566. The Pueblos saw the empty basket swinging and waited, expecting to see the Navaho get back into it again. But when they had waited a good while and found he did not return they began to call to him as if he were a dear relation of theirs. “My son,” said the old men, “throw down those little eagles.” “My elder brother! My younger brother!” the young men shouted, “throw down those little eagles.” They kept up their clamor until nearly sunset; but they never moved the will of the Navaho. He sat in the cleft and never answered them, and when the sun set they ceased calling and went home.
567. In the cleft or cave, around the nest, four dead animals lay; to the east there was a fawn; to the south a hare; to the west the young of a Rocky Mountain sheep, and to the north a prairie-dog. From time to time, when the eaglets felt hungry, they would leave the nest and eat of the meat; but the Navaho did not touch it.
568. Early next day the Pueblo people returned and gathered in a great crowd at the foot of the cliff. They stayed there all day repeating their entreaties and promises, calling the Navaho by endearing terms, and displaying all kinds of tempting food to his gaze; but he heeded them not and spoke not.
569. They came early again on the third day, but they came in anger. They no longer called him by friendly names; they no longer made fair promises to him; but, instead, they shot fire-arrows at the eyry in hopes they would burn the Navaho out or set fire to the nest and compel him to throw it and the eaglets down. But he remained watchful and active, and whenever a fire-arrow entered the cave he seized it quickly and threw it out. Then they abused him and reviled him, and called him bad names until sunset, when again they went home.
570. They came again on the fourth day and acted as they had done on the previous day; but they did not succeed in making the Navaho throw down the little eagles. He spoke to the birds, saying: “Can you not help me?” They rose in the nest, shook their wings, and threw out many little feathers, which fell on the people below. The Navaho thought the birds must be scattering disease on his enemies. When the latter left at sunset they said: “Now we shall leave you where you are, to die of hunger and thirst.” He was then altogether three nights and nearly four days in the cave. For two days the Pueblos had coaxed and flattered him; for two days they had cursed and reviled him, and at the end of the fourth day they went home and left him in the cave to die.
571. When his tormentors were gone he sat in the cave hungry and thirsty, weak and despairing, till the night fell. Soon after dark he heard a great rushing sound which approached from one side of the entrance to the cave, roared a moment in front, and then grew faint in the distance at the other side. Thus four times the sound came and went, growing louder each time it passed, and at length the male Eagle lit on the eyry. Soon the sounds were repeated, and the female bird, the mother of the eaglets, alighted. Turning at once toward the Navaho, she said: “Greeting, my child! Thanks, my child! You have not thrown down your younger brother, Donikí.”[285] The male Eagle repeated the same words. They addressed the Navaho by the name of Donikí, but afterwards they named him Kinníki, after the chief of all the Eagles in the sky. He only replied to the Eagles: “I am hungry. I am thirsty.”
572. The male Eagle opened his sash and took out a small white cotton cloth which contained a little corn meal, and he took out a small bowl of white shell no bigger than the palm of the hand. When the Indian saw this he said: “Give me water first, for I am famishing with thirst.” “No,” replied the Eagle; “eat first and then you shall have something to drink.” The Eagle then drew forth from among his tail feathers a small plant called eltíndzakas,[252] which has many joints and grows near streams. The joints were all filled with water. The Eagle mixed a little of the water with some of the meal in the shell and handed the mixture to the Navaho. The latter ate and ate, until he was satisfied, but he could not diminish in the least the contents of the shell vessel. When he was done eating there was as much in the cup as there was when he began. He handed it back to the Eagle, the latter emptied it with one sweep of his finger, and it remained empty. Then the Eagle put the jointed plant to the Navaho’s lips as if it were a wicker bottle, and the Indian drank his fill.
573. On the previous nights, while lying in the cave, the Navaho had slept between the eaglets in the nest to keep himself warm and shelter himself from the wind, and this plan had been of some help to him; but on this night the great Eagles slept one on each side of him, and he felt as warm as if he had slept among robes of fur. Before the Eagles lay down to sleep each took off his robe of plumes, which formed a single garment, opening in front, and revealed a form like that of a human being.
574. The Navaho slept well that night and did not waken till he heard a voice calling from the top of the cliff: “Where are you? The day has dawned. It is growing late. Why are you not abroad already?” At the sound of this voice the Eagles woke too and put on their robes of plumage. Presently a great number of birds were seen flying before the opening of the cave and others were heard calling to one another on the rock overhead. There were many kinds of Eagles and Hawks in the throng. Some of all the large birds of prey were there. Those on top of the rock sang:—
Kinnakíye, there he sits.