Zuni Folktales

of his beautiful bride all covered with garments and bright things. And there in the midst of the Kâkâ she sat at the head of the dancers. She seemed happy and smiled as she watched, and youths as bright and as happy came around her, and she seemed to forget her lone lover.

Then with a cry of despair and anguish he crawled to the lake-shore and buried his face in the sands and rank grasses. Suddenly he heard a low screech, and then a hoarse voice seemed to call him. He looked, and a great Owl flew over him, saying: “Muhaí! Hu hu! Hu hu!”

“What wilt thou?” he cried, in vexed anguish.

Then the Owl flew closer, and, lighting, asked: “Why weepest thou, my child?”

He turned and looked at the Owl and told it part of his trouble, when the Owl suddenly twisted its head quite around⁠—as owls do⁠—to see if anyone were near; then came closer and said: “I know all about it, young man. Come with me to my house in the mountain, and if thou wilt but follow my counsel, all will yet be well.” Then the Owl led the way to a cave far above and bade him step in. As he placed his foot inside the opening, behold! it widened into a bright room, and many Owl-men and Owl-women around greeted him happily, and bade him sit down and eat.

The old Owl who had brought him, changed himself in a twinkling, as he entered the room, and hung his owl-coat on an antler. Then he went away, but presently returned, bringing a little bag of medicine. “Before I give thee this, let me tell thee what to do, and what thou must promise,” said he of the owl-coat.

The young man eagerly reached forth his hand for the magic medicine.

“Fool!” cried the being; “were it not well, for that would I not help thee. Thou art too eager, and I will not trust thee with my medicine of sleep. Thou shalt sleep here, and when thou awakest thou shalt find the morning star in the sky, and thy dead wife before thee on the trail toward the Middle Ant Hill. With the rising sun she will wake and smile on thee. Be not foolish, but journey preciously with her, and not until ye reach the home of thy fathers shalt thou approach her or kiss her; for if thou doest this, all will be as nothing again. But if thou doest as I counsel thee, all will be well, and happily may ye live one with the other.”

He ceased, and, taking a tiny pinch of the medicine, blew it in the face of the youth. Instantly the young man sank with sleep where he had been sitting, and the beings, putting on their owl-coats, flew away with him under some trees by the trail that led to Mátsaki and the Ant Hill of the Middle.

Then they flew over the lake, and threw the medicine of sleep in at the windows, and taking the plumed prayer-sticks which the young man had brought with him, they chose some red plumes for themselves, and with the others entered the home of the Kâkâ. Softly they flew over the sleeping fathers and their children (the gods of the Kâkâ and the spirits) and, laying the prayer-plumes before the great altar, caught up the beautiful maiden and bore her over the waters and woodlands to where the young man was still sleeping. Then they hooted and flew off to their mountain.

As the great star came out of the day-land, the young man awoke, and lo! there before him lay his own beautiful wife. Then he turned his face away that he might not be tempted, and waited with joy and longing for the coming out of the sun. When at last the sun came out, with the first ray that brightened the beautiful maiden’s face, she opened her eyes and gazed wildly around at first, but seeing her lonely lover, smiled, and said: “Truly, thou lovest me!”

Then they arose and journeyed apart toward the home of their fathers, and the young man forgot not the counsel of the Owl, but journeyed wisely, till on the fourth day they came in sight of the Mountain of Thunder and saw the river that flows by Salt City.

As they began to go down into the valley, the maiden stopped and said: “Hahuá, I am weary, for the journey is long and the day is warm.” Then she sat down in the shadow of a cedar and said: “Watch, my husband, while I sleep a little; only a little, and then we will journey together again.” And he said: “Be it well.”

Then she lay down and seemed to sleep. She smiled and looked so beautiful to the longing lover that he softly rose and crept close to her. Then, alas! he laid his hand upon her and kissed her.

Quickly the beautiful maiden started. Her face was all covered with sadness, and she said, hastily and angrily: “Ah, thou shameless fool! I now know! Thou lovest me not! How vain that I should have hoped for thy love!”

With shame, indeed, and sorrow, he bent his head low and covered his face with his hands. Then he started to speak, when an Owl flew up and hooted mournfully at him from a treetop. Then the Owl winged her way to the westward, and ever after the young man’s mind wandered.

Alas! alas! Thus it was in the days of the ancients. Maybe had the young man not kissed her yonder toward the Lake of the Dead, we would never have journeyed nor ever have mourned for others lost. But then it is well! If men and women had never died, then the world long ago had overflown with children, starvation, and warring.

Thus shortens my story.

The Youth and His Eagle

In forgotten times, in the days of our