The writer gave but limited study while at Sia to myths not directly connected with their cosmogony and cult. The minds of several of the elder men are filled with the stories of the long-ago myth-makers, and they believe in the truth of these fables as they believe in their own existence, which is the cause, no doubt, for the absence of myth-making at the present time. It must be borne in mind, however, that these people have their winter tales and romances which they recognize as fiction. The animal myths here recorded were recited to the writer in a most dramatic manner by the vicar of the Snake Society, these portions of the stories where the coyote suffers disappointment, and is cheated of his prey, giving special delight to the narrator.

The coyote seems to be a despised though necessary object in the mythic world of the Indian of the Southwest. He is certainly not reverenced, nor is he a being for whom they feel terror. While he is the object of ridicule he is also often of great service. Through his cunning he supplied the Sia of the upper world with fire by stealing it from SÛs´sistinnako in the lower world. When the world was new, people were depilous except upon their heads. The coyote said (animals could communicate with men then): “It is not well for you to be depilous,” and from the pilous growth about his mouth and belly he clothed the pubes and axilla of the Sia.

THE COYOTE ENCOUNTERS DISAPPOINTMENTS.

One day a shurtsÛnna (coyote) was passing about and saw a hare sitting before his house, and the coyote thought, “In a minute I will catch you,” and he sprang and caught the hare, who cried, “Man coyote, do not eat me; wait just a minute, I have something to tell you, something that you will be glad to hear, something you must hear.” “Well,” said the coyote, “I will wait.” “Let me sit at the entrance of my house and I can talk to you,” and, standing near, he allowed the hare to take his seat there. The hare said, “What are you thinking of, coyote?” “Nothing,” said the coyote. “Listen, then, to what I have to say; I am a hare, and I am much afraid of people; when they come carrying arrows I am very afraid of them, for when they see me they aim their arrows at me and I am very afraid, and oh! how I tremble;” and suiting the action to his words the hare trembled violently, until he saw the coyote was a little off his guard; at this instant the hare started off at a run. It took a moment for the coyote to collect his thoughts, when he followed the hare, but he was always a little behind; after running some distance the hare entered the house of his companion just in time to escape the coyote. The coyote upon reaching the house found it was hard stone and he became very angry. “Alas!” cried he, “I was very stupid. Why did I allow this hare to fool me? I was so anxious to kill him; I must have him. How can I catch him? Alas! this house is very strong, how can I open it?” and he began to work, but after a while he cried, “The stone is so strong I can not open it.” Presently the hare called, “Man coyote, how are you going to kill me?” “I know how I am going to kill you,” replied the coyote, “I will kill you with fire.” “Where is the wood?” cried the hare, for there was no wood at the house of the hare. “I will bring grass,” said the coyote, “and set fire to it and the fire will enter your house and go into your eyes, nose, and mouth, and kill you.” “Oh,” said the hare, “the grass is mine, it is my food, it will not kill me; why would my food kill me? It is my friend. No, grass will not kill me.” “Then,” cried the coyote, “I will bring all the trees of the woods and set fire to them,” and the hare replied, “all the trees know me, they too are my food, they will not kill me, they are my friends.” The coyote said, “I will bring the gum of the piÑon and set fire to it,” and the hare cried, “Oh, now I am much afraid, I do not eat that and it is not my friend,” and the coyote rejoiced that he had discovered a plan for getting the hare. He hurried and brought all the gum he could carry and placed it at the door of the hare’s house and set fire to it and in a short time the gum boiled like hot grease, and the hare cried, “Now I know I shall die, what shall I do?” and the coyote’s heart was glad. In a little while the hare called, “The fire is entering my house,” and the coyote cried to him, “Blow it out”. At the same time, drawing near to the fire, he blew with all his might to increase the flame. “Oh!” cried the hare, “your mouth is so close you are blowing the fire on to me, and I will soon die;” and the coyote put his mouth still closer to the fire and thought the hare must die; he blew with all his strength, drawing nearer in his eagerness to destroy the hare, until his face was very close to him, when the hare threw the boiling gum into the face of the coyote and escaped. The coyote’s thoughts were now directed to the removal of the hot gum from his eyes and face. It was a long time before he could see anything, and his eyes were painful. When he realized the hare had again escaped him he cried, “I am very, very stupid;” and he started off disgusted with himself, and was very sad. After traveling a long distance and crossing a mountain he came to a man (lynx) sleeping. The coyote was pleased to see the man, and thought, “Here is a companion. I guess the fellow has either worked hard all night or traveled much, for he sleeps soundly.” And after thinking quite a while, the coyote procured a slender round stick and thrust it into his stomach and twisted it very carefully to gather fat. The lynx still slept soundly. “I will tell my companion when he awakes,” said the coyote, “that I have the fat of the deer on my stick,” and he laid it to one side and began thinking. “Ah, I have a thought. In the old days my companion’s mouth was not so large; it was small; I will make it as it was. His ears were not so large; I will make them as they were. His tail was not so long; I will shorten it. His legs and arms and body were longer; I will lengthen them;” and he worked and pressed about the mouth until it was reduced in size, and so he labored over the ears until they were small, and pressed the tail until it grew shorter, and then pulled the legs and arms and body until they were the proper length. After his work was completed the coyote thought, “This is well.” Still the lynx slept, and the coyote called, “Companion!” but no answer; the second time, “Companion!” and no answer; none coming to the third call, the coyote thought, “Why is it my companion sleeps so soundly? he must have traveled hard or worked hard all night,” and again he called, “Companion!” and the lynx opened his eyes and looked about as one does when he has just awakened, but did not speak.

