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YOSEMITE 
 LEGENDS 
 
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 '^^-^: 
 
 YOSEMITE 
 LEGENDS 
 
 BY 
 BERTHA H. SMITH 
 
 WITH DRAWINGS BY 
 FLORENCE LUNDBORG 
 
 PAUL ELDER AND COMPANY 
 PUBLISHERS SAN FRANCISCO 
 
 »■■ ■■ ''^-^'MHlau^^^^^^^^ 
 
LIBRawv of OONeRFSS 
 Two OoDles Received 
 
 AUG 27 1904 
 , Cooyrtrht Entry 
 
 CLASS «- XXo. No. 
 
 K I L 
 
 COPY B 
 
 ? 53 531 
 
 Copyright, 1904 
 
 by Paul Elder and Company 
 
 San Francisco 
 
The Legends 
 
 Yo-sem-i-te, Large Grizzly Bear - - 
 
 Po-ho-no, Spirit of the Evil Wind - 
 
 Hum-moo, the Lost Arrow - - - 
 
 Py-we-ack, the White Water - - 
 Tu-tock-ah-nu-lah and Tis-sa-ack 
 Kom-po-pai-ses, Leaping Frog Rocks 
 
 Page 
 1 
 
 - 19 
 
 - 31 
 
 - 45 
 
 - 55 
 
 The Illustrations 
 
 The Valley Frontispiece 
 
 Mirror Lake 1 
 
 A Grizzly Facing page 6 
 
 Oaks- 11 
 
 Po-ho-no in Bridal Veil - Facing page 1 4 
 
 The Lost Arrow 19 
 
 Tee-hee-neh - - - » - - Facing page 26 ' 
 
 Cloud's Rest 31 '' 
 
 Spirits of Vernal Falls - - Facing page 38 ' 
 
 El Capitan 45 
 
 The Spirit of Tis-sa-ack - Facing page 52 
 
 The Three Brothers 55 
 
 The Patriarch's Prayer - Facing page 60 
 
" Ke-koo-too-yem, the Sleeping Water." 
 
i) 
 
 i 
 
 Yo-sem-i-te, Large Grizzly Bear 
 
 mw^ 
 
 WHEN the world was made, the 
 Great Spirit tore out the heart 
 of Kay-o-pha, the Sky Mountains, 
 and left the gash unhealed. He sent the 
 Coyote to people the valley with a strong 
 and hardy race of men, who called their 
 home Ah-wah-nee, and themselves, the Ah- 
 wah-nee-chees. 
 
 The Ah-wah-nee-chees lived the simple, 
 savage life, which knows no law but to hunt 
 and kill and eat. By day the trackless for- 
 ests rang with the clamor of the chase. By 
 the flaring light of their fires the hunters gorged 
 themselves upon the fresh-killed meat, feasting 
 far into the night. They made war upon the 
 tribes that lived beyond the walls of Ah-wah- 
 nee and never knew defeat, for none dared 
 follow them to their rock-ribbed fastness. 
 They were feared by all save the outcasts 
 of other tribes, whose lawless deeds won for 
 them a place among the Ah-wah-nee-chees. 
 Thus the children of Ah-wah-nee increased 
 in number and strength. 
 [3] 
 
As time went by, the Ah-wah-nee-chees, 
 in their pride of power, forgot the Great 
 Spirit who had given them their stronghold 
 and made them feared of all their race. And 
 the Great Spirit, turning upon them in his 
 wrath, loosed his evil forces in their midst, 
 scourging them with a black sickness that swept 
 all before it as a hot wdnd blights the grain 
 at harvest time. 
 
 The air of the valley was a poison breath, 
 in which the death shade hovered darkly. 
 Before the Evil Spirit medicine men were 
 powerless. Their mystic spells and incanta- 
 tions were a weird mockery, performed among 
 the dying and the dead; and when at last 
 the Evil One passed onward in his cursed 
 flight, the once proud and powerful band of 
 Ah-wah-nee-chees was like a straggling pack 
 of gaunt gray wolves. Their eyes gleamed 
 dully in their shrunken faces, and the skin 
 hung in loose folds on their wasted bodies. 
 
 Those who were able fled from the val- 
 ley, which was now a haunted place, eerie 
 14] 
 
 o 
 
^ 
 
 © 
 
 c> 
 
 with flitting shadows of funeral fires and 
 ghostly echoes of the funeral wail. They 
 scattered among the tribes beyond the moun- 
 tains, and Ah-wah-nee was deserted. 
 
 A vast stillness settled upon the valley, 
 broken only by the songs of birds and the 
 roar of Cho-look when Spring sent the moun- 
 tain torrents crashing over his head. The 
 mountain lion and the grizzly roamed at will 
 among the rocks and tangled chinquapin, fear- 
 less of arrows; the doe led her young by an 
 open path to the river, where trout flashed 
 their colors boldly in the sun. In the autumn 
 the choke-cherries and manzanita berries dried 
 upon their stems, and ripened acorns rotted 
 to dust upon the ground after the squirrels 
 had gathered their winter store. The home- 
 less Ah-wah-nee-chees circled wide in passing 
 the valley. 
 
 Over beyond To-co-yah, the North Dome, 
 
 among the Mo-nos and Pai-u-tes, a few of the 
 
 ill-fated Ah-wah-nee-chees had found refuge. 
 
 Among them was the chief of the tribe, who 
 
 51 
 
Yo-sem-i-te, Large Grizzly Bear 
 
 u 
 
 after a time took a Mo-no maiden for his 
 bride. By this Mo-no woman he had a son, 
 and they gave him the name of Ten-ie-ya. 
 Before another round of seasons, the spirit of 
 the Ah-wah-nee-chee chieftain had wandered 
 on to the Land of the Sun, the home of happy 
 souls. 
 
 Ten-ie-ya grew up among his mother's 
 people, but the fire of a warrior chief was 
 in his blood and he liked not to live where 
 the word of another was law. The fire in 
 his blood was kept aHame by the words of 
 an old man, the patriarch of his father's tribe, 
 who urged him to return to Ah-wah-nee, the 
 home of his ancestors, and gather about him 
 the people whose chief he was by right of 
 birth. 
 
 So Ten-ie-ya went back across the moun- 
 tains by a trail abandoned long ago, and from 
 the camps of other tribes came those in whose 
 veins was any trace of Ah-wah-nee-chee 
 blood; and, as before, the number was in- 
 creased by lawless braves of weaker bands 
 [6] 
 
"A monster grizzly that had just crept forth from his winter cave." 
 
wmm 
 
 i0sk. 
 
^ 
 
 
 5) 
 41 
 
 Yo-sem-i-te, Large Grizzly Bear 
 
 who liked a greater freedom for their law- 
 lessness. Again, under the favor of the Great 
 Spirit, the Ah-wah-nee-chees flourished and by 
 their fierce strength and daring became to 
 other tribes as the mountain lion to the wolf 
 and the coyote and the mountain sheep. 
 
