V
THE DEER'S CHILD  

Now one of the priests had a little daughter, and the child was so beautiful that he decided to set her apart for the gods. She was kept in a room that he had built specially for her; and, fearing that the people of the village when passing by, might gaze on her flower-like loveliness, he had put but one opening in the room, a hole on the roof where a ladder was placed, and those coming and going could enter by that means.

The years passed and the little girl grew into a maiden, and was more beautiful than ever.

Her father would bring her the finest cotton, and all through the days she would weave pretty blankets of many colors for ceremonial uses.

One beautiful, bright day the Sun-God looked down with pleasure upon the terraced city. He looked along one of the straight beams of his own light, and it chanced to pass through the opening in the roof of the maiden's room, and he beheld the maiden. He wondered at her beauty, and thought of her as he made his great journeys round the worlds, and he knew that nothing could compare with it.

The Sun-God would think of the maiden, and watch anxiously until his golden beams shined through the sky-hole of her room. And in this way the Sun learned that he loved the maiden.

Now, one summer day, when at noon, the town rested, and there was a stillness over the meadows, the maiden sat in her cool room, weaving. Suddenly a great light shined out, and the girl covered her eyes with her bended arm to protect them. She heard a voice, and looking up, saw before her a glorious youth, it was the Sun-God himself. He spoke to her gently and then she looked upon him not fearfully. And so it came about that she loved him, and he loved her, and won her to be his wife. All through that summer he came to her at noon-time when the light shown through the opening in the roof of her room.

Beautiful were the blankets the maiden wove during those summer months; and the priest, her father, wondered at the glad light that seemed to shine from her whole being.

"I have devoted her to sacred things," said the old man, "and she has been kept apart from the people. She spends her life weaving the robes for ceremonial usage, and yet, there is a joy in her eyes... "

The days passed and winter came to Háwikuh. The sunbeams did not enter the opening in the roof, and the wife of the Sun was sad as though a snow-cloud covered her heart, and she left her loom and her weaving, and sat in a corner and dreamed.

In the spring-time a little boy was born, and the mother, still in a dream, wrapped the child in soft cotton, and in the middle of the night, stole out over the rooftops, and down the hill on which Háwikuh is built, to the meadows. She laid the baby by the side of a little stream, and then wandered away to the high mountains across the plains.

As daylight was breaking in the East, and the mesas and valleys were coming forth, one after another, from the shadow of night, a Deer with her two bright-speckled fawns came down from the hills, and with ears and eyes alert, stopped at the stream to drink.

While they were drinking they were startled by the baby's cries. They saw little pieces of cotton flying up into the air, almost as if a little whirlwind were blowing on the bank of the stream. It was the child, who, waking and finding himself alone and hungry and cold was crying and throwing his little hands about.

The Deer seeing the child to be so tiny, said to her fawns, "O, my children, I love you so much, that I can not leave this baby, though he be a human, here in the cold morning. I will take him and he shall be your brother."

The old Deer took the little baby and breathed her warm, sweet breath upon him, and then she wrapped him in the soft cotton, and, lifting him on her broad horns, carried him away toward the south, followed on either side by her fawns, who sprang into the air with delight. The home of the Mother-Deer and her little ones was south of Háwikuh in a valley that turns off among the ledges of rocks near the little spring called, Poshaan. There, in the shelter of a clump of piñon and cedar trees, was their home.

The Deer gave the baby some of her warm milk, and held him close to her through the dark night, and her little fawns snuggled down on the other side, and he was warm.

In the morning they saw that the baby had grown during the night, and before the sun set on the second day, he was creeping about. The child grew so rapidly that on the fourth day he was running about and playing with his foster brother and sister.

By the end of the eighth day, he was a youth fair to look upon, — and as time went on, he grew wondrously strong, and even swifter of foot than the Deer themselves. And when he had learned their language and their ways, the Deer mother led him out into the wilds and made him acquainted with the great herd to which she belonged. They welcomed the youth and loved him, and so wise was he that he soon became the leader of the Deer of the Háwikuh country.

One morning late that summer, the uncle of the boy's real mother who had wandered away to the high mountains, happened to be out hunting. He went far out on the great mesas, and as he was walking quietly along looking for game, he saw a vast, herd of Deer gathered, as people gather in council. They seemed to be listening to someone in their midst. The hunter stole along carefully on his hands and knees, twisting himself among the bushes until he came quite near. Great was his wonder when he saw a splendid youth, broad of shoulder, strong and tall surrounded by the Deer, and the old and the young seemed to be paying attention to what he was saying.