When he discovered that he was unlike his former self he said nothing, but thought, “That coyote man has done this work.” The coyote then bringing the stick, with the fat upon it, said, “Companion, I wish much to talk with you; you have slept very soundly; I have brought you some fat from the deer; eat it; you will like it. I killed a deer the other day, and this is the reason I can bring you some fat;” and the lynx, thinking the coyote spoke the truth, ate the fat with much relish. When the fat had been consumed the coyote said, “Well, companion, what do you think of the deer fat?” but before the lynx made any reply the coyote added, “I lied to you; it is your own fat which I took from your stomach while you slept.” The lynx at once became very sick and began vomiting. “I did not eat it,” cried the lynx. “Yes, you did,” said the coyote. “See, you can not keep it;” and the lynx continued vomiting until all the fat had been thrown from his stomach. He was very angry with the coyote, and thought, “Some time I will play the same trick upon you, man coyote.”

The two now separated, taking opposite roads; but in a short time the lynx returned and followed the coyote, aiming to keep close to him; but the coyote soon distanced the lynx, leaving him far behind; the coyote, however, did not know that the lynx was following him. After he had traveled a long distance he became tired and lay down to rest and sleep. After a time the lynx arrived, and finding the coyote sleeping, said: “Ah! ah! now I will play my trick;” and he called to the coyote, “Companion!” and no answer; again he called, “Companion!” and no answer; and the third and fourth calls brought no reply. The coyote was sleeping soundly. “He is surely asleep,” said the lynx, and with a stick similar to the one employed by the coyote, he drew the fat from the coyote’s stomach and placed it to one side; he then proceeded to change the appearance of the coyote; he pulled upon the mouth until he made it project, and it was much larger than before; then he pulled upon the ears until they became long, and he lengthened the tail to twice its size, and he also stretched the body and the arms. When he had completed his work he cried four times to the coyote, “Companion!” The fourth time the coyote awoke, and the lynx said, “I have brought you some deer fat;” and the coyote was stupid enough to believe the story, and ate the fat, for he was very hungry. Then, said the lynx, “Man, what do you think? Do you think I have lied to you? Well, I have lied to you; for the fat is from your own stomach;” and the coyote was very angry and vomited all that he had eaten. And he cried, “Man lynx, we are even;” and in a little while they separated, taking opposite roads.

