The maidens breathed from the hands of the Twain, and with bowed heads and a prayer of thanks started down the pathway toward the Town of the Cliffs. When they came to their home, the old father asked whence they came. They told the story of their adventure and repeated the words of the Beloved.
The old man bowed his head, and said: “It was Áhaiyúta and Mátsailéma!” Then he made a prayer of thanks, and cast abroad on the winds white meal of the seeds of earth and shells from the Great Waters of the World, the pollen of beautiful flowers, and the paints of war.
“It is well!” he said. “Four days hence I will assemble my warriors, and we will cut the plume-sticks, paint and feather them, and place them on high mountains, that through their knowledge and power of medicine our Beloved Two Warriors may take them unto themselves.”
Now, when the maidens disappeared among the rocks below, the brothers looked each at the other and laughed. Then they shouted, and Áhaiyúta kicked Átahsaia’s ugly carcass till it gurgled, at which the two boys shouted again most hilariously and laughed. “That’s what we proposed to do with you, old beast!” they cried out.
“But, brother younger,” said Áhaiyúta, “what shall be done with him now?”
“Let’s skin him,” said Mátsailéma.
So they set to work and skinned the body from foot to head, as one skins a fawn when one wishes to make a seed-bag. Then they put sticks into the legs and arms, and tied strings to them, and stuffed the body with dry grass and moss; and where they set the thing up against the cliff it looked verily like the living Átahsaia.
“Uhh! what an ugly beast he was!” said Mátsailéma. Then he shouted: “Wahaha, hihiho!” and almost doubled up with laughter. “Won’t we have fun with old grandmother, though. Hurry up; let’s take care of the rest of him!”
They cut off the head, and Áhaiyúta said to it: “Thou hast been a liar, and told a falsehood for every life thou hast taken in the world; therefore shall thou become a lying star, and each night thy guilt shall be seen of all men throughout the wide world.” He twirled the bloody head around once or twice, and cast it with all might into the air. Wa muu! it sped through the spaces into the middle of the sky like a spurt of blood, and now it is a great red star. It rises in summertime and tells of the coming morning when it is only midnight; hence it is called Mokwanosana (Great Lying Star).
Then Mátsailéma seized the great knife and ripped open the abdomen with one stroke. Grasping the intestines, he tore them out and exclaimed: “Ye have devoured and digested the flesh of men over the whole wide world; therefore ye shall be stretched from one end of the earth to the other, and the children of those ye have wasted will look upon ye every night and will say to one another: ‘Ah, the entrails of him who caused sad thoughts to our grandfathers shine well tonight!’ and they will laugh and sneer at ye.” Whereupon he slung the whole mass aloft, and tsolo! it stretched from one end of the world to the other, and became the Great Snowdrift of the Skies (Milky Way). Lifting the rest of the carcass, they threw it down into the chasm whither the old demon had thrown so many of his victims, and the rattlesnakes came out and ate of the flesh day after day till their fangs grew yellow with putrid meat, and even now their children’s fangs are yellow and poisonous.
“Now, then, for some fun!” shouted Mátsailéma. “Do you catch the old bag up and prance around with it a little; and I will run off to see how it looks.”
Áhaiyúta caught up the effigy, and, hiding himself behind, pulled at the strings till it looked, of all things thinkable, like the living Átahsaia himself starting out for a hunt, for they threw the lion skins over it and tied the bow in its hand.
“Excellent! Excellent!” exclaimed the boys, and they clapped their hands and wa‑ha‑ha‑ed and ho‑ho‑ho‑ed till they were sore. Then, dragging the skin along, they ran as fast as they could, down to the plain below Twin Mountain.
The Sun was climbing down the western ladder, and their old grandmother had been looking all over the mountains and valleys below to see if the two boys were coming. She had just climbed the ladder and was gazing and fretting and saying: “Oh! those two boys! terrible pests and as hard-hearted and as long-winded in having their own way as a turtle is in having his! Now, something has happened to them; I knew it would,” when suddenly a frightened scream came up from below.
“Ho‑o‑o‑ta! Ho‑o‑o‑ta! Come quick! Help! Help!” the voice cried, as if in anguish.
“Uhh!” exclaimed the old woman, and she went so fast in her excitement that she tumbled through the trap-door, and then jumped up, scolding and groaning.
She grabbed a poker of piñon, and rushed out of the house. Sure enough, there was poor Mátsailéma running hard and calling again and again for her to hurry down. The old woman hobbled along over the rough path as fast as she could, and until her wind was blowing shorter and shorter, when, suddenly turning
