George Wharton James

In the days of the long ago, when the world was young, there emerged from Shi-pÁ-pu two gods, who had come from the underworld, named To-cho-pa and Ho-ko-ma-ta. When these brothers first stood upon the surface of the earth, they found it impossible to move around, as the sky was pressed down close to the ground. They decided that, as they wished to remain upon the earth, they must push the sky up into place. Accordingly, they pushed it up as high as they could with their hands, and then got long sticks and raised it still higher, after which they cut down trees and pushed it up higher still, and then, climbing the mountains, they forced it up to its present position, where it is out of reach of all human kind, and incapable of doing them any injury.

While they were busy with their labors, another mythical hero appeared on the scene, on the north side of the Grand Canyon, not far from the canyon that is now known as Eldorado Canyon. Those were the "days of the old," when the animals had speech even as men, and in many things were wiser than men. The Coyote travelled much and knew many things, and he became the companion of this early-day man, and taught him of his wisdom. This gave the early man his name, Ka-that-a-ka-na-ve, which means "Told or Taught by the Coyote."

A Wallapai, making a Meal on the Fruit of the Tuna, or Prickly Pear.

Wallapai Maiden and Prayer Basket.

Wallapai Maiden and Prayer Basket.

For long they lived together, until the man began to grow lonesome. He no longer listened to the speech of the Coyote, and that made the animal sad. He wondered what could be done to bring comfort to his human friend, and at length suggested that he consult Those Above. Kathat-a-kanave was lonesome because there were none others of his kind to talk to. He longed for human beings, so, accepting the advice of the Coyote, he retired to where he could speak freely to Those Above of his longings and desires. He was listened to with attention, and there told that nothing was easier than that other men, with women, should be sent upon the earth. "Build a stone hawa—stone house—not far from Eldorado Canyon, and then go down to where the waters flow and cut from the banks a number of canes or sticks. Cut many, and of six kinds. Long thick sticks and long thin sticks; medium-sized thick sticks and medium-sized thin sticks; short thick sticks and short thin sticks. Lay these out carefully and evenly in the stone hawa, and when the darkest hour of the night comes, the Powers of the Above will change them into human beings. But, beware, lest any sound is made. No voice must speak, or the power will cease to work."

Gladly Kathat-a-kanave returned to the stone house, and with a hearty good-will he cut many canes or sticks. He carried them to the house, and laid them out as he had been directed, all the time accompanied by the Coyote, who rejoiced to see his friend so cheerful and happy. Kathat-a-kanave told Coyote what was to occur, and Coyote rejoiced in the wonderful event that was about to take place. When all was ready Kathat-a-kanave was so wearied with his arduous labors that he retired to lie down and sleep, and bade Coyote watch and be especially mindful that no sound of any kind whatever issued from his lips. Coyote solemnly pledged himself to observe the commands,—he would not cease from watching, and not a sound should be uttered. Feeling secure in these promises, Kathat-a-kanave stretched out and was soon sound asleep. Carefully Coyote watched. Darker grew the night. No sound except the far-away twho! twho! of the owl disturbed the perfect stillness. Suddenly the sticks began to move. In the pitch blackness of the house interior, Coyote could not see the actual change, the sudden appearing of feet and legs and hands and arms and head, and the uprising of the sticks into perfect men and women, but in a few moments he had to stand aside, as a torrent of men, women, and children poured out of the doorway. Without a word, but thrilled even to the tip of his tail with delight, he examined men, women, youths, maidens, boys, girls, and found them all beautifully formed and physically perfect. Still they came through the door. Several times he found himself about to shout for joy, but managed to restrain his feelings. More came, and as they looked around them on the wonderful world to which they had come from nothingness, and expressed their astonishment (for they were able to speak from the first moment), Coyote became wild with joy and could resist the inward pressure no longer. He began to talk to the new people, and to laugh and dance and shout and bark and yelp, in the sheer exuberance of his delight. How happy he was!

Then there came an ominous stillness. The movements from inside the house ceased; no more humans appeared at the doorway. Almost frozen with terror, Coyote realized what he had done. The charm had ceased. Those Above were angry at his disobedience to their commands.

When Kathat-a-kanave awoke he was delighted to see the noble human beings Those Above had sent to him, but when he entered the hawa his delight was changed to anger. There were hundreds more sticks to which no life had been given. Infuriated, he turned upon Coyote and reproached him with bitter words for failing to observe his injunction, and then, with fierce anger, he kicked him and bade him begone! His tail between his legs, his head bowed, and with slinking demeanor, Coyote disappeared, and that is the reason all coyotes are now so cowardly, and never appear in the presence of mankind without skulking and fear.

