Ma´asewe then shot one of the arrows a great distance and it made much noise, and it was very beautiful and red. U´yuuyewĕ also shot one of his. “Younger brother,” said Ma´asewe, “these are fine arrows, but they have gone a great way.” When they were near their mother’s house, they again used their bows and were so delighted with the light made by the arrows that each shot another and another. The mother and grandmother, hearing the noise, ran out of their house, and became much alarmed when they looked to Ti´nia and saw the flashes of light and then they both fell as dead. Previous to this time the lightning arrows were not known on this earth, as the lightning people had not, to the present time, let any of their arrows fall to the earth. When the mother was restored she was very angry, and inquired of the boys where they had found such arrows, and why they had brought them home. “Oh, mother,” cried the boys, “they are so beautiful, and we like them very much.”
The boys remained at home three days, and on the fourth day they saw many he’[ä]sh (clouds, like the plains) coming and bringing the arrows the boys had shot toward Ti´nia, and when the cloud people were over the house of the boys they began watering the earth; it rained very hard, and presently the arrows began falling. Ma´asewe cried with delight, “See, younger brother, the lightning people have brought our arrows back to us, let us go and gather them.” The cloud people worked two days sending rain and then returned to their home.
Ma´asewe said to his mother, “We will go now and pass about the country.” She begged of them not to go any great distance. “In the west,” said she, “there is a very bad antelope. He will eat you.” Ma´asewe promised the mother that they would not go far, but when at a short distance from home he said to his younger brother, “Why does not mother wish us to go there?” pointing to the west. “Let us go.” U´yuuyewĕ replied, “No, mother does not wish it.” He was finally persuaded by Ma´asewe, and when near the house of the antelope the boys discovered him. There was neither grass nor vegetation, but only a sandy plain without trees or stones. “I guess he is one of the people who, mother said, would eat us.” U´yuuyewĕ replied, “I guess so.” Then Ma´asewe said, “Let us go a little nearer, younger brother.” “You know what is best,” replied U´yuuyewĕ, “I will do whatever you say, but I think that if you go nearer he will run off.” They counciled for a time and while they were talking the little Chi´na (mole) came up out of his house and said, “Boys, come down into my house.” “No,” said they, “we wish to kill the antelope,” and Ma´asewe added, “I think you know all about him.” “Yes,” said the mole, “I have been near him and passed around him.” Then Ma´asewe requested him to go into his house and prepare a road for them that the antelope might not discover their approach. And the mole made an underground road to the point where the antelope stood (the antelope facing west) and bored a wee hole in the earth over this tunnel, and peeping through he looked directly upon the heart of the antelope; he could see its pulsations. “Ah, that is good, I think,” he exclaimed, and returning, he hastened to inform the boys. “Now, all is well,” said the mole; “you can enter my house and approach the antelope.” When they reached the tiny opening in the earth Ma´asewe looked up and said, “See, younger brother, there is the heart of the antelope directly above us; I will shoot first;” and pointing his arrow to the heart of the antelope and drawing his bow strongly he pierced the heart, the shaft being buried almost to its end in the body. “We have killed the antelope,” cried Ma´asewe, “now let us return quickly over the underground road.” While the boys were still in this tunnel, the antelope, who was not killed immediately by the shot, was mad with rage and he ran first to the west to look for his enemy, but he could see no one; then he ran to the south and found no one; then he turned to the east with the same result, and then to the north and saw no one, and he returned to the spot where he had been shot, and looking to the earth discovered the diminutive opening. “Ah,” said he, “I think there is some one below who tried to kill me.” By this time the boys were quite a distance from the hole through which the arrow had passed. The antelope thrust his left horn into the opening and tore up the earth as he ran along above the tunnel. It was like inserting a knife under a piece of hide; but he had advanced only a short distance when he fell dead. The youths then came up from the house of the mole and cried out, “See! the antelope is dead.”
