Navaho Legends

When she plucked the corn she also gathered three of the leaves and put them into the same bundle with the corn; but as they walked home the leaves increased in number, and when she got to the house and untied the bundle she found not only three, but many leaves in it.

521. He explained to her how to make the dish now known to the Navahoes as dĭtlógi klesán,230 and told her to make this of the white corn. He instructed her how to prepare corn as dĭtlógĭn tsĭdĭkói,231 and told her to make this of the blue corn. He showed her how to prepare corn in the form of thábĭtsa,232 or three-ears, and bade her make this of the yellow corn. He told her to roast, in the husk, the ear of many colors. She took the corn to the other lodge and prepared it as she had been directed. In cooking, it all increased greatly in amount, so that they all had a big meal out of four ears.

522. The old people questioned their daughter about the farm—what it looked like, what grew there. They asked her many questions. She told them of all she had seen and heard: of her distant view of the beautiful farm under the rain, under the black cloud, under the rainbow; of her near view of it—the great leaves, the white blossoms of the bean, the yellow blossoms of the squash, the tassel of the corn, the silk of the corn, the pollen of the corn, and all the other beautiful things she saw there. When she had done the old man said: “I thank you, my daughter, for bringing me such a son-in-law. I have travelled far, but I have never seen such things as those you tell of. I thought I was rich, but my son-in-law is richer. In future cook these things with care, in the way my son-in-law shows you.”

523. The old man then went to see his son-in-law and said: “I thank you for the fine food you have brought us, and I am glad to hear you have such a beautiful farm. You know how to raise and cook corn; but do you know how to make and cook the pemmican229 of the deer?” “I know nothing about it,” said the Navaho. (The one knew nothing of venison; the other knew nothing of corn.) “How does it taste to you?” asked the old man. “I like the taste of it and I thank you for what you have given me,” replied the Navaho. “Your wife, then, will have something to tell you.” When he got back to the other lodge he said: “My son-in-law has been kind to us; he has shown you his farm and taught you how to prepare his food. My daughter, now we must show him our farm.” She brought to her husband a large portion of the cooked corn.

524. When night came and they were alone together she asked him to tell her his name. “I have no name,” he replied. Three times he answered her thus. When she asked for the fourth time he said: “Why do you wish to know my name? I have two names. I am Natĭ′nĕsthani, He Who Teaches Himself, and I am Áhodĭseli, He Who Has Floated. Now that I have told you my name you must tell me your father’s name.” “He is called Píniltani, Deer Raiser. I am Píniltani-bitsí, Deer Raiser’s Daughter, and my mother is Píniltani-baád, She Deer Raiser,” the young woman answered.

525. In the morning after this conversation they had a breakfast of mush and venison; but Natĭ′nĕsthani received no warning from the Wind People and feared not to eat. When the meal was over, the young woman said to her husband: “My father has told me that, as you have shown me your farm, I may now show you his farm. If you wish to go there, you must first bathe your body in yucca-suds and then rinse off in pure water.” After he had taken his bath as directed he picked up his old sandals and was about to put them on when she stopped him, saying: “No. You wore your own clothes when you went to your own farm. Now you must wear our clothes when you come to our farm.” She gave him embroidered moccasins; fringed buckskin leggings; a buckskin shirt, dyed yellow, beautifully embroidered with porcupine quills, and fringed with stripes of otter-skin; and a headdress adorned with artificial ears called Tsáhadolkohi—they wore such in the old days, and there are men still living who have seen them worn.

526. Dressed in these fine garments he set out with his wife and they travelled toward the southeast. As they were passing the other hut she bade him wait outside while she went in to procure a wand of turquoise. They went but a short distance (about three hundred yards)233 when they came, on the top of a small hill, to a large, smooth stone, adorned with turquoise, sticking in the ground like a stopple in a water-jar. She touched this rock stopple with her wand in four different directions—east, south, west, north—and it sprang up out of the ground. She touched it in an upward direction, and it lay over on its side, revealing a hole which led to a flight of four stone steps.

