[139.] I have recorded one story (but have heard of another) accounting for the origin of this dance; it is as follows: When Dsilyi‘ Neyáni visited the mountain of Bistcàgi, the home of Estsàn ¢igìni, these divine beings had for ornaments on their walls the sun and the moon. When the great mythic dance was given they were among the guests. They brought their wall decorations, and when the time for their alili came, they wore the sun and the moon on their backs when they danced.
[140.] The [Sixth dance], that of the standing arcs, was both picturesque and ingenious. The principal performers were eight in number, as usual with scanty clothing. Their hair fell loose and long over back and shoulders and each bore in front of him, held by both hands, a wooden arc, ornamented with eagle plumes. The ends of the arc (which was a full semicircle) showed tufts of piñon twigs, and they were evidently joined together by a slender string, which was invisible to the audience. Besides the eight principal actors, there was a rattler, a bearer of the groaning stick, and a chorus. While all were making the fourth circuit of the fire, frequent shouts of “Çòhe! Çòhe!” (Englished, Thòhay—“Stand! stand!” or “Stay! stay!”) were heard, the significance of which soon became apparent. When they stopped in the west, the eight character dancers first went through various quadrille-like figures, such as were witnessed in the third dance, and then knelt in two rows that faced one another. At a word from the rattler the man who was nearest to him
(whom I will call No. 1) arose, advanced to the man who knelt opposite to him (No. 2) with rapid, shuffling steps, and amid a chorus of “Thòhay! Thòhay!” placed his arc with caution upon the head of the latter. Although it was held in position by the friction of the piñon tufts at each ear and by the pressure of the ends of the arc, now drawn closer by the subtending string, it had the appearance of standing on the head without material support, and it is probable that many of the uninitiated believed that only the magic influence of the oft-repeated word “Thòhay” kept it in position. When the arc was secured in its place, No. 1 retreated with shuffling steps to his former position and fell on his knees again. Immediately No. 2 advanced and placed the arc which he held in his hand on the head of No. 1. Thus each in turn placed his arc on the head of the one who knelt opposite to him until all wore their beautiful halo-like headdresses. Then, holding their heads rigidly erect, lest their arcs should fall, the eight kneeling figures began a splendid, well timed chant, which was accentuated by the clapping of hands and joined in by the chorus. When the chant was done the rattler addressed the arc bearers, warning them to be careful; so they cautiously arose from their knees and shuffled with stiffened spines out of the corral, preceded by the choristers. This dance was repeated after the second performance of the fifth dance.
[141.] [Seventh dance.] The arc bearers had scarcely disappeared when another troupe entered the circle, the buffalo horn announcing their coming. A man with a whizzer led the procession. The choristers, in ordinary dress, were thirteen in number. The principal dancers were but two; they wore the usual sash and belt; the uncovered skin was painted white; they had on long blue woolen stockings of Navajo make and moccasins. Each bore a slender wand of two triangles of reeds adorned at the corners with pendant plumes. They saluted the fire as they danced around it. They halted in the west, where the choristers sat down, and the two wand bearers danced for three minutes in a lively and graceful manner, to the music of the whizzer, the rattle, the choristers, and the drum of the orchestra. These returned twice more, making some variation in their performance each time. In the second act the rattler brought in under his arm a basket containing yucca leaves, and a prayer was said to the sun. It is possible that this dance was but a preliminary part of the eighth dance, but it must be described as a separate alili.
[142.] [Eighth dance.] In this there were sixteen performers, in ordinary Navajo dress. One of these bore the whizzer and led the procession; another, who came in the center of the line, carried a hewn plank, or puncheon, about 12 feet long and 4 inches broad, painted with spots and decorated with tufts of piñon branchlets and with eagle plumes; immediately behind the bearer of the plank walked a man who had in a basket an effigy of the sun, formed of a small round mirror and a number of radiating scarlet plumes. Having walked around the fire as usual,
the whole party gathered in the west in a close circle, which completely excluded from the sight of the audience the operations of the actors. Singing, rattling, and cries of “Thòhay!” were heard. In a few minutes the circle opened and the hewn plank, standing upright on a small Navajo blanket, without any apparent prop or support, was disclosed to view. At the base of the plank was the basket holding the figure of the sun. Singing was continued and so were the uproarious cries of “Thòhay”—cries anxious, cries appealing, cries commanding—while the bearer of the rattle stood facing the pole and rattling vigorously at it. At length, seemingly in obedience to all this clamor, the solar image left the basket and slowly, falteringly, totteringly, ascended the plank to within a few inches of the top. Here it stopped a moment and then descended in the same manner in which it rose. Once more was it made to rise and set, when the circle of dancers again closed, the plank, sun, and basket were taken in custody, and the dancers departed. Taking into consideration the limited knowledge and rude implements of the originators (for this alili is not of modern origin), this was a well performed trick. The means used for supporting the pole and pulling up the sun could not be detected. The dancers formed a semicircle nearly ten feet distant from the pole and the light of the central fire shone brightly upon all.
[143.] [Ninth dance.] It was after 1 o’clock in the morning when the dance of the hoshkàwn (Yucca baccata) began. ([Fig. 57]. See paragraph [3].) The ceremony was conducted in the first part by twenty-two persons in ordinary dress. One bore, exposed to view, a natural root of yucca, crowned with its cluster of root leaves, which remain green all winter. The rest bore in their hands wands of piñon. What other properties they may have had concealed under their blankets the reader will soon be able to conjecture. On their third journey around the fire they halted in the west and formed a close circle for the purpose of concealing their operations, such as was made in the eighth dance. After a minute spent in singing and many repetitions of “Thòhay,” the circle opened, disclosing to our view the yucca root planted in the sand. Again the circle closed; again the song, the rattle, and the chorus of “Thòhay” were heard, and when the circle was opened the second time an excellent counterfeit of the small budding flower stalk was seen amid the fascicle of leaves. A third time the dancers formed their ring of occultation; after the song and din had continued for a few seconds the circle parted for the third time, when, all out of season, the great panicle of creamy yucca flowers gleamed in the firelight. The previous transformations of the yucca had been greeted with approving shouts and laughter; the blossoms were hailed with storms of applause. For the fourth and last time the circle closed, and when again it opened the blossoms had disappeared and the great, dark green fruit hung in abundance from the pedicels. When the last transformation was completed the dancers
went once more around the fire and departed, leaving the fruitful yucca behind them.
| Fig. 57. Yucca baccata. |
[144.] In a moment after they had disappeared the form of one personating an aged, stupid, short sighted, decrepit man was seen to emerge slowly from among the crowd of spectators in the east. He was dressed in an old and woefully ragged suit and wore a high, pointed hat. His face was whitened and he bore a short, crooked, wooden bow and a few crooked, ill made arrows. His mere appearance provoked the “stoic” audience to screams of laughter, and his subsequent “low comedy business,” which excelled much that I have seen on the civilized stage, failed not to meet with uproarious demonstrations of approval. Slowly advancing as he enacted his part, he in time reached the place