 And it chanced that one day while Ten- 
 ie-ya and his warriors were camped near 
 Le-ham-i-te, the Caiion of the Arrow-wood, a 
 young brave went out in the early morning 
 to the lake of Ke-koo-too-yem, the Sleeping 
 Water, to spear fish. His lithe, strong limbs 
 took no heed of the rocky talus in his path, 
 and he leaped from boulder to boulder, fol- 
 lowing the wall that rose sheer above him 
 and cut the blue sky overhead. 
 
 As he reached the base of Scho-ko-ni, 
 the cliff that arches like the shade of an 
 Indian cradle basket, he came suddenly upon 
 a monster grizzly that had just crept forth 
 from his winter cave. The grizzly knows no 
 man for his friend; least of all, the man who 
 surprises him at the first meal after his long 
 [71 
 
Yo-sem-i-te, Large Grizzly Bear 
 
 sleep. The rivals of Ah-wah-nee were face 
 to face. 
 
 The Ah-wah-nee-chee had no weapon 
 save his fish spear, useless as a reed; yet he 
 had the fearlessness of youth and the courage 
 of a race to whom valorous deeds are more 
 than strings of wampum, piles of pelt or many 
 cattle. He faced the grizzly boldly as the 
 clumsy hulk rose to its full height, at bay and 
 keen for attack. With instinctive love of con- 
 flict roused, the young chief seized a broken 
 limb that lay at his feet, and gave the grizzly 
 blow for blow. 
 
 The claws of the maddened brute raked 
 his flesh. The blood ran warm over his 
 glistening skin and matted the bristled yellow 
 fur of the grizzly. 
 
 The Ah-wah-nee-chee fought bravely. 
 While there was blood in his body, he could 
 fight; when the blood was gone, he could die; 
 but with the traditions of his ancestors firing 
 his brain, he could not flee. 
 
 Furious with pain, blinded by the blows 
 [8] 
 
mybcc^m 
 
 Yo-sem-i-te, Large Grizzly Bear 
 
 from the young chiefs club and by the blood 
 from the young chief's torn flesh, the grizzly 
 struggled savagely. He, too, was driven by 
 the law of his breed, the universal law of the 
 forest, the law of Indian and grizzly alike, — 
 which is to kill. 
 
 Such a battle could not last. With a low 
 growl the crippled grizzly brought himself to- 
 gether and struck with the full force of his 
 powerful arm. The blow fell short. 
 
 Urging his waning strength to one last 
 effort, the Ah-wah-nee-chee raised his club 
 high above his head and brought it down 
 with a heavy, well-aimed stroke that crushed 
 the grizzly's skull and sent him rolling among 
 the boulders, dead. 
 
 That night as the Ah - wah - nee - chees 
 feasted themselves on bear meat, the story 
 of the young chief's bravery was told, and 
 told again; and from that hour he was known 
 as Yo-sem-i-te, the Large Grizzly Bear. 
 
 In time the name Yo-sem-i-te was given 
 to all the tribe of Ah-wah-nee-chees, who 
 [9] 
 
 ^ 
 
 ^m 
 
for fearlessness and lawlessness were rivaled 
 only by the grizzly with whom they shared 
 their mountain fastness. And when long after- 
 ward the white man came and took Ah-wah- 
 nee for his own, he gave it the name by 
 which Ten-ie-ya's band was known; and 
 Cho-look, the high fall that makes the earth 
 tremble with its mighty roar, he also called 
 by the name of the Large Grizzly Bear, 
 Yo-sem-i-te. 
 
:uj<i ^atmcxy ddi 
 
"And the oaks unfurl their soft green banners in welcome 
 of the coming summer." 
 
#— 
 
 mw"^ 
 
 P O - H - N O 
 
 SPIRIT OF THE EVIL WI-ND 
 
Po-ho-no, Spirit of the Evil Wind 
 
 THE white man calls it Bridal Veil. 
 To the Indian it is Po-ho-no, Spirit 
 of the Evil Wind. 
 
 The white man, in passing, pauses to watch 
 the filmy cloud that hangs there like a thou- 
 sand yards of tulle flung from the crest of the 
 rocky precipice, wafted outward by the breeze 
 that blows ever and always across the Bridal 
 Veil Meadows. By the light of mid-afternoon 
 the veil seems caught half-way with a clasp 
 of bridal gems, seven-hued, evanescent; now 
 glowing with color, now fading to clear white 
 sun rays before the eye. 
 
 The Indian, if chance brings him near this 
 waterfall, hurries on with face averted, a vague 
 dread in his heart; for in the meshes of the 
 Bridal Veil hides an eerie spirit, a mischievous, 
 evil one — Po-ho-no. In the ripple of the water 
 as it falls among the rocks, the Indian hears 
 Po-ho-no's voice. In the tossing spray he sees 
 the limp forms and waving arms of hapless 
 victims lured by the voice to their destruction. 
 
 The Indian's mistrust of Po-ho-no dates 
 [13 
 
Po-ho-no, Spirit of the Evil Wind 
 
 back to a day of long ago, a bright blue day 
 of early spring such as the children of Ah- 
 wah-nee love, when the valley has thrown off 
 its white winter blanket, and dogwood blooms, 
 and the oaks unfurl their soft green banners 
 in welcome of the coming summer. It was 
 the time when deer begin to trail, leaving the 
 lowlands of the river for the higher ranges ; 
 and while the men hunted in the forest, the 
 women went forth to gather roots and berries 
 for the feast. 
 
 The Sun had come back from the south ; 
 and as he stood high in the heavens looking 
 into the valley over the shoulder of Lo-yah, 
 the Sentinel, three women were tempted to 
 stray from the others and wander along a 
 trail that led high above the valley to the 
 spot whence the misty spray of the waterfall 
 flutters downward. 
 
 They talked with what zest women may 
 
 whose simple lives give them no secrets to 
 
 hold or betray. They laughed as they filled 
 
 their baskets, stooping to scrape the earth from 
 
 [14] 
 
For in the meshes of the Bridal Veil hides * * Po-ho-no. 
 
1^ 
 
 Po-ho-no, Spirit of the Evil Wind 
 
 a tender root, to strip the seed from a stalk, 
 or gather grasses used in basketry; and their 
 voices were as the purling of lazy waters 
 gliding over stones. They were happy, for as 
 yet they knew naught of the joy-sapping fever 
 of discontent. 
 
 Of a sudden the laughter ceased, and in 
 its stead arose the mocking wail of Po-ho-no, 
 Spirit of the Evil Wind. The youngest of 
 the women, venturing near the edge of the 
 cliff to pick an overhanging wisp of grass, had 
 stepped upon a rock where moss grew like a 
 thick-woven blanket. She did not know that 
 the soft, wet moss was a snare of the Evil 
 One, and even as the others cried out in 
 warning, Po-ho-no seized her and hurled her 
 down among the rocks. 
 
 A pair of helpless arms waving in despair; 
 long, loose hair sweeping across a face, half 
 veiling one last look of terror — and she was 
 gone. If she uttered a cry, the sound was 
 lost in the gleeful chatter of Po-ho-no and his 
 impish host. 
 
