Zuñi Mythology - Frank Hamilton Cushing

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it will be well for them to beware. Thus the estimation in which the Spaniard, and especially his religious representatives, were ever afterward to be held was fixed on those fatal days at the close of February, 1630.

      Now again, after this demonstration, the Zuñis, as in the days of the great flood, when men had disobeyed the gods, as when Coronado advanced on Háwik’uh, so soon as they had completed the rites of purifying and baptizing the scalps, betook themselves to Thunder mountain and thereon intrenched themselves.

      It was not until after two years had passed that they were attacked there, but not overcome, by Tomas de Albizu and his soldiery and induced by the priests who accompanied him, and whom the Indians, knowing them to be unarmed, allowed to approach, to hold parley. It is probable that Don Tomas, finding it impossible to storm their rock successfully, promised that if they would yield the wretched mestizo who had cut off the hand and torn away the scalp of Fray Martin, he and his people would leave them in peace. At any rate, the mutilator of the friar was yielded, and in due course was hanged by the Spanish authorities.

      Then gradually the Zuñis descended from their stronghold and a few years later were peacefully reoccupying the largest four of their towns. More than thirty years elapsed before the missions of the Purification at Hálona and the Immaculate Conception at Háwik’uh were reestablished. In 1670 Fray Juan Galdo was the resident priest at the one, and at the other Fray Pedro de Avila y Ayala. But in the autumn of the year named a numerous band of Apache-Navajo attacked the town of Háwik’uh, and, making for the lower courts where stood the church and convent, they dragged Fray Avila from the altar, at which he had sought refuge, clinging to the cross and an image of the Virgin, and, stripping him, beat him to death with one of the church bells at the foot of the cross in the courtyard hard by. They then plundered and burned the church, threw the image of the Virgin into the flames, and, transfixing the body of the priest with more than 200 arrows, cast upon it stones and the carcasses of three dead lambs. The mutilated corpse was thus found the following day by Fray Galdo and carried to Hálona for sepulture in the Church of the Purification there.

      After this tragic occurrence the pueblo of Háwik’uh was abandoned by the missionaries and for a short time at least by its native inhabitants as well. Nevertheless, it seems highly probable that other Zuñis, if not indeed some of the townspeople themselves, had to do with the tragic affair just related, for there is no evidence that, although the people of Háwik’uh were numerous, any of them came to the rescue of the father, or that their town was sacked, whereas the church was plundered and burned.

      They do not seem, however, to have done injury to the priest of Hálona, for just previously to the summer of 1680 when they, in common with all the other Pueblo Indians, joined in the revolt against Spanish rule and religion, they were tolerating the presence of Fray Juan de Bal at this town and of another priest, it seems, at Háwik’uh.

      When the message strands of that great war magician, Popé of Taos, who had planned the rebellion and sent forth the knotted strings of invitation and warning, were received by the Zuñis, their leaders of one accord consented to join the movement and sped the war strands farther on to the Tusayan country, there insisting with the less courageous Hopi that they join also, and ultimately gaining their at first divided consent.

      When all the knots had been numbered and untied, then, to a man, the Zuñis arose to slay Spaniards wheresoever they might encounter them. They forthwith killed Fray Juan de Bal, the priest of Hálona, burning his church and destroying the chapels in the lesser towns round about. Not content with this, they dispatched warriors to the Tusayan country to see to it that the Hopi remain faithful to their promise and vigorously to abet them in its fulfilment.

      It fared far otherwise with the priest of Háwik’uh. Although his name is unknown, and although it has been doubted that any other missionary than Fray Juan of Hálona was with the Zuñis at the time, or that the mission of Háwik’uh was ever occupied after the death of Fray Pedro de Avila, yet Vetancurt's chronicles are explicit in stating the contrary, and that, although the Church of the Conception was again burned, the priest escaped. This latter statement is substantially true if we may trust Zuñi tradition, which is very detailed on this point, and which is trustworthy on many another and better recorded point of even remoter date.

