"From behind the wood she could still see the bear coming and hear his great voice. Soon he reached the rock and tore the wood away with his great paws. Then he reached in and pulled the woman out and ripped her open with his terrible claws and tore her heart out and ate it up.
"By this time the sun was nearly down; it was soon dark and the poor children were still waiting for their mother just where she had left them, but she never returned. Some one came to them and asked, 'What are you doing here?'
"'We are watching for our mother, who went for wood, and we are waiting for her,' they said.
"'But why does she not come when it is so late?' they said. Then they said, 'Let's all go home; something must have happened.' So they took the children home with them and sent some others to look for the mother.
"They followed her tracks and found the place, the mother dead, and her heart gone. So they came back home in the dark night.
"Next day, they returned to the place and followed the bear tracks to the woods where his home was, but never found the bear. So they went home.
"The poor little children were very lonely and not treated very well by the neighbors, and both children died, first the younger, and then the older; and this is a true story." (Note: One could well imagine from the faces of the young listeners that something like a resolution to stay pretty close around home was passing unanimously. H.G.L.)
Don Talayesva of Upper Oraibi was the only one of my story-tellers who spoke without the aid of an interpreter. He is a tall, good-looking man of less than forty, with an expressive face and a pair of merry dark eyes that hold a prophesy of the rich sense of humor one soon discovers in both his conversation and his stories.
This particular tale rather gives away some state secrets as to how Hopi children are persuaded to be good, and Don chuckled and paused to lower his voice and see that his own small son was out of hearing, when explaining certain parts of the story.