The hunter looked, and, shading his eyes with his hands, looked again. Then he stood up. No sooner had he done this than the sharp eyes of the youth saw him. With a shout to the Deer he sped away like the wind, followed by the whole herd, their hoofs thundering.

The hunter ran back to Háwikuh as fast as he could, and called all the priests and warriors together, and told them what he had seen.

Many believed that the hunter had fallen asleep and dreamed this thing; but when he assured them that he had truly seen the youth, and wished to lead them to the very place, they were convinced of the truth of his words.

That evening the herald-priest climbed to the house-top, and announced to the people, that on the fourth day from that day a great hunt would take place. Now, when the youth had led the Deer to safety, the old ones came to him, and with them, his foster-mother. They told him that .what he had seen was a man like himself, and the Deer, his foster-mother, related to him the story of finding the child of mortals on the bank of the stream near Háwikuh.

The youth sat with his head bowed thinking of what she had told him. Then he raised his head proudly and said, — "Maybe I am the child of mortals, but they have not loved me. You have been kind to me, and are my real people. I will stay with you."

But the old Mother-Deer said to him, "Hush my child! You are only a mortal, and, although you have learned much in these summer months, still you could not live with us when the winter comes. There would be nothing for you to eat but the dried grass we live upon.

The old ones came closer still, and spoke to the youth. "We know that the men of Háwikuh will hunt us now; it is always so when one discovers our herd. As is their custom, on the fourth day from now they will gather together and surround us. There are those who will seek you, and you must give yourself up to them. Even we ourselves give up our lives to the brave hunters of this people. There are those among them that are sacred of thought and have sacred hearts. They always make sacrifices upon us that our lives continue in the Land of Everlasting Summer."

A splendid Deer rose from the midst of the herd, and coming forward, laid his cheek on the cheek of the boy, and said, "We love you, but we know that we must part from you. And, in order that you may be like other mortals, only far wiser than they, come with me to the Land of the Souls of Men, where the Gods of the Sacred Dance and Drama sit in council, and there also, are the Gods of the Spirit World."

The youth agreed to this, and on that same day he set forward, running by the side of the beautiful Deer.

They came to the Lake of the Dead just as night was falling over the land. Lights were shining over the middle of the Lake, and over the Gardens of the Sacred Dance; and the old Drama Woman and the old Drama Man were walking on the shores and calling across to each other.

As they came near to the shores of the Lake the Deer said, — "Step boldly in with me. Ladders of rushes will rise to receive you, and we will be carried gently and swiftly down underneath the water into the great hall of the Gods."

They stepped into the Lake. Great ladders of rushes and flags lifted themselves from the water, and the boy and the Deer were carried down into the wonderful halls lighted by many lights and fires. In the largest the Gods were sitting in council, and when the strangers arrived they greeted them, and gave them a place in the light of the central fire. Through the doors of the West and the North and the East and the South came long rows of sacred dancers. They were clad in cotton mantles, white as the daylight and finely embroidered; and they were decked with many treasure shells and turquoise stones. They sang and they danced to the delight of the Gods and the wonder of the Deer and his foster-brother.

When they had finished the Sun-Priest of the Sacred
Dance arose and said, — "What do you wish of us, and why have you come here, Deer of the Forest Mesas and you, Foster-Child of the Deer?"

Then the Deer lifted his head and told his story.

"It is well," said the Gods.

Then the Fire-God came forward and waved his flame around the youth, and at once he knew that he was a human being, and depended upon food prepared by fire. Then the Gods who spoke the speech of men gathered around and breathed upon him. They touched his lips and his ears, and in this way the youth knew both the speech and the understanding of the speech of mortal man. They called out, and there were brought to them fine garments of white cotton embroidered in many colors, rare necklaces of sacred shells with many turquoises and coral-like shells strung in their midst. Making them all into a bundle, they gave them to the youth and said, —

"O, youth, we know that you are the Child of the Sun who is the Father of us all. Go now with your Foster-brother, the Deer, to the world of living things. Know that on the day after the morrow the hunters, led by your uncle, will gather together. The Deer will instruct you, and you must obey him. You will be called "Deer's Son" by men. Fear not, you will be happy in the days to come, and treasured by your people."

 
THE DEER'S CHILD

 "What do you wish of us, Deer of the Forest Mesas and you, Foster-child of the deer?"