Zuni Folktales · The Warrior Suitor of Moki (1/2)

The Warrior Suitor of Moki

We take up a story. Of the times of the ancients, a story. Listen, ye young ones and youths, and from what I say draw inference. For behold! the youth of our nation in these recent generations have become less sturdy than of old; else what I relate had not happened.

To our shame be it told that not many generations ago there lived in Moki a poor, ill-favored outcast of a young man, a not-to-be-thought-of-as-hero youth, yet nevertheless the hero of my story; for this youth, the last-mentioned in the numbering of the men of Moki in those days, alone brought great grief on the nation of Zuni.

And it happened that in Walpi, on the first mesa of the Mokis, there lived an amiable, charming, and surpassingly beautiful girl, whose face was shining, eyes bright, cheeks red like the frostbite on the datila;12 whose hair was abundant and soft, black and waving, and done up in large whorls above her ears⁠—larger than those of the other maidens of her town or nation⁠—and whose beautiful possessions were as many as were the charms of her person.

What wonder, then, that the youths of the Moki towns should be enamored of her, and seek constantly, with much urgent bespeaking, for the favor of her affections? Yet she would none of them. She would shake her head with a saucy smile, and reply to everyone, as well as to every recommendation of one from her elders: “A hero for me or no one! Any one of these young men may win my affections if he will, for who knows until the time comes whether a man be a hero or not?”

So she made a proposition. She said to all the youths who came suing for her hand: “Behold! our nation is at enmity with the Zunis, far off to the eastward, over the mountains. If any of you be so stout of limb and strong of heart and brave of will, let him go to Zuni, slay the men of that nation, our enemies, and bring home, not only as proofs of his valor, but as presentations to the warrior societies of our people, scalps in goodly number. Him will I admire to the tips of my eyelashes; him will I cherish to the extent of my powers; him will I make my husband, and in such a husband will I glory!”

But most of the young and handsome suitors who worried her with their importunities would depart forthwith, crestfallen, loving the girl as they did, forsooth, much less than they feared the warriors of Zuni⁠—so degenerate they had become, for shame! Months passed by. Not one of those who went to the maiden’s house full of love came away from it with as much love as want of valor.

At last this outcast youth I have mentioned⁠—who was spoken to by none, who lived not even in the houses of his people, but, all filth and rags, made himself comfortable as best he could with the dogs and eagles and other creatures captive of the people, eating like them the castaway and unwholesome scraps of ordinary meals⁠—heard these jilted lovers conversing from time to time, exclaiming one to another: “A valuable maiden, indeed, for whom one would risk one’s life single handed against a nation whose ancients ever prevailed over all men! No! though she be the loveliest of women, I care not for her on those conditions.” “Nor I!” “Nor I!” others would exclaim.

Overhearing this talk, the youth formed a most presumptuous resolution⁠—no other, in fact, than this: that he himself would woo the maiden.

All dirty and ragged as he was, with hair unkempt, fingernails long, and person calloused by much exposure, lean and wiry like an abused but hardened cur, he took himself one night to the home of the maiden’s father.

“She-e!” he exclaimed at the entrance of the house, on the top.

And the people within called out: “Kwátchi!”

“Are ye in?” inquired the youth, in such an affable and finished tone and manner of speaking that the people expected to see some magnificent youth enter, and to listen to his proposal of marriage with their maiden.

When they called out “Come in!” and he came stepping down the ladder into the lighted room, they were, therefore, greatly surprised to see this vagabond in the place of what they expected; nevertheless, the old father greeted him pleasantly and politely and showed him a seat before the fireplace, and bade the women set food before him. And the youth, although he had not for many a day tasted good food or consumed a full meal even, ate quite sparingly; and, having finished, joined, by the old man’s invitation, in the smoking and conversation of the evening.

At last the old man asked him what he came thinking of; and the youth stated that, although it might seem presumptuous, he had heard of the conditions which the maiden of this house had made for those who would win her, and it had occurred to him that he would be glad to try⁠—so little were his merits, yet so great his love.

