“Now,” said she, “wait while I fix this log anew, that it may be well,” and she bored many little holes all over the log, and into these holes she inserted the crooked fangs, so that they all stood slanting toward the rear, like the spines on the back of a porcupine.
When she had done this, she said: “First I will enter, for there may not be room for two, and in order that I may make myself like the space I enter, I will lay on my dress again. Do you, when I have entered, enter also, and with your feet kick the log down to the shore waters, when you must quickly close the door and the waters will take us abroad upon themselves.”
In an instant she had passed into her serpent form again and crawled into the log. The young man did as he was bidden, and as he closed the door a wave bore them gently out upon the waters. Then, as the young man turned to look upon his companion coiled so near him, he drew back in horror.
“Why do you fear?” asked the Rattlesnake.
“I know not, but I fear you; perhaps, though you speak gently, you will, when I sleep, bite me and devour my flesh, and it is with thoughts of this that I have fear.”
“Ah, no!” replied the maiden, “but, that you may not fear, I will change myself.” And so saying, she took off her skin, and, opening the upper part of the door, hung the skin on the fangs outside.
Finally, toward noon-time, the youth prepared his meal food, and placing some before the maiden, asked her to eat.
“Ah, no! alas, I know not the food of mortals. Have you not with you the yellow dust of the cornflower?”
“Aye, that I have,” said the young man, and producing a bag, opened it and asked the girl: “How shall I feed it to you?”
“Scatter it upon the cotton, and by my knowledge I will gather it.”
Then the young man scattered a great quantity on the cotton, wondering how the girl would gather it up. But the maiden opened the door, and taking down the skin changed herself to a serpent, and passing to and fro over the pollen, received it all within her scales. Then she resumed her human form again and hung the skin up as before.
Thus they floated until they came to the great forks of the Mighty Waters of the World, and their floating log was guided into the southern branch. And on they floated toward the westward for four months from the time when the uncles had thrown him into the river.
One day the maiden said to the youth: “We are nearing our journey’s end, and, as I know the way, I will guide you. Hold yourself hard and ready, for the waters will cast our house high upon the shores of the mountain wherein the Sun enters, and these shores are inaccessible because so smooth.”
Then the log was cast high above the slippery bank, and when the waters receded there it remained, for the fangs grappled it fast.
Then said the maiden: “Let us now go out. Fear not for your craft, for the fangs will hold it fast; it matters little how high the waves may roll, or how steep and slippery the bank.”
Then, taking in his arms the sacred plumes which his people had prepared for him, he followed the girl far up to the doorway in the Mountain of the Sea. Out of it grew a great ladder of giant rushes, by the side of which stood an enormous basket-tray. Very fast approached the Sun, and soon the Sun-father descended the ladder, and the two voyagers followed down. They were gently greeted by a kind old woman, the grandmother of the Sun, and were given seats at one side of a great and wonderfully beautiful room.
Then the Sun-father approached some pegs in the wall and from them suspended his bow and quiver, and his bright sun-shield, and his wonderful travelling dress. Behold! there stood, kindly smiling before the youth and maiden, the most magnificent and gentle of beings in the world—the Sun-father.
Then the Sun-father greeted them, and, turning to a great package which he had brought in, opened it and disclosed thousands of shell beads, red and white, and thousands more of brilliant turquoises. These he poured into the great tray at the door-side, and gave them to the grandmother, who forthwith began to sort them with great rapidity. But, ere she had done, the Sun-father took them from her; part of them he took out with unerring judgment and cast them abroad into the great waters as we cast sacred prayer-meal. The others he brought below and gave them to the grandmother for safekeeping.
Then he turned once more to the youth and the maiden, and said to the former: “So thou hast come, my child, even as I commanded. It is well, and I am thankful.” Then, in a stern and louder voice, which yet sounded like the voice of a father, he asked: “Hast thou brought with thee that whereby we are made happy with our children?”
And the young man said: “Aye, I have.”
“It is well; and if it be well, then shalt thou precious be; for knowest thou not that I recognize the really good from the evil—even of the thoughts of men—and that I know the prayer
