Having heard of the wonderful cave in this mountain, our little party visited the place, prepared to explore it. Mr. Stevenson and Mr. H.L. Turner entered the fissure in the rock and squeezed through the crevice for sixteen or eighteen feet to where the rock was so solid that they both determined no human creature could penetrate farther. They examined the place most carefully by means of an artificial light. Through a small aperture stones could be thrown to a depth from which no sound returned, but excepting this solitary opening all was solid, immovable rock. In this cave many plume sticks were gathered. Near the opening of the cave, or fissure, is a shrine to the Kōk-kō, which must be very old, and over and around it are hundreds of the plume sticks and turquoise and shell beads.
I would mention here a little incident illustrative of the superstitious dread these Indians entertain of violating the priestly commands. We found it very difficult to persuade an old Zuñi guide, who had visited the sacred salt lake, the mountain of the war gods, and other places of interest with us (to these he had gone by special permission of the High Priest), to accompany us to the spirit lake and the mountain of the Kōk-kō. Our persuasive powers were almost exhausted ere we could induce him to guide us to them, but having consented he was willing to go even if he should be punished by death. He was a man renowned for bravery, but he was so overcome by his superstitious fears that his voice sank to a whisper and finally became scarcely audible. The morning of the day on which we reached this place, the old man, who had been riding by my side, ahead of the rest of the party, suddenly halted and said in a half-angry voice, "Why do I go ahead? I am not the chief of this party. Those who belong at the head must go to the head." And he would not move until Mr. Stevenson and I went in advance. By this change he sought to transfer the responsibility to us. Finally he rode up to us and said in a whisper, "We will camp here." The whole expression of the old man's face was that of ghastly terror. I was much annoyed, for I thought that, at the eleventh hour, his fear had overcome his desire to gratify us. Just then a Mexican lad on horseback approached; we were all mounted. I asked the lad, "Is there a lake near by?" He replied, "Yes, a half a mile off." The old Indian said, speaking in a whisper, "And you have seen it?" "Yes." "And you were not afraid?" "No; why afraid?" "And you looked into the waters and you did not die!" With a look of bewilderment the youth rode off. I signaled to the old man to accompany us to the lake. "No, no; I would only die, and you must not go or you will die." "No," said I, "we will not die if our hearts are good, and if you will not go it is because your heart is not good and you are afraid."
We found the lake so surrounded by marshes that we could not get within an eighth of a mile of the waters. One of our party attempted to reach it on foot, but could get very little nearer. We made a circuit of the lake along the slightly elevated ground and could distinctly see it.
On completing the circle a striking picture met our eyes. Boldly outlined by the setting sun stood the old man, his hair blown by the evening breeze, for he had bared his head of the usual kerchief worn around it, and, with his hand holding the sacred meal extended toward the glorious sunset, he stood repeating a prayer. We halted, and he continued his prayer, wholly unconscious of our presence; as he turned we surprised him. I extended my hand and said, "Now I am happy, for you are again brave and strong." "Yes," said he, "my heart is glad. I have looked into the waters of my departed people. I am alive, but I may die; if I die it is well; my heart is glad." From that moment the gloom was gone and he was bright and happy. We could not induce the old man to ascend the mountain of the Kōk-kō with us, as none go there except certain priests; but the lake is visited by those who are designated by these priests.
Several days were consumed by us in exploring this immediate vicinity. On breaking camp, our old Indian guide seemed determined to tarry behind. I remained with him. As the party rode off he took a large quantity of food which he had carefully stored away behind a tree—he having observed an almost absolute fast in order to make a large offering to the spirits of the departed—and heaped this food upon the embers of the camp fire, by the side of which he stood for a long time, supplicating in a most solemn manner the spirits of the departed to receive his offering.