As soon as they had become a little used to being on the earth, Kathat-a-kanave called his people together and informed them that he must lead them to their future home. They came down Eldorado Canyon, and then crossed Hackataia (the Grand Canyon) and reached a small but picturesque canyon on the Wallapai reservation, called Mat-ta-wed-it-i-ta. This is their "Garden of Eden." Here a spring of water supplies nearly a hundred miners' inches of water, and there are about a hundred acres of good farming land, lying in such a position that it can well be irrigated from this spring. On the other side of the canyon is a cave about a hundred feet wide at its mouth, and perched fully half a thousand feet above the valley.

Now Kathat-a-kanave disappears in some variants of the story, and Hokomata and Tochopa take his place at Mattaweditita. The latter is ever the hero. He gave the people seeds of corn, pumpkins, melons, beans, etc., and showed them how to plant and irrigate them. In the meantime they had been taught how to live on grass seeds, the fruit of the tuna (prickly pear), and mescal, and how to slay the deer, antelope, turkey, jack-rabbit, cottontail, and squirrel.

When the crops came Tochopa counselled them not to eat any of the product except such as could be eaten without destroying the seeds,—the melons and pumpkins,—so that when planting time came they had an abundance. When the next harvest was ripe the crops were large, and after picking out the best for seeds, some were stored away in the cave as a reserve and the remainder eaten. As the years went on they increased in numbers and strength. Tochopa was ever their good friend and guide. He taught them how to dance and smoke and rattle when they became sick; he gave them toholwa—the sweat-house—to cure them of all evil; he taught the women how to make pottery, baskets, and blankets woven from the dressed skins of rabbits. The men he taught how to dress buckskin, and hunt and trap all kinds of animals good for food. Thus they came almost to worship him and be ever singing his praises. This made Hokomata angry. He went away and sulked for days at a time. In his solitude he evidently thought out a plan for wreaking his jealous fury upon Tochopa and those who were so fond of him. There was one family, the head of which was inclined to be quarrelsome, and Hokomata went and made special friends with him. He taught the children how to make pellets of clay, and put them on the end of sticks and then shoot them. Soon he showed them how to make a dart, then a bow and arrow, and later how to take the horn of a deer, put it in the fire until it was softened so that it could be moulded to a sharp point. This made a dangerous dagger. Finally he wrapped buckskin around a heavy stone, and put a handle to it, thus making a war-club; took a rock and made a battle-hammer of it; and still another, the edge of which he sharpened so that a battle-axe was provided. In the meantime he had been stealthily instilling into the hearts of his friends the feelings of hatred and jealousy that possessed him. He taught the children to shoot the mud pellets at the children of other families. He supplied the youths with slings, and bows and arrows, and soon stones and arrows were shot at unoffending workers. Protestations and quarrels ensued, the fathers and mothers of the hurt children being angry. Hokomata urged his friends to defend their children, and they took their clubs, battle-hammers and axes, and fell upon those who complained. Thus discord and hatred reigned, and soon the two sides were involved in petty war. Tochopa saw Hokomata's movements with horror and dread. He could not understand why he should do these terrible things. Yet when the people came to him with their complaints he felt he must sympathize with them. The trouble grew the greater the population became, until at last it was unbearable. Then Tochopa determined on stern measures. Stealthily he laid his plan before the heads of the families. Each was to leave the canyon, under the pretext of going hunting, gathering pinion nuts, grass seeds, or mescal, and go in different directions. Then at a certain time they were all to gather at a given spot, and there provide themselves with weapons. Everything was done as he had planned, the quarrellers—the Wha-jes—remaining behind with Hokomata. Then, one night, the whole band, well armed, returned stealthily to the canyon and fell upon the quarrellers. Many were slain outright, and all the remainder driven from the home they had cursed. Not one was allowed to remain. Thus the Wha-jes became a separate people. White men to-day call them Apaches, but they are really the Wha-jes, the descendants of the quarrelsome people the Wallapais drove out of Mattaweditita Canyon.

Hokomata was furious. He was conquered, but led his people to settle not far away, and many times they returned to the canyon and endeavored to kill all they could. Thus warfare became common. The spear was invented,—a long stick with a sharpened point of flint. Sometimes the Wha-jes would come in large numbers, when many of the men were away hunting. Then all the attacked would flee to the cave before mentioned—which they still call Kathat-a-kanave's Nyu-wa (Cave House)—where they built an outer wall of fortification, and farther back still another. Several times the outer wall was stormed and taken, but never could the Wha-jes penetrate to the inner part of the cave, so to this day it is termed Wa-ha-vo,—the place that is impregnable.

