim light; and this, children, is our moon, ruler of the night.”

”That is a fine story,” said Payuchi. ”I am glad I did not live when there was no light.”

”Tell us how the coyote danced with the star,” said Gesnip.

”No,” replied the mother, ”another time we shall see. Now I shall sing to coax sleep to tired eyes, and the little ones will go to bed.” And this was what she sang: ”Pah-high-nui-veve, veve, veve, shumeh, veve, veve, veve, shumeh, Pah-high-nui-veve,” and so on, repeating these words over and over until Cleeta and Nakin were sound asleep. Then she laid them on their tule mats, which were spread on the floor of the jacal, where baby Nahal, close wrapped in his coc.o.o.n-shaped cradle, had been a long time sleeping.

”Mother,” said Gesnip, coming into the jacal, ”they have brought in the elk. Don't you want something from them?”

”Yes,” replied Macana, ”I will go and see about it. I want one of the skins to make your father a warm hunting dress.”

The Indians who had gone after the elk had skinned and cut them up where they lay, as they were so large that the burden had to be distributed among a number of carriers. Macana found Sholoc busy portioning out parts of the elk. As he had a fine seal-skin suit himself, he gladly gave her the skin of the deer which he had shot.

”Isn't that a big one?” said Payuchi. ”It will make father a fine hunting suit, it is so thick.” Gesnip was loaded down with some of the best cuts of the meat to take to her father's jacal. Cuchuma himself began removing the tendons from the legs, to cure for bowstrings, and to wrap a new bow he was going to make.

”Here, Nopal,” said Sholoc to his oldest nephew, a lad of fifteen, ”I will give you a piece of the antler and you can grind it down and make yourself a hunting knife. It is time you ceased to play and became a hunter. I had killed much game when I was your age.”

”Will you give me some of the brains that I may finish tanning a deerskin? I have been waiting to finish it until I could get some brains, but it has been a long time since any one has brought in big game,” said Macana.

”Yes,” answered Sholoc, ”you shall have them. Payuchi, hand me my elk-horn ax so that I can split open the head, and you can take the brains to the jacal.” Soon not a piece of meat, a bit of skin, tendon, or bone, was left. All was put to use by these people of the forest. And now the feast was ready. The women had roasted many pieces of elk's meat over the coals. The fish had been taken from under the hot ashes, the half burned gra.s.s removed from around them, and the fish broken into pieces and put in flat baskets shaped like platters. There were also pieces of elk meat and cakes of acorn meal baked on hot stones.

As was the custom with the Indians, the men were served first. Payuchi watched anxiously as his father and the other men took large helpings from the baskets.

”Do you think there will be enough for us to have any?” he asked Gesnip.

”I am so hungry and they are eating so much. If I were a man, I should remember about the women and children.”

”No; you wouldn't if you were a man; men never do,” answered Gesnip.

”But you need not worry, there is plenty. Mother said there would be some left for breakfast.”

”Wait for that till I get through,” said Payuchi, laughing. After all had eaten a hearty meal, more than for many weeks they had been able to have at any one time, the tired women each gathered her children together and took them to her own jacal, leaving the men sitting around the camp fire. Payuchi, who tumbled to sleep as soon as his head touched his sleeping mat, was wakened by some one pulling his rabbit-skin coat, which he wore nights as well as days.