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

In less time than it takes to tell it, the people of Zuni were in arms; dogs barked, children cried, women screamed⁠—for no one knew how many the enemy might be⁠—and the Priests of the Bow, in half-secured armor of buckskin, and with weapons in hand, came thundering down the hill and across the plains in pursuit of the fleeing youth and in readiness to oppose his band. Long before this crowd of warriors, now fully awake and wild with rage, had reached the spot, the youth plunged into the arroyo and called out to his Dogs: “Now for it, my friends! They will be here in a minute! Do you hear them coming?”

“Oh, ho!” softly barked the Dogs; and they stiffened their claws and crouched themselves to spring when the time should come.

Presently on came the crowd of warriors, now feeling that they had but a small force, if indeed more than one man to oppose. And they came with such precipitation that they took the gray and dun and yellow-shaded Dogs for so many rocks and heaps of sand, and were fairly in the midst of those brutes before they became aware of them at all. Death and ashes! what a time there was of it! The youth fell in with his war-club, the Dogs around, behind, and in front of them howling, snarling, biting, tearing, and shaking the Zunis on every hand, until every one of the band was torn to pieces or so mangled that a few taps of the club of the youth dispatched them. Those who had followed behind, not knowing what to think of it all, frantically ran back to their people⁠—the shame-begrimed cowards!⁠—while the youth, with abundant leisure, went on skinning scalps, until, perceiving much activity in the distant town, concluded it would be wise to abandon some few he had not finished. So, catching up his pack of provisions and his bloody string of scalps (which was so long and thick he could hardly carry it, and which dragged on the ground behind him), he trotted over the hills, followed by some of the Dogs⁠—the others remaining behind, feeling more secure of swiftness⁠—to take advantage of the ample feast spread before them.

When the youth and the Dogs who followed him, or afterward joined him, had again reached the great spring by the Black Mountains, leaving those who pursued far behind, they stopped; and, building a fire of brush and pine-knots, the youth cooked all the provisions he had. “Thanks this day, my friends and brothers!” he cried to the Dogs. “Ye have nobly served me. I will feast ye of the best.” Whereupon he produced the grease-cakes and the more delicate articles of food which he had reserved as a reward for the Dogs. They ate and ate, and loud were their demonstrations of satisfaction. Then the youth, taking up the string of scalps again, attached them to a long pole, which, to keep the lower ones from dragging on the ground, he elevated over his shoulder, and, striking up a song of victory, he wound his way along the trail toward Moki.

The Dogs, crazy with victory and much glutted, could not contain themselves, but they bow-wowed with delight and yelped and scurried about, cutting circles dusty and wide around their father, the conquering youth. They hurried on so fast that by-and-by it was noticeable that the Beagle Dogs fell in the rear. “By the music of marrowbones!” exclaimed some of the swifter of foot; “we will have to slacken our pace, father.” Said they, addressing the youth: “Our poor brothers, the Short-legs, are evidently getting tired; they are falling far in the rear, and it is not valorous, however great your victory and however strong your desire to proclaim it at home, to leave a worn-out brother lagging behind. The enemy might come unawares and cut off his return and his daylight.” Most reluctantly, therefore, they slackened their pace, and with shouts and yelps encouraged as much as possible the stump-legged Dogs following behind.

Now, on that day in Moki there had been much surprise expressed at the absence of the Dogs, except those which were so young or so old that they could not travel; and the people began to think that some devil or all the wizards in Mokidom had been conjuring their Dogs away from them, when toward evening they heard a distant sound, which was the approaching victors’ demonstration of rejoicing, and clear above all was the song of victory shouted by the lusty youth as he came bringing his scalps along. “Woo, woo, woo!” the Dogs sounded as they came across the valley and approached the foot of the mesa; and when the people looked down and saw the blood and dirt with which every Dog was covered, they knew not what to make of it⁠—whether their Dogs had been enticed away and foully beaten, or whether they had taken after a herd of antelope, perhaps, and vanquished them. But presently they espied in the midst of the motley crowd of Curs the tall lank form of the vagabond youth and heard his lusty song. The youths who had been jilted by the maiden at once had their own ideas. Some of them sneaked away; others ground their teeth and covered their eyes, filled with rage and shame; while the elder-men of the nation, seeing what feats of valor this neglected youth had accomplished, glorified him with answering songs of victory and gathered in solemn council, as if for a most honored and precious guest, to receive him.

So, victorious and successful in all ways, the outcast dog of a youth who went to Zuni and returned the hero of the Moki nation right willingly was accepted by this beauteous maiden as her husband after the ceremonies of initiation and purification had been performed over him.