 [15] 
 
 t 
 
Po-ho-no, Spirit of the Evil Wind 
 
 The two 
 
 left above dared not 
 
 women 
 near the treacherous ledge, lest they too come 
 within reach of the vengeful Spirit. Afraid 
 even to give a backward glance, they hurried 
 down the steep path to spread the alarm. 
 Scarce was their story told before a band of 
 daring braves rushed to the rescue of the 
 maiden; but though they searched till night 
 among the rocks where the water swirls and 
 leaps to catch the rainbow thrown there by 
 the western sun, they found no trace of her. 
 The maiden's spirit had joined the forces of 
 Po-ho-no, and could know no rest, nor be 
 released from his hateful thrall, until by her 
 aid another victim was drawn to his doom. 
 Here she must stay, hidden by the mist from 
 watchful eyes, beckoning always, tempting al- 
 ways, luring another soul to pay the forfeit of 
 her own release. Then, and then only, would 
 the spirit of the maiden be free to pass on to 
 the home of the Great Spirit in the West. 
 
 Since that day of long ago many of the 
 children of Ah-wah-nee have fallen prey to 
 [16] 
 
 ^^^ 
 
Po-ho-no, Spirit of the Evil Wind 
 
 Po-ho-no, the restless Spirit of the Evil Wind, 
 who wanders ever through the caiion and puffs 
 his breath upon the waterfall to make for him- 
 self a hiding-place of mist. Now every Ah- 
 wah-nee-chee knows this haunt of the Evil 
 One. By day they hurry past, and not one 
 would sleep at night within sight or sound of 
 the fall lest the fatal breath of Po-ho-no sweep 
 over him and bear him away to a spirit land 
 of torture and unrest. 
 
 117] 
 
 x\ 
 
In its stead they left a pointed rock lodged in the cliff." 
 
•iHiPHpapHfSMPainMP 
 
 H U M - M O O 
 
Hum-moo, the Lost Arrow 
 
 TEE-HEE-NEH was the fairest of the 
 daughters of Ah-wah-nee, and the 
 happiest, for she was the chosen 
 bride of the brave Kos-soo-kah. 
 
 When she went forth from her father's 
 lodge to bathe in the shadowy depths of Ke- 
 koo-too-yem, the Sleeping Water, her step was 
 light as the touch of a wind-swept leaf upon 
 the rocks. When she stooped to lave her 
 cheeks in the cool spray, her dark hair fell 
 about her shoulders like a silken web, and 
 the water mirror showed her a pair of laugh- 
 ing eyes of the color of ripened acorns, and 
 in them the soft light of an Indian summer 
 day. The sound of her voice was as the 
 patter of rain on green leaves, and her heart 
 was fearless and full of love. 
 
 No other woman of the tribe could weave 
 such baskets as grew by the magic skill of 
 her fingers, and she alone knew the secret of 
 interweaving the bright feathers of the red- 
 headed woodpecker and the topknots of moun- 
 tain quail. Her acorn bread was always 
 [21] 
 
 ^^^^^ 
 
Hum-moo, the Lost Arro 
 
 w 
 
 sweetest, the berries she gathered ripest, the 
 deerskin she tanned softer than any other; 
 and all because of the love in her heart, for 
 she knew that Kos-soo-kah would eat of her 
 bread and fruit, would drink from the baskets 
 she wove, would wear upon his feet the 
 moccasins she made. 
 
 Kos-soo-kah was a hunter, fearless and 
 bold, sure with bow and spear, always fortu- 
 nate in the chase. In his veins ran the blood 
 that surges hot when there are daring deeds 
 to do, and of all the young chiefs of Ah- 
 wah-nee he had the greatest power among 
 his people. Like the wooing of the evening 
 star by the crescent moon was the mating of 
 Tee-hee-neh with Kos-soo-kah; and when the 
 young chief gathered together robes of squirrel 
 and deerskin and of the skins of water-fowl, 
 arrows and spear-heads, strings of coral and 
 bear teeth, and gave them as a marriage token 
 to Tee-hee-neh's father, the old chief looked 
 upon him with favor. 
 
 This was their marriage. But before Tee- 
 [22] 
 
Hum-moo, the Lost Arrow 
 
 hee-neh should go with Kos-soo-kah to his 
 lodge there must be a great feast, and all day 
 long Ah-wah-nee was astir with signs of 
 preparation. 
 
 From many shady places came a sound like 
 the tap-tap-tapping of woodpeckers, where the 
 older women sat upon smooth, flat rocks 
 pounding dried acorns into meal to make the 
 acorn bread; and the younger women went 
 with their baskets to the meadows and woods 
 for grass seeds, herbs and wild honey. 
 
 Early in the morning Kos-soo-kah left his 
 lodge and gathered about him the strongest 
 of the young braves to go forth into the for- 
 est and net the grouse, and seek the bear and 
 deer in their haunts, for this was the man's 
 share of the marriage feast. While his hunters 
 strung their bows and fastened arrow-heads 
 to the feathered shafts, Kos-soo-kah stole away 
 for a last word with Tee-hee-neh, his bride; 
 and when they parted it was with the promise 
 that at the end of the day's hunt Kos-soo- 
 kah should drop an arrow from the cliff be- 
 [231 
 
 ^^^^^^ 
 
 ^o 
 
tween 
 
 the Caiion of the Arrow-wood. By the number 
 of feathers it bore, Tee-hee-neh could tell what 
 the kill had been. 
 
 The morning mists were still tangled in 
 the pines when Kos-soo-kah and his hunters 
 began to climb the trail that cut into the 
 heart of the forest. From a covert spot Tee- 
 hee-neh watched her lover disappear through 
 the cleft in the northern wall, where the arrow- 
 wood grows thick; then she joined the other 
 women and worked with a light heart until 
 long shadows stretched across the meadow 
 and warned her of the hour when she was 
 to be near the foot of Cho-look to receive 
 the message from Kos-soo-kah. 
 
 Far over the mountains Kos-soo-kah 
 laughed loud with a hunter's pride as he 
 bound to his swiftest arrow all the feathers of 
 a grouse's wing. Sped by a hunter's pride 
 and a lover's pride he leaped along the rocky 
 trail, far in advance of the youthful braves of 
 his band who bore among them the best of 
 [24] 
 
 S 
 
 ^ 
 
 Wr^lf 
 
the kill. Eagerly he watched the western sky, 
 fearful lest the sun's last kiss should tinge the 
 brow of Tis-sa-ack before he reached the 
 cliff whence his bow should let fly the mes- 
 sage to the waiting one below. 
 
 The frightened quail fluttered in his path 
 unseen. A belated vulture, skimming the fading 
 sky, seemed not to be in motion. So swiftly 
 Kos-soo-kah ran, the wind stood still to let 
 him pass. 
 
 He reached the valley wall at last, his 
 strength well spent but still enough to pull 
 his bow to a full half-circle. Poised for an 
 instant, the feathered shaft caught on its tip a 
 sun ray, then flew downward; but though 
 mighty and sure the force that sent it, no 
 message came to the faithful Tee-hee-neh. 
 
 Hour after hour she waited, the joy in 
 her heart changing to a nameless fear as the 
 blue sky faded gray, and the gray went purple 
 in the thickening dusk, and yet no sign, no 
 sound of the returning hunters. 
 