The coyote traveled a great distance, and in the middle of the day it was very hot, and he sat down and rested, and he thought as he looked up to ti´nia, “How I wish the cloud people would freshen my path and make it cool;” and in a little while the cloud people gathered above the road the coyote was to travel over, and he rejoiced that his path was to be shady and cool; but after he had traveled a short distance, he again sat down, and, looking upward, said, “I wish much the cloud people would send rain, that my road would be fresher and cooler.” In a little while a shower came, and the coyote was contented and went on his way rejoicing; but in a short time he again sat down and wished that the road could be very moist, that it would be fresh to his feet, and almost immediately the road was wet as though a river had passed over it, and the coyote was very contented.

But after going a short distance he again took his seat and said to himself, “I guess I will talk again to the cloud people;” and he said to them, “I wish for water over my road; water to my elbows, that I may travel on my hands and feet in the cool waters; then I shall be refreshed and happy;” and in a little while his road was covered with the water and the coyote moved on; but after a time he wished for something more, and he sat down and said to the cloud people, “I wish much for water to my shoulders; I will then be very happy and contented;” and in a moment the waters arose as he had wished; but he did not go far before he again sat down and talked to the cloud people, saying, “If you will only give me water so high that my eyes, nose, mouth, and ears are alone above it I will be happy and contented; then my road will indeed be cool;” and his prayer was answered.

But even this did not satisfy him, and after traveling a short distance he sat down and implored the cloud people to give him a river that he might float over the road, and immediately a river appeared and the coyote floated with the stream. He was high in the mountains and wished to go below to the hare land. After floating a long distance he came to the hare land and saw many hares a little distance off, both large and small, and they were on both sides of the river. The coyote lay down as though he were dead (he was covered in mud), and listened, and presently he saw a woman ka´wate (mephitis) approaching, carrying her vase and gourd; she was coming for water. Before the coyote saw the ka´wate he heard the gourd striking against the vase. As she drew near the coyote peeped at her and she looked at him and said: “Here is a dead coyote. Where did he come from? I guess from the mountains above. I guess he fell into the water and died.” When she came closer he looked at her and said: “Come here, woman.” “What do you want?” said the ka´wate. “I want you to be my companion,” said the coyote. “I know all the hares and other small animals well, and I guess in a little while they will all come here, and when they think I am dead they will be very happy.” And the two talked much together and the coyote said: “Let us be companions, what do you think about it?” “I have no thoughts at all,” said the ka´wate. “I,” said the coyote, “think we had better work together.” And the ka´wate replied: “It is well.” Then said the coyote: “Go and bring me four clubs; I want them for the hares.” When the ka´wate returned with the clubs the coyote said: “Put them on the ground and cover them with earth.” When this was done he lay upon them. Then said the coyote: “Go and bring me the seeds from the pÁtiÄn.” (A very tall grass; the seeds when ripe are black.) He put the seeds on his mouth, nostrils, eyes, and ears and scattered them over his body. This he did that the hares might think him dead and being eaten by worms. Then he said to the ka´wate: “Look around everywhere for the hares; when you see them, say a coyote is dead; they will soon come to look at me and they will dance around me for joy because I am dead. You return with them, and when they dance tell them to look to the cloud people while they dance, and then throw your poison (mephitic fluid) up and let it fall upon their faces like rain, and when it goes in their eyes they can not see, for the poison of the ka´wate burns like red pepper, and when they become blind we can kill them; you will take two of the clubs and I will take two, one in either hand.” When the ka´wate reached the hares she spoke to the hare chief. “Hare, listen; I saw a dead coyote over there.” “Where?” cried the chief. “There by the river.” “You are not lying?” said the chief. “No; I speak the truth, there is a dead coyote.” “What killed the coyote?” “I don’t know what killed him, but I think he must have fallen into the water far above and was brought here by the river.” And the chief communicated the news to all of his companions and they concluded to send one hare alone to see if the ka´wate spoke the truth. “Go quickly,” said they to the hare, “and see if the woman speaks the truth.” The hare hastened off, and when he reached the coyote he looked carefully all about and concluded the coyote had been dead some time, for he saw that the body was covered with worms, and returning he told his people what he had seen, but some refused to believe that the coyote was dead. It was decided to send another messenger, and a second hare was dispatched to see if the first one’s story was correct. He returned with the same news and so a third and fourth were sent, and each came bearing the story that a coyote was dead and being eaten by worms. Then the hares decided to go in a body and see the dead coyote. The men, women, and children hastened to look upon the dead body of the coyote, and rejoicing over his death they struck him with their hands and kicked him. There were crowds of hares and they decided to have a great dance. Now and then a hare would leave the group of dancers and stamp upon the coyote, who lay all the time as though he were dead, and during the dance they clapped their hands over their mouths and gave a whoop like the war whoop.

