MYTHS AND LEGENDS OF OUR OWN LAND By Charles M. Skinner Vol. 7. ALONG THE ROCKY RANGE CONTENTS: Over the DivideThe Phantom Train of Marshall PassThe River of Lost SoulsRiders of the DesertThe Division of Two TribesBesieged by StarvationA Yellowstone TragedyThe Broad HouseThe Death WaltzThe Flood at Santa FeGoddess of SaltThe Coming of the NavajosThe Ark on Superstition MountainsThe Pale Faced LightningThe Weird Sentinel at Squaw PeakSacrifice of the ToltecsTa-Vwots Conquers the SunThe Comanche RiderHorned Toad and GiantsThe Spider TowerThe Lost TrailA Battle in the Air ALONG THE ROCKY RANGE OVER THE DIVIDE The hope of finding El Dorado, that animated the adventurous Spaniardswho made the earlier recorded voyages to America, lived in the souls ofWestern mountaineers as late as the first half of this century. Amplediscoveries of gold in California and Colorado gave color to the beliefin this land of riches, and hunger, illness, privation, the persecutionsof savages, and death itself were braved in the effort to reach andunlock the treasure caves of earth. Until mining became a systematicbusiness, prospectors were dissatisfied with the smaller deposits ofprecious metal and dreamed of golden hills farther away. The unknownregions beyond the Rocky Mountains were filled by imagination withmagnificent possibilities, and it was the hope of the miner to penetratethe wilderness, "strike it rich, " and "make his pile. " Thus, the region indicated as "over the divide" meaning the continentalwater-shed-or "over the range" came to signify not a delectable landalone, but a sum of delectable conditions, and, ultimately, the goal ofposthumous delights. Hence the phrase in use to-day: "Poor Bill! He'sgone over the divide. " The Indian's name of heaven--"the happy hunting ground"--is of similarsignificance, and among many of the tribes it had a definite place in thefar Southwest, to which their souls were carried on cobweb floats. Justbefore reaching it they came to a dark river that had to be crossed on alog. If they had been good in the world of the living they suffered noharm from the rocks and surges, but if their lives had been evil theynever reached the farther shore, for they were swept into a place ofwhirlpools, where, for ever and ever, they were tossed on the torrentamid thousands of clinging, stinging snakes and shoals of putrid fish. From the far North and East the Milky Way was the star-path across thedivide. THE PHANTOM TRAIN OF MARSHALL PASS Soon after the rails were laid across Marshall Pass, Colorado, where theygo over a height of twelve thousand feet above the sea, an old engineernamed Nelson Edwards was assigned to a train. He had travelled the roadwith passengers behind him for a couple of months and met with noaccident, but one night as he set off for the divide he fancied that thesilence was deeper, the canon darker, and the air frostier than usual. Adefective rail and an unsafe bridge had been reported that morning, andhe began the long ascent with some misgivings. As he left the first lineof snow-sheds he heard a whistle echoing somewhere among the ice androcks, and at the same time the gong in his cab sounded and he appliedthe brakes. The conductor ran up and asked, "What did you stop for?" "Why did you signal to stop?" "I gave no signal. Pull her open and light out, for we've got to pass No. 19 at the switches, and there's a wild train climbing behind us. " Edwards drew the lever, sanded the track, and the heavy train got underway again; but the whistles behind grew nearer, sounding danger-signals, and in turning a curve he looked out and saw a train speeding after himat a rate that must bring it against the rear of his own train ifsomething were not done. He broke into a sweat as he pulled the throttlewide open and lunged into a snow-bank. The cars lurched, but the snow wasflung off and the train went roaring through another shed. Here was wherethe defective rail had been reported. No matter. A greater danger waspressing behind. The fireman piled on coal until his clothes were wetwith perspiration, and fire belched from the smoke-stack. The passengers, too, having been warned of their peril, had dressed themselves and wereanxiously watching at the windows, for talk went among them that a madengineer was driving the train behind. As Edwards crossed the summit he shut off steam and surrendered his trainto the force of gravity. Looking back, he could see by the faint lightfrom new snow that the driving-wheels on the rear engine were bigger thanhis own, and that a tall figure stood atop of the cars and gesturedfranticly. At a sharp turn in the track he found the other train but twohundred yards behind, and as he swept around the curve the engineer whowas chasing him leaned from his window and laughed. His face was likedough. Snow was falling and had begun to drift in the hollows, but thetrains flew on; bridges shook as they thundered across them; windscreamed in the ears of the passengers; the suspected bridge was reached;Edwards's heart was in his throat, but he seemed to clear the chasm by abound. Now the switch was in sight, but No. 19 was not there, and as thebrakes were freed the train shot by like a flash. Suddenly a red lightappeared ahead, swinging to and fro on the track. As well be run intobehind as to crash into an obstacle ahead. He heard the whistle of thepursuing locomotive yelp behind him, yet he reversed the lever and put onbrakes, and for a few seconds lived in a hell of dread. Hearing no sound, now, he glanced back and saw the wild train almost leapupon his own--yet just before it touched it the track seemed to spread, the engine toppled from the bank, the whole train rolled into the canonand vanished. Edwards shuddered and listened. No cry of hurt men or hissof steam came up--nothing but the groan of the wind as it rolled throughthe black depth. The lantern ahead, too, had disappeared. Now anotherdanger impended, and there was no time to linger, for No. 19 might be onits way ahead if he did not reach the second switch before it moved out. The mad run was resumed and the second switch was reached in time. AsEdwards was finishing the run to Green River, which he reached in themorning ahead of schedule, he found written in the frost of hiscab-window these words: "A frate train was recked as yu saw. Now that yusaw it yu will never make another run. The enjine was not ounder controland four sexshun men wor killed. If yu ever run on this road again yuwill be recked. " Edwards quit the road that morning, and returning toDenver found employment on the Union Pacific. No wreck was discoverednext day in the canon where he had seen it, nor has the phantom trainbeen in chase of any engineer who has crossed the divide since thatnight. THE RIVER OF LOST SOULS In the days when Spain ruled the Western country an infantry regiment wasordered out from Santa Fe to open communication with Florida and to carrya chest of gold for the payment of the soldiers in St. Augustine. The menwintered on the site of Trinidad, comforted by the society of their wivesand families, and in the spring the women and camp-followers weredirected to remain, while the troops set forward along the canon of thePurgatoire--neither to reach their destination nor to return. Did theyattempt to descend the stream in boats and go to wreck among the rapids?Were they swept into eternity by a freshet? Did they lose theirprovisions and starve in the desert? Did the Indians revenge themselvesfor brutality and selfishness by slaying them at night or from an ambush?Were they killed by banditti? Did they sink in the quicksands that ledthe river into subterranean canals? None will ever know, perhaps; butmany years afterward a savage told a priest in Santa Fe that the regimenthad been surrounded by Indians, as Custer's command was in Montana, andslain, to a man. Seeing that escape was hopeless, the colonel--so saidthe narrator--had buried the gold that he was transporting. Thousands ofdoubloons are believed to be hidden in the canon, and thousands ofdollars have been