Ah, well! that was very fine; but all this praise of one who had been despised and abused by themselves, and, more than all, the possession of such a beautiful wife, wrought fierce jealousy in the breasts of the many jilted lovers; making those who had looked askance at one another before, true friends and firm brothers in a single cause⁠—the undoing of this lucky vagabond youth. Nor were they alone in this desire, for behold! copying their lucky sister, all the pretty maidens in Moki declared that they would marry no one who did not show himself at least in some degree heroic, like the youth of the dog-holes who had married their pretty sister. It therefore came about that the whole tribe of Moki, so far as the young men were concerned, became a company of jilted lovers, and all the maidens became confirmed in their resolutions of virgin maidenhood.

The jilted lovers got together one night in a cautious sort of way (for they were all afraid of this hero) and held a council. But the fools didn’t think of the Dogs lying around outside, who heard what they said. They concluded the best way to get even with this youth was to kill him; but how to kill him was the problem, for they were cowards. “We will get up a hunt,” said one; “and make friends with him and ask him to go, paying him all sorts of attention, and ask him to instruct us in the arts of war, the wretch! He will readily join us in our hunting excursion, and some of us will sling a throwing-stick at him and finish the conceited fellow’s days!”

Now, the Dogs scrambled off immediately and informed their friend and brother what was going on.

He said: “All right! I will accept their advances and go with them on the hunt.”

He went off that night to a cave, where he had often sought shelter from the wind when driven out of the town of Walpi, and thus had made acquaintance with those most unerring travellers in crooked places⁠—the Cave-swallows. He went to one of them, an elderly, wise bird, and, addressing him as “Grandfather,” told him what was going on.

“Very well,” said the old bird; “I will help you.” And he made a boomerang for the youth which had the power to fly around bushes and down into gullies; and if well thrown, of course, it could not be dodged by any rabbit, however swift of foot or sly in hiding. Having finished this boomerang, he told the youth to take it and use it freely in hunting. The youth thanked him, and returning to his town passed a peaceful night.

When he appeared the next morning, the others greeted him pleasantly⁠—those who happened to see him⁠—to which greetings he replied with equal cordiality. They were so importunate with the priest-chiefs to be allowed to undertake a grand rabbit-hunt that these fathers of the people, always desirous of contributing to the happiness of their children, ordered a grand hunt for the very next day. So everybody was busy forthwith in making throwing-sticks and boomerangs.

The next day all the able-bodied youth of the town, selecting the hero of whom we have told as their leader, took their way to the great plain south of Moki, and there, spreading out into an enormous circle, they drove hundreds of rabbits closer and closer together among the sagebrush in the center of the valley. Some of them succeeded in striking down one⁠—some of them three or four⁠—but ere long everyone observed that each time the youth threw his stick he struck a rabbit and secured it, until he had so many that he was forced to call some boys who had followed along to carry them for him.

Already inflamed by their jealousies to great anger, what was the chagrin of this crowd of dandies, now that this youth whom they so heartily despised actually surpassed them even in hunting rabbits! They gnashed their teeth with rage, and one of them in a moment of excitement, when two or three rabbits were trying to escape, took deliberate aim at the youth and threw his boomerang at him. The youth, who was wily, sprang into the air so high, pretending meanwhile to throw his boomerang, that the missile missed his vital parts, but struck his leg and apparently broke it, so that he fell down senseless in the midst of the crowd; and the people set up a great shout⁠—some of lamentation, some of exultation.

“Let him lie there and rot!” said the angry suitors, catching up their own rabbits and making off for the pueblo. But some of the old men, who deplored this seeming accident of the youth, ran as fast as they could toward the town⁠—fearing to raise him lest they should make his hurt worse⁠—for medicine.

When the youth had been left alone, he opened his eyes and smiled. Then, taking from his pouch a medicine unfailing in its effects, applied it to the bruised spot and quickly became relieved of pain, if not even of injury. Rising, he looked about and found the rabbits where, panic-stricken, the boys had dropped them and fled away. He made up a huge bundle, and not long before sunset, behold! singing merrily, he came marching, though limping somewhat, through the plain before the foothills of Moki, bearing an enormous burden of rabbits. He climbed the mesa, greeted everyone pleasantly as though nothing had occurred, took his way to his home, and became admired of all the women of Moki, young and old, as a paragon of valor and manhood.

It became absolutely necessary after that, of course⁠—for these fainthearted dandies tried no more tricks with the youth⁠—for anyone who would marry a Moki maiden to show himself a man in some way or other; and, as the ugliest and most neglected of children generally turn out sharpest because they have to look out for themselves, so it happens that to this day the husbands of Moki are generally very ugly; but one thing is certain⁠—they are men.

Reflect on these things, ye young ones and youths.

Thus shortens my story.