After a time the ka´wate stepped apart from the group and said, “All of you hares look up, do not hold your heads down, look up to the cloud people while you sing and dance; it is much better to hold your heads up.” All threw their heads back and looked to ti´ni´a. Then the ka´wate threw high her mephitic fluid, which fell like rain upon the faces and into the eyes of all the hares, and their eyes were on fire; all they could do was to rub them; they could not see anything. And the coyote quickly rose, and handed the ka´wate two of the clubs, keeping two himself, and they killed all of the hares; there was a great number, and they were piled up like stones. Then said the coyote, “Where shall I find fire to cook the hares? Ah,” said he, pointing across to a very high rock, “that rock gives good shade and it is cool; I will find the fire and cook my meat near the shade of the rock;” and he and the ka´wate carried all of the hares to this point and the coyote made a large fire and threw them into it. When this was done he was very warm from his work about the fire and he was also tired, and he lay down close to the rock in the shade. He was now perfectly happy, and contented to be quiet, but only for a short time. He must be at work about something, and he said to the ka´wate, “What shall we do now?” and she answered; “I do not know,” then the coyote said, “We will work together for something pretty; we will run a race and the one who wins will have all the hares.” “Oh,” said the ka´wate, “how could I beat you? your feet are so much larger than mine.” “Well,” said the coyote, “I will allow you the start of me.” The coyote made a torch of the inner shreds of the cedar bark and wrapped it with yucca thread and lighting it tied this torch to the end of his tail. The fire was attached to his tail to light the grass that he might see everywhere about him to watch the ka´wate that she might not escape him. He then said, “Woman, I know you can not run fast, you must go first and I will wait until you have gone a certain distance.” The ka´wate started off, but when out of sight of the coyote she slipped into the house of the badger. At the proper time the coyote started with the fire attached to his tail. Wherever he touched the grass he set fire to it. The ka´wate waited for him to pass and then came out of the house of the badger and hastening back to the rock she carried all the hares to a high ledge, leaving but four tiny little ones below. The coyote was surprised in his run not to overtake the ka´wate. “She must be very quick,” thought he. “How could she run so fast,” and after passing around the mountain, all the time expecting to see the ka´wate ahead of him, he returned to the rock surely expecting to find her there. Not seeing her, he cried, “Where can the ka´wate be?”