After many generations had passed, Hokomata saw it was no use keeping his people near the canyon; they could never capture it, and they had lost all desire to become again part of the original people, so he led them away to the southeast, beyond the San Francisco Mountains, down into what is now southern Arizona and New Mexico. Here they settled down somewhat and became the Apache race, though they are still Wha-jes—quarrellers.

Left to themselves, the families in Mattaweditita increased rapidly, until soon there were too many to live in comfort. So Tochopa took most of them to Milkweed Canyon, and then he divided the separate families and allotted to each his own territory. To the Mohaves he gave the western region by the great river; the Paiutis he sent to the water springs and pockets of southern Nevada and Utah; the Navahoes went east and found the great desert region, where game was plentiful; and the Hopis, who were always afraid and timid, built houses like Kathat-a-kanave's fortress on the summit of high mountains or mesas. The Havasupais started to go with the Hopis, and they camped together one night in the depths of the canyon where the blue water flows to Hackataia—the Colorado. The following morning when they started to resume their journey a child began to cry. This was an omen that bade them remain, so that family stayed and became known as the Haha-vasu-pai, the people of the Blue Water. Most of the remaining families went into the Mountains of the Tall Pine, south of Kingman, and thus became known as the pai (people) of the walla (tall pines). Here they found plenty of food of all kinds and abundance of game. As they increased in numbers they spread out, some going to Milkweed, others to Diamond and Peach Springs Canyons, and wherever they could find food and water.

Thus was the human race begun and the Wallapais established in their home.

When I asked where the white race came from, old Leve-leve scratched his head for a moment and then declared that they were made from the left-over sticks in Kathat-a-kanave's house.

But the Apaches, under Hokomata, would not leave the various peoples at peace. They warred upon them all the time. And that is why the Wallapai parents of a later day became accused of cruelty to their children. Scattered about, a few here and a few there, they were fit subjects for Apache attacks. A code of smoke signals, for warning, was adopted, but it was not always possible to prevent surprises. Sometimes the father of a family would go hunting and it would not be possible for the mother and children to go along. If she were attacked under such conditions, what could she do? If she tried to escape, hampered with her little ones, they would all be caught and she would have to submit to her captors and stand by and see them ruthlessly murdered. So she preferred to kill them herself, which she often did by strangling or suffocation. Then she might hope to reach the mountains and hide until the cover of night gave her an opportunity to escape. This explanation has actually been given to me as a statement of fact by some of the older women of the tribe.

Sometimes when the Apaches would attempt a raid they would be checkmated, the tables turned, and they themselves captured. Then there were great rejoicings. A feast was invariably held, at which the scalps were exposed on a pole around which the dances were conducted in the light of immense fires.

Of late years both Apaches and Wallapais have been taught to bury their enmity. Acting upon the suggestion of former agent Ewing, the Wallapai chiefs sent a messenger of peace and invitation to the Apache chiefs, asking them to come and visit the Wallapais during watermelon and green corn time, and be friends as the Great Father at Washington desires. Yet the Apaches, though the invitation has been several times repeated, have never come. They remember "the days of the years gone by,"—the days of murder, rapine, scalpings, and stealings of women. And they are afraid that poison, treachery, sudden death, torture perhaps, lurk behind the seeming friendliness. Revenge is sweet to an Indian, and the Apache cannot conceive that so great a conversion has taken place in the Wallapai heart as to lead him to forego his just revenge.

When first known to the white man they were found inhabiting the region they now occupy, including the Wallapai (sometimes spelled Hualapai), Yavapai, and Sacramento Valleys. Their chief mountain ranges were the Cerbab, Wallapai, Aquarius, and northern portion of Chemehuevi ranges. They roamed as far south as Bill Williams' Fork of the Colorado, and its branch, the Santa Maria. They then numbered about the same as they do now, between six and seven hundred.

In Coues' translation of GarcÈs' Diary Prof. F. W. Hodge gives other forms of spelling the name of the Wallapais, as follows: "Hah-wÁl-coes, Haulapais, Ha-wol-la Pai, Ho-allo-pi, Hualpais, Hualapais, Hualipais, Hualopais, HualpÁitch, Hualpas, Hualpias, Huallapais, Hulapais, Hwalapai, Jagullapai (after GarcÉs), Jaguyapay, Jaqualapai, Jaguallapai, Tiquillapai, Wallapais, Wil-ha-py-ah."

These and the various names given to the Wallapais show the difficulties explorers encounter in endeavoring correctly to spell the names they hear. It should never be forgotten that the Amerinds of the Southwest speak with quite as great a latitude in pronunciation as is found in the wonderfully varied dialects of the English language. To make all these different pronunciations conform to a standard American method is one part of the grand work of the Geographical Board, a much abused but highly necessary public body.