527. She entered the hole and beckoned to him to follow. When they descended the steps they found themselves in a square apartment with four doors of rock crystal, one on each side. There was a rainbow over each door. With her wand she struck the eastern door and it flew open, disclosing a vast and beautiful country, like this world, but more beautiful. How vast it was the Navaho knew not, for he could not see the end of it. They passed through the door. The land was filled with deer and covered with beautiful flowers. The air was filled with the odor of pollen and the odor of fragrant blossoms. Birds of the most beautiful plumage were flying in the air, perching on the flowers, and building nests in the antlers of the deer. In the distance a light shower of rain was falling, and rainbows shone in every direction. “This, then, is the farm of my father-in-law which you promised to show me,” said the Navaho. “It is beautiful; but in truth it is no farm, for I see nothing planted here.” She took him into three other apartments. They were all as beautiful as the first, but they contained different animals. In the apartment to the south there were antelope; in that to the west, Rocky Mountain sheep; in that to the north, elk.

528. When they closed the last door and came out to the central apartment they found Deer Raiser there. “Has my son-in-law been in all the rooms and seen all the game?” he asked. “I have seen all,” said Natĭ′nĕsthani. “Do you see two sacrificial cigarettes of the deer above the rainbow over the eastern door?” “I see them now,” responded the Navaho, “but I did not notice them when I entered.” The old man then showed him, over the door in the south, two cigarettes of the antelope; over the door in the west, two cigarettes of the Rocky Mountain sheep; over the door in the north, the single white cigarette of Hastséyalti234 (the elk had no cigarette), and at the bottom of the steps by which they had entered, two cigarettes of the fawn. “Look well at these cigarettes,” said the old man, “and remember how they are painted, for such we now sacrifice in our ceremonies.” “Are you pleased?” “Do you admire what you have seen?” “What do you think of it all?” Such were the questions the old man asked, and the Navaho made answer: “I thank you. I am glad that I have seen your farm and your pets. Such things I never saw before.”

529. “Now, my daughter,” said Deer Raiser, “catch a deer for my son-in-law, that we may have fresh meat.” She opened the eastern door, entered, and caught a big buck by the foot (just as we catch sheep in these days). She pulled it out. The Navaho walked in front; the young woman, dragging the buck, came after him, and the old man came last of all, closing the doors and putting in the stopple as he came. They brought the buck home, tied its legs together with short rainbows, cut its throat with a stone arrow point, and skinned it as we now skin deer.

530. Now Deer Raiser began again to plot the death of his son-in-law. He found he could not poison him, so he determined to try another plan. In a neighboring canyon, to which there was but one entrance, he kept four fierce pet bears. He determined to invite his son-in-law out to hunt with him, and get him killed by these bears. The rest of that day the Navaho remained at home with his wife, while the old man took the hoofs of the slain deer and made with them a lot of tracks leading into the canyon of the bears.

531. On the following morning, while the young woman was cooking in the other lodge, Deer Raiser came in where the Navaho sat and said: “My son-in-law, four of my pet deer have escaped from the farm. I have tracked them to a canyon near by, which has only one entrance. As soon as you have eaten I want you to help me to hunt them. You will stand at the entrance of the canyon while I go in to drive the deer toward you, and you can kill them as they come out. No,” said the old man after pausing for a while and pretending to think, “you must go into the canyon, my son-in-law, while I stay at the entrance and kill the deer. That will be better.” When about to start on his hunt, the Wind People whispered to the Navaho: “Do not enter the canyon.”

532. The two men walked along the steep side of the valley, following the tracks until they came to the high rugged cliffs that marked the entrance to the canyon. “When my deer escape, here is where they usually come,” said Deer Raiser. A little stream of water ran out of the canyon, and here the old man had raised a dam to make a pool. When they reached the pool he said: “Here I shall stop to shoot the deer. Go you in and drive them out for me.” “No, I fear the deer will pass me,” said Natĭ′nĕsthani. Four times these words were said by both. At last the old man, seeing that his companion was obstinate, said: “Stay here, then, but do not let the deer escape you, and do not climb the hillsides around for fear the deer should see you,” and he went himself into the canyon. In spite of all the warnings he had received, Natĭ′nĕsthani climbed a rocky eminence where he could watch and be out of danger. After waiting a while in silence he heard a distant cry like that of a wolf,235 woo-oo-oo-oo, and became aware that something was moving toward him through the brush. He soon descried four bears walking down the canyon in single file, about thirty paces apart, alternately a female and a male. The old man had probably told them there was some one for them to kill, for they advanced with hair bristling, snouts up, and teeth showing. When he saw them coming he said, “I am Nayénĕzgạni. I am Hastséyalti. I am Sasnalkáhi. I am a god of bears,” and he mentioned the names of other potent gods.