He was tired and sat down in the shade of the rock. “Why does she not come,” thought the coyote; “perhaps she will not return before night, her feet are so small; perhaps she will not come at all. Strange I have not seen her; she must be far off.” The Ka´wate, who was just above him, heard all that he said. She watched him and saw him take a stick and look into the mound for the hares. (They had covered the hares before leaving the place.) He pulled out a very small one which he threw away. He then drew a second one, still smaller than the first, and this he also threw off, and again a third, and a fourth, each one smaller than the other. “I do not care for the little ones,” he said, “I have many here, I will not eat the smaller ones,” and he hunted and hunted in the mound for the hares, but found no more; all were gone, and he looked about him and said, “That woman has robbed me,” and he was glad to collect the four he had cast away and eat them, for he was very hungry. After his meal he looked about him and found the ka´wate’s footprints on the rocks. He hunted everywhere for her, but he did not think to look above, and after searching a long time he became weary and laid down to rest. As he looked upward, he saw the woman sitting on the ledge of the rock with the hares piled beside her. The coyote was hungry for the hares, and he begged the ka´wate to bring him some, and she threw him down a very small one, and the coyote was angry with her and still more angry with himself, because he could not climb the rock; she had gone where he could not go. The coyote was very angry when he parted from the ka´wate. After traveling a little way he saw a small bird. The bird was hopping about contentedly and the coyote thought, “What a beautiful bird, it moves about so gracefully. I guess I will work awhile with that bird,” and drawing nearer to the bird, he asked, “What beautiful things are you working at?” but the bird could not understand the coyote, and he could only stand and admire the bird. He saw the bird take out his two eyes and throw them straight up, like two stones, to ti´nia, and then look upward, but he had no eyes in his head; presently the bird said, “Come my eyes, come quickly, down into my head,” and immediately the eyes fell into the sockets of the bird, and the bird was apparently pleased, and the eyes appeared much brighter than before. The coyote discovering how improved the bird’s eyes were, he asked the bird to take out his eyes and throw them up that they might become brighter, and the bird took out the coyote’s eyes and held an eye in either hand for a little while, then threw them to ti´nia, and the coyote looked upward, but he had no eyes, and he cried, “Come back, my eyes, come quickly,” and the eyes fell into the coyote’s head. He was delighted with the improvement in his eyes, and, thinking that they might be made still more brilliant and penetrating by throwing them up a second time, he asked the bird to repeat the performance. The bird did not care to work any more for the coyote and told him so, but the coyote persistently urged the bird to throw his eyes up once more. The bird, growing a little angry, said, “Why should I work for you, coyote? No, I work no more for you,” but the coyote was persistent, and the bird a second time took out his eyes, this time causing the coyote such pain that he cried. As the bird threw up the eyes the coyote looked up to ti´nia and cried, “Come my eyes come to me!” but the eyes continued to ascend and did not return. The coyote was much grieved and moved about slowly and awkwardly, for he could not see, and he wept bitterly over the loss of his eyes.

The bird was very much annoyed to be thus bothered with the coyote, and said to him, “Go away now; I am tired of you, go off and hunt for other eyes, do not remain to weep and bother me,” but the coyote refused to leave and begged and entreated the bird to find eyes for him. Finally the bird gathered gum from a piÑon tree and rolled two small bits between the palms of his hands, and, when they were round, he placed the two balls into the eye sockets of the coyote, who was then able to see, but not clearly as before, and these eyes, instead of being black like his other eyes, were slightly yellow. “Now,” said the bird, “you can remain no longer.”

After traveling some little distance the coyote met a deer with two fawns; the fawns were beautifully spotted, and he said to the deer, “How did you paint your children, they are so beautiful?” The deer replied, “I painted them with fire from the cedar.” “And how did you do the work?” inquired the coyote. “I put my children into a cave,” answered the deer, “and built a fire of cedar in front of the cave, and every time a spark flew from the fire it struck my children, making a beautiful spot.” “Oh,” said the coyote, “I will do the same and make my children beautiful,” and he hurried to his house and put his children into a cave and built a fire of cedar, and then stood off to watch the fire. The children cried much, because the fire was very hot. The coyote tried to stop their cries by telling them they would soon be beautiful like the children of the deer. After a time their weeping ceased and the coyote thought his words had comforted them, but, in fact, the children were burned to death. When the cedar was consumed the coyote hastened to the cave, expecting to find his children very beautiful, but instead he found them dead; he was enraged with the deer and ran fast to hunt her, but he could find her nowhere, and he returned to his house much distressed and much disgusted with himself for having been so easily fooled by the deer.

THE COYOTE AND THE COUGAR.

