470. The next day, after the hole was finished, was spent in making and inserting plugs. He moistened a lot of shredded cedar-bark and pounded it between stones so as to make a soft mass. He shoved a large piece of this in at the butt end and rammed it down to the tip end. In burning out the log, he had burned, where the tree branched, four holes which he did not need, and these he filled with plugs of the cedar-bark. He prepared another plug to be rammed into the butt from the inside, after he entered the log, and when this was finished he went home to his grandmother’s house, collecting wood-rats from his traps as he went.
471. The next morning his niece cooked several wood-rats and ground for him a good quantity—as much as could be held in two hands—of the seeds of tloʻtsózi (Sporobolus cryptandrus). This meal she put in a bag of wood-rat skins sewed together. Thus provided he went back to his log. He put the provisions into the hole and then proceeded to enter, in person, to see if the log was sound and the hole big enough. He entered, head foremost, and crawled inwards until half of his chest was in the log, when he heard a voice crying, “Wuʻhuʻhuʻhú!”[26] and he came out to see who called. He looked in every direction and examined the ground for tracks, but seeing no signs of any intruder he proceeded again to enter the log. This time he got in as far as his waist, when again he heard the cry of “Wuʻhuʻhuʻhú,” but louder and nearer than before. Again he came out of the log and looked around farther and more carefully than he did the first time, going in his search to the margin of the river; but he saw no one, found no tracks, and returned to his log. On the next trial he entered as far as his knees, when for the third time the cry sounded, and he crept out once more to find whence it came. He searched farther, longer, and more closely than on either of the previous occasions, but without success, and he went back to enter the log again. On the fourth trial, when he had entered as far as his feet, he heard the cry loud and near, and he felt some one shaking the log. He crept out for the fourth time and beheld Hastséyalti, the Talking God,[73] standing over him.
472. Hastséyalti did not speak at first, but told the man by signs that he must not get into the log, that he would surely be drowned if he did, and that he must go home. Then Hastséyalti walked off a distance from the log and motioned to the Navaho to come to him. When Natĭ′nĕsthani came near the god, the latter spoke, saying: “My grandchild, why are you doing all this work? Where do you intend to go with this log?” The man then told the god all his sad story, and ended by saying: “I am an outcast. I wish to get far away from my people. Take pity on me. Stop me not, but let me go in this log as far as the waters of the Old Age River (San Juan) will bear me.” Hastséyalti replied: “No. You must not attempt to go into that log. You will surely be drowned if you do. I shall not allow you.” Four times Natĭ′nĕsthani pleaded, and four times the god denied him. Then the god said: “Have you any precious stones?” “Yes,” replied the man. “Have you white shell beads? Have you turquoise?” and thus the god went on asking him, one by one, if he had all the original eighteen sacred things[202] that must be offered to the gods to gain their favor. To each of his questions the man replied “Yes,” although he had none of these things, and owned nothing but the rags that covered him. “It is well,” said the god. “You need not enter that log to make your journey. Go home and stay there for four nights. At daylight, after the fourth night, you may expect to see me again. Have yourself and your house clean and in order for my coming. Have the floor and all around the house swept carefully. Have the ashes taken out. Wash your body and your hair with yucca suds the night before I arrive, and bid your niece to wash herself also with yucca. I shall go off, now, and tell the other divine ones about you.”
473. As soon as he came home, Natĭ′nĕsthani told his niece what things he wanted (except the baskets and the sacred buckskins); but he did not tell her for what purpose he required them, and he asked her to steal them from their neighbors. This she did, a few things at a time, and during many visits. It took her three days to steal them all. On the evening of the third day, after they had washed themselves with the yucca suds, he told her about the baskets and the sacred buckskins which he needed. She went to the neighboring lodge and stole these articles, wrapping the baskets up in the buckskins. When she returned with her booty, he wrapped all the stolen goods up in the skins, put them away in the edge of the lodge, and lay down to rest. He was a good sleeper, and usually slept all night; but on this occasion he woke about midnight, and could not go to sleep again.
474. At dawn he heard, faintly, the distant “Wuʻhuʻhuʻhú” of Hastséyalti. At once he woke his grandmother, saying: “I hear a voice. The dĭgíni (holy ones, divine ones) are coming.” “You fool,” she replied. “Shut your mouth and go to sleep. They would never come to visit such poor people as we are,” and she fell asleep again. In a little while he heard the voice a second time, louder and nearer, and again he shook his grandmother and told her he heard the voices of the gods; but she still would not believe him, and slept again. The third time that he awoke her, when he heard the voices still more plainly, she remained awake, beginning to believe him. The fourth time the call sounded loud and clear, as if cried by one standing at the door. “Hear,” he said to his grandmother. “Is that not truly the voice of a divine one?” At last she believed him, and said in wonder: “Why should the dĭgíni come to visit us?”