As the bears were passing their hidden enemy he drew arrow after arrow to the head and slew them all, one by one. He killed them as they walked along a ledge of rock, and their bodies tumbled down on the other side of the ledge, where they were hidden from view. Soon the voice of the old man was heard in the distance crying: “Oh, my pets! Oh, Tsananaí! Oh, Tsĕ′skodi! (for the bears had names).236 Save a piece for me! Save a piece for me!” And a little later he came in sight, running and panting. He did not see his son-in-law till he was right beside him. He showed at once that he was surprised and angry, but he quickly tried to make it appear that he was angry from another cause. “I should have been here. You have let them run by,” he cried in angry tones. “Oh, no,” said the Navaho, “I have not let them run by. I have killed them. Look over the ledge and you will see them.” The old man looked as he was told, and was struck dumb with astonishment and sorrow. He sat down in silence, with his head hanging between his knees, and gazed at the bodies of his dead pets. He did not even thank his son-in-law.237

533. Why did Deer Raiser seek the life of his son-in-law? Now Natĭ′nĕsthani knew, and now you shall know. The old man was a dĭnéʻyiani, or man-eater, and a wizard. He wanted the flesh of the Navaho to eat, and he wanted parts of the dead body to use in the rites of witchcraft. But there was yet another reason; he was jealous of the Navaho, for those who practise witchcraft practise also incest.

534. “Why did you shoot them?” said the old man at last; “the deer went out before them. Why did you not shoot the deer? Now you may skin the bears.” “You never drove deer to me,” said the Navaho. “These are what you drove to me. When a companion in the hunt drives anything to me I kill it, no matter what it is. You have talked much to me about hunting with you. Now I have killed game and you must skin it.” “Help me, then, to skin it,” said Deer Raiser. “No. I never skin the game I kill myself.238 You must do the skinning. I killed for you,” said the Navaho. “If you will not help me,” said the old man, “go back to the house and tell my daughter to come and assist me to skin the bears. Go back by the way we came when we trailed the deer.”

535. Natĭ′nĕsthani set off as the Deer Raiser had directed him. As soon as he was out of sight the old man rushed for the house by a short cut. Reaching home, he hastily dressed himself in the skin of a great serpent, went to the trail which his son-in-law was to take, and lay in ambush behind a log at a place where the path led through a narrow defile. As the Navaho approached the log the Wind People told him: “Your father-in-law awaits you behind the log.” The Navaho peeped over the log before he got too near, and saw Deer Raiser in his snake-skin suit, swaying uneasily back and forth, poising himself as if preparing to spring. When he saw the young man looking in his direction he crouched low. “What are you doing there?” called the Navaho (in a way which let Deer Raiser know he was recognized),239 and he drew an arrow on the old man. “Stop! stop!” cried the latter. “I only came here to meet you and hurry you up.” “Why do you not come from behind, if that is so? Why do you come from before me and hide beside my path?” said the Navaho, and he passed on his way and went to his wife’s house.

536. When Natĭ′nĕsthani reached the house he told his wife that he had killed four animals for his father-in-law, but he did not tell her what kind of animals they were, and he told her that her father sent for her mother to help skin the animals and cut up the meat. The daughter delivered the message to her mother, and the latter went out to the canyon to help her husband. When Deer Raiser saw his wife coming he was furious. “It was my daughter I sent for, not you,” he roared. “What sort of a man is he who cannot carry my word straight, who cannot do as he is told? I bade him tell my daughter, not you, to come to me.” Between them they skinned and dressed the bears and carried them, one at a time, to his house. He sent to his son-in-law to know if he wanted some meat, and the Navaho replied that he did not eat bear meat. When he heard this, Deer Raiser was again furious, and said: “What manner of a man is this who won’t eat meat? (He did not say what kind of meat.) When we offer him food he says he does not want to eat it. He never does what he is told to do. We cook food for him and he refuses it. What can we do to please him? What food will satisfy him?”