When the world was new the coyote was very industrious. He was always at work passing around the world everywhere. He was never lazy, but his thoughts were not good. He visited one camp of people and told them he belonged to the Corn people; at another camp he said he belonged to the Knife people. Both times he lied. After a while the coyote told the cougar, who was the father of all game, that he would like to be a ho´naaite. The cougar replied, “When your thoughts are good, then you may become one.” “I guess the coyote is not lying, he has good thoughts now,” and the cougar said to him, “Come in four days to me and we will make hÄ´chamoni.” The coyote returned on the fourth day and worked eight days with the cougar preparing hÄ´chamoni. He was supposed to abstain during this time from food, drink, and smoking, and to practice continency. The cougar also fasted and practiced continency for the same period of time. Each night when it was dark the cougar said, “You, man coyote, now it is night, take this food which I give you and offer it to Ko´pishtaia.” The first night the coyote returned with a contented heart, and upon entering the cougar’s house he sat down. The second night after the coyote left the house with the food for Ko´pishtaia, he felt a little hungry, and he said to himself, “Last night I was not hungry, now I am hungry, alas! I am afraid or I would eat this food. Why have I wished to be a ho´naaite? I have food here and I wish to eat it, for I am hungry and yet I am afraid.” And so he argued with himself until he overcame all scruples and ate the food. “Now,” said he, “I am contented; I am no longer hungry;” and he returned to the cougar, pretending he had offered the food to Ko´pishtaia, and so the remaining eight nights the coyote ate the food which was given him by the cougar to offer to Ko´pishtaia, but he said nothing of this to anyone. The cougar grew to be straight and had no belly, but the coyote did not change in appearance, and the sixth night the cougar began to suspect that the coyote was not making his offerings to Ko´pishtaia. The coyote told the cougar each night that he was contented and was not hungry. “I think you are a little sad,” the cougar replied. “No, I am not sad; my stomach is strong,” said the coyote, “I can fast eight days; I wonder that I am not a little sad. Why am I not hungry? I feel strong all the time that I am passing about.”

On the seventh day the cougar and the coyote worked very hard all day making hÄ´chamoni, and when the work was completed the cougar taught the coyote the song which he would sing as ho´naaite of the Coyote Society. They sang all the eighth day and night and at the conclusion of the song the coyote was ordained a ho´naaite. Then said the cougar to the coyote, “Go now and kill a deer, and when you kill the deer bring the meat here and we will eat,” and the coyote said, “It is well;” and he went to hunt the deer. In the early morning the coyote saw a deer, but the deer ran fast, and, though he followed him all day, he could not get close enough to catch him; he did not carry arrows, but was to catch him with his hands, and at night the coyote returned worn out. While the coyote was absent the cougar thought, “I guess the coyote will be gone all day,” and when evening came and the coyote was still absent he thought, “The coyote has not a good head or thoughts for a ho´naaite.” When the coyote returned at night the cougar said, “Why have you been gone all day and come back without a deer?” “I saw a deer,” said the coyote, “early this morning, and I ran all day following him; I went very far and am tired.” “Well,” said the cougar, “why is it your head and heart cared to be a ho´naaite? I gave you food for Ko´pishtaia and you, coyote, you ate the food that should have been given to Ko´pishtaia; this is why you did not catch the deer to-day. Had you given the food to Ko´pishtaia, instead of eating it, you would have caught the deer.” The coyote thought much, but did not say a word. He slept that night in the cougar’s house, and at dawn the cougar said to one of his own people, “you go and catch a deer.” “Well, be it so,” said the companion, and he started for the deer before the sun was up. In a short time he saw one; it was very near him, and with one jump he sprang upon the game and caught it before the sun was yet up, and hurrying back to the house of his chief he said, “Here is the meat of the deer.”

The chief was much pleased and contented, but the coyote was very sad. All the companions of the cougar were happy and rejoiced. “Good, my son!” said the cougar, “I am much contented; we will pay the Ko´pishtaia with plumes; now we will eat the flesh of the deer.” The chief ate first and the others after him; he would not give any of the meat to the coyote, because the coyote’s thoughts were not good. The chief enjoyed his food greatly, this being the ninth morning from the beginning of his fast. The cougar said to the coyote, “Your thoughts and heart are not good; you are no longer a ho´naaite; go! You will henceforth travel quickly over and about the world; you will work much, passing about, but you will never understand how to kill the deer, antelope, or any game; I do not travel fast, but my thoughts are good, and when I call the deer they come quickly.” Since that time the coyote is always hunting the deer, rabbit, and other game, but is not successful.