475. Hastséyalti and Hastséhogan were at the door, standing on the rainbow on which they had travelled. The former made signs to the man, over the curtain which hung in the doorway, bidding him pull the curtain aside and come out. “Grandmother,” said the Navaho, “Hastséyalti calls me to him.” “It is well,” she answered. “Do as he bids you.” As he went out, bearing his bundle of sacrificial objects, he said: “I go with the divine ones, but I shall come back again to see you.” The niece had a pet turkey[203] that roosted on a tree near the lodge, Hastséyalti made signs to the Navaho to take the turkey along. The Navaho said: “My niece, the gods bid me take your turkey, and I would gladly do it, for I am going among strange people, where I shall be lonely. I love the bird; he would be company to me and remind me of my home. Yet I shall not take him against your will.” “Then you may have my turkey pet,” replied the niece. The old woman said to the god: “I shall be glad to have my grandchild back again. Will you let him return to us?” Hastséyalti only nodded his head. The gods turned the rainbow around sunwise, so that its head,[204] which formerly pointed to the door of the lodge, now pointed in a new direction. Hastséyalti got on the bow first. He made the Navaho get on behind him. Hastséhogan got on behind the man. “Shut your eyes,” commanded Hastséyalti, and the Navaho did as he was bidden.
476. In a moment Hastséyalti cried again: “Open your eyes.” The Navaho obeyed and found himself far away from his home at Tséʻtadi, where the dĭgíni dwelt. They led him into a house in the rock which was full of divine people. It was beautiful inside—the walls were covered with rock crystal, which gave forth a brilliant light. Hastséyalti ordered food brought for his visitor. The latter was handed a small earthen cup only so big (a circle made by the thumb and index finger joined at the tips) filled with mush. “What a poor meal to offer a stranger!” thought the Navaho, supposing he would finish it in one mouthful. But he ate, and ate, and ate, and ate, from the cup and could not empty it. When he had eaten till he was satisfied the little cup was as full as in the beginning.[205] He handed the cup, when he was done, back to Hastséyalti, who, with one sweep of his finger, emptied it, and it remained empty. The little cup was then filled with water and given to the guest to drink. He drank till his thirst was satisfied; but the cup was as full when he was done as it was when he began. He handed it again to Hastséyalti, who put it to his own lips and emptied it at a single swallow.
477. The gods opened the bundle of the Navaho and examined the contents to see if he had brought all they required, and they found he had done so. In the mean time he filled his pipe and lighted it. While he was smoking, the gods Nayénĕzgạni, Tóʻbadzĭstsíni, and Hastséoltoi[206] arrived from Toʻyĕ′tli and entered the house. Nayénĕzgạni said to the visitor: “I hear that you were found crawling into a hole which you had made in a log by burning. Why were you doing this?” In reply the Navaho told his whole story, as he had told it to Hastséyalti, and ended by saying: “I wished to go to Toʻyĕ′tli, where the rivers meet, or wherever else the waters would bear me. While I was trying to carry out this plan, my grandfather, Hastséyalti, found me and bade me not to go. For this reason only I gave my plan up and went home.” “Do you still wish to go to Toʻyĕ′tli?” said Nayénĕzgạni. “Yes,” said the Navaho, “I wish to go to Toʻyĕ′tli or as far down the San Juan as I can get.” “Then you shall go,” said the god.
478. Nayénĕzgạni went forth from the house and the other gods followed him. They went to a grove of spruce, and there picked out a tree of unusual size. They tied rainbow ropes to it, so that it might not fall with too great force and break in falling. Nayénĕzgạni and Toʻbadzĭstsíni cut it near the root with their great stone knives, and it fell to the north. Crooked Lightning struck the fallen tree and went through it from butt to tip. Straight Lightning struck it and went through it from tip to butt. Thus the hole was bored in the log, and this was done before the branches were cut away. The hole that Crooked Lightning bored was too crooked. Straight Lightning made it straight, but still it was too small. Black Wind was sent into the hole, and he made it larger, but not large enough. Blue Wind, Yellow Wind, and White Wind entered the hole, each in turn, and each, as he went through, made it a little larger. It was not until White Wind had done his work that the hole was big enough to contain the body of a man. Hastséyalti supplied a bowl of food, a vessel of water, and a white cloud for bedding. They wrapped the Navaho up in the cloud and put him into the log. They plugged the ends with clouds,—a black cloud in the butt and a blue cloud in the tip,—and charged him not to touch either of these cloudy plugs. When they got him into the log some one said: “How will he get light? How will he know when it is night and when it is day?” They bored two holes in the log, one on each side of his head, and they put in each hole, to make a window, a piece of rock crystal, which they pushed in so tightly that water could not leak in around it.
479. While some of the gods were preparing the log, others were getting the pet turkey ready for his journey, but they did this unknown to the Navaho. They put about his body black cloud, he-rain, black mist, and she-rain. They put under his wings white corn, yellow corn, blue corn, corn of mixed colors, squash seed, watermelon seed, muskmelon seed, gourd seed, and beans of all colors. These were the six gods who prepared the turkey: four of the Gánaskĭdi[207] from a place called Depéhahatil, one Hastséhogan from Tseʻgíhi,[165] and the Hastséhogan from Tséʻtadi,—the one who found the Navaho entering his cottonwood log and took him home to the house in the rocks.