537. The next morning after the bears were killed, the young woman went out as usual, and the old man entered during her absence. He said to Natĭ′nĕsthani: “I wish you to go out with me to-day and help me to fight my enemies. There are enemies of mine, not far from here, whom I sometimes meet in battle.” “I will go with you,” said the Navaho. “I have long been hoping that some one would say something like this to me,”

538. They went from the lodge toward a mountain which was edged on two sides by steep cliffs, which no man could climb. On the top of the mountain the old man said there was a round hole or valley in which his enemies dwelled. He stationed his son-in-law on one side of this round valley where no cliffs were, and he went to the opposite side to drive the enemy, as he said. He promised to join the Navaho when the enemy started. Deer Raiser went around the mountain and cried four times in imitation of a wolf. Then, instead of coming to his comrade’s help, he ran around the base of the hill and got behind his son-in-law. Soon after the old man made his cry, the Navaho saw twelve great ferocious bears coming toward him over the crest of the hill. They were of the kind called sasnalkáhi, or tracking bears, such as scent and track a man, and follow till they kill him. They were of all the sacred colors,—white, blue, yellow, black, and spotted. They came toward the Navaho, but he was well armed and prepared to meet them. He fought with them the hardest fight he ever fought; but at length he killed them all, and suffered no harm himself.240

539. In the mean time the old man ran off in the direction of his home, sure that his son-in-law was killed. He said: “I think we shall hear no more of Natĭ′nĕsthani. I think we shall hear no more of Áhodĭseli. Hereafter it will be Natĭ′nĕsthanini (the dead Natĭ′nĕsthani). Hereafter it will be Áhodĭselini (the dead Áhodĭseli).241 He can’t come back out of the tracking bears’ mouths.” After killing the bears, the Navaho found the old man’s trail and followed it. Presently he came to Deer Raiser, who was sitting on a knoll. The old man could not conceal his astonishment at seeing the Navaho still alive. “When we went out to this battle,” said the young man, “we promised not to desert one another. Why did you run away from me?” The Deer Raiser answered: “I am sorry I could not find you. I did not see where you were, so I came on this way. What did you do where I left you? Did you kill any of the bears?” “Yes, I killed all of them,” said Natĭ′nĕsthani. “I am glad you killed all and came away with your own life, my dear son-in-law,” said the old cheat.

540. They started to walk home together, but night fell when they reached a rocky ridge on the way; here they picked out a nice spot of ground to sleep on, built a shelter of brushwood, and made a fire. Before they went to rest the old man said: “This is a bad place to camp. It is called Kedĭdĭ′lyenaʻaʻ (Ridge of the Burnt Moccasins).” As they lay down to sleep, one on either side of the fire, each took off his moccasins and put them under his head. The old man said: “Take good care of your moccasins, my son-in-law. Place them securely.” “Why does he say these things?” asked the Navaho to himself. As he lay awake, thinking of the warning of the old man, he heard the latter snoring. He rose softly, took away the old man’s moccasins, put his own in their place, and lay down to sleep with Deer Raiser’s moccasins under his head. Later in the night the old man got up, pulled the moccasins from under the young man’s head, and buried them in the hot embers. He was anxious to get home next morning before his son-in-law.

541. At dawn the old man aroused his companion with “It is time we were on our road.” The young man woke, rubbed his eyes, yawned, and pretended to look for his moccasins. After searching a while he asked: “Where are my moccasins? Have I lost them?” “Huh!” said Deer Raiser. “You did not listen to what I told you last night. I said that this was the Ridge of the Burned Moccasins.” In the mean time, on the other side of the fire, the old man was putting on his companion’s moccasins, not noticing that they were not his own. “Look. You are putting on my moccasins instead of your own. Give me my moccasins,” said the Navaho, reaching across the fire. He took them out of his companion’s hands, sat down and put them on. “Now we must hurry back,” he said. “I can’t see what made you burn your moccasins, but I cannot wait for you. I am going now.”242

542. Before the young man left, his father-in-law gave him a message. “I cannot travel as fast as you on my bare feet. When you go home, tell my daughter to come out with a pair of moccasins and some food, and meet me on the trail.” When the Navaho got home he said to his wife: “I camped with your father last night, and he burned his moccasins. He is limping home barefoot. He bids his wife to come out and meet him with moccasins and food.” The daughter delivered the message to her mother, and the latter went out to meet her husband with moccasins, food, and a brand of burning cedar-bark. When the old man met her he was angry. “Why have you come? Why has not my daughter come?” he asked. “Your son-in-law said that I should come,” the old woman replied. “Oh, what a fool my son-in-law is,” cried Deer Raiser. “He never can remember what he is told to say.” He ate his food, put on his moccasins, and hurried home with his wife.