Ma´asewe said, “Younger brother! let us go and get the flesh of the antelope.” U´yuuyewĕ remarked, “perhaps he is not yet dead.” The mole said, “you boys wait here; I will go and see if he still lives,” and after examining and passing around him, he found that the body was quite cold, and returning to the boys said, “Yes, boys, the antelope is dead.” “Perhaps you do not speak the truth,” said Ma´asewe, but the mole repeated “The antelope is dead.” Ma´asewe insisted, however, that the mole should again examine him and the little animal made a second visit. This time he dipped his hands into the heart’s blood of the animal and rubbed it all over his face, head, body, arms, and legs, for Ma´asewe had accused him of lying and he wished this time to carry proof of the death of the antelope; and returning to the boys he cried, “See, boys, I am covered with the blood, and I did not lie.” Then Ma´asewe proposed that the three should go together; and when they reached the antelope, Ma´asewe cut the breast with his stone knife, passing the knife from the throat downwards. The boys then flayed the antelope; Ma´asewe cut the heart and the flesh into bits, throwing the pieces to the north, west, south, and east, declaring that hereafter the antelope should not be an enemy to his people, saying, “His flesh shall furnish food for my people.” Addressing the antelope he commanded, “From this time forth you will eat only vegetation and not flesh, for my people are to have your flesh for food.” He then said to the mole, “The intestines of the antelope will be food for you,” and the mole was much pleased, and promptly replied, “Thank you; thank you, boys.”
The boys now returned to their home and their mother, who, on meeting them, inquired, “Where have you been? You have been gone a long time; I thought you were dead; where have you been?” Ma´asewe answered, “We have been to the house of the antelope who eats people.” The mother said, “You are very disobedient boys.” Ma´asewe continued, “We have killed the antelope, and now all the giants who devoured our people are destroyed, and all the people of the villages will be happy, and the times will be good.”
After Ma´asewe and U´yuuyewĕ had destroyed the giant enemies of the world the people were happy and were not afraid to travel about; even the little children could go anywhere over the earth, and there was continual feasting and rejoicing among all the villages.
The Oraibi held a great feast (at that time the Oraibi did not live in their present pueblo); Ma´asewe and U´yuuyewĕ desired to attend the feast, and telling their mother of their wish, she consented to their going. When they were near the village of the Oraibi they discovered the home of the bee, and Ma´asewe said, “See, brother, the house of the bee; let us go in; I guess there is much honey.” They found a large comb full of honey, and Ma´asewe proposed to his brother that they cover their whole bodies with the honey, so that the Oraibi would not know them and would take them for poor, dirty boys; “for, as we now are, all the world knows us, and to-day let us be unknown.” “All right!” said U´yuuyewĕ, and they smeared themselves with honey. “Now,” said the boys, “we are ready for the feast. It will be good, for the Oraibi are very good people.” Upon visiting the plaza they found a large gathering, and the housetops were crowded with those looking at the dance. The boys, who approached the plaza from a narrow street in the village, stood for a time at the entrance. Ma´asewe remarked, “I guess all the people are looking at us and thinking we are very poor boys; see how they pass back and forth and do not speak to us;” but after awhile he said, “We are a little hungry; let us walk around and see where we can find something to eat.” They looked in all the houses facing upon the plaza and saw feasting within, but no one invited them to enter and eat, and though they inspected every house in the village, they were invited into but one. At this house the woman said, “Boys, come in and eat; I guess you are hungry.” After the repast they thanked her, saying, “It was very good.” Then Ma´asewe said, “You, woman, and you, man,” addressing her husband, “you and all your family are good. We have eaten at your house; we give you many thanks; and now listen to what I have to say. I wish you and all of your children to go off a distance to another house; to a house which stands alone; the round house off from the village. All of you stay there for awhile.” The boys then left. After they had gone the woman drank from the bowl which they had used, and, smacking her lips, said to her husband, “There is something very sweet in this bowl.” Then all the children drank from it, and they found the water sweet, and the woman said, “Let us do the will of these boys; let us go to the house;” and, the husband consenting, they, with their children, went to the round house and remained for a time.