spent in searching for them. After weeks had lapsed into months and months into years, and no wordcame of the missing regiment, the priests named the river El Rio de lasAnimas Perdidas--the River of Lost Souls. The echoing of the flood as ittumbled through the canon was said to be the lamentation of the troopers. French trappers softened the suggestion of the Spanish title when theyrenamed it Purgatoire, and--"bullwhackers" teaming across the plainstwisted the French title into the unmeaning "Picketwire. " ButAmerico-Spaniards keep alive the tradition, and the prayers of many haveascended and do ascend for the succor of those who vanished so strangelyin the valley of Las Animas. RIDERS OF THE DESERT Among the sandstone columns of the Colorado foot-hills stood the lodge ofTa-in-ga-ro (First Falling Thunder). Though swift in the chase and bravein battle, he seldom went abroad with neighboring tribes, for he washappy in the society of his wife, Zecana (The Bird). To sell beaver andwild sheep-skins he often went with her to a post on the New Mexicofrontier, and it was while at this fort that a Spanish trader saw thepretty Zecana, and, determining to win her, sent the Indian on a missioninto the heart of the mountains, with a promise that she should restsecurely at the settlement until his return. On his way Ta-in-ga-ro stopped at the spring in Manitou, and afterdrinking he cast beads and wampum into the well in oblation to its deity. The offering was flung out by the bubbling water, and as he stared, distressed at this unwelcome omen, a picture formed on the surface--theanguished features of Zecana. He ran to his horse, galloped away, andpaused neither for rest nor food till he had reached the post. TheSpaniard was gone. Turning, then, to the foot-hills, he urged his jadedhorse toward his cabin, and arrived, one bright morning, flushed with joyto see his wife before his door and to hear her singing. When he spokeshe looked up carelessly and resumed her song. She did not know him. Reason was gone. It was his cry of rage and grief, when, from her babbling, Ta-in-ga-rolearned of the Spaniard's treachery, that brought the wandering mind backfor an instant. Looking at her husband with a strange surprise and pain, she plucked the knife from his belt. Before he could realize her purposeshe had thrust it into her heart and had fallen dead at his feet. Forhours he stood there in stupefaction, but the stolid Indian nature soonresumed its sway. Setting his lodge in order and feeding his horse, hewrapped Zecana's body in a buffalo-skin, then slept through the night insheer exhaustion. Two nights afterward the Indian stood in the shadow ofa room in the trading fort and watched the Spaniard as he lay asleep. Nobody knew how he passed the guard. In the small hours the traitor was roused by the strain of a belt acrosshis mouth, and leaping up to fling it off, he felt the tug of a lariat athis throat. His struggles were useless. In a few moments he was boundhand and foot. Lifting some strips of bark from the low roof, Ta-in-ga-ropushed the Spaniard through the aperture and lowered him to the ground, outside the enclosure of which the house formed part. Then, at the embersof a fire he kindled an arrow wrapped in the down of cottonwood and shotit into a haystack in the court. In the smoke and confusion thus made, his own escape was unseen, save by a guardsman drowsily pacing his beatoutside the square of buildings. The sentinel would have given the alarm, had not the Indian pounced on him like a panther and laid him dead with aknife-stroke. Catching up the Spaniard, the Indian tied him to the back of a horse andset off beside him. Thus they journeyed until they came to his lodge, where he released the trader from his horse and fed him, but kept hishands and legs hard bound, and paid no attention to his questions and hisappeals for liberty. Tying a strong and half-trained horse at his door, Ta-in-ga-ro placed a wooden saddle on him, cut off the Spaniard'sclothes, and put him astride of the beast. After he had fastened him intohis seat with deer-skin thongs, he took Zecana's corpse from its wrappingand tied it to his prisoner, face to face. Then, loosing the horse, which was plunging and snorting to be rid of hisburden, he saw him rush off on the limitless desert, and followed on hisown strong steed. At first the Spaniard fainted; on recovering hestruggled to get free, but his struggles only brought him closer to theghastly thing before him. Noon-day heat covered him with sweat and blooddripped from the wales that the cords cut in his flesh. At night he frozeuncovered in the chill air, and, if for an instant his eyes closed insleep, a curse, yelled into his ear, awoke him. Ta-inga-ro gave him drinkfrom time to time, but never food, and so they rode for days. At lasthunger overbore his loathing, and sinking his teeth into the dead fleshbefore him he feasted like a ghoul. Still they rode, Ta-in-ga-ro never far from his victim, on whosesufferings he gloated, until a gibbering cry told him that the Spaniardhad gone mad. Then, and not till then, he drew rein and watched the horsewith its dead and maniac riders until they disappeared in the yellowvoid. He turned away, but nevermore sought his home. To and fro, throughthe brush, the sand, the alkali of the plains, go the ghost riders, forever. THE DIVISION OF TWO TRIBES When white men first penetrated the Western wilderness of America theyfound the tribes of Shoshone and Comanche at odds, and it is a legend ofthe springs of Manitou that their differences began there. This "Saratogaof the West, " nestling in a hollow of the foot-hills in the shadow of thenoble peak of Pike, was in old days common meeting-ground for severalfamilies of red men. Councils were held in safety there, for no Indiandared provoke the wrath of the manitou whose breath sparkled in the"medicine waters. " None? Yes, one. For, centuries ago a Shoshone and aComanche stopped here on their return from a hunt to drink. The Shoshonehad been successful; the Comanche was empty handed and ill tempered, jealous of the other's skill and fortune. Flinging down the fat deer thathe was bearing homeward on his shoulders, the Shoshone bent over thespring of sweet water, and, after pouring a handful of it on the ground, as a libation to the spirit of the place, he put his lips to the surface. It needed but faint pretext for his companion to begin a quarrel, and hedid so in this fashion: "Why does a stranger drink at the spring-headwhen one of the owners of the fountain contents himself with itsoverflow? How does a Shoshone dare to drink above me?" The other replied, "The Great Spirit places the water at the spring thathis children may drink it undefiled. I am Ausaqua, chief of Shoshones, and I drink at the head-water. Shoshone and Comanche are brothers. Letthem drink together. " "No. The Shoshone pays tribute to the Comanche, and Wacomish leads thatnation to war. He is chief of the Shoshone as he is of his own people. " "Wacomish lies. His tongue is forked, like the snake's. His heart isblack. When the Great Spirit made his children he said not to one, 'Drinkhere, ' and to another, 'Drink there, ' but gave water that all mightdrink. " The other made no answer, but as Ausaqua stooped toward the bubblingsurface Wacomish crept behind him, flung himself against the hunter, forced his head beneath the water, and held him there until he wasdrowned. As he pulled the dead body from the spring the water becameagitated, and from the bubbles arose a vapor that gradually assumed theform of a venerable Indian, with long white locks, in whom the murdererrecognized Waukauga, father of the Shoshone and Comanche nation, and aman whose heroism and goodness made his name revered in both thesetribes. The face of the patriarch was dark with wrath, and he cried, interrible tones, "Accursed of my race! This day thou hast severed themightiest nation in the world. The blood of the brave Shoshone appealsfor vengeance. May the water of thy tribe be rank and bitter in theirthroats. " Then, whirling