“Oh, dear!” cried she; “but I promised to take it, and I suppose I must.” So she took the skull up with the tips of her fingers and put it into the blanket among the flowers, and started for home. Then she entered an inner room of the house, and taking the skull carefully out of the blanket, placed some cotton in a large new water-jar, and laid the skull upon it. Then she covered the jar with a flat stone and went to work grinding meal.
When the Sun was setting, a voice came from the jar.
“Take me down, quick!” And the girl took the skull down and placed it on the floor, and as it grew dark there stood the same handsome young man as before, magnificently clothed, with precious stones and shells all about him, just as the Sun-father had dressed him. And the girl was very happy, and told him she would marry him.
Next morning, just as the Sun rose, the young man vanished, and nothing but the old white skull lay on the floor. So the girl placed it in the jar again, and taking up another water-jar went out toward the spring. Now, her younger sister went into the room and espied the jar. “I wonder what sister has covered this jar up so carefully for,” said she to herself; and she stepped up to the jar and took the lid off.
“Ati!” cried she. “O dear! O dear!” she screamed. For when she looked down into the jar there was a great rattlesnake coiled up over the smooth white skull.
So she ran and called her father and told him in great fright what she had seen.
“Ah!” said the father, for he was a very wise priest-chief, “thou shouldst not meddle with things. Thou shouldst keep quiet,” said he. He then arose and went into the room. Then he approached the jar, and, looking down into it, said: “Have mercy upon us, my child, my father. Become as thou art. Disguise not thyself in hideous forms, but as thou hast been, be thou.” And the skull rattled against the sides of the jar in assent.
“It is well that thou shouldst marry my daughter. And we will close this room that thou shalt never come forth”; and again the skull clattered and nodded in glad assent.
So when the young girl returned, the voice came forth from the jar again, and said: “Close all the windows and doors, and bring me raw cotton if thy father have it, for he has consented that I marry you and throw off my disguise.”
Then the girl gladly assented, and ran to get the cotton, and brought a great quantity in the room. Then when the night came the voice called once more: “Take me down!” The girl did as she was bidden, and the young man again stood before her, more handsome than ever. So he married the girl and both were very happy.
And the next morning when the Sun rose the young man did not again change his form, but remained as he was, and began to spin cotton marvellously fine and to weave blankets and mantles of the most beautiful texture, for in nothing could he fail, being a child of the Sun-father and a god himself.
So the days and weeks passed by, and the Sun-father looked down through the windows in sorrow and said: “Alas! my son; I have delivered thee and yet thou comest not to speak with thy father. But thou shalt yet come; yea, verily, thou shalt yet come.”
So in time the beautiful daughter of the priest-chief gave birth to two boys, like the children of the deer. As day succeeded day, they grew larger and wiser and their limbs strengthened until they could run about, and thus it happened that one day in their play they climbed up and played upon the housetop and on the ground below. Thus it was that the people of Kʻyátikʻia saw for the first time the two little children; and when they saw them they wondered greatly. Of course they wondered greatly. Our grandfathers were fools.
“Who in the world has married the priest-chief’s daughter?” everybody asked of one another. Nobody knew; so they called a council and made all the young men go to it, and they asked each one if he had secretly married the priest-chief’s daughter; and every one of them said “No,” and looked at every other one in great wonder.
“Who in the world can it be? It may be that some stranger has come and married her, and it may be that he stays there.” So the council decided that it would be well for him and the girl and their two little ones to die, because they had deceived their people. Forthwith two war-priests mounted the housetops and commanded the people to make haste and to prepare their weapons. “Straighten your arrows, strengthen the backs of your bows, put new points on your lances, harden your shields, and get ready for battle, for in four days the daughter and grandchildren of the priest-chief and the unknown husband must die!”
And when the priest-chief’s daughter heard the voices of the heralds, she asked her younger sister, who had been listening, what they said. And the younger sister exclaimed: “Alas! you must all die!” and then she told her what she had heard.
Now, the young man called the old priest and told him that he knew what would happen, and the old priest said: “It is well; let the will of the gods be done. My people know not the way of good fortune, but are fools and must have
