Zuñi Folk Tales

by Frank Hamilton Cushing

So the warrior priest went out on the tops of the houses, and called to his people:

“I instruct ye this day, oh, my people and children! Listen to my instruction! Our child, in running to and from his prayers this very morning was intercepted by Old Tarantula, who, through his skill and cunning, succeeded in stripping our child of his handsome apparel. Therefore, I instruct ye, make haste! Gather together digging-sticks and hoes; let us all go and dig out the old villain; let the whole town turn out, women as well as men and children. My daughters, ye women of this town, take with ye basket-bowls and baskets and other things wherewith ye gather material for plaster, with which to convey away the sand and earth that is dug up by the men. Thus much I instruct ye! Make haste all!” Whereupon he descended, and, after eating, led the way toward the den of Old Tarantula.

When the people had also eaten and followed, they began to work swiftly at tunnelling into the hole of the Tarantula; and thus they worked and worked from morning till night, but did not overtake him, until at last they reached the solid rock foundations of the mountain. They had filled their baskets and basket-bowls with the sand, and cast it behind them, and others had cast it behind them, and so on until a large hillock of earth and sand had been raised, but still they had not overtaken Old Tarantula. Now, when they had reached the solid rock foundations of the mountain, they saw that the hole yawned like a cave before them, and that it was needless to follow farther. They gave up in despair, saying: “What more can we do? Let us go home. Let us give it up, since we must.” And they took their ways homeward.

Now, in the evening the old ones of the town were very thoughtful, and they gathered together and talked the matter over, and finally it was suggested by someone in answer to the query, “What can we do to recover our son’s lost garments?” “Suppose that we send for the Great Kingfisher? He is wise, crafty, swift of flight; he dashes himself from on high, even into the water, and takes him therefrom whatsoever he will, swift though it be, without fail. Suppose we send for him, our grandfather?”

“Ah, ha! that’s it,” replied others. “Send for him straightway.”

So the master warrior priest called to Young Swift-runner, and sent him to the Hill of the Great Kingfisher.

“What is it?” asked Kingfisher, when he heard someone at the entrance of his house.

“Come quickly! In council the old ones of our town await you,” said the young man.

So Great Kingfisher followed, and, arriving at the council, greeted them and asked: “What is it you would have of me?”

Said they: “Old Tarantula has stripped our young man, Swift-runner, of his beautiful garments, and how to recover them we know not. We have dug away the den, even to the foundation of the mountain, but beyond this it extends. What to do we know not. So we have sent for you, knowing your power and ability to quickly snatch even from under the waters whatsoever you will.”