up an elk-horn club, he brought it full on the head of thewretched man, who cringed before him. The murderer's head was burst openand he tumbled lifeless into the spring, that to this day is nauseous, while, to perpetuate the memory of Ausaqua, the manitou smote aneighboring rock, and from it gushed a fountain of delicious water. Thebodies were found, and the partisans of both the hunters began on thatday a long and destructive warfare, in which other tribes became involveduntil mountaineers were arrayed against plainsmen through all thatregion. BESIEGED BY STARVATION A hundred years before the white men set up their trading-posts on theArkansas and Platte, a band of mountain hunters made a descent on whatthey took to be a small company of plainsmen, but who proved to be theenemy in force, and who, in turn, drove the Utes--for the aggressors wereof that tribe--into the hills. Most of them took refuge on a castellatedrock on the south side of Bowlder Canon, where they held their own forseveral days, rolling down huge rocks whenever an attempt was made tostorm the height; wherefore, seeing that the mountain was too secure astronghold to be taken in that way, the besiegers camped about it, and, by cutting off the access of the beleaguered party to game and to water, starved every one of them to death. This, too, is the story of Starved Rock, on Illinois River, near Ottawa, Illinois. It is a sandstone bluff, one hundred and fifty feet high, witha slope on one side only. Its summit is an acre in extent, and at theorder of La Salle his Indian lieutenant, Tonti, fortified the place andmounted a small cannon on it. He died there afterward. After the killingof Pontiac at Cahokia, some of his people--the Ottawas--charged the crimeagainst their enemies, the Illinois. The latter, being few in number, entrenched themselves on Starved Rock, where they kept their enemies atbay, but were unable to break their line to reach supplies. For a timethey secured water by letting down bark vessels into the river at the endof thongs, but the Ottawas came under the bluff in canoes and cut thecords. Unwilling to surrender, the Illinois remained there until all haddied of starvation. Bones and relics are found occasionally at the top. There is yet another place of which a similar narrative isextant--namely, Crow Butte, Nebraska, which is two hundred feet high andvertical on all sides save one, but on that a horseman may ascend insafety. A company of Crows, flying from the Sioux, gained this citadeland defended the path so vigorously that their pursuers gave over allattempts to follow them, but squatted calmly on the plain and proceededto starve them out. On a dark night the besieged killed some of theirponies and made lariats of their hides, by which they reached the groundon the unguarded side of the rock. They slid down, one at a time, andmade off all but one aged Indian, who stayed to keep the camp-fireburning as a blind. He went down and surrendered on the next day, but theSioux, respecting his age and loyalty, gave him freedom. A YELLOWSTONE TRAGEDY Although the Indians feared the geyser basins of the upper Yellowstonecountry, believing the hissing and thundering to be voices of evilspirits, they regarded the mountains at the head of the river as thecrest of the world, and whoso gained their summits could see the happyhunting-grounds below, brightened with the homes of the blessed. Theyloved this land in which their fathers had hunted, and when they weredriven back from the settlements the Crows took refuge in what is nowYellowstone Park. Even here the soldiers pursued them, intent on avengingacts that the red men had committed while suffering under the sting oftyranny and wrong. A mere remnant of the fugitive band gathered at thehead of that mighty rift in the earth known as the Grand Canon of theYellowstone--a remnant that had succeeded in escaping the bullets of thesoldiery, --and with Spartan courage they resolved to die rather than betaken and carried away to pine in a distant prison. They built a raft andplaced it on the river at the foot of the upper fall, and for a few daysthey enjoyed the plenty and peace that were their privilege in formertimes. A short-lived peace, however, for one morning they are aroused bythe crack of rifles--the troops are upon them. Boarding their raft they thrust it toward the middle of the stream, perhaps with the idea of gaining the opposite shore, but, if such istheir intent, it is thwarted by the rapidity of the current. A few amongthem have guns, that they discharge with slight effect at the troops, whostand wondering on the shore. The soldiers forbear to fire, and watch, with something like dread, the descent of the raft as it passes into thecurrent, and, with many a turn and pitch, whirls on faster and faster. The death-song rises triumphant above the lash of the waves and thatdistant but awful booming that is to be heard in the canon. Every red manhas his face turned toward the foe with a look of defiance, and the tonesof the death-chant have in them something of mockery no less than hateand vaunting. The raft is now between the jaws of rock that yawn so hungrily. Beyondand below are vast walls, shelving toward the floor of the gulf athousand feet beneath--their brilliant colors shining in the sun ofmorning that sheds as peaceful a light on wood and hill as if there wereno such thing as brother hunting brother in this free land of ours. Theraft is galloping through the foam like a racehorse, and, hardened as thesoldiers are, they cannot repress a shudder as they see the fate that thesavages have chosen for themselves. Now the brink is reached. The rafttips toward the gulf, and with a cry of triumph the red men are launchedover the cataract, into the bellowing chasm, where the mists weep foreveron the rocks and mosses. THE BROAD HOUSE Down in the canon of Chaco, New Mexico, stands a building evidentlycoeval with those of the cliff dwellers, that is still in goodpreservation and is called the Broad House. When Noqoilpi, the gamblinggod, came on earth he strayed into this canon, and, finding the Moquis aprosperous people, he envied them and resolved to win their property. Todo that he laid off a race-track at the bottom of the ravine andchallenged them to meet him there in games of chance and strength andskill. They accepted his challenge, and, as he could turn luck to his ownside, he soon won not their property alone, but their women and children, and, finally, some of the men themselves. In his greed he had acquired more than he wanted, and as the captiveswere a burden to him he offered to make a partial restoration if thepeople would build this house for him. They did so and he gave up some ofthe men and women. The other gods looked with disapproval on thisperformance, however, and they agreed to give the wind god power todefeat him, for, now that he had secured his house, he had gone togambling again. The wind god, in disguise as a Moqui, issued a challenge, and the animals agreed to help him. When the contest in tree-pulling took place the wind god pulled up alarge tree while Noqoilpi was unable to stir a smaller one. That wasbecause the beavers had cut the roots of the larger. In the ball contestNoqoilpi drove the ball nearly to the bounds, but the wind god sent hisfar beyond, for wrapped loosely in it was a bird that freed itself beforetouching the ground and flew away. In brief, Noqoilpi was beaten at everypoint and the remaining captives left him, with jeers, and returned totheir people. The gambler cursed and raged until the wind god seized him, fitted him toa bow, like an arrow, and shot him into the sky. He flew far out ofsight, and presently came to the long row of stone houses where the manlives who carries the moon. He pitied the gambler and made new animalsand people for him and let him down to the earth in old Mexico, the moonpeople becoming Mexicans. He returned to his old haunts and camenorthward, building towns along the Rio Grande until he had passed thesite of Santa Fe, when