 " Kos-soo-kah ! Kos-soo-kah ! " trembled her 
 f25l 
 
 S»' 
 
 ^^^^^^ 
 
Hum-moo, the Lost Arrow 
 
 voice in the stillness. Only a weird echo an- 
 swered, " Kos-soo-kah." 
 
 Perhaps they had wandered far, and Kos- 
 soo-kah could not reach the cliff till the night 
 shadows had crept out of the valley, and over 
 the tops of the mountains. Perhaps even now 
 he was returning down the Canon of the 
 Arrow-wood. This she whispered to a heart 
 that gave no answering hope. 
 
 She would go forward to meet him, and 
 hear from his lips the message which the 
 arrow failed to bring. As she hurried along 
 the narrow trail, clinging to the slanting ledges, 
 pushing aside the overhanging branches, she 
 called and called, " Kos-soo-kah ! " 
 
 Now and again she stopped to listen for 
 the sound of voices, or of footsteps, but only 
 the cry of a night bird or the crackling of 
 dry twigs stirred the still air. 
 
 Trembling with uncertainty and fear, she 
 reached the top of the sharp ascent. There 
 by the light of the stars she saw fresh foot- 
 prints in the loose, moist earth. Her heart 
 1261 
 
 ^ 
 
 ■i::::xif'i^>'<^ 
 
 o o 
 
"Crouching there * * she called again, ' Kos-soo-kah ! ' 
 
tm 
 
 Hum-moo, the Lost Arro 
 
 w 
 
 told her they were his; her quick eye told her 
 they went toward the cliff, but did not return. 
 Crouching there beside them, she called again, 
 " Kos-soo-kah ! " Not even an echo answered 
 the despairing cry. 
 
 Slowly she crept forward, following the 
 fresh trail to the edge of the wall. She leaned 
 far over, and there on a mound of fallen rock 
 lay her lover, motionless, nor answering her 
 call. Tight in his grasp was the spent bow, 
 the sign of a promise kept. 
 
 As she looked, there came again to Tee- 
 hee-neh's mind the dull roar of rending rock, 
 the low moan of falling earth, that ran through 
 the valley at the sunset hour. Now she knew 
 that as Kos-soo-kah drew his bow to speed 
 the messenger of love, the ground beneath his 
 feet had given way, carrying him with the 
 fatal avalanche. 
 
 The girl's heart no longer beat fast with 
 
 fear. It seemed not to beat at all. But there 
 
 was no time for grief, — perhaps Kos-soo-kah 
 
 had not ceased to breathe. On the topmost 
 
 [27] 
 
Hum-moo, the Lost Arrow 
 
 point of rock she lighted a signal fire, and 
 forced its flames high into the dark, Hashing a 
 call for help. It would be long, she knew, 
 before any one could come; but this was the 
 only chance to save Kos-soo-kah. 
 
 Hours passed. With feverish energy she 
 piled dry branches high upon the signal fire, 
 nor let its wild beckonings rest a moment. At 
 last old men came from the valley, and the 
 young braves from the mountains bearing with 
 them the carcasses of deer and bear. 
 
 With their hunting-knives they cut lengths 
 of tamarack, and lashed them together with 
 thongs of hide from the deer killed for the 
 marriage feast. By means of this pole they 
 would have lowered over the edge of the cliff 
 a strong young brave but that Tee-hee-neh 
 pushed him aside and took his place. Hers 
 must be the voice to whisper in Kos-soo-kah's 
 ear the first word of hope; hers the hand to 
 push aside the rocks that pinioned his body; 
 hers the face his slowly opening eyes should see. 
 
 They lowered her to his side; and, loosing 
 
 :28] 
 
Hum-moo, the Lost Arro 
 
 the cords that bound her, she knelt beside 
 him, whispering in his ear, " Kos-soo-kah ! " No 
 sound came from the cold, set lips. The wide- 
 open eyes stared unseeing at the sky. Tee- 
 hee-neh knew that he was dead. 
 
 She did not cry aloud after the manner 
 of Indian women in their grief, but gently 
 bound the helpless form with the deerskin 
 cords and raised it as high as her arms could 
 reach when the pole was drawn upward; 
 then waited in silence until she was lifted by 
 the willing hands above. 
 
 When she found herself again at Kos-soo- 
 kah's side, she stood for an instant with eyes 
 fixed upon the loved form, there in the cold, 
 starless dawn of her marriage day; then with 
 his name upon her lips she fell forward upon 
 his breast. They drew her away, but the 
 spirit of Tee-hee-neh had followed the spirit 
 of Kos-soo-kah. 
 
 The two were placed together upon the 
 funeral pyre, and with them was burned all 
 that had been theirs. In Kos-soo-kah's hand 
 [291 
 
was the bow, but the arrow could not be 
 found. The lovers had spirited it away. In 
 its stead they left a pointed rock lodged in the 
 cliff between Cho-look, the High Fall, and 
 Le-ham-i-te, the Cafion of the Arrow-wood, in 
 token of Kos-soo-kah's fulfilled pledge. This 
 rock is known to the children of Ah-wah-nee 
 as Hum-moo, the Lost Arrow. 
 
" The moon floated high above Cloud's Rest." 
 
Py-we-ack, the White Water 
 
 SINCE the peaks of Sky Mountains were 
 little hills, the Ah-wah-nee-chees have 
 lived in the deep, grassy valley the 
 vv^hite man knows as Yo-sem-i-te. Eastward 
 of To-co-yah, the Acorn Basket Rock, live 
 the Mo-nos; and for a thousand years the 
 sachems of the Ah-wah-nee-chees and the 
 sachems of the Mo-nos smoked the pipe of 
 peace together. 
 
 In the autumn when the Great Spirit 
 swept through Ah-wah-nee with a breath of 
 frost, painting the leaves all scarlet and gold 
 and brown, scattering tufts of snow-white 
 cloud across the blue sky, and weaving a web 
 of bluish haze among the green pine tops, the 
 Ah-wah-nee-chee braves prepared for the last 
 great hunt of the year. The feast of the 
 manzanita berries was past, and the feast of 
 acorns, and after the autumn hunt came the 
 feast of venison. 
 
 As the time of the feast drew near, run- 
 ners were sent across the mountains, carrying 
 a bundle of willow sticks, or a sinew cord or 
 [33] 
 
Py-we-ack, the White Water 
 
 leaf of dried grass tied with knots, that the 
 Mo-nos might know how many suns must 
 cross the sky before they should go to Ah- 
 wah-nee to share the feast of venison with 
 their neighbors. 
 
 And the Mo-nos gathered together bas- 
 kets of piiion nuts, and obsidian arrow-heads, 
 and strings of shells, to carry with them to 
 give in return for acorns and chinquapin nuts 
 and basket willow, which do not grow on the 
 farther side of Sky Mountains and which the 
 Great Spirit has given in plenty to the chil- 
 dren of Ah-wah-nee. 
 
