I will build you a bower of cedar,
And seek in the cliffs for game-creatures;
And you shall rest happily, sister.
Thus spake he, for he loved his sister and her beauty. (Nay, but she was soft and beautiful!)
And so, they hastened. When they reached the mountain, Síweluhsiwa built a bower of cedar branches under the shade of a tree. Then he went forth to seek game. When, having captured some, he returned, his sister was sleeping in the bower; so he stepped softly, that he might not disturb her—for he loved his sister, and gently he sat himself down before her and leaned his chin on his hand to watch her. The wind softly blew to and fro, and she slept on; her white cotton mantle and garments were made light for the journey, and thus the wind played with them as it listed over her prostrate form. As the brother gazed at her, he became crazed with love of her, greater than that of a brother's, greater than that of kin men for kin! * * *
Crazed was he, yea, and bideless of act; and the sister, thus awakened, fled from him in loud affright, and then, in shame and hot anger turning, upbraided him fiercely. Wondrous beings were they, more than it is the lot of mere men in these days to be, for they were the children of Kâ´wimosa the priest, and a priestess-mother in the times of creation and newness. And so, like to the surpassing ones, they were ‘hlímnawiho, or changeable-by-will inclined; yea, and all things were k‘yaíyuna or formative, when the world was new! Lo, now! Therefore, as she upbraided him, her eyes grew great and glaring and her face spotted and drawn. And he, as he heard and saw her, grew dazed, and stood senseless before her, his head bowed, his eyes red and swollen, his brow bent and burning.
"Thou shameless of men!" cried the maiden. "Know that thou shalt return to thy people never; nay, nor will I! Lo! I will make by mine the power a deep water dividing this mountain! Alone on one side shalt thou dwell, alone on the other dwell I! I will draw a line, and make a swift water between the day-land and the night-land, between all our people and us!" She stamped with her sandal as she spake, and deep was the mark thereof; for the mountain was hollow and resounding. Then she ran headlong down to the westward end of the mountain and drew her foot along the sands from the south to the northward, and deep was the gully she made. And the brother, seeing her flee, ran after her calling hoarsely. But now, as he neared her, he stopped and stared; and forthwith grew crazed more than ever; but with anguish and fright this time, at her rage and distortion. As she turned again back, he threw his arms aloft, and beat his head and temples and tore away his hair and garments and clutched his eyes and mouth wildly, until great welts and knobs stood out on his head; his eyes puffed and goggled, his lips blubbered and puckered; tears and sweat with wet blood bedrenched his whole person, and he cast himself headlong and rolled in the dust, until coated with the dun earth of that plain. And when he staggered to his feet, the red soil adhered to him as skin cleaves to flesh, and his ugliness hardened.
The maiden stared in wild terror at what she had wrought! And now she, too, was filled with anguish and shrieked aloud, tossing her arms and rushing hither and thither, and so great was her grief and despair that her hair all whitened. Lo! now she lamented plaintively and pitied her brother, for she thought—woman-like!—"But he loved me!" So, she tenderly yearned for him now, and ran toward him. Again he looked at her, for he was crazed, and when he saw her close at hand, so strange looking and ugly, he laughed aloud, and coarsely, but anon stood still, with his hands clasped in front of him and his head bowed before him, dazed! When he laughed, she too laughed; when he was silent and bowed, she cried and besought him. Thus it was with them ever after in those days. They talked loudly to each other; they laughed or they cried. Now they were like silly children, playing on the ground; anon they were wise as the priests and high beings, and harangued as parents to children and leaders to people.
The marks in the mountain and sands sank farther and farther; for much the earth shuddered as was wont in those days. And thus the mountain was sundered in twain and waters welled up in the midway. The furrow in the sands ran deeper and deeper and swifter and swifter with gathering water. Into the nether mountain the pair fled—not apart—but together, distraught. Ceaselessly echoed their gibberish and cries across the wide water and from one mountain side to the other. Thenceforth, together they dwelt in the caves of the place they had chosen, forgetful of the faces of men and recking naught of their own ugly condition!