Left to themselves, the families in Mattaweditita increased rapidly, until soon there were too many to live in comfort. So Tochopa took most of them to Milkweed Canyon, and then he divided the separate families and allotted to each his own territory. To the Mohaves he gave the western region by the great river; the Paiutis he sent to the water springs and pockets of southern Nevada and Utah; the Navahoes went east and found the great desert region, where game was plentiful; and the Hopis, who were always afraid and timid, built houses like Kathat-a-kanave's fortress on the summit of high mountains or mesas. The Havasupais started to go with the Hopis, and they camped together one night in the depths of the canyon where the blue water flows to Hackataia—the Colorado. The following morning when they started to resume their journey a child began to cry. This was an omen that bade them remain, so that family stayed and became known as the Haha-vasu-pai, the people of the Blue Water. Most of the remaining families went into the Mountains of the Tall Pine, south of Kingman, and thus became known as the pai (people) of the walla (tall pines). Here they found plenty of food of all kinds and abundance of game. As they increased in numbers they spread out, some going to Milkweed, others to Diamond and Peach Springs Canyons, and wherever they could find food and water.
Thus was the human race begun and the Wallapais established in their home.
When I asked where the white race came from, old Leve-leve scratched his head for a moment and then declared that they were made from the left-over sticks in Kathat-a-kanave's house.
But the Apaches, under Hokomata, would not leave the various peoples at peace. They warred upon them all the time. And that is why the Wallapai parents of a later day became accused of cruelty to their children. Scattered about, a few here and a few there, they were fit subjects for Apache attacks. A code of smoke signals, for warning, was adopted, but it was not always possible to prevent surprises. Sometimes the father of a family would go hunting and it would not be possible for the mother and children to go along. If she were attacked under such conditions, what could she do? If she tried to escape, hampered with her little ones, they would all be caught and she would have to submit to her captors and stand by and see them ruthlessly murdered. So she preferred to kill them herself, which she often did by strangling or suffocation. Then she might hope to reach the mountains and hide until the cover of night gave her an opportunity to escape. This explanation has actually been given to me as a statement of fact by some of the older women of the tribe.
Sometimes when the Apaches would attempt a raid they would be checkmated, the tables turned, and they themselves captured. Then there were great rejoicings. A feast was invariably held, at which the scalps were exposed on a pole around which the dances were conducted in the light of immense fires.
Of late years both Apaches and Wallapais have been taught to bury their enmity. Acting upon the suggestion of former agent Ewing, the Wallapai chiefs sent a messenger of peace and invitation to the Apache chiefs, asking them to come and visit the Wallapais during watermelon and green corn time, and be friends as the Great Father at Washington desires. Yet the Apaches, though the invitation has been several times repeated, have never come. They remember "the days of the years gone by,"—the days of murder, rapine, scalpings, and stealings of women. And they are afraid that poison, treachery, sudden death, torture perhaps, lurk behind the seeming friendliness. Revenge is sweet to an Indian, and the Apache cannot conceive that so great a conversion has taken place in the Wallapai heart as to lead him to forego his just revenge.