The old man listened, with an inward smile; and the maiden, though she conceived no dislike for the youth (there was something about him, strange to say, now that his voice had been heard, which changed her opinion of him), nevertheless was quite merry, all to herself, over this unheard-of proposal. So, when she was asked what she thought of the matter, merely to test the seriousness of the young vagabond’s motives, she made the conditions for him even harder than she had for the others, saying: “Look you, stranger! If you will slay single-handed some of the warriors of the valiant Zunis and bring back to our town, to the joy of our warriors and people, a goodly number of their scalps, I will indeed wed you, as I have said I would the others.”

This satisfied the youth, and, bidding them all pass a happy night, he went forth into the dark.

Not quite so poor and helpless as he seemed, was this youth; but one of those wonderful beings of this earth in reality, for, behold! as he had lived all his days since childhood with the dogs and eagles and other captive animals of the towns of Moki-land, so, from long association with them, he had learned their ways and language and had gained their friendship and allegiance as no other mortal ever did. No family had he; no one to advise him, save this great family of dogs and other animals with which he lived.

What do you suppose he did? He went to each hole, sheltered nook, and oven in the town and called on the Dogs to join him in council, not long before morning of that same night. Every Dog in the town answered the summons; and, below the mesa on which Walpi stands, on one of those sloping banks lighted by the moon, they gathered and made a tremendous clamor with their yelpings and barkings and other noises such as you are accustomed to hear from Dogs at nighttime. The proposition which the youth made to this council of Dogs was as follows:

“My friends and brothers, I am about to go forth on the path of war to the cities of the Zunis toward the sunrise. If I succeed, my reward will be great. Now, as I well know from having lived amongst you and been one of you so long, there are two things which are more prized in a Dog’s life than anything else. An occasional good feast is one of them; being let alone is another. I think I can bring about both of these rewards for you all if you will, four days hence, after I have prepared a sufficiency of food for the party, join me in my warlike expedition against the Zunis.”

The Dogs greeted this proposition with vociferous acclamation, and the council dispersed.

On the following day, toward evening, the youth again presented himself at the home of the maiden. “My friends,” said he to the family; “I am, as you know, or can easily perceive, extremely poor. I have no home nor source of food; yet, as I anticipate that I shall be long on this journey, and as I neither possess nor know how to use a bow and arrow, I come to humbly beseech your assistance. I will undertake this thing which has been proposed to me; but, in order that I may be enabled the more easily to do so, I desire that you will present to me a sufficiency of food for my journey; or, if you will lend it to me, I shall be satisfied.”

Now, the maiden’s people were among the first in the nation, and well-to-do in all ways. They most willingly consented to give the young man not only a sufficiency of food for days, but for months; and when he went away that night he had all that he could carry of meal, coarse and fine, piki or Moki wafer-rolls, tortillas, and abundant grease-cakes, which he well knew would be most tempting to Dogs.

On the fourth day thereafter⁠—for he had been making his weapons: some flint knives and a good hard war-club⁠—at evening, he again called at each of the holes and places the Dogs of the town inhabited, and he said to all of them: “I shall leave forthwith on my journey, having provided myself with a sufficiency of food for much feasting on the way. Like yourselves, I have become inured to hardship and am swift of foot, and by midnight I shall be halfway to Zuni. As soon as the people are asleep, that they may not pelt you with stones and drive you back, follow on the trail to Zuni as fast as you can. I will await you by the side of the Black Mountains, near the Spring of the Nighthawks, and there I will cook the provisions, that we may have a jolly feast and the more strongly proceed on our journey the day following.”

The Dogs gave him repeated assurances of their willingness to follow; and, heavily laden with his provisions, the youth, just at dusk, climbed unobserved down the nether side of the mesa and set out through the plains of sagebrush, over the hills far east of Moki, and so on along the plateaus and valleys leading to this our town of Zuni. At the place he had appointed as a rendezvous he arrived not long before midnight, lighted a fire, unstrapped his provisions, and began to cook mush in great quantities.

Now, after the lights in the windows of Moki began to go out⁠—shutting up their red eyes, as it were, as the maidens of Moki shut up their bright eyes⁠—there was tremendous activity observed among the Dogs. But they made not much noise about it until every last Dog in town⁠—as motley a crowd of curs and mongrels as ever were seen, unless one might see all the Dogs of Moki today⁠—descended the mesa, and one by one gathered in a great pack, and started, baying, barking, and howling louder and louder as they went along over the eastern hills on the trail which the youth had taken.