 At the feast the great chiefs sat side by 
 side and the smoke of their pipes curled into 
 a single spiral in the air. And when all were 
 gorged with food, they danced about the fire 
 chanting the mighty deeds of their ancestors, 
 or sat upon the ground playing the ancient 
 hand game, he-no-wah, staking their arrows 
 and their bearskin robes, their wampum and 
 their women upon the hand that held the 
 hidden willow stick. 
 
 1341 
 
A 
 
 Py-we-ack, the White Water 
 
 Not only in their pastimes were they 
 friends. When the Great Spirit wafted a 
 soul to the happy land in the West, the run- 
 ners went again across the Sky Mountains 
 and the tribes gathered together to join in the 
 funeral dance and mingle their voices in the 
 funeral wail. In grief, as in joy, they were 
 friends, — for a thousand years. 
 
 But the law of the mountain and the 
 forest is not a law of peace, and it was the 
 will of the Great Spirit that they should not 
 dwell always in harmony. 
 
 The Ah - wah - nee - chees numbered more 
 men than women; and from time to time 
 bands of young braves, in the flush of primal 
 strength, swept through the country with the 
 ungoverned madness of a bullock herd, carry- 
 ing away women from the villages they raided. 
 
 When the Mo-no men came to Ah-wah- 
 nee to the feasts of the manzanita berry and 
 of acorns and of venison, they brought their 
 women with them. These mountain women 
 were pleasing to the eye, erect as the silver 
 [35] 
 
 ^^^^^^^^ 
 
Py-we-ack, the White Water 
 
 fir that grows upon the mountain side, clean- 
 limbed and free of motion as the panther; 
 and more than all others were they coveted 
 by the Ah-wah-nee-chees, who chafed under 
 a friendship that thwarted desire. 
 
 And the story is told that at a certain 
 feast of venison Wa-hu-lah, a Mo-no maiden, 
 stirred the fancy of a young warrior of 
 Ten-ie-ya's band. Spring, the love season of 
 Nature's children, had passed the young war- 
 rior many times since he came to manhood, 
 and he had not heeded her soft whisper. But 
 never before had he seen Wa-hu-lah, the 
 Mo-no maiden. 
 
 Now, through all the time of feasting, he 
 watched eagerly for the love sign in Wa-hu- 
 lah's eyes; but he saw there only the depth 
 and the darkness and the mystery of a pool 
 hidden in the heart of a forest of pines, which 
 no ray of sunlight pierces. 
 
 Love was dead in the heart of Wa-hu- 
 lah. On her face could still be seen dim 
 traces of mourning, lines of pitch and ashes 
 [36] 
 
Py-we-ack, the White Water 
 
 not yet worn away, though there had been 
 two seasons of grass and flowers since her 
 voice rose in the funeral wail beside the pyre 
 of her dead lover. She had not died as the 
 dove does when her mate is gone; but she 
 could not forget, and as she sat among the 
 feasters sorrow throbbed in her heart like the 
 ceaseless whirr of a grouse's wing. The Ah- 
 wah-nee-chee warrior sought in vain for an 
 answering sign, and when the days of feasting 
 were over Wa-hu-lah went away with her 
 father. 
 
 Day and night the Ah-wah-nee-chee thought 
 of his love; the face of Wa-hu-lah was ever 
 before his eyes; and he knew that he must 
 follow her and bring her to his lodge. But 
 already the snow-clouds resting on the peaks 
 of Sky Mountains were scattering their bur- 
 den, soft and white as the down of Tis-sa- 
 ack's wings. Valley and forest lay lifeless 
 under a thick blanket, and the trails were 
 choked with snow. 
 
 The Ah-wah-nee-chee's love smouldered 
 [37] 
 
Py-we-ack, the White Water 
 
 through the winter months, with naught but 
 the memory of Wa-hu-lah's sad, unanswering 
 eyes to feed upon. Far away, in the wig- 
 wam of her father, Wa-hu-lah nursed her 
 grief. 
 
 At last spring came, with soft, straying 
 winds that breathe of new life. Birds sang 
 in the trees as they built their nests; squirrels 
 chattered softly among the rocks; Too-loo-lo- 
 we-ack, the Rushing Water, babbled of the 
 joys of summer; and Yo-wi-we dashed from 
 the heights to carry the message of love 
 brought by the sun from the southland to all 
 the valley. 
 
 While yet the trails were heavy with 
 melting snows, the Ah-wah-nee-chee warrior 
 stole away from his lodge one night and set 
 his face toward the rising sun, yonder to the 
 eastward of To-co-yah; and ere the day god 
 had wrapped himself in his flaming cloud 
 blanket in the far-off West, the Ah-wah-nee- 
 chee was smoking the peace pipe with the 
 chief of the Mo-nos, Wa-hu-lah's father. 
 [38J 
 
.q<3 ;u uiJ>;ii- 
 
'The white spirits of the water threw themselves around the maiden 
 and hid her in a shroud of spray." 
 
Py-we-ack, the White Water 
 
 Before the sun again strode the bald 
 peaks of the Sky Mountains, he was gone ; 
 and when the women came forth to make 
 ready the morning meal, the old chief saw 
 that Wa-hu-lah was not among them; and he 
 knew that the spirit of the peace pipe had 
 been violated. 
 
 Wa-hu-lah made no struggle when she 
 found herself borne along in the arms of her 
 captor. Her heart beat like the heart of a 
 hunted thing that feels the hunter near and 
 cover far away, but her face showed no sign. 
 It was useless to resist; but had the Ah-wah- 
 nee-chee looked into the still, sad depths of 
 her eyes, he would have seen there a glitter- 
 ing spark, the fire of a woman's lasting hate. 
 
 Along the heavy trail he toiled, and not 
 until he reached the kinder paths that Spring 
 had cleared did he let Wa-hu-Iah's feet rest 
 upon the ground. Then she walked before 
 him, silent, submissive, but with the spark still 
 glowing in her downcast eyes. 
 
 Silent, submissive, she followed as he led 
 [39] 
 
 ^^^^^^ 
 
Py-we-ack, the White Water 
 
 the way to the place he had prepared for 
 her, — a woodland bower, pine carpeted, roofed 
 with boughs of oak and alder, the couch of 
 branches spread with deerskin. 
 
 Silent, submissive, she ate of the food he 
 brought her, fresh bear meat and acorn bread, 
 and grass roots fattened by the melting snows. 
 
 Silent still, but with submission changed to 
 defiant purpose, she watched him go away 
 and take his place among the braves of his 
 tribe who ate as the women prepared their 
 food. Hunger possessed him and he gave no 
 thought to caution. At another time his quick 
 ear might have caught the sound of twigs 
 snapping under the pressure of a moccasined 
 foot; now it heard only the hiss of meat 
 thrown upon live coals. 
 
 The moon floated high above Cloud's 
 Rest and the valley was full of light, yet 
 none saw the dark figure that crept stealthily, 
 warily, into the shadow of the crouching 
 chaparral, keeping with the wind that blew 
 from, not toward, the camp-fire. Once only 
 [40] 
 
Py-we-ack, the White Water 
 
 Wa-hu-lah paused, and turned to see that she 
 was not discovered; and from her eyes shot 
 one swift look that would have killed, could 
 looks deal death. Then she sped forward on 
 the trail that led from Ah-wah-nee, with its 
 blossoming dogwood and azalea, its buckthorn 
 and willow, to the snows of the higher moun- 
 tains, the home of her people. 
 
