The Black Panther of the Navaho

by Warren H. Miller

Later came the young men of the tribe, to look in and study the paintings. It was as good as the Iliad was to the Greeks, thought Sid,—an easily read symbolism of Navaho heroes and gods that was being passed down to the younger generation in this way.

Then every one trooped out to the inclosure around the brush pile. Just at dusk the qcali (medicine chanter) stationed himself to one side and began the chant of the legend of Dsilyi. Immediately torches were set to the wood, and great roaring flames forty feet high swept up into the night. The heat was so intense that the boys had to shield their faces with their buckskin gloves, but into the narrow ring between them and the fire dashed a band of twenty young men headed by Niltci. They were daubed all over with white clay, but it seemed beyond the power of human endurance for anyone to remain there a moment. Each youth bore in his hand a wand tipped with eagle down, representing snowflakes. Writhing and twisting, they advanced to the flames, their object being to burn the down to balls of red cinders, while the qcali chanted the story of how the gods changed the snowflakes to mud balls and pelted the Utes with them when Dsilyi was surrounded and nearly overpowered by his enemies. The performers lashed their way toward the fire, their long hair singed and smoking, their eyelids scorched and their faces streaming sweat. Niltci wriggled along the ground like a lizard, his prayer stick advanced toward the fire, his back tortured by the blistering heat. So eager was he to do his part well that he overdid it, for, when the others arose, whirling their wands with red-hot cinders at the ends, his was burned off and showed only a tiny point of fire.

At this a grunt of disapproval ran around the spectators and accusing fingers pointed at him. Then, at a certain measure in the chant all the wands blossomed into snowballs again, a clever trick done by a string through a hole near the end and a second ball of down concealed in the hand. All but Niltci’s! His wand end was burned off, string and all. A shout of rage greeted him as he stood irresolute, the others dancing about, waving their prayer sticks. Then the performers ran out of the inclosure, and the first of the legend plays was finished.

A muttering and murmuring ran around the circle of Navahos. It looked bad for the poor youth, already. Sid and Scotty whispered together, wondering how they were going to get in touch with him if matters grew any worse. They had not yet formed a plan, when the qcali started chanting again and two old chiefs of the tribe danced in, dressed in the ceremonial costumes of the Plumed Arrow-Swallowers. The leader was Neyani, and, as they watched him closely, the boys could detect a nervousness in all his movements. The honor of his family was at stake, now, since Niltci had bungled his part, for the omens were going against him and his. The qcali sang the story of how Dsilyi went to the Rainbow Hogan of the Butterfly Woman, where the Plumed Arrow-Swallowers put his feet on the white lightnings and gave him command of the rains. At this climax of the mystery play he suddenly stopped chanting, while Neyani and the other chief halted and raised their arrows up vertically. The spectators held their breath. Slowly, inch by inch, the long arrows disappeared down the throats of the performers. To anyone who did not know that the arrows were made of collapsible reeds, the illusion of swallowing them was complete.

But Neyani, in the eagerness of his grasp, had somehow bent his arrow. By no force of self-torture could he make it go down further! Stubbornly it stuck, while a mighty growl rose from all the Navaho watching him. A babel of voices burst out in accusations; fingers pointed, knives flashed out. Over near the chiefs Sid could see his father shaking his head anxiously, while Big John beside him fumbled at his gun holster.

Dramatically the qcali raised his arm and pointed, while a dead silence struck the throng motionless.

“Neyani—it is thou!” his voice rang out. “Behold the judgment of Dsilyi! Confess! Confess thou before the Navaho!” he declared in guttural Indian speech.

The boys could not understand a word of it, but his tones and actions were unmistakable. Equally significant were Neyani’s. He drew forth the arrow and dashed it on the ground. “Not I!—Not I!” his head shook in negation. “These years have never yet taken blame! This viper in my house, it is!” he yelled, turning to point at Niltci, who stood cowering without the inclosure.

“Ai!—We shall see!” exclaimed the qcali, significantly. He waved his arm for the final ceremony to begin, and then took up the legend of Dsilyi again, telling of his final defeat of the Utes. Once more Niltci’s band came charging in, this time beating each other on the backs with flaming torches, signifying the utter rout of the Utes by Dsilyi. Round and round the scorching inclosure they raced. The smell of singed hair and scorched flesh told that many a blanket would hide a sore back next morning! In the middle of the third round, Niltci, who was belaboring the youth in front of him with the eagerness of despair, tripped over a root and fell sprawling on the ground. Instantly the whole tribe rose as one man and swarmed over him. That last omen had been more than enough to damn him! Twenty hands grabbed for the poor unfortunate, while the boys shoved their way into the throng, eager to be of some help, yet not knowing what to do in the present fanatical mood of the Indians. Colonel Colvin beckoned vigorously for them to stand aside and keep out of it.

Niltci was dragged to his feet and hustled, amid the yelling of angry voices, to the nearest tree. Big John pranced over with a six-gun in each hand, about to wade into the whole crowd, regardless, but the Colonel grabbed him and forced his guns down. For the present there seemed no immediate danger, for buckskin thongs were being passed around Niltci instead of the rope which the cowman had usually seen produced by a frenzied mob. Then the Indians stood aside, waiting the judgment of the qcali.