his people urged him to go back, and after hisreturn they made him their god--Nakai Cigini. THE DEATH WALTZ Years ago, when all beyond the Missouri was a waste, the military post atFort Union, New Mexico, was the only spot for miles around where any ofthe graces of social life could be discovered. Among the ladies at thepost was a certain gay young woman, the sister-in-law of a captain, whoenjoyed the variety and spice of adventure to be found there, andenjoyed, too, the homage that the young officers paid to her, for womenwho could be loved or liked were not many in that wild country. A younglieutenant proved especially susceptible to her charms, and devotedhimself to her in the hope that he should ultimately win her hand. Hisexperience with the world was not large enough to enable him todistinguish between the womanly woman and the coquette. One day messengers came dashing into the fort with news of an Apacheoutbreak, and a detachment was ordered out to chase and punish themarauding Indians. The lieutenant was put in command of the expedition, but before starting he confided his love to the young woman, who not onlyacknowledged that she returned his affection, but promised that if thefortune of war deprived him of life she would never marry another. As hebade her good-by he was heard to say, "That is well. Nobody else shallhave you. I will come back and make my claim. " In a few days the detachment came back, but the lieutenant was missing. It was noticed that the bride-elect grieved but little for him, andnobody was surprised when she announced her intention of marrying a youngman from the East. The wedding-day arrived. All was gayety at the post, and in the evening the mess-room was decorated for a ball. As the dancewas in full swing a door flew open with a bang, letting in a draught ofair that made the candles burn dim, and a strange cry, unlike that of anyhuman creature, sounded through the house. All eyes turned to the door. In it stood the swollen body of a dead man dressed in the stained uniformof an officer. The temple was marked by a hatchet-gash, the scalp wasgone, the eyes were wide open and, burned with a terrible light. Walking to the bride the body drew her from the arms of her husband, who, like the rest of the company, stood as in a trance, without the power ofmotion, and clasping her to its bosom began a waltz. The musicians, whoafterward declared that they did not know what they were doing, struck upa demoniac dance, and the couple spun around and around, the womangrowing paler and paler, until at last the fallen jaw and staring eyesshowed that life was also extinct in her. The dead man allowed her tosink to the floor, stood over her for a moment, wrung his hands as hesounded his fearful cry again, then vanished through the door. A few daysafter, a troop of soldiers who had been to the scene of the Apacheencounter returned with the body of the lieutenant. THE FLOOD AT SANTA FE Many are the scenes of religious miracles in this country, althoughFrench Canada and old Mexico boast of more. So late as the prosaic yearof 1889 the Virgin was seen to descend into the streets of Johnstown, Pennsylvania, to save her image on the Catholic church in that place, whenit was swept by a deluge in which hundreds of persons perished. It wasthe wrath of the Madonna that caused just such a flood in New Mexico longyears ago. There is in the old Church of Our Lady of Guadalupe, in SantaFe, a picture that commemorates the appearance of the Virgin to JuanDiego, an Indian in Guadalupe, old Mexico, in the sixteenth century. Shecommanded that a chapel should be built for her, but the bishop of thediocese declared that the man had been dreaming and told him to go away. The Virgin came to the Indian again, and still the bishop declared thathe had no evidence of the truth of what he said. A third time thesupernatural visitor appeared, and told Juan to climb a certain difficultmountain, pick the flowers he would find there, and take them to thebishop. After a long and dangerous climb they were found, to the Indian'samazement, growing in the snow. He filled his blanket with them andreturned to the episcopal residence, but when he opened the folds beforethe dignitary, he was more amazed to find not flowers, but a glowingpicture painted on his blanket. It hangs now in Guadalupe, but isduplicated in Santa Fe, where a statue of the Virgin is also kept. Thesetreasures are greatly prized and are resorted to in time of illness andthreatened disaster, the statue being taken through the streets inprocession when the rainy season is due. Collections of money are thenmade and prayers are put up for rain, to which appeals the Virgin makesprompt response, the priests pointing triumphantly to the results oftheir intercession. One year, however, the rain did not begin on time, though services were almost constantly continued before the sacredpicture and the sacred statue, and the angry people stripped the image ofits silks and gold lace and kicked it over the ground for hours. Thatnight a violent rain set in and the town was nearly washed away, so thepopulace hastened the work of reparation in order to save their lives. They cleansed the statue, dressed it still more brilliantly, andaddressed their prayers to the Virgin with more energy and earnestnessthan ever before. GODDESS OF SALT Between Zuni and Pescado is a steep mesa, or table-land, with fantasticrocks weathered into tower and roof-like prominences on its sides, whilenear it is a high natural monument of stone. Say the Zunis: The goddessof salt was so troubled by the people who lived near her domain on thesea-shore, and who took away her snowy treasures without offering anysacrifice in return, that she forsook the ocean and went to live in themountains far away. Whenever she stopped beside a pool to rest she madeit salt, and she wandered so long about the great basins of the West thatmuch of the water in them is bitter, and the yield of salt from thelarger lake near Zuni brings into the Zuni treasury large tolls fromother tribes that draw from it. Here she met the turquoise god, who fell in love with her at sight, andwooed so warmly that she accepted and married him. For a time they livedhappily, but when the people learned that the goddess had concealedherself among the mountains of New Mexico they followed her to that landand troubled her again until she declared that she would leave their viewforever. She entered this mesa, breaking her way through a high wall ofsandstone as she did so. The arched portal through which she passed isplainly visible. As she went through, one of her plumes was broken off, and falling into the valley it tipped upon its stem and became themonument that is seen there. The god of turquoise followed his wife, andhis footsteps may be traced in outcrops of pale-blue stone. THE COMING OF THE NAVAJOS Many fantastic accounts of the origin of man are found among the redtribes. The Onondagas say that the Indians are made from red earth andthe white men from sea-foam. Flesh-making clay is seen in the precipitousbank in the ravine west of Onondaga Valley, where at night the fairies"little fellows" sport and slide. Among others, the Noah legend finds aparallel. Several tribes claim to have emerged from the interior of theearth. The Oneidas point to a hill near the falls of Oswego River, NewYork, as their birthplace; the Wichitas rose from the rocks about RedRiver; the Creeks from a knoll in the valley of Big Black River in theNatchez country, where dwelt the Master of Breath; the Aztecs were one ofseven tribes that came out from the seven caverns of Aztlan, or Place ofthe Heron; and the Navajos believe that they emerged at a place known tothem in the Navajo Mountains. In the under world the Navajos were happy, for they had everything thatthey could wish: there was no excess of heat or cold, trees and flowersgrew everywhere, and the day was marked by a bright cloud that arose inthe east, while a black cloud that came out of the west made the night. Here they lived for centuries, and