 Swiftly she ran, frightened by the night 
 shapes that danced before her in the path, 
 nor daring to slacken her pace or give a 
 backward glance. But scarce had she passed 
 through the spray thrown across the trail by 
 Py-we-ack, the White Water, when she heard 
 wild shouts rising from the half-darkness 
 below, shouts that told her the Ah-wah-nee- 
 chees knew that she was gone, had started in 
 pursuit. Behind her on the trail her footprints 
 lay naked on the yielding earth, and she knew 
 that here in Ah-wah-nee the men of Ten-ie-ya's 
 band knew every path that she might choose, 
 every tree and rock where she might find a 
 hiding-place. Already the race was won. 
 [41] 
 
 ^^^^^^^K 
 
Py-we-ack, the White Water 
 
 Nearer they came, her Ah-Wcih-nee-chee 
 captor and a score of braves who joined 
 with boisterous shouts this chase that had no 
 need of cunning since for a weak prey there 
 was no escape. 
 
 Among the trees they caught uncertain 
 gKmpses of the fleeing figure, but at last 
 Wa-hu-lah bounded into a clear, broad stretch 
 of moonlight where the trees fall back to let 
 the river widen to a calmer course after its 
 reckless plunge from the cliff above. 
 
 The pool that shines emerald bright by day 
 lay still and black with the pale gold moon 
 upon its breast. Straight for its bank Wa-hu- 
 lah ran, and as her foot touched the rocky 
 ledge, her pursuers sprang with a cry of 
 triumph into the open. Not a moment did 
 the maiden dare to lose. Stooping, she 
 unloosed the canoe that floated in the shadow 
 of the ledge, a canoe used by the Ah-wah- 
 nee-chees in crossing the Emerald Pool. 
 
 Stepping into the shallow bark, Wa-hu-lah 
 pushed it from the shore, and with quick 
 [42] 
 
Py-we-ack, the White Water 
 
 strokes drove it toward the middle of the 
 stream, where she knew the water ran swift 
 and deep and strong. 
 
 Like some strange night bird the canoe 
 skimmed the surface of the pool, the girl 
 erect, defiant, her long black hair tossing, 
 winglike, on the wind. Drawn by the cur- 
 rent it glided on, dark and silent, toward 
 Py-we-ack, where the water with a second 
 leap dashes itself to death upon the rocks. 
 
 Along the shelving bank the baffled Ah- 
 wah-nee-chee ran, but swifter ran the dark 
 and silent figure in the stream; and even as 
 the young chief plunged into the icy water in 
 one last effort to reclaim his stolen bride, the 
 boat slipped over the edge of the cliff and 
 went to pieces on the rocks, where the white 
 spirits of the water threw themselves around 
 the maiden and hid her in a shroud of spray. 
 
 Thus Wa-hu-lah proved herself faithful to 
 her Mo-no lover, and the Ah-wah-nee-chee 
 was cheated of his bride. 
 
 (431 
 
i*::] b::iil V/0J3 
 
"Along the edge of the river and over the meadows * * one can 
 now find tiny white violets." 
 
TU-TOCK-AH-}^^«A}t 
 TI S - SA - AGK 
 
 
Tu-tock-ah-nu-lah and Tis-sa-ack 
 
 SINCE the world was young Tu-tock-ah- 
 nu-lah, the Rock Chief, had guarded 
 Ah-wah-nee, the home of the children 
 of the sun. For his watch-tower he chose a 
 storm-tried rock on the northern wall of the 
 valley, and from this far height defied all 
 the powers of evil. 
 
 In the spring he besought the Great 
 Spirit to send rain that the wild corn might 
 hang heavy with tasseling grain, the berries 
 cluster thick on the branches of the manza- 
 nita, and the fish abound in the waters of 
 the river. In the summer he fattened the 
 bear and deer, and in the autumn he wan- 
 dered through the mountains driving them 
 from their haunts that the hunter might not 
 return empty-handed from the chase. The 
 smoke of his pipe spread like a soft haze 
 through the air, sheltering the women from 
 the sun when they went forth to gather acorns 
 and wood for winter. 
 
 His form was like a spear, straight and 
 strong; and he reared his head high above 
 [471 
 
Tu-tock-ah-nu-lah and Tis-sa-ack 
 
 the clouds. In his arm was the strength of 
 an untamed grizzly; and his voice was like 
 the sound of Cho-look, the great fall that 
 thunders down from the north, starting deep 
 echoes from crag and gorge. When the sun- 
 light danced upon the water, the Ah-wah- 
 nee-chees were happy, for they knew that 
 Tu-tock-ah-nu-lah smiled; when the sky was 
 overcast, they trembled, fearful of his frown; 
 when his sighs swept mournfully through the 
 pines, they, too, were sad. The children of 
 Ah-wah-nee loved the mighty Rock Chief who 
 dwelt above them in his lonely lodge. 
 
 One morning, as his midnight watch drew 
 to a close and the first pale glint of day 
 shone on his forehead, he heard a soft voice 
 whisper, "Tu-tock-ah-nu-lah!" 
 
 His eyes burned with the passion fire as 
 a fair vision rose before him, yonder on the 
 granite dome of the southern wall. It was 
 the form of a maiden, not of the dark tribe 
 he loved and guarded, but fairer than any he 
 had seen or known in dreams. Her face 
 [48] 
 
Tu-tock-ah-nu-lah and Tis-sa-ack 
 
 had the rosy flush of dawn, her eyes took 
 their color from the morning sky, and her 
 hair was like strands of golden sunlight. Her 
 voice was low as a dove call when she 
 whispered Tu-tock-ah-nu-lah's name. 
 
 For a moment she lingered, smiling; but 
 even as the Rock Chief leaped from his 
 tower in answer to her call, she glided 
 across the rounded dome and faded from his 
 sight, leaving her throne shrouded in a snowy 
 cloud. Piqued by the mystery of her flight, 
 Tu-tock-ah-nu-lah followed the sound of her 
 rustling garments, wandering aU day over the 
 mountains; but the pine trees wove a blue 
 mist about her, hiding her from his eyes. Not 
 until he returned to his citadel at night did 
 he see her face again. Then for an instant 
 she appeared upon her throne, her pale brow 
 tinged with the rose glow of the sun; and 
 he knew that she was Tis-sa-ack, the Goddess 
 of the Valley, who shared with him the lov- 
 ing care of the Ah-wah-nee-chees. 
 
 Every morning now at dawn Tu-tock-ah- 
 [49] 
 
Tu-tock-ah-nu-lah and Tis-sa-ack 
 
 nu-lah left his tower and sped across the 
 valley to meet the lovely goddess of his 
 heart's desire. Through the day he hovered 
 near her, gazing upon the fair form, always 
 half hidden by billowing cloud, trying to read 
 an answering love in her wdde blue eyes. 
 But never again did he hear the voice that 
 came to him across the valley in the stillness 
 of that one gray dawn. 
 
