“Ah, but it was different in the old days!” exclaimed old Nestor. “Then the country was full of game. Ave María! So many deer! And rabbits and raccoons, ducks and pigeons! But now the Gods are angry at us because we have neglected them and will send us no more deer.”
“Is it really the Gods who send the deer, little grandfather?” asked José.
“Surely,” replied the old man. “Are they not the pets of our Elder Brother, the Morning Star? When one wishes to hunt deer he must first fast seven days and then go to one of the sacred altars with a prayer stick and beads for payment and recite the old prayer begging Elder Brother to lend him some of his deer. Then he will be sure to shoot them. But he must not eat any of the first deer he kills, but must give it to the other people, and he must be sure to make candles of the fat and burn them. Of course we always used bow and arrows to shoot them, as they would be offended and leave the country if they were killed by other means.”
“How interesting!” murmured little Pepe. “And do the Gods keep other animals too, little grandfather?”
“Por Dios, no! The deer are their only pets. But the scorpions are the cattle of the Devil and one must also say a prayer and make a jícara[9] full of pinole[10] with beads in order to drive them away from one’s home. And then there are the great serpents which live in the mountains. One must also recite a prayer to get one of them.”
“Ave María!” ejaculated José. “Did you eat snakes too?”
“Only small ones,” laughed Nestor, “and iguanas. The large serpents we kept in the houses as protectors. They were brought home and instructed to hold any one who came to the house to rob, and to give the alarm by striking the ground with their tails. But they had to be fed bread every Thursday.” Here old Nestor smiled. “At least that’s what my grandfather told me. I never saw them myself!”
It was many years before little José journeyed from home. There he played with the stones and the household objects, his dog and cat and his pet quail, learning the manifold secrets of the world about him. There were other boys nearby with whom he played; they had their bows and arrows—weapons discarded by their elders long ago—and their toys and dear possessions like boys the world over. There were few household objects for them to break in play, only a few pots and gourds, and, like all Indians, the Tepecanos seldom or never punished their children, preferring that they should grow up loving and with their spirits unbroken. An occasional trip to the nearest Mexican village to purchase cloth or sugar, or to the house of a relation a few miles away was the extent of José’s travels. For sweets he had the honey which might be taken from the hollow logs raised on forked posts outside of the house.
Gradually José learned to help his parents and, by the time he was fourteen, he was able to do most of the tasks expected of young men. He accompanied his father Francisco on trips to the hills in search of natural products. The leaves of the agave were one of the most sought-after materials. These they carried home, stripped off the soft green exterior and put the strong interior fibers to dry. This was called ixti, and from it all kinds of cord and rope were made. Many hours José sat, twisting the wheel with which his father made rope. At other times he helped to make adobe bricks, mixing the mud to a proper consistency, pressing it into moulds and leaving it in the sun to dry. His father likewise taught him to weave strong sacks of ixti cord on a simple loom.
Some of his spare time, too, he devoted to that eternal Mexican pastime of hunting buried treasure. Of course he never found any, but the joy of the search was in itself and had he not heard countless tales of fabulous wealth found in caves where it had been hidden during a revolution? One could never tell!