There came a time when the people for whom Síweluhsiwa and Síwiluhsitsa had gone to seek the way, could tarry no longer awaiting them; for, hearing the earth rumble, the Twain Beloved and their Warrior-leaders of the Knife summoned the tribes forth to journey again. Now in these days the people had grown so vast of number that no longer could they journey together; but in great companies they traveled, like herds of bison severed when too numerous for the grass of a single plain. The Bearers of the Ice-wands and the Ancient Brotherhood of the Knife led the clans of the Bear, the Crane, the Grouse and others of the People of Winter (yea and in small part others too), through the northernmost valleys, carrying ever in their midst the precious múetone. The Fathers of the People, Keepers of the seed, and the Ancient Brotherhood of Priests led the clans of the Macaw and other Summer people (and in part others still) through the middle valleys, carrying ever in their midst the precious k‘yáetone. They, being deliberate and wise, sought rather in the pathway between the northward and the southward for the place of the Middle.
The Seed-fathers of the Seed-kin, the Keepers of Fire, and the Ancient Brotherhood of Paíyatuma (Néwe-kwe) led the All-seed clans, the Sun, Badger and other Summer people (not of the Midmost), through the southern valleys, carrying ever in their midst the precious chúetone.
Leading them all, whether through the northern ways, through the middle ways, or through the southern ways, now here, now there, were the Two Beloved ones, and with them their Warriors of the Knife.
Now although those who went by the northern way were called the Bear and Crane father-people, yet with them went some of all the clans, as the Parrot-macaws of the Middle, and the Yellow-corn ones of the Southern people.
And although the People of the Middle way were called the Macaw father-people, yet with them went Bear and Crane people of the north, nevertheless, (a few) and Seed people of the south, also (a few) those of the White Corn.
And although the people of the southern way were called the All-seed father-people, yet with them went a few of both the northern and the middle ways. And this was well! That even though any one of these bands might hap to be divided through wildness of the way or stress of war, they nathless might retain, each of them, the seed of all the kin-lines. Moreover, this of itself speedily came to be, through the mingling of the clans from one to another in the strands of marriage.
And although thus apart the peoples journeyed, descending from the westward the valleys toward north and toward south, like gathering streams from a wide rain-storm, yet also like rain-streams gathering in some great river or lagoon, so they came together and thus abode in seasons of rest. Strong and impetuous, the Bear kindred on the one hand were the first to move and farthest to journey; on the other hand the Seed kindred led the way; whereas, the heart of them all of the Macaw kindred, deliberately (as was their custom) pursued the middle course of the Sun-father.
In such order, then, they came, in time, within sight of the great divided mountain of the Kâ´yemäshi. Seeing smoke and mist rising therefrom, they all, one after another, hastened thither. The Bear peoples were first to approach, and great was their dismay when, on descending into the plain, they beheld a broad river, flowing, not as other waters were wont to flow in that land, from east to west, but straight across their pathway, from toward the south, northward. And lo! on the farther side were the mysterious mountains they sought, but between them rolled swiftly these wide turbid waters, red with the soil of those plains.
THE ORIGIN OF DEATH BY DYING, AND THE ABODE OF SOULS AND THE K´KÂ.
Not for long did the impetuous fathers of the Bear and Crane deliberate. Nay! Straightway they strode into the stream and feeling forth with their feet that it e'en might be forded—for so red were its waters that no footing could be seen through them,—they led the way across; yet great was their fearfulness withal; for, full soon, as they watched the water moving under their very eyes, strange chills did pervade them, as though they were themselves changing in being to creatures moving and having being in the waters; even as still may be felt in the giddiness which besets those who, in the midst of troubled or passing waters, gaze long into them. Nathless, they won their way steadfastly to the farther shore. But the poor women who, following closely with the little children on their backs, were more áyaᵘwe (tender, susceptible), became witlessly crazed with these dread fear-feelings of the waters, wherefore, the little ones to whom they clung but the more closely, being k‘yaíyuna and all unripe, were instantly changed by the terror. They turned cold, then colder; they grew scaly, fuller webbed and sharp clawed of hands and feet, longer of tail too, as if for swimming and guidance in unquiet waters. Lo! They felt of a sudden to the mothers that bore them, as the feel of dead things; and, wriggling, scratched their bare shoulders until, shrieking wildly, these mothers let go all hold on them and were even fain to shake them off—fleeing from them in terror. Thus, multitudes of them fell into the swift waters, wailing shrilly and plaintively, as even still it may be said they are heard to cry at night time in those lone waters. For, no sooner did they fall below the surges than they floated and swam away, still crying—changed verily, now, even in bodily form; for, according to their several totems, some became like to the lizard (mík‘yaiya‘hli), chameleon (sémaiyak‘ya), and newt (téwashi); others like to the frog (ták‘aiyuna), toad (ták‘ya), and turtle (étâwa). But their souls (top‘hâ´ina, 'other-being or in-being'), what with the sense of falling, still falling, sank down through the waters, as water itself, being started, sinks down through the sands into the depths below. There, under the lagoon of the hollow mountain where it was erstwhile cleft in twain by the angry maiden-sister Síwiluhsitsa as before told, dwelt, in their seasons, the soul-beings of ancient men of war and violent death. There were the towns for the 'finished' or dead, Hápanawan or the Abode of Ghosts; there also, the great pueblo (city) of the Kâ´kâ, Kâ´‘hluëlawan, the town of many towns wherein stood forever the great assembly house of ghosts, Áhapaáwa Kíwitsinan‘hlana, the kiva which contains the six great chambers in the midst of which sit, at times of gathering in council, the god-priests of all the Kâ´kâ exercising the newly dead in the Kâ´k’okshi or dance of good, and receiving from them the offerings and messages of mortal men to the immortal ones.