      The elder Priests of the Bow—three of whom were battle-scarred warriors of nearly a hundred winters at the time of my initiation into their order—told me that one of their gray-robed tútatsikwe ("fathers of drink," so named because they used cup-like vessels of water in baptizing), whom their ancients had with them at Háwik’uh in the time of the great evil, was much loved by them; "for, like ourselves," they affirmed, "he had a Zuñi heart and cared for the sick and women and children, nor contended with the fathers of the people; therefore, in that time of evil they spared him on condition "—precisely the rather sweeping condition these same veterans had in 1880 imposed on me ere they would permit of my adoption into one of their clans—"that he eschew the vestment and usages of his people and kind, and in everything, costume and ways of life alike, become a Zuñi; for as such only could they spare him and nurture him." Not so much, I imagine, from fear of death—for the dauntless Franciscan friars of those days feared only God and the devil and met martyrdom as bridegrooms of the Virgin herself—as from love of the Zuñis, if one may judge by the regard they even still have for his memory, and a hope that, living, he might perchance restrain them, alike to the good of their people and his own people, the father gave way to their wishes; or he may have been forced to accede to them by one of those compulsory adoptions of the enemy not uncommonly practiced by the Indians in times of hostility. Be this as it may, the Zuñis abandoned all their towns in the valley, and taking the good priest with them, fled yet again to the top of their high Mountain of Thunder. Around an ample amphitheater near its southern rim, they rebuilt six or seven great clusters of stone houses and renewed in the miniature vales of the mesa summit the reservoirs for rain and snow, and on the crests above the trickling spring under their towns, and along the upper reaches of the giddy trail by which the heights were scaled they reared archers' booths and heaps of slingstones and munitions of heavy rocks.

      There, continually providing for the conflict which they knew would sooner or later reach even their remote fastnesses (as speedily it began to reach the Rio Grande country), they abode securely for more than ten years, living strictly according to the ways of their forefathers, worshiping only the beloved of war and the wind and rain, nor paying aught of attention to the jealous gods of the Spaniard.

      Then at last Diego de Vargas, the reconquistador of New Mexico, approached Zuñiland with his force of foot soldiers and horsemen. The Zuñis, learning this, poisoned the waters of their springs at Pescado and near the entrance to the valley with yucca juice and cactus spines, and, they say, "with the death-magic of corpse shells; so that the horses and men, drinking there, were undone or died of bloating and bowel sickness." In this latter statement the historians of Vargas and the Zuñi traditions agree. But the captain-general could not have stormed the Rock of Cibola. With the weakened force remaining at his command his efforts were doubly futile. Therefore, where now the new peach orchards of the Zuñis grow on the sunlit sand slopes, 800 feet below the northern crest of the mesa their fathers so well defended in those days, Vargas camped his army, with intent to besiege the heathen renegades, and to harass and pick off such stragglers as came within the range of his arquebuses.

      Now, however, the good friar whom the Indians called Kwan Tátchui Lók‘yana ("Juan Gray-robed-father-of-us"), was called to council by the elders, and given a well-scraped piece of deerskin, whitened with prayer meal, and some bits of cinder, wherewith to make markings of meaning to his countrymen. And he was bidden to mark thereon that the Zuñis were good to those who, like him, were good to them and meddled not; nor would they harm any who did not harm their women and children and their elders. And that if such these captains and their warriors would but choose and promise to be, they would descend from their mountain, nor stretch their bowstrings more. But when they told their gray father that he could now join his people if that by so doing he might stay their anger, and told him so to mark it, the priest, so the legend runs, "dissembled and did not tell that he was there, only that the fathers of the Áshiwi were good now;" for he willed, it would seem, to abide with them all the rest of his days, which, alas, were but few. Then the hide was tied to a slingstone and taken to the edge of

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