543. When Deer Raiser visited his son-in-law on the following morning he said: “I warn you never to stray alone to the east of the lodge in which you dwell. There is a dangerous place there.” The old man went home, and the Navaho pondered all day over what his father-in-law had said, and during the night he made up his mind to do just what the old man had told him not to do.

544. When Natĭ′nĕsthani had eaten in the morning he dressed himself for a journey, left the lodge, and travelled straight to the east. He came to a steep white ridge;243 when he had climbed this about half way, he observed approaching him a man of low stature. His coat, which fitted him skin-tight, was white on the chest and insides of the arms, while it was brown elsewhere, like the skin of a deer. He wore on his head a deer-mask, with horns, such as deer-hunters use. He carried a turquoise wand, a black bow with sinew on the back, and two arrows with featherings of eagle-tail. He was one of the Tsĭdastóidĭneʻ.244 When the men met, the stranger, who had a pale face,245 looked out from under his mask and said: “Whence come you, my grandchild?” “I come, my grandfather, from a place near here. I come from the house of Pínĭltani,” the Navaho answered. “My grandchild, I have heard of you. Do you know how my cigarette is made?” said the man with the deer-mask. “No, my grandfather, I never heard of your cigarette,” was the reply. “There is a cigarette12 for me, my grandson,” said the stranger. “It is painted white, with a black spot on it, and is so long (second joint of middle finger). It should be laid in the fork of a piñon-tree. I am now walking out, and am going in the direction whence you came. There are people living behind the ridge you are climbing. You should visit them, and hear what they will have to tell you.”

545. The Navaho climbed the ridge; and as he began to descend it on the other side, he observed below him two conical tents, such as the Indians of the plains use. The tents were white below and yellow above, representing the dawn and the evening twilight. As he approached the tents he observed that two games of nánzoz were being played,—one beside each tent,—and a number of people were gathered, watching the games. As he advanced toward the crowd a man came forward to meet him, saying: “Go to the lodge in the south. There are many people there.” He went to the lodge in the south, as he was bidden. A woman of bright complexion, fairer than the Navahoes usually are, the wife of the owner of the lodge, came out and invited him to enter.

546. When Natĭ′nĕsthani entered the lodge he found its owner seated in the middle. The latter was a man past middle age, but not very old. He was dressed in a beautiful suit of buckskin embroidered with porcupine quills. He pointed to a place by his side, and said to the Navaho: “Sit here, my grandchild.” When the Navaho was seated his host said: “Whence do you come? The people who live up on the earth are never seen here.” “I come from the house of Pínĭltani,” the young man answered. “Oh! Do you?” questioned the host. “And do you know that Deer Raiser is a great villain; that he kills his guests; that he talks softly, and pretends friendship, and lures people to stay with him until he can quietly kill them? Has he never spoken thus softly to you? How long have you been staying with him?” “I have dwelt with him for many days,” Natĭ′nĕsthani answered. “Ah!” said his host. “Many of our young men have gone over there to woo his daughter; but they have never returned. Some are killed on the first day; others on the second day; others on the third day; others on the fourth; but no one ever lives beyond the fourth day. No one has ever lived there as long as you have.” “He seems to be such a man as you describe him,” said Natĭ′nĕsthani. “He has been trying to kill me ever since I have been with him.” “You must be a wise man to have escaped him so long; your prayer must be potent; your charm must be strong,”246 declared the host. “No, truly, I know no good prayer;

I possess no charm,” the Navaho replied, and then he went on to tell how he came into that country, and all that happened to him, till he came to the house of Deer Raiser. “He is rich, but he is no good. That daughter of his is also his wife, and that is why he wants to poison her suitors,” said the owner of the lodge, and then he described four ways in which Pínĭltani killed his guests. The Navaho remained silent. He knew all the ways of the Deer Raiser, but he pretended not to know. Then the host went on: “The house of Deer Raiser is a place of danger. You will surely be killed if you stay there. I am sorry you are in such bad company, for you seem to be a good man.” “You speak of Deer Raiser as a great man; but he cannot be so great as you think he is. Four times have I killed him with smoke, and four times have I brought him to life again,” said the Navaho, and then he related all his adventures since he had been with Pínĭltani.