 Tu-tock-ah-nu-lah's passion grew day by 
 day, as summer ripens the fruits of spring- 
 time budding; but Tis-sa-ack had no joy in 
 his love. Her heart was heavy with a great 
 sorrow, for she saw that the Rock Chief was 
 blind to the needs of his people, that he had 
 forsaken those who looked to him for life. 
 
 The sun burned his way through the sky, 
 and no rains fell to cool the aching earth. 
 Tu-tock-ah-nu-lah paid no heed to the with- 
 ering leaves of the wild corn, the shrunken 
 streams from which the fisherman turned 
 with empty nets, the shriveling acorns that 
 fell worthless to the ground. He neither 
 [50] 
 
Tu-tock-ah-nu-lah and Tis-sa- 
 
 knew nor cared that the hunter, after weary 
 days in the mountains, came to his lodge at 
 night with arrows unused, to meet the anxious 
 glance of starving women and hear the wail- 
 ing cry of hungry children. 
 
 The Ah-wah-nee-chees called upon the 
 Rock Chief in vain. He did not hear their 
 cries ; he thought only of his love. The harvest 
 moon looked down into the valley and saw 
 the dark form of Famine skulking there. 
 Then it was that Tis-sa-ack's love was swept 
 away by an overwhelming pity; and as she 
 lay upon her couch she cried out to the 
 Great Spirit to send the rain-clouds that 
 bear life to all things of the earth. 
 
 And even as she prayed, there came 
 an answer to her prayer. With a voice 
 of thunder the Great Spirit gave commands 
 to the spirits of the air. With a barbed 
 shaft of lightning he rent the granite dome 
 where Tis-sa-ack prayed; and from the 
 cleft rock came a rush of water that filled 
 the dry basin of Wai-ack, the Mirror Lake, 
 1511 
 
wandering stream 
 thirsty fields. 
 
 Now the withered corn-stalks raised their 
 drooping heads, flowers nodded among the 
 waving grasses and offered their lips to the 
 wild bees, and the acorns swelled with sap 
 that crept upward from reviving roots. The 
 women went joyously into the fields to gather 
 the harvest, and the men no longer returned 
 with empty pouches from the forest or fished 
 by the riverside in vain. 
 
 The chief of the Ah-wah-nee-chees ordered 
 a great feast, and all faces were turned in grati- 
 tude to the dome where Tis-sa-ack dwelt. But 
 Tis-sa-ack was gone. She had sacrificed her 
 love, her life, for the children of Ah-wah-nee. 
 Through her they had suffered; through her 
 their sufferings had ceased; and that all might 
 hold her memory dear she left them the lake, the 
 river and a fragment of her throne. Upon the 
 bosom of Ke-koo-too-yem, the Sleeping Water, 
 her spirit rests, wandering sometimes of a summer 
 evening to the Half Dome, there to linger for a 
 [52] 
 
.iii3ino/:c 
 
"Her spirit, * * wandering * * to' the Half Dome, there to linger 
 
 for a moment.' 
 
moment as the sun slips over the western 
 wall of the valley. 
 
 As she flew away a soft down from her 
 wings fell upon the earth; and where it fell, 
 along the edge of the river and over the 
 meadows stretching toward Tu-tock-ah-nu-lah's 
 watch-tower, one can now find tiny white 
 violets, whose fragrance is the secret of a loving 
 spirit, a breath of happiness to all who gather 
 them. 
 
 When Tu-tock-ah-nu-lah found that Tis-sa- 
 ack was gone, a great sadness came upon him. 
 Day and night his sighs swept through the 
 pine trees. He puffed gloomily at his pipe until 
 his tower was hidden in a cloud of smoke. 
 At last, thinking to follow and find his lost 
 love, he went away; and lest he be forgotten, 
 he carved with his hunting-knife the outlines 
 of his face upon the wall of his fortress, which 
 the white man has named El Capitan. 
 
 As he turned sadly from his lodge, Tu- 
 tock-ah-nu-lah perceived that the air was filled 
 with a rare and subtle perfume, blowing from 
 1531 
 
Tu-tock-ah-nu-lah and Tis-sa-ack 
 
 a stretch of meadow fringed with tamarack. 
 Thinking it the breath of Tis-sa-ack, he fol- 
 lowed on and on, forgetful of the arts of E-ee- 
 ke-no, who dwells among the water-lilies in 
 the lake which the Three Brothers hold in 
 the hollow of their hands. 
 
 E-ee-ke-no had long loved the Rock Chief, 
 but Tu-tock-ah-nu-lah scorned her unsought 
 love, which turned through jealousy to bitter 
 hate. Now as she saw him go away in search 
 of Tis-sa-ack, she threw around him the mystic 
 fragrance of the water-lily, which, gentle as a 
 caress, is deadly to all who win the hatred of 
 E-ee-ke-no. 
 
 On and on across the meadow fringed 
 with tamarack, among the wild flowers and the 
 waving grasses, Tu-tock-ah-nu-lah wandered, 
 following blindly the transformed spirit of E-ee- 
 ke-no until he disappeared forever in the 
 depths of the lake. 
 
 [54] 
 
Forever and forever the Three Brothers sit looking over each other's 
 shoulders from the north wall of Ah-wah-nee." 
 
KOM-PO-PAI-SES 
 
 LEAPING FROG ROCKS 
 
Kom-po-pai-ses, Leaping Frog Rocks 
 
 FOREVER and forever the Three 
 Brothers sit looking over each other's 
 shoulders from the north wall of 
 Ah-wah-nee. 
 
 The Indians likened these peaks to frogs 
 sitting back upon their haunches ready to leap, 
 and called them Kom-po-pai-ses, the Leaping 
 Frog Rocks. This the white man did not 
 know when he named them the Three Brothers. 
 
 The story of the Three Brothers is his- 
 tory, not tradition. It has to do with the 
 coming of the white man to Ah-wah-nee, and 
 the downfall of Ten-ie-ya, the last chief of 
 the Ah-wah-nee-chees. 
 
 Across the plains that billow away toward 
 the sea, Ten-ie-ya watched the approach of 
 the white stranger, having always in mind the 
 words of the old man who was his counselor 
 when he left the land of his Mo-no mother 
 and returned to Ah-wah-nee to rule over his 
 father's people. 
 
 The patriarch had heard the call of the 
 Great Spirit, bidding him to the happy land 
 [57] 
 
 > 
 
Kom-po-pai-ses, Leaping Frog Rocks 
 
 of the West, and had told Ten-ie-ya many 
 things. This, last of all: 
 
 "Obey my word, O Ten-ie-ya, and your 
 people shall be many as the blades of grass, 
 and none shall dare to bring war into 
 Ah-wah-nee. But look you ever, my son, 
 against the white horsemen of the great plains 
 beyond ; for once they have crossed the west- 
 ern mountains, your tribe will scatter as the 
 dust before a desert wind, and never come 
 together again. Guard well your stronghold, 
 O Ten-ie-ya, lest you be the last of the 
 great chiefs of Ah-wah-nee." 
 