Ma´asewe and U´yuuyewĕ lingered near the village, and the people were dancing in the plaza and feasting in their houses, when suddenly they were all transformed into stone. Those who were dancing, and those who sat feasting, and mothers nourishing infants, all were alike petrified; and the beings, leaving these bodies, immediately ascended, and at once became the piñonero (Canada jay). The boys, returning to their home, said, “Mother, we wish food; we are hungry.” Their mother inquired, “Why are you hungry; did you not get enough at the feast?” “No; we are very hungry and wish something to eat.” The mother again asked if it was not a good feast. “Yes,” said Ma´asewe, “but we are hungry.” The mother, suspecting something wrong, remarked, “I am afraid you have been bad boys; I fear you destroyed that village before you left.” Ma´asewe answered “No.” Four times the mother expressed her fears of their having destroyed the village. Ma´asewe then confessed, “Yes; we did destroy the village. When we went to the feast at Oraibi we were all day with hungry stomachs, and we were not asked to eat anywhere except in one house.” And when the mother heard this she was angry, and Ma´asewe continued, “And this is the reason that I destroyed the villlage[P1: Printer’s error],” and the mother cried, “It is good! I am glad you destroyed the people, for they were mean and bad.”
When the boys had been home but two days their hearts told them that there was to be a great dance of the Ka´ᵗsuna at a village located at a ruin some 18 miles north of the present pueblo of Sia. The Ti´ämoni of this village had, through his officials, invited all the people of all the villages near and far to come to the great dance. Ma´asewe said to his mother and grandmother (the spider woman), “We are going to the village to see the dance of the Ka´ᵗsuna.” They replied, “We do not care much to have you go, because you, Ma´asewe and U´yuuyewĕ, are both disobedient boys. When you go off to the villages you do bad things. At Oraibi you converted the people into stone, and perhaps you will behave at this village as you did at Oraibi.” Ma´asewe replied, “No, mother, no! We go only to see the Ka´ᵗsuna, and we wish to go, for we know it is to be a great dance; we wish very much to see it, and will not do as we did at Oraibi.” Finally, the mother and grandmother said, “If you are satisfied to go and behave like good boys we will consent.” It was a long way off, and the boys carried their bows and arrows that their father, the sun, had given them. They had proceeded but a short distance from their home, when the sun told them each to get on an arrow, and the father drew his bow, shooting both arrows simultaneously, the arrows striking the earth near where the dance was to occur. The boys alighted from their arrows and walked to the village. Every one wondered how they could have reached the village in so short a time. The boys stopped at the door of a house and, looking in, saw many people eating. They stood there awhile but were not asked in, and they passed on from door to door, as they had done at Oraibi, and no one invited them to eat. It was a very large village, and the boys walked about all day, and they were very angry. Discovering a house a little apart from the village, Ma´asewe said, “Let us go there,” pointing to the house; “perhaps there we may get food,” and upon reaching the door they were greeted by the man, woman, and children of the house, and were invited to eat. The boys were, as before, disguised with the honey spread over their bodies. After the meal Ma´asewe, addressing the man and woman, said: “You and your children are the first and only ones to invite us to enter a house and eat, and we are happy, and we give you thanks. We have been in this village all day and, until now, have had nothing to eat. I guess the people do not care to have us eat with them. Why did your ti´ämoni invite people from all villages to come here? He was certainly not pleased to see us. You (addressing the man and woman) and your children must leave this village and go a little way off. It will be well for you to do so.”
And this family had no sooner obeyed the commands of the boys than the people of the village were converted into stone, just as they were passing about, the Ka´ᵗsuna as they stood in line of the dance, some of them with their hands raised. It was never known what became of the beings of the Ka´ᵗsuna. Ma´asewe then said: “Younger brother, now what do you think?” U´yuuyewĕ replied, “I do not think at all; you know.” “Yes,” said Ma´asewe, “and I think perhaps I will not return to my house, the house of my mother and grandmother. I think we will not return there; we have converted the people of two villages into stone, and I guess our mother will be very unhappy.” And again Ma´asewe said: “What do you think?” and U´yuuyewĕ replied, “I do not think at all; you, Ma´asewe, you think well.” Then Ma´asewe said, “All right; I think now I should like to go to see our father.” “Well,” said U´yuuyewĕ, “let us go to him.”