might have been there to this day hadnot one of the tribe found an opening in the earth that led to some placeunknown. He told of it to the whole tribe. They set off up the passage tosee where it led, and after long and weary climbing the surface wasreached. Pleased with the novelty of their surroundings, they settledhere, but on the fourth day after their arrival their queen disappeared. Their search for her was unavailing until some of the men came to themouth of the tunnel by which they had reached the upper land, when, looking down, they saw their queen combing her long, black locks. Shetold them that she was dead and that her people could go to her onlyafter death, but that they would be happy in their old home. With thatthe earth shut together and the place has never since been open to theeye of mortals. Soon came the cannibal giants who ravaged the desertlands and destroyed all of the tribe but four families, these havingfound a refuge in a deep canon of the Navajo Mountains. From theirretreat they could see a beam of light shining from one of the hillsabove them, and on ascending to the place they found a beautiful girlbabe. This child grew to womanhood under their care, and her charms attractedthe great manitou that rides on a white horse and carries the sun for ashield. He wooed and married her, and their children slew the giants thathad destroyed the Navajos. After a time the manitou carried his wife tohis floating palace in the western water, which has since been her home. To her the prayers of the people are addressed, and twelve immortals beartheir petitions to her throne. THE ARK ON SUPERSTITION MOUNTAINS The Pima Indians of Arizona say that the father of all men and animalswas the butterfly, Cherwit Make (earth-maker), who fluttered down fromthe clouds to the Blue Cliffs at the junction of the Verde and SaltRivers, and from his own sweat made men. As the people multiplied theygrew selfish and quarrelsome, so that Cherwit Make was disgusted with hishandiwork and resolved to drown them all. But first he told them, in thevoice of the north wind, to be honest and to live at peace. The prophetSuha, who interpreted this voice, was called a fool for listening to thewind, but next night came the east wind and repeated the command, with anadded threat that the ruler of heaven would destroy them all if they didnot reform. Again they scoffed, and on the next night the west wind cautioned them. But this third warning was equally futile. On the fourth night came thesouth wind. It breathed into Suha's ear that he alone had been good andshould be saved, and bade him make a hollow ball of spruce gum in whichhe might float while the deluge lasted. Suha and his wife immediately setout to gather the gum, that they melted and shaped until they had made alarge, rounded ark, which they ballasted with jars of nuts, acorn-mealand water, and meat of bear and venison. On the day assigned Suha and his wife were looking regretfully down intothe green valleys from the ledge where the ark rested, listening to thesong of the harvesters, and sighing to think that so much beauty wouldpresently be laid waste, when a hand of fire was thrust from a cloud andit smote the Blue Cliffs with a thunder-clang. It was the signal. Swiftcame the clouds from all directions, and down poured the rain. Withdrawing into their waxen ball, Suha and his wife closed the portal. Then for some days they were rolled and tossed on an ever-deepening sea. Their stores had almost given out when the ark stopped, and breaking ahole in its side its occupants stepped forth. There was a tuna cactus growing at their feet, and they ate of its redfruit greedily, but all around them was naught but water. When night cameon they retired to the ark and slept--a night, a month, a year, perhaps acentury, for when they awoke the water was gone, the vales were filledwith verdure, and bird-songs rang through the woods. The delighted coupledescended the Superstition Mountains, on which the ark had rested, andwent into its valleys, where they lived for a thousand years, and becamethe parents of a great tribe. But the evil was not all gone. There was one Hauk, a devil of themountains, who stole their daughters and slew their sons. One day, whilethe women were spinning flax and cactus fibre and the men were gatheringmaize, Hauk descended into the settlement and stole another of Suha'sdaughters. The patriarch, whose patience had been taxed to its limit, then made a vow to slay the devil. He watched to see by what way heentered the valley. He silently followed him into the SuperstitionMountains; he drugged the cactus wine that his daughter was to serve tohim; then, when he had drunk it, Suha emerged from his place of hidingand beat out the brains of the stupefied fiend. Some of the devil's brains were scattered and became seed for other evil, but there was less wickedness in the world after Hauk had been disposedof than there had been before. Suha taught his people to build adobehouses, to dig with shovels, to irrigate their land, to weave cloth, andavoid wars. But on his death-bed he foretold to them that they would growarrogant with wealth, covetous of the lands of others, and would wagewars for gain. When that time came there would be another flood and notone should be saved--the bad should vanish and the good would leave theearth and live in the sun. So firmly do the Pimas rely on this prophecythat they will not cross Superstition Mountains, for there sits CherwitMake--awaiting the culmination of their wickedness to let loose on theearth a mighty sea that lies dammed behind the range. THE PALE FACED LIGHTNING Twenty miles from the capital of Arizona stands Mount Superstition--thescene of many traditions, the object of many fears. Two centuries ago atribe of Pueblo dwarfs arrived near it and tilled the soil and tendedtheir flocks about the settlements that grew along their line of march. They were little people, four feet high, but they were a thousand strongand clever. They were peaceful, like all intelligent people, and themystery surrounding their incantations and sun-worship was more potentthan a show of arms to frighten away those natural assassins, theApaches. After they had lived near the mountain for five years the "little people"learned that the Zunis were advancing from the south and madepreparations for defence. Their sheep were concealed in obscure valleys;provisions, tools, and arms were carried up the mountain; piles of stonewere placed along the edges of cliffs commanding the passes. This workwas superintended by a woman with a white face, fair hair, and commandingform, who was held in reverence by the dwarfs; and she it was--the Helenof a New-World Troy--who was causing this trouble, for the Zunis claimedher on the ground that they had brought her from the waters of the risingsun, and that it was only to escape an honorable marriage with theirchief that she had fled to the dwarfs. Be that as it might, the Zunis marched on, meeting with faint resistanceuntil, on a bright afternoon, they massed on a slope of the mountain, seven hundred in number. The Apaches, expecting instant defeat of the"little men, " watched, from neighboring hills, the advance of theinvaders as they climbed nimbly toward the stone fort on the top of theslope, brandishing clubs and stone spears, and bragging, as the fashionof a red man is--and sometimes of a white one. At a pool outside of the walls stood the pale woman, queenly and calm, and as her white robe and brown hair fluttered in the wind both herpeople and the foe looked upon her with admiration. When but a hundredyards away the Zunis rushed toward her with outstretched arms, whereuponshe stooped, picked up an earthen jar, emptied its contents into thepool, and ran back. In a moment sparks and balls of fire leaped fromcrevices in the rocks, and as they touched the Indians many fell dead. Others plunged blindly over the cliffs and were dashed to pieces. In a few minutes the remainder of the force was in full retreat and notan arrow had been shot. The