THE COYOTE AND THE COUGAR.
When the world was new the coyote was very industrious. He was always at work passing around the world everywhere. He was never lazy, but his thoughts were not good. He visited one camp of people and told them he belonged to the Corn people; at another camp he said he belonged to the Knife people. Both times he lied. After a while the coyote told the cougar, who was the father of all game, that he would like to be a ho´naaite. The cougar replied, “When your thoughts are good, then you may become one.” “I guess the coyote is not lying, he has good thoughts now,” and the cougar said to him, “Come in four days to me and we will make hä´chamoni.” The coyote returned on the fourth day and worked eight days with the cougar preparing hä´chamoni. He was supposed to abstain during this time from food, drink, and smoking, and to practice continency. The cougar also fasted and practiced continency for the same period of time. Each night when it was dark the cougar said, “You, man coyote, now it is night, take this food which I give you and offer it to Ko´pĭshtaia.” The first night the coyote returned with a contented heart, and upon entering the cougar’s house he sat down. The second night after the coyote left the house with the food for Ko´pĭshtaia, he felt a little hungry, and he said to himself, “Last night I was not hungry, now I am hungry, alas! I am afraid or I would eat this food. Why have I wished to be a ho´naaite? I have food here and I wish to eat it, for I am hungry and yet I am afraid.” And so he argued with himself until he overcame all scruples and ate the food. “Now,” said he, “I am contented; I am no longer hungry;” and he returned to the cougar, pretending he had offered the food to Ko´pĭshtaia, and so the remaining eight nights the coyote ate the food which was given him by the cougar to offer to Ko´pĭshtaia, but he said nothing of this to anyone. The cougar grew to be straight and had no belly, but the coyote did not change in appearance, and the sixth night the cougar began to suspect that the coyote was not making his offerings to Ko´pĭshtaia. The coyote told the cougar each night that he was contented and was not hungry. “I think you are a little sad,” the cougar replied. “No, I am not sad; my stomach is strong,” said the coyote, “I can fast eight days; I wonder that I am not a little sad. Why am I not hungry? I feel strong all the time that I am passing about.”
On the seventh day the cougar and the coyote worked very hard all day making hä´chamoni, and when the work was completed the cougar taught the coyote the song which he would sing as ho´naaite of the Coyote Society. They sang all the eighth day and night and at the conclusion of the song the coyote was ordained a ho´naaite. Then said the cougar to the coyote, “Go now and kill a deer, and when you kill the deer bring the meat here and we will eat,” and the coyote said, “It is well;” and he went to hunt the deer. In the early morning the coyote saw a deer, but the deer ran fast, and, though he followed him all day, he could not get close enough to catch him; he did not carry arrows, but was to catch him with his hands, and at night the coyote returned worn out. While the coyote was absent the cougar thought, “I guess the coyote will be gone all day,” and when evening came and the coyote was still absent he thought, “The coyote has not a good head or thoughts for a ho´naaite.” When the coyote returned at night the cougar said, “Why have you been gone all day and come back without a deer?” “I saw a deer,” said the coyote, “early this morning, and I ran all day following him; I went very far and am tired.” “Well,” said the cougar, “why is it your head and heart cared to be a ho´naaite? I gave you food for Ko´pĭshtaia and you, coyote, you ate the food that should have been given to Ko´pĭshtaia; this is why you did not catch the deer to-day. Had you given the food to Ko´pĭshtaia, instead of eating it, you would have caught the deer.” The coyote thought much, but did not say a word. He slept that night in the cougar’s house, and at dawn the cougar said to one of his own people, “you go and catch a deer.” “Well, be it so,” said the companion, and he started for the deer before the sun was up. In a short time he saw one; it was very near him, and with one jump he sprang upon the game and caught it before the sun was yet up, and hurrying back to the house of his chief he said, “Here is the meat of the deer.”
The chief was much pleased and contented, but the coyote was very sad. All the companions of the cougar were happy and rejoiced. “Good, my son!” said the cougar, “I am much contented; we will pay the Ko´pĭshtaia with plumes; now we will eat the flesh of the deer.” The chief ate first and the others after him; he would not give any of the meat to the coyote, because the coyote’s thoughts were not good. The chief enjoyed his food greatly, this being the ninth morning from the beginning of his fast. The cougar said to the coyote, “Your thoughts and heart are not good; you are no longer a ho´naaite; go! You will henceforth travel quickly over and about the world; you will work much, passing about, but you will never understand how to kill the deer, antelope, or any game; I do not travel fast, but my thoughts are good, and when I call the deer they come quickly.” Since that time the coyote is always hunting the deer, rabbit, and other game, but is not successful.
