Zuni Folktales · The Boy Hunter Who Never Sacrificed to the Deer He Had Slain (3/3)

“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 quarrelled 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).

Thus much and thus shortened is my story.