 The faded eyes had the light that comes 
 when the call of the Great Spirit sounds very 
 near, and the feeble hand of the patriarch 
 trembled as he raised his pipe above his 
 head, and said : 
 
 "Great Spirit, I pray be good to my son, 
 the chief of the Ah-wah-nee-chees. Toward 
 the pines, north, cold wind treat him kindly; 
 toward the rising sun, east, great sun shine 
 upon his lodge in the early morning; toward 
 [58] 
 
 y 
 
 'Jiwmmi^^r^ 
 
Kom-po-pai-ses, Leaping Frog Rocks 
 
 the place where the sun goes in winter, south, 
 bless my son ; toward the land of the setting 
 sun, west, waft on the breezes a peaceful 
 sleep. And, lowering my pipe, I say, kind 
 mother earth, when you receive my son into 
 your warm bosom, hold him gently. Let the 
 howl of the coyote, the roaring of the bear 
 and the mountain-lion, and the sound of 
 winds swaying the tops of the pine trees, be 
 to him a sweet lullaby." 
 
 Because of these last words of the dying 
 seer, Ten-ie-ya guarded his mountain retreat 
 as a she-bear guards the refuge of her young. 
 With vague foreboding he saw the white 
 horsemen coming nearer. They took the land 
 that the Great Spirit had made for the peo- 
 ple of his race. They burrowed into it like 
 moles, and washed the sands of its rivers, 
 searching for something yellow and shining 
 that the Indian neither knew was there nor 
 cared to know. They grazed their horses 
 and their cattle upon the broad stretches that 
 had been the Indian's hunting-ground since 
 [59] 
 
 a^^^^^^^sm 
 
Kom-po-pai-ses, Leaping Frog Rocks 
 
 time began. They even went so far, these 
 pale-faced strangers, as to steal Indian women 
 for their wives. And always they made their 
 camps nearer and nearer to Ah-wah-nee. 
 
 While the vigor of youth remained, Ten- 
 ie-ya did not fear these men of an alien 
 race. He only hated them. With his band 
 of lawless Grizzlies he stole forth in the night 
 and drove away their horses to kill for food ; 
 and as they feasted, drunk with the taste of 
 warm blood, their spirits were made bold, and 
 the deep gorge rang with shouts of defiance. 
 
 But Ten-ie-ya grew old, and the white 
 horsemen of the plains, now strong in num- 
 ber, were at the very walls of Ah-wah-nee, 
 The words of the dying patriarch were ever 
 in his ears, and he knew that the evil day 
 was come. 
 
 At last the white men climbed the western 
 mountains, offering gifts in the name of the 
 Great Father, their chief; and when they 
 went away they led Ten-ie-ya captive to their 
 camp. The young braves fled from Ah- 
 [60] 
 
 lA 
 
 ^i<^<^^)ii 
 
" Toward th^ pines, north, cold wind treat him kindly." 
 
Kom-po-pai-ses, Leaping Frog Rocks 
 
 wah-nee, across To-co-yah, the North Dome, 
 to the home of the Mo-nos. It was well 
 that Ten-ie-ya should go to the plains, they 
 said; but they were young and could find 
 plenty in the mountains; they would not go 
 to be herded like horses in the white man's 
 
 Though he appeared to yield, the spirit 
 of Ten-ie-ya was not broken. Like a wild 
 beast in captivity, he chafed under restraint. 
 With the cunning of his race, he watched his 
 chance; and when it came, he returned to his 
 stronghold in the Sky Mountains, bearing in 
 his heart a fiercer hate for the white man, a 
 hate made keener by defeat, a hate that 
 burned for revenge. 
 
 But an evil spell seemed cast upon the 
 children of Ah-wah-nee. They were scat- 
 tered, and they did not rally round their 
 chief. Again the white horsemen climbed 
 the western mountains, this time without 
 gifts. But day and night signal fires had 
 burned upon the mountain tops; and when 
 [61] 
 
 ^s^a 
 
Kom-po-pai-ses, Leaping Frog Rocks 
 
 the messengers of the Great Father entered 
 Ah-wah-nee they found the valley deserted, 
 save for five dark figures that darted like 
 shadows from tree to rock at the base of a 
 jagged spur of the northern wall. 
 
 Feeling themselves secure because of the 
 swollen river that lay between, the five scouts 
 came into the open when discovered, and 
 mocked the strangers; then disappeared up the 
 side of a cliff so straight and pathless that no 
 white man could follow. By fair promises 
 carried to them by an Indian guide they 
 were induced to come into camp, and three 
 of them were found to be sons of Ten-ie-ya. 
 
 It does not speak for the faith of white 
 men that one of the brothers was killed while 
 held as hostage until the aged chief should 
 come in and deliver himself to the messengers 
 of the Great Father; and that only an uncer- 
 tain aim saved another who tried to escape 
 through the Canon of the Arrow-wood, 
 where his father was hiding. When he saw 
 it was useless to resist further these fearless, 
 [62] 
 
Kom-po-pai-ses, Leaping Frog Rocks 
 
 faithless horsemen of the plains, who had 
 stolen his lands and his women, who would 
 not let him live in peace in his mountains, 
 Ten-ie-ya came down from Le-ham-i-te, the 
 Canon of the Arrow-wood, by a trail that 
 led into the valley through the branches of 
 a giant oak. 
 
 The first sight that met the gaze of the 
 twice-conquered chieftain was the dead body 
 of his youngest son. He spoke no word, but 
 lines of sorrow appeared in the hard, old 
 face; and secretly, in the heart of the night, 
 he had the young chief's body carried away 
 — none knew where. Once more he tried 
 for his liberty; once more was captured. 
 Then in a passion of grief and rage, he 
 turned his bare breast to his captors, and 
 cried : 
 
 "Kill me, white chief, as you have killed 
 my son, as you would kill all my people if 
 they would but come to you. You have 
 brought sorrow to my heart. For me the 
 sun shines no more. Kill me, white chief, and 
 [63] 
 
 1^5 
 
tootsteps torever. 1 will not leave the spirit 
 world, you will not see me, but I will follow 
 you where you go and you will know it is 
 the spirit of the old chief, and you will fear 
 me and grow cold. This is the message of 
 the Great Spirit." 
 
 But Ten-ie-ya's hour was not yet come. 
 He was to die, for an act of treachery, at 
 the hands of the Mo-nos, his mother's people. 
 Even so, the prophecy of the seer was ful- 
 filled, for the white horsemen of the plains 
 had crossed the western mountains, the tribe 
 was scattered, never to come together again, 
 and Ten-ie-ya was the last great chief of the 
 Ah-wah-nee-chees. 
 
 Because his three sons were captured at 
 its base, the triple peak in the northern wall 
 was given the name Three Brothers. 
 
 [64] 
 
 ^^ 
 
THIS EDITION OF YOSEMITE LEGENDS WAS 
 DONE FOR PAUL ELDER AND COMPANY 
 AT THE TOMOYE PRESS, SAN FRANCISCO, IN 
 THE YEAR NINETEEN HUNDRED AND FOUR 
 
n u J i~i t I ^ V