Apaches, though stricken with terror at thesepyrotechnics, overcame the memory of them sufficiently in a couple ofyears to attempt the sack of the fort on their own account, but the queenrepelled them as she had forced back the Zunis, and with even greaterslaughter. From that time the dwarfs were never harmed again, but theywent away, as suddenly as they had come, to a secret recess in themountains, where the Pale Faced Lightning still rules them. Some of the Apaches maintain that her spirit haunts a cave onSuperstition Mountain, where her body vanished in a blaze of fire, andthis cave of the Spirit Mother is also pointed out on the south side ofSalt River. A skeleton and cotton robes, ornamented and of silky texture, were once found there. It is said that electrical phenomena are frequenton the mountain, and that iron, copper, salt, and copperas lying neartogether may account for them. THE WEIRD SENTINEL AT SQUAW PEAK There is a cave under the highest butte of the Squaw Peak range, Arizona, where a party of Tonto Indians was found by white men in 1868. The whitemen were on the war-path, and when the Tontos fell into their hands theyshot them unhesitatingly, firing into the dark recesses of the cavern, the fitful but fast-recurring flashes of their rifles illuminating theinterior and exposing to view the objects of their hatred. The massacre over, the cries and groans were hushed, the hunters strodeaway, and over the mountains fell the calm that for thousands of yearshad not been so rudely broken. That night, when the moon shone into thispit of death, a corpse arose, walked to a rock just within the entrance, and took there its everlasting seat. Long afterward a man who did not know its story entered this place, whenhe was confronted by a thing, as he called it, that glared so fearfullyupon him that he fled in an ecstasy of terror. Two prospectorssubsequently attempted to explore the cave, but the entrance was barredby "the thing. " They gave one glance at the torn face, the bulging eyesturned sidewise at them, the yellow fangs, the long hair, the spreadingclaws, the livid, mouldy flesh, and rushed away. A Western paper, recounting their adventure, said that one of the men declared that therewas not money enough in Maricopa County to pay him to go there again, while the other had never stopped running--at least, he had not returnedto his usual haunts since "the thing" looked at him. Still, it is hauntedcountry all about here. The souls of the Mojaves roam upon GhostMountain, and the "bad men's hunting-grounds" of the Yumas and Navajosare over in the volcanic country of Sonora. It is, therefore, no unusualthing to find signs and wonders in broad daylight. SACRIFICE OF THE TOLTECS Centuries ago, when Toltec civilization had extended over Arizona, andperhaps over the whole West, the valleys were occupied by largetowns--the towns whose ruins are now known as the City of Ovens, City ofStones, and City of the Dead. The people worked at trades and arts thathad been practised by their ancestors before the pyramids were built inEgypt. Montezuma had come to the throne of Mexico, and the Aztecs were asubject people; Europe had discovered America and forgotten it, and inAmerica the arrival of Europeans was recalled only in traditions. But, like other nations, the Toltecs became a prey to self-confidence, toluxury, to wastefulness, and to deadening superstitions. Already thefierce tribes of the North were lurking on the confines of their countryin a faith of speedy conquest, and at times it seemed as if the elementswere against them. The villagers were returning from the fields, one day, when the entireregion was smitten by an earthquake. Houses trembled, rumblings wereheard, people fell in trying to reach the streets, and reservoirs burst, wasting their contents on the fevered soil. A sacrifice was offered. Thencame a second shock, and another mortal was offered in oblation. As theearth still heaved and the earthquake demon muttered underground, theking gave his daughter to the priests, that his people might be spared, though he wrung his hands and beat his brow as he saw her led away andknew that in an hour her blood would stream from the altar. The girl walked firmly to the cave where the altar was erected--a cave inSuperstition Mountains. She knelt and closed her eyes as theofficiating-priest uttered a prayer, and, gripping his knife of jadestone, plunged it into her heart. She fell without a struggle. And now, the end. Hardly had the innocent blood drained out and the fires been lighted toconsume the body, when a pall of cloud came sweeping across the heavens;a hot wind surged over the ground, laden with dust and smoke; thestorm-struck earth writhed anew beneath pelting thunder-bolts; no tremorthis time, but an upheaval that rent the rocks and flung the cities down. It was an hour of darkness and terror. Roars of thunder mingled with themore awful bellowing beneath; crash on crash told that houses and templeswere falling in vast ruin; the mountainsides were loosened and the rushof avalanches added to the din; the air was thick, and through the cloudsthe people groped their way toward the fields; rivers broke from theirconfines and laid waste farms and gardens! The gods had indeed abandonedthem, and the spirit of the king's daughter took its flight in companywith thousands of souls in whose behalf she had suffered uselessly. The king was crushed beneath his palace-roof and the sacerdotalexecutioner perished in a fall of rock. The survivors fled in panic andthe Ishmaelite tribes on their frontier entered their kingdom andpillaged it of all abandoned wealth. The cities never were rebuilt andwere rediscovered but a few years ago, when the maiden's skeleton wasalso found. Nor does any Indian cross Superstition Mountains without asense of apprehension. TA-VWOTS CONQUERS THE SUN The Indian is a great story-teller. Every tribe has its traditions, andthe elderly men and women like to recount them, for they always findlisteners. And odd stories they tell, too. Just listen to this, forexample. It is a legend among the tribes of Arizona. While Ta-Vwots, the hare god, was asleep in the valley of Maopa, the Sunmischievously burned his back, causing him to leap up with a howl. "Aha!It's you, is it, who played this trick on me?" he cried, looking at theSun. "I'll make it warm for you. See if I don't. " And without more ado he set off to fight the Sun. On the way he stoppedto pick and roast some corn, and when the people who had planted it ranout and tried to punish him for the theft he scratched a hole in theground and ran in out of sight. His pursuers shot arrows into the hole, but Ta-Vwots had his breath with him, and it was an awfully strongbreath, for with it he turned all the arrows aside. "The scamp is inhere, " said one of the party. "Let's get at him another way. " So, gettingtheir flints and shovels, they began to dig. "That's your game, is it?" mumbled Ta-Vwots. "I know a way out of thisthat you don't know. " With a few puffs of his breath and a few kicks ofhis legs he reached a great fissure that led into the rock behind him, and along this passage he scrambled until he came to the edge of it in aniche, from which he could watch his enemies digging. When they had madethe hole quite large he shouted, "Be buried in the grave you have dug foryourselves!" And, hurling down a magic ball that he carried, he caved theearth in on their heads. Then he paced off, remarking, "To fight is asgood fun as to eat. Vengeance is my work. Every one I meet will be anenemy. No one shall escape my wrath. " And he sounded his war-whoop. Next day he saw two men heating rocks and chipping arrow-heads from them. "Let me help you, for hot rocks will not hurt me, " he said. "You would have us to believe you are a spirit, eh?" they questioned, with a jeer. "No ghost, " he answered, "but a better man than you. Hold me on thoserocks, and, if I do not burn, you must let me do the same to you. " The men complied, and heating the stones to redness in the fire theyplaced