THE COYOTE AND THE RATTLESNAKE.

The coyote’s house was near the house of the rattlesnake. The coyote said to the snake, “Let us walk together,” and while walking he said to the snake, “To-morrow come to my house.” In the morning the snake went to the house of the coyote and moved along slowly on the floor, shaking his rattle. The coyote sat to one side, much afraid; he became frightened after watching the movements of the snake and hearing the noise of the rattle. The coyote had a pot of rabbit meat cooking on the fire, which he placed in front of the snake, inviting him to eat, saying, “Companion, eat.” “No, companion, I will not eat your meat; I do not understand your food,” said the snake. “What food do you eat?” asked the coyote. “I eat the yellow flowers of the corn,” was the reply, and the coyote immediately began to look around for some, and when he found the pollen, the snake said, “Put some on the top of my head that I may eat it,” and the coyote, standing as far off as possible, dropped a little on the snake’s head. The snake said, “Come nearer and put enough on my head that I may find it.” He was very much afraid, but after a while he came close to the snake and put the pollen on his head, and after eating the pollen the snake thanked the coyote saying, “I will go now and pass about,” but before leaving he invited the coyote to his house: “Companion, to-morrow you come to my house.” “Very well,” said the coyote, “to-morrow I will go to your house.” The coyote thought much what the snake would do on the morrow. He made a small rattle (by placing tiny pebbles in a gourd) and attached it to the end of his tail, and, testing it, he was well satisfied and said: “This is well;” he then proceeded to the house of the snake. When he was near the house he shook his tail and said to himself, “This is good; I guess when I go into the house the snake will be very much afraid of me.” He did not walk into the house, but moved like a snake. The coyote could not shake the rattle as the snake did his; he had to hold his tail in his hand. When he shook his rattle the snake appeared afraid and said, “Companion, I am much afraid of you.” The snake had a stew of rats on the fire, which he placed before the coyote and invited him to eat, saying, “Companion, eat some of my food,” and the coyote replied, “I do not understand your food; I can not eat it, because I do not understand it.” The snake insisted upon his eating, but the coyote continued to refuse, saying, “If you will put some of the flower of the corn on my head I will eat; I understand that food.” The snake quickly procured some corn pollen, but he pretended to be afraid to go too near the coyote, and stood off a distance. The coyote told him to come nearer and put it well on the top of his head; but the snake replied, “I am afraid of you.” The coyote said, “Come nearer to me; I am not bad,” and the snake came closer and put the pollen on the coyote’s head and the coyote tried to eat the pollen; but he had not the tongue of the snake, so could not take it from his head. He made many attempts to reach the top of his head, putting his tongue first on one side of his nose and then on the other, but he could only reach either side of his nose. His repeated failures made the snake laugh heartily. The snake put his hand over his mouth, so that the coyote should not see him laugh; he really hid his head in his body. The coyote was not aware that the snake discovered that he could not obtain the food. As he left the snake’s house he held his tail in his hand and shook the rattle; and the snake cried, “Oh companion! I am so afraid of you,” but in reality the snake shook with laughter. The coyote, returning to his house, said to himself, “I was such a fool; the snake had much food to eat and I would not take it. Now I am very hungry,” and he went out in search of food.

THE SKÁTONA.

The myth of the ska´tona (a monster plumed serpent) who, in the old time, ate the people, is familiar to every man, woman, and child of Sia. This serpent, who lived in the mountains, did not move to catch the people, but drew them to him with his breath; he never called but one person at a time, compelling each one to approach sidewise so that he could not be seen. The hand was usually grabbed first, then the serpent would take the hand into his mouth and gradually devour his victim.