Certain men are selected, who, with bodies nude save the loin skirt and with bare feet, walk from Zuñi to the lake, a distance of 45 miles, exposed to the scorching rays of the summer sun, to deposit plume sticks and pray for rain. If the hearts of those sent be pure and good, the clouds will gather and rain will fall, but if evil be in their hearts no rain will fall during the journey and they return with parched lips and blistered skin. The Kōk-kō repeat the prayers for rain with their intercessions to the Yä-tō-tka, the Sun, and by them the plume sticks are sent to the same great god. So constantly are the lesser gods employed in offering plumes to the great god that at night the sacred road (the Galaxy) can be seen filled with feathers, though by day they are invisible. They believe that the soul or essence of the plumes travels over this road, just as the soul from the body travels from Zuñi to the spirit lake, and in their offerings of food the food itself is not received by the gods, but the spiritual essence of the food.
One of the most important characters in Zuñi mythology, the Käk-lō, finding himself alone in the far Northwest, saw many roads, but could not tell which one led to his people, and he wept bitterly. The tear marks are still to be seen on the Käk-lō's face. A duck, hearing some one's cries, appeared and inquired the cause of the trouble. "I wish to go to my people, but the roads are many, and I do not know the right one." The sagacious duck replied, "I know all roads, and I will lead you to your people." Having led the Käk-lō to the spirit lake, he said, "Here is the home of the Kōk-kō; I will guide you to the kiva and open for you the door." After entering the kiva the Käk-lō viewed all those assembled and said, "Let me see; are all my people here? No; the Kō-lō-oo-wĭt-si (plumed serpent) is not here; he must come," and two of the Kōk-kō (the Soot-īke) were dispatched for him. This curious creature is the mythical plumed serpent whose home is in a hot spring not distant from the village of Tkāp-quē-nā, and at all times his voice is to be heard in the depths of this boiling water.
In the days of the old, a young maiden, strolling along, saw a beautiful little baby boy bathing in the waters of this spring; she was so pleased with his beauty that she took him home and told her mother that she had found a lovely little boy. The mother's heart told her it was not a child really, and so she said to the daughter; but the daughter insisted that she would keep the baby for her own. She wrapped it carefully in cotton cloth and went to sleep with it in her arms. In the morning, the mother, wondering at her daughter's absence, sent a second daughter to call her. Upon entering the room where the girl had gone to sleep she was found with a great serpent coiled round and round her body. The parents were summoned, and they said, "This is some god, my daughter; you must take him back to his waters," and the maiden followed the serpent to the hot spring, sprinkling him all the while with sacred meal. Upon reaching the spring the serpent entered it, the maiden following, and she became the wife of the Kō-lō-oo-wĭt-si.
The Kō-lō-oo-wĭt-si soon appeared with the two Soot-īke who had been dispatched for him. They did not travel upon the earth, but by the underground waters that pass from the spring to the spirit lake. Upon the arrival of the Kō-lō-oo-wĭt-si, the Käk-lō issued to this assemblage his commands, for he is the great father of the Kōk-kō. Those who were to go to the North, West, South, East, to the Heavens, and to the Earth to procure cereals for the Āh-shi-wi he designated as the Sä-lä-mō-bī-ya. Previous to this time the Āh-shi-wi had subsisted on seeds of a grass. "When the seeds are gathered," he said, addressing the serpent, "you will carry them with water to the Āh-shi-wi and tell them what to do with the seeds. I will go in advance and prepare them for your coming." "But," said his people, "you are our father; you must not walk," and the ten Kō-yē-mē-shi accompanied him, carrying him on their backs, relieving each other when fatigued. The Käk-lō visited the Āh-shi-wi nine days in advance of the Sä-lä-mō-bī-ya and Kō-lō-oo-wĭt-si, instructing the people regarding the Kōk-kō, how they must represent them in the future and hold their ceremonials, and telling them that the boys must be made members of the Kōk-kō, and that this particular ceremony must occur but once in four years. He also gave to the people the history of himself, how the duck had befriended him and led him to the home of his people.