him against them, but failed to see that by his magic breath hekept a current of air flowing between him and the hot surface. Risingunhurt, he demanded that they also should submit to the torture, and, like true Indians, they did so. When their flesh had been burned halfthrough and they were dead, he sounded his warwhoop and went on. On the day following he met two women picking berries, and told them toblow the leaves and thorns into his eyes. They did so, as they supposed, but with his magic breath he kept the stuff away from his face. "You are a ghost!" the women exclaimed. "No ghost, " said he. "Just a common person. Leaves and thorns can do noharm. See, now. " And he puffed thorns into their faces and made themblind. "Aha! You are caught with your own chaff I am on my way to killthe Sun. This is good practice. " And he slew them, sounded his war-whoop, and went on. The morning after this affair some women appeared on Hurricane Cliff andthe wind brought their words to his ears. They were planning to kill himby rolling rocks upon him as he passed. As he drew near he pretended toeat something with such enjoyment that they asked him what it was. Hecalled out, "It is sweet. Come to the edge and I will throw it up toyou. " With that he tossed something so nearly within their reach that inbending forward to catch it they crowded too near the brink, lost theirbalance, fell over, and were killed. "You are victims of your own greed. One should never be so anxious as to kill one's self. " This was his onlycomment, and, sounding the warwhoop, he went on. A day later he came upon two women making water jugs of willow basketslined with pitch, and he heard one whisper to the other, "Here comes thatbad Ta-Vwots. How shall we destroy him?" "What were you saying?" asked the hare god. "We just said, 'Here comes our grandson. '" (A common form of endearment. ) "Is that all? Then let me get into one of these water jugs while youbraid the neck. " He jumped in and lay quite still as they wove the neck, and they laughedto think that it was braided so small that he could never escape, when--puff! the jug was shattered and there was Ta-Vwots. They did notknow anything about his magic breath. They wondered how he got out. "Easily enough, " replied the hare god. "These things may hold water, butthey can't hold men and women. Try it, and see if they can. " With theirconsent, Ta-Vwots began weaving the osiers about them, and in a littlewhile he had them caged. "Now, come out, " he said. But, try as theymight, not a withe could they break. "Ha, ha! You are wise women, aren'tyou? Bottled in your own jugs! I am on my way to kill the Sun. In time Ishall learn how. " Then, sounding his war-whoop, he struck them dead withhis magic ball and went on. He met the Bear next day, and found him digging a hole to hide in, for hehad heard of the hare god and was afraid. "Don't be frightened, friendBear, " said the rogue. "I'm not the sort of fellow to hide from. Howcould a little chap like me hurt so many people?" And he helped the Bearto dig his den, but when it was finished he hid behind a rock, and as theBear thrust his head near him he launched his magic ball at his face andmade an end of him. "I was afraid of this warrior, " said Ta-Vwots, "buthe is dead, now, in his den. " And sounding his war-whoop he went on. It was on the day following that he met the Tarantula, a clever rascal, who had a club that would deal a fatal blow to others, but would not hurthimself. He began to groan as Ta-Vwots drew near, and cried that he had apain caused by an evil spirit in his head. Wouldn't Ta-Vwots thump itout? Indeed, he would. He grasped the club and gave him the soundest kindof a thwacking, but when the Tarantula shouted "Harder, " he guessed thatit was an enchanted weapon, and changing it for his magic ball hefinished the Tarantula at a blow. "That is a stroke of your own seeking, "he remarked. "I am on my way to kill the Sun. Now I know that I can doit. " And sounding his war-whoop he went on. Next day he came to the edge of the world and looked off into space, where thousands of careless people had fallen, and there he passed thenight under a tree. At dawn he stood on the brink of the earth and theinstant that the Sun appeared he flung the magic ball full in his face. The surface of the Sun was broken into a thousand pieces that spatteredover the earth and kindled a mighty conflagration. Ta-Vwots crept underthe tree that had sheltered him, but that was of no avail against theincreasing heat. He tried to run away, but the fire burned off his toes, then his feet, then his legs, then his body, so that he ran on his hands, and when his hands were burned off he walked on the stumps of his arms. At last his head alone remained, and that rolled over hill and valleyuntil it struck a rock, when the eyes burst and the tears that gushedforth spread over the land, putting out the flames. The Sun wasconquered, and at his trial before the other gods was reprimanded for hismischievous pranks and condemned thereafter to travel across the skyevery day by the same trail. THE COMANCHE RIDER The ways of disposing of the Indian dead are many. In some places groundsepulture is common; in others, the corpses are placed in trees. SouthAmericans mummified their dead, and cremation was not unknown. Enemiesgave no thought to those that they had slain, after plucking off theirscalps as trophies, though they sometimes added the indignity ofmutilation in killing. Sachem's Head, near Guilford, Connecticut, is so named because Uncas cuta Pequot's head off and placed it in the crotch of an oak that grewthere. It remained withering for years. It was to save the body of Polanfrom such a fate, after the fight on Sebago Lake in 1756, that hisbrothers placed it under the root of a sturdy young beech that they hadpried out of the ground. He was laid in the hollow in his war-dress, withsilver cross on his breast and bow and arrows in his hand; then, theweight on the trunk being released, the sapling sprang back to its placeand afterward rose to a commanding height, fitly marking the Indian'stomb. Chief Blackbird, of the Omahas, was buried, in accordance with hiswish, on the summit of a bluff near the upper Missouri, on the back ofhis favorite horse, fully equipped for travel, with the scalps that hehad taken hung to the bridle. When a Comanche dies he is buried on the western side of the camp, thathis soul may follow the setting sun into the spirit world the speedier. His bow, arrows, and valuables are interred with him, and his best ponyis killed at the grave that he may appear among his fellows in the happyhunting grounds mounted and equipped. An old Comanche who died near FortSill was without relatives and poor, so his tribe thought that any kindof a horse would do for him to range upon the fields of paradise. Theykilled a spavined old plug and left him. Two weeks from that time thelate unlamented galloped into a camp of the Wichitas on the back of alop-eared, bob-tailed, sheep-necked, ring-boned horse, with ribs like agrate, and said he wanted his dinner. Having secured a piece of meat, formally presented to him on the end of a lodge-pole, he offered himselfto the view of his own people, alarming them by his glaring eyes andsunken cheeks, and told them that he had come back to haunt them for astingy, inconsiderate lot, because the gate-keeper of heaven had refusedto admit him on so ill-conditioned a mount. The camp broke up in dismay. Wichitas and Comanches journeyed, en masse, to Fort Sill for protection, and since then they have sacrificed the best horses in their possessionwhen an unfriended one journeyed to the spirit world. Myths and Legends HORNED TOAD AND GIANTS The Moquis have a legend that, long ago, when the principal mesa thatthey occupy was higher than it is now, and when they owned all thecountry from the mountains to the great river, giants came out of thewest and troubled them, going so far as to dine on Moquis. It was hard toget away, for the monsters could see all over the country from the