547. The host thanked him for having slain the bears, and went out to call the players and all the crowd that stood around them to come to his tent. They came, for he was their chief, and soon the tent was crowded. Then he spoke to the assembly, and told them the story of the Navaho. There was great rejoicing when they heard it. They thanked Natĭ′nĕsthani for what he had done. One said that Deer Raiser had killed his brother; another said he had killed his son; another said the bears had slain his nephew, and thus they spoke of their many woes.

549. The chief ordered one of his daughters to prepare food for the visitor. She brought in deer pemmican. The Navaho ate, and when he was done he said: “I am now ready to go, my grandfather.” “Wait a while,” said the chief. “I have some medicine to give you. It is an antidote for Deer Raiser’s poison.” He gave his visitor two kinds of medicine; one was an object the size of the last two joints of the little finger, made of the gall of birds of prey,—all birds that catch with their claws; the other was a small quantity (as much as one might grasp with the tips of all the fingers of one hand) of a substance composed of material vomited by each of the five animals that were the totems of this people. “Now have no fear,” said the chief. “The bears are slain, and you have here medicines that will kill the wizard’s poison. They are potent against witchcraft.”247

550. When the Navaho went back to the house where his wife was, she said: “My father has been here inquiring for you. When I told him you had gone to the east he was very angry, and said that he told you not to go there.” Soon the old man entered and said fiercely: “Why have you gone to the east? I told you not to go there. I told you it was a bad place.” The young man made no reply, but acted as if he had seen and heard nothing while he was gone, and in a little while Deer Raiser calmed down and acted as if he wished to be at peace again with his son-in-law; but before he left he warned him not to go to the south. Natĭ′nĕsthani pondered on the words of his father-in-law that night, and made up his mind to again disobey him when morning came.

551. Next day, when he had eaten, he dressed himself for a journey and walked toward the south. He came, in time, to a blue ridge, and when he was ascending it he met a little man, much like the one he had met the day before, but he had a bluish face. Instead of being dressed to look like a deer, he was dressed to look like an antelope; he wore an antelope hunting-mask with horns, he carried a wand of haliotis, and a bow made of a wood called tsĕlkáni, with no sinew on the back, and he had arrows trimmed with the tail feathers of the red-tailed buzzard.248 Like the little man of the east, he was also one of the Tsĭdastói People. He told the Navaho how to make the cigarette that belonged to him, to make it the length of the middle joint of the little finger, to paint it blue, spot it with yellow, and deposit it in the fork of a cedar-tree. The little man told the Navaho to go on over the ridge till he came to two lodges and to listen there to what the people would tell him. He went and found two lodges, and people playing nánzoz, and had all things happen to him nearly the same as happened to him in the east. When he returned home he had again an angry talk from his father-in-law, and was warned not to go to the west; but again he determined to pay no heed to the warning.

552. When he went to the west, next day, he found a yellow ridge to cross. The little man whom he met had a yellowish face; he was armed and dressed the same as the little man of the east, except that he had no horns on his deer-mask, for he represented a doe. He described to the Navaho how to make a cigarette sacred to himself, which was to be painted yellow, spotted with blue, and deposited in a piñon-tree, like the cigarette of the east. Other events happened much as on the two previous days.

553. On the fourth of these forbidden journeys the Navaho went to the north. The ridge which he had to cross was black. The little man whom he met was armed and dressed like the man in the south, but he had no horns on his mask. His face was very dark. The cigarette which he described was to be painted black and spotted with white; it was to be the same length as the cigarette of the south, and disposed of in the same way.

554. When he got home from his fourth journey, his father-in-law came into the lodge and reviled him once more with angry words; but this time the Navaho did not remain silent. He told the old man where he had been, what people he had met, what stories he had heard, and all that he knew of him. He told him, too, that he had learned of cigarettes, and medicines, and charms, and rites to protect him against a wizard’s power. “You have killed others,” said Natĭ′nĕsthani, “you have tried to kill me. I knew it all the time, but said nothing. Now I know all of your wickedness.” “All that you say is true,” said the old man; “but I shall seek your life no more, and I shall give up all my evil ways. While you were abroad on your journeys you learned of powerful sacrifices, and rites, and medicines. All that I ask is that you will treat me with these.” His son-in-law did as he was desired, and in doing so performed the first atsósi hatál.249

555. After treating his father-in-law, Natĭ′nĕsthani returned to his people, taught them all he had learned while he was gone, and thus established the rite of atsósi hatál among the Navahoes. Then he went back to the whirling lake of Tóʻnihilin, and he dwells there still.