THE COYOTE AND THE RATTLESNAKE.
The coyote’s house was near the house of the rattlesnake. The coyote said to the snake, “Let us walk together,” and while walking he said to the snake, “To-morrow come to my house.” In the morning the snake went to the house of the coyote and moved along slowly on the floor, shaking his rattle. The coyote sat to one side, much afraid; he became frightened after watching the movements of the snake and hearing the noise of the rattle. The coyote had a pot of rabbit meat cooking on the fire, which he placed in front of the snake, inviting him to eat, saying, “Companion, eat.” “No, companion, I will not eat your meat; I do not understand your food,” said the snake. “What food do you eat?” asked the coyote. “I eat the yellow flowers of the corn,” was the reply, and the coyote immediately began to look around for some, and when he found the pollen, the snake said, “Put some on the top of my head that I may eat it,” and the coyote, standing as far off as possible, dropped a little on the snake’s head. The snake said, “Come nearer and put enough on my head that I may find it.” He was very much afraid, but after a while he came close to the snake and put the pollen on his head, and after eating the pollen the snake thanked the coyote saying, “I will go now and pass about,” but before leaving he invited the coyote to his house: “Companion, to-morrow you come to my house.” “Very well,” said the coyote, “to-morrow I will go to your house.” The coyote thought much what the snake would do on the morrow. He made a small rattle (by placing tiny pebbles in a gourd) and attached it to the end of his tail, and, testing it, he was well satisfied and said: “This is well;” he then proceeded to the house of the snake. When he was near the house he shook his tail and said to himself, “This is good; I guess when I go into the house the snake will be very much afraid of me.” He did not walk into the house, but moved like a snake. The coyote could not shake the rattle as the snake did his; he had to hold his tail in his hand. When he shook his rattle the snake appeared afraid and said, “Companion, I am much afraid of you.” The snake had a stew of rats on the fire, which he placed before the coyote and invited him to eat, saying, “Companion, eat some of my food,” and the coyote replied, “I do not understand your food; I can not eat it, because I do not understand it.” The snake insisted upon his eating, but the coyote continued to refuse, saying, “If you will put some of the flower of the corn on my head I will eat; I understand that food.” The snake quickly procured some corn pollen, but he pretended to be afraid to go too near the coyote, and stood off a distance. The coyote told him to come nearer and put it well on the top of his head; but the snake replied, “I am afraid of you.” The coyote said, “Come nearer to me; I am not bad,” and the snake came closer and put the pollen on the coyote’s head and the coyote tried to eat the pollen; but he had not the tongue of the snake, so could not take it from his head. He made many attempts to reach the top of his head, putting his tongue first on one side of his nose and then on the other, but he could only reach either side of his nose. His repeated failures made the snake laugh heartily. The snake put his hand over his mouth, so that the coyote should not see him laugh; he really hid his head in his body. The coyote was not aware that the snake discovered that he could not obtain the food. As he left the snake’s house he held his tail in his hand and shook the rattle; and the snake cried, “Oh companion! I am so afraid of you,” but in reality the snake shook with laughter. The coyote, returning to his house, said to himself, “I was such a fool; the snake had much food to eat and I would not take it. Now I am very hungry,” and he went out in search of food.
THE SKÁTONA.
The myth of the ska´tona (a monster plumed serpent) who, in the old time, ate the people, is familiar to every man, woman, and child of Sia. This serpent, who lived in the mountains, did not move to catch the people, but drew them to him with his breath; he never called but one person at a time, compelling each one to approach sidewise so that he could not be seen. The hand was usually grabbed first, then the serpent would take the hand into his mouth and gradually devour his victim.
FOOTNOTES:
[1] The author mentions gratefully the share of this work performed by her late husband, Mr. James Stevenson, whose notes taken during his last year’s work in the field have been freely used by her and whose life interest in the North American Indians has been her inspiration.