topsof the mesas. The king of the tribe offered the handsomest woman in hiscountry and a thousand horses to any man who would deliver his peoplefrom these giants. This king was eaten like the rest, and the citizensdeclined to elect another, because they were beginning to lose faith inkings. Still, there was one young brave whose single thought was how todefeat the giants and save his people. As he was walking down the mesa he saw a lizard, of the kind commonlyknown as a horned toad, lying under a rock in pain. He rolled the stoneaway and was passing on, when a voice, that seemed to come out of theearth, but that really came from the toad, asked him if he wished todestroy the giants. He desired nothing so much. "Then take my hornedcrest for a helmet. " Lolomi--that was the name of him--did as he was bid, and found that in amoment the crest had swelled and covered his head so thickly that no clubcould break through it. "Now take my breastplate, " continued the toad. And though it would nothave covered the Indian's thumb-nail, when he put it on it so increasedin bulk that it corseleted his body and no arrow could pierce it. "Now take the scales from my eyes, " commanded the toad, and when he haddone so Lolomi felt as light as a feather. "Go up and wait. When you see a giant, go toward him, looking in hiseyes, and he will walk backward. Walk around him until he has his back toa precipice, then advance. He will back away until he reaches the edge ofthe mesa, when he will fall off and be killed. " Lolomi obeyed these instructions, for presently a giant loomed in thedistance and came striding across the plains half a mile at a step. As hedrew near he flung a spear, but it glanced from the Indian's armor likehail from a rock. Then an arrow followed, and was turned. At this thegiant lost courage, for he fancied that Lolomi was a spirit. Fearing ablow if he turned, he kept his face toward Lolomi, who manoeuvred soskilfully that when he had the giant's back to the edge of a cliff hesprang at him, and the giant, with a yell of alarm, fell and broke hisbones on the rocks below. So Lolomi killed many giants, because they allwalked back before him, and after they had fallen the people heaped rockson their bodies. To this day the place is known as "the giants' fall. "Then the tribe made Lolomi king and gave him the most beautiful damselfor a wife. As he was the best king they ever had, they treasured hismemory after he was dead, and used his name as a term of greeting, sothat "Lolomi" is a word of welcome, and will be until the giants comeagain. THE SPIDER TOWER In Dead Man's Canon--a deep gorge that is lateral to the once populatedvalley of the Rio de Chelly, Arizona--stands a stark spire of weatheredsandstone, its top rising eight hundred feet above its base in a sheeruplift. Centuries ago an inhabitant of one of the cave villages wassurprised by hostiles while hunting in this region, and was chased bythem into this canon. As he ran he looked vainly from side to side in thehope of securing a hiding-place, but succor came from a source that wasleast expected, for on approaching this enormous obelisk, with strengthwell-nigh exhausted, he saw a silken cord hanging from a notch at itstop. Hastily knotting the end about his waist, that it might not fallwithin reach of his pursuers, he climbed up, setting his feet intoroughnesses of the stone, and advancing, hand over hand, until he hadreached the summit, where he stayed, drinking dew and feeding on eagles'eggs, until his enemies went away, for they could not reach him withtheir arrows, defended as he was by points of rock. The foemen havinggone, he safely descended by the cord and reached his home. This help hadcome from a friendly spider who saw his plight from her perch at the topof the spire, and, weaving a web of extra thickness, she made one endfast to a jag of rock while the other fell within his grasp--for she, like all other of the brute tribe, liked the gentle cave-dwellers betterthan the remorseless hunters. Hence the name of the Spider Tower. THE LOST TRAIL The canon of Oak Creek is choked by a mass of rock, shaped like akeystone, and wedged into the jaws of the defile. An elderly Ute tellsthis story of it. Acantow, one of the chiefs of his tribe, usually placedhis lodge beside the spring that bubbled from a thicket of wild roses inthe place where Rosita, Colorado, stands to-day. He left hiswife--Manetabee (Rosebud)--in the lodge while he went across themountains to attend a council, and was gone four sleeps. On his return hefound neither wife nor lodge, but footprints and hoofprints in the groundshowed to his keen eye that it was the Arapahoes who had been there. Getting on their trail he rode over it furiously, and at night hadreached Oak Canon, along which he travelled until he saw the gleam of asmall fire ahead. A squall was coming up, and the noise of it might haveenabled him to gallop fairly into the group that he saw huddled about theglow; but it is not in the nature of an Indian to do that, and, tying hishorse, he crawled forward. There were fifteen of the Arapahoes, and they were gambling to decide theownership of Manetabee, who sat bound beneath a willow near them. Soengrossed were the savages in the contest that the snake-like approach ofAcantow was unnoticed until he had cut the thongs that bound Manetabee'swrists and ankles--she did not cry out, for she had expected rescue--andboth had imperceptibly slid away from them. Then, with a yell, one of thegamblers pointed to the receding forms, and straightway the fifteen madean onset. Swinging his wife lightly to his shoulders Acantow set off at a run andhe had almost reached his horse when his foot caught in a root and hefell headlong. The pursuers were almost upon him when the storm burst infury. A flood of fire rushed from the clouds and struck the earth with anappalling roar. Trees were snapped, rocks were splintered, and awhirlwind passed. Acantow was nearly insensible for a time--then he feltthe touch of the Rosebud's hand on his cheek, and together they arose andlooked about them. A huge block of riven granite lay in the canon, dripping blood. Their enemies were not to be seen. "The trail is gone, " said Acantow. "Manitou has broken it, that theArapahoes may never cross it more. He would not allow them to take you. Let us thank the Manitou. " So they went back to where the spring burstamid the rose-bushes. A BATTLE IN THE AIR In the country about Tishomingo, Indian Territory, troubles are foretoldby a battle of unseen men in the air. Whenever the sound of conflict isheard it is an indication that many dead will lie in the fields, for itheralds battle, starvation, or pestilence. The powerful nation that livedhere once was completely annihilated by an opposing tribe, and in thevalley in the western part of the Territory there are mounds wherehundreds of men lie buried. Spirits occupy the valley, and to the eyes ofthe red men they are still seen, at times, continuing the fight. In May, 1892, the last demonstration was made in the hearing of JohnWillis, a United States marshal, who was hunting horse-thieves. He wasbelated one night and entered the vale of mounds, for he had no scruplesagainst sleeping there. He had not, in fact, ever heard that the regionwas haunted. The snorting of his horse in the middle of the night awokehim and he sprang to his feet, thinking that savages, outlaws, or, atleast, coyotes had disturbed the animal. Although there was a good moon, he could see nothing moving on the plain. Yet the sounds that filled theair were like the noise of an army, only a trifle subdued, as if theywere borne on the passing of a wind. The rush of hoofs and of feet, thestriking of blows, the fall of bodies could be heard, and for nearly anhour these fell rumors went across the earth. At last the horse became sofrantic that Willis saddled him and rode away, and as he reached the edgeof the valley the sounds were heard going into the distance. Not until hereached a settlement did he learn of the spell that rested on the place.