His voice divine.[279]

358. When the brothers got home they said to Estsánatlehi: “Here are the hoops which our father has given us, and he told us you knew all about them. Show us, then, how to use them.” She replied: “I have no knowledge of them.” Three times she thus answered their questions. When they spoke to her for the fourth time and Nayénĕzgạni was becoming angry and impatient, she said: “I have never seen the Sun God except from afar. He has never been down to the earth to visit me. I know nothing of these talismans of his, but I will try what I can do.” She took the black hoop to the east, set it up so that it might roll, and spat through it the black hail, which was four-cornered; at once the hoop rolled off to the east and rolled out of sight. She took the blue hoop to the south, set it up, and spat through it the blue hail, which was six-cornered. Then the hoop rolled away to the south and disappeared. She carried the yellow hoop to the west, set it up, and spat through it the eight-cornered yellow hail; the hoop rolled off to the west and was lost to sight. She bore the white hoop to the north; spat through it the white hail, which had eleven corners, and the hoop sped to the north until it was seen no more. She threw the shining hoop up toward the zenith, threw the four colored knives in the same direction, and blew a powerful breath after them. Up they all went until they were lost to sight in the sky. As each hoop went away thunder was heard.[155]

359. During four days after this nothing of importance happened, and no change came in the weather. At the end of four days they heard thunder high up in the sky, and after this there were four days more of good weather. Then the sky grew dark, and something like a great white cloud descended from above. Estsánatlehi went abroad; she saw in all directions great whirlwinds which uprooted tall trees as if they had been weeds, and tossed great rocks around as if they had been pebbles. “My son, I fear for our house,” she said when she came back. “It is high among the mountains, and the great winds may destroy it.” When he heard this, Nayénĕzgạni went out. He covered the house first with a black cloud, which he fastened to the ground with rainbows; second, with a black fog, which he fastened down with sunbeams; third, with a black cloud, which he secured with sheet-lightning; and fourth, with a black fog, which he secured with chain-lightning. At sunset that evening they caught a little glimpse of the sun; but after that, continuously for four days and four nights, it was dark; a storm of wind and hail prevailed, such as had never been seen before, and the air was filled with sharp stones carried before the wind. The people stayed safe in the lodge, but they could hear the noise of the great storm without. On the morning of the fifth day the tumult ceased, and Nayénĕzgạni, going out, found that all was calm, though it was still dark. He now proceeded to remove the coverings from the lodge and threw them upwards toward the heavens. As the first covering, a sheet of fog, ascended, chain-lightning shot out of it (with chain-lightning it had been fastened down). As the second covering, a cloud, ascended, sheet-lightning came forth from it. As the third covering, a fog, went up, sunbeams streamed from it; and as the fourth cover, a robe of cloud, floated up, it became adorned with rainbows. The air was yet dark, and full of dust raised by the high wind; but a gentle shower of rain came later, laying the dust, and all was clear again. All the inmates of the lodge now came out, and they marvelled to see what changes the storm had wrought: near their house a great canyon had been formed; the shape of the bluffs around had been changed, and solitary pillars of rock[156] had been hewn by the winds.

360. “Surely all the anáye are now killed,” said Estsánatlehi. “This storm must have destroyed them.” But Nĭ′ltsi whispered into Nayénĕzgạni’s ear, “San (Old Age) still lives.” The hero said then to his mother: “Where used Old Age to dwell?” His mother would not answer him, though he repeated his question four times. At last Nĭ′ltsi again whispered in his ear and said: “She lives in the mountains of Depĕ′ntsa.”

361. Next morning he set out for the north, and when, after a long journey, he reached Depĕ′ntsa, he saw an old woman who came slowly toward him leaning on a staff. Her back was bent, her hair was white, and her face was deeply wrinkled. He knew this must be San. When they met he said: “Grandmother, I have come on a cruel errand. I have come to slay you.” “Why would you slay me?” she said in a feeble voice, “I have never harmed any one. I hear that you have done great deeds in order that men might increase on the earth, but if you kill me there will be no increase of men; the boys will not grow up to become fathers; the worthless old men will not die; the people will stand still. It is well that people should grow old and pass away and give their places to the young. Let me live, and I shall help you to increase the people.” “Grandmother, if you keep this promise I shall spare your life,” said Nayénĕzgạni, and he returned to his mother without a trophy.

362. When he got home Nĭ′ltsi whispered to him: “Hakáz Estsán (Cold Woman) still lives.” Nayénĕzgạni said to Estsánatlehi: “Mother, grandmother, where does Cold Woman dwell?” His mother would not answer him; but Nĭ′ltsi again whispered, saying: “Cold Woman lives high on the summits of Depĕ′ntsa, where the snow never melts.”

363. Next day he went again to the north and climbed high among the peaks of Depĕ′ntsa, where no trees grow and where the snow lies white through all the summer. Here he found a lean old woman, sitting on the bare snow, without clothing, food, fire, or shelter. She shivered from head to foot, her teeth chattered, and her eyes streamed water. Among the drifting snows which whirled around her, a multitude of snow-buntings were playing; these were the couriers she sent out to announce the coming of a storm. “Grandmother,” he said, “a cruel man I shall be. I am going to kill you, so that men may no more suffer and die by your hand,” and he raised his knife-club to smite her. “You may kill me or let me live, as you will. I care not,” she said to the hero; “but if you kill me it will always be hot, the land will dry up, the springs will cease to flow, the people will perish. You will do well to let me live. It will be better for your people.” He paused and thought upon her words. He lowered the hand he had raised to strike her, saying: “You speak wisely, grandmother; I shall let you live.” He turned around and went home.

364. When Nayénĕzgạni got home from this journey, bearing no trophy, Wind again whispered in his ear and said: “Tieín (Poverty) still lives.” He asked his mother where Poverty used to live, but she would not answer him. It was Wind who again informed him. “There are two, and they dwell at Dsĭldasdzĭ′ni.”

365. He went to Dsĭldasdzĭ′ni next day and found there an old man and an old woman, who were filthy, clad in tattered garments, and had no goods in their house. “Grandmother, grandfather,” he said, “a cruel man I shall be. I have come to kill you.” “Do not kill us, my grandchild,” said the old man: “it would not be well for the people, in days to come, if we were dead; then they would always wear the same clothes and never get anything new. If we live, the clothing will wear out and the people will make new and beautiful garments; they will gather goods and look handsome. Let us live and we will pull their old clothes to pieces for them.” So he spared them and went home without a trophy.

366. The next journey was to seek Dĭtsĭ′n, Hunger, who lived, as Nĭ′ltsi told him, at Tlóhadaskaí, White Spot of Grass. At this place he found twelve of the Hunger People. Their chief was a big, fat man, although he had no food to eat but the little brown cactus. “I am going to be cruel,” said Nayénĕzgạni, “so that men may suffer no more the pangs of hunger and die no more of hunger.” “Do not kill us,” said the chief, “if you wish your people to increase and be happy in the days to come. We are your friends. If we die, the people will not care for food; they will never know the pleasure of cooking and eating nice things, and they will never care for the pleasures of the chase.” So he spared also the Dĭtsĭ′n, and went home without a trophy.