By-and-by he heard them coming; te‑ne‑e‑e‑e they sounded as they ran; wo‑wo‑o‑o‑o they came, baying and barking in all sorts of voices, nearer and nearer. So the youth prepared his provisions, and as the nearest of them came into the light of the fire, cried out: “Ho, my friends, ye come! I am glad to see ye come! Sit ye round my campfire. Let us feast and be merry and lighten the load of my provisions. Methinks we will all carry some of them when we start out tomorrow.”

Thereupon he liberally distributed mush, tortillas, and paper bread⁠—inviting the hot, tired Dogs to drink their fill from the spring and eat their fill from the feast. The Dogs, being very hungry, as Dogs always are⁠—and the more so from the memory of many a long fast⁠—fell to with avidity (and you know what that means with Dogs); and the Short-legs and Beagles would not have fared very well had the youth not considered them and held back a good supply of provisions against their tardy appearance.

Finally, when all were assembled and had eaten, if not to their satisfaction⁠—that was impossible⁠—yet to their temporary gratification, a merry, noisy, much-wriggling crowd they became. Some lay down and rested, others were impatient for the journey; so that even before daylight the youth, making up his bundle of provisions, again set forth at a swift trot, followed by this pack of Dogs which ran along either side of him and strung out on the trail the length of a racecourse behind him.

Before night, see this valiant youth quietly hiding himself away in one of the deep arroyos around the western end of Grand Mountain, and the foothills of Twin Mountain, near which, as you know, the trail from Moki leads to our town. He is giving directions to the Dogs in a quiet manner, and feeding them again, rather more sparingly than at first that they may be anxious for their work.

He says to them: “My friends and brothers, lay yourselves about here, each one according to his color in places most suited for concealment⁠—some near the gray sage-bushes; and you fellows with fine marks on your backs keep out of sight, pray, in these deep holes, and come in as our reserve force when we want you. Now, lie here patiently, for you will have enough work to do, and can afford to rest. Tomorrow morning, not long after sunrise, I shall doubtless come, with more precipitation than willingness, toward your ambuscade, with a pack of Dogs less worthy the name than yourselves at my heels. Be ready to help me; they are well-nurtured Dogs, and doubtless, if you like, you will be wise enough to make much of this fact.”

The Dogs were well pleased with his proposition, and, in louder voices than was prudent, attested their readiness to follow his suggestion, going so far as to assure him that he need have no fear whatsoever, that they alone would vanquish the Zuni nation⁠—which, they had heard from other Dogs, was becoming rather lazy and indifferent in manly matters, Dogs and all.

The night wore on; the youth had refreshed himself with sleep, and somewhat after the herald-stars of the morning-star had appeared, he stealthily picked his way across our broad plain, toward the hill of Zuni; and out west there, only a short space from the sunset front of our town, he crouched down on a little terrace to wait.

Not long after the morning-star had risen, a fine old Zuni came out of his house, shook his blanket, wrapped it round him, and came stealing down in the daylight to the river side. After he had presented his morning sacrifice toward the rising sun, he returned and sat down a moment. He had no sooner seated himself than the wily, sinewy youth with a quick motion sprang up, pulled the poor man over, and with his war-club knocked his brains out, after which he leisurely took off the scalp of the one he had slain. He had barely finished this operation when he heard a ladder creak in one of the upper terraces of the town. He quickly tucked the scalp in his belt, pulled himself together, and thrusting the body of the dead man into the bottom of a hole, which was very near, crouched over it and waited. The footsteps of the man who was coming sounded nearer and nearer. Presently he also came to this place; but no sooner had he reached the terrace than the Moki youth leaped up and dealt him such a blow on the head that, without uttering a sound, he instantly expired. This one he likewise scalped, and then another and another he served in the same way, until, there being four slain men in the pit, he had to drag some out of the way and throw them behind the dust-heap. Just as he returned another man sauntered down to the place. The youth murdered him like the rest, and was busy skinning his scalp, when another who had followed him somewhat closely appeared at the hole, and discovering what was going on, ran toward the town for his weapons, shouting the war-cry of alarm as he went. Picking up the scalps and snatching from the bodies of the slain their ornaments of greatest value, the Moki youth sped off over the plain.