Fig. 33. Trail of Estsánatlehi.
415. Estsánatlehi had not been long in her western home when she began to feel lonely. She had no companions there. The people who had accompanied her thither did not stay with her. She thought she might make people to keep her company, so one day, when she had completed one of her dancing journeys, she sat down on the eastern mountain. Here she rubbed epidermis from under her left arm with her right hand; she held this in her palm and it changed into four persons,—two men and two women,—from whom descended a gens to which no name was then given, but which afterwards (as will be told) received the name of Honagáʻni. She rubbed the epidermis with her left hand from under her right arm, held it in her palm as before, and it became two men and two women, from whom descended the gens afterwards known as Kinaáʻni. In a similar way, of epidermis rubbed from under her left breast she created four people, from whom descended the gens later known as Toʻdĭtsíni; of epidermis from under her right breast, four persons, from whom descended the gens called Bĭtáni; of epidermis from the middle of her chest, the four whose descendants were called Haslĭ′zni; and of epidermis from her back between her shoulders, the four whose descendants were called Bĭtáʻni in later times.
416. She said to these: “I wish you to dwell near me, where I can always see you; but if you choose to go to the east, where your kindred dwell, you may go.” She took them from her floating home to the mainland; here they lived for thirty years, during which time they married and had many children. At the end of this time the Twelve People (Dĭnéʻ Nakidáta), or rather what was left of them, appeared among Estsánatlehi’s people and said to them: “We have lost our sister who kept our house for us; we have no home; we know not where else to go; so we have come here to behold our mother, our grandmother. You have kindred in the far east who have increased until they are now a great people. We do not visit them, but we stand on the mountains and look at them from afar. We know they would welcome you if you went to them.” And many more things they told about the people in the far east.
417. Now all crossed on a bridge of rainbow to the house of Estsánatlehi on the sea, where she welcomed them and embraced them. Of the Dĭnéʻ Nakidáta but ten were left, for, as has been told, they lost their sister and their younger brother; but when they came to the home of Estsánatlehi she made for them two more people out of turquoise, and this completed their original number of twelve. She knew with what thoughts her children had come. She opened four doors leading from the central chamber of her house into four other rooms, and showed them her various treasures, saying: “Stay with me always, my children; these things shall be yours, and we shall be always happy together.”
418. When the people went back from the house of Estsánatlehi to the mainland, all was gossip and excitement in their camp about what they had heard of the people in the east. Each one had a different part or version of the tale to tell,—of how the people in the east lived, of what they ate, of the way in which they were divided into gentes, of how the gentes were named, and of other things about them they had heard. “The people are few where we live,” they said; “we would be better off where there are so many.” They talked thus for twelve days. At the end of that time they concluded to depart, and they fixed the fourteenth day after that as the day they should leave.
419. Before they left, the Dĭnéʻ Nakidáta and Estsánatlehi came to see them. She said: “It is a long and dangerous journey to where you are going. It is well that you should be cared for and protected on the way. I shall give you five of my pets,[189]—a bear, a great snake, a deer, a porcupine, and a puma,—to watch over you. They will not desert you. Speak of no evil deeds in the presence of the bear or the snake, for they may do the evil they hear you speak of; but the deer and the porcupine are good,—say whatever you please to say in their presence.”
420. Besides these pets she gave them five magic wands. To those who were afterwards named Honagáʻni she gave a wand of turquoise; to those who later were called Kinaáʻni, a wand of white shell; to those who became Toʻdĭtsíni, a wand of haliotis shell; to those who became Bĭtáʻni, a wand of black stone; and to those who in later days became Haslĭ′zni, a wand of red stone. “I give you these for your protection,” she said, “but I shall watch over you myself while you are on your journey.”
421. On the appointed day they set out on their journey. On the twelfth day of their march they crossed a high ridge and came in sight of a great treeless plain, in the centre of which they observed some dark objects in motion. They could not determine what they were, but suspected they were men. They continued their journey, but did not directly approach the dark objects; they moved among the foothills that surrounded the plain, and kept under cover of the timber. As they went along they discerned the dark objects more plainly, and discovered that these were indeed human beings. They got among the foothills to one side of where the strangers were, and camped in the woods at night.
422. In spite of all the precautions taken by the travellers, they had been observed by the people of the plain, and at night two of the latter visited their camp. The visitors said they were Kĭltsói, or Kĭltsóidĭneʻ (People of the Bigelovia graveolens); that their tribe was numerous; that the plain in which they dwelt was extensive; and that they had watermelons getting ripe, with corn and other food, in their gardens. The people of the west concluded to remain here a while. The second night they had two more visitors, one of whom became enamored of a maiden among the wanderers, and asked for her in marriage. Her people refused him at first; but when he came the second night and begged for her again, they gave her to him. He stayed with her in the camp of her people as long as they remained in the valley, except the last two nights, when she went and stayed with his people. These gave an abundance of the produce of their fields to the wanderers, and the latter fared well. When the travellers were prepared to move, they implored the young husband to go with them, while he begged to have his wife remain with him in the valley. They argued long; but in the end the woman’s relations prevailed, and the Kĭltsói man joined them on their journey. In the mean time four other men of Kĭltsói had fallen in love with maidens of the wanderers, and asked for them in marriage. The migrating band refused to leave the girls behind, so the enamored young men left their kindred and joined the travellers. The Kĭltsói tried to persuade the others to dwell in their land forever, but without avail.