Kotharian Lightning

From Navajo (Dine) Folklore

[Editor’s Note: Navajo are in this book referred to as Navaho, which was a proposed anglification of the word Navajo around 1900. The Spanish form of the word, Navajo, is the more commonly used form today. Dine is the true oldest word for the people.]

Coyote wandered around till he came to the house of one of the anaye, or alien gods, named Yelapahi, or Brown Giant. He was half as tall as the tallest pine-tree and he was evil and cruel. Coyote said to the Brown Giant, “Yelapahi, I want to be your servant; I can be of great help to you. The reason that you often fail to catch your enemies is that you cannot run fast enough. I can run fast and jump far; I can jump over four bushes at one bound. I can run after your enemies and help you catch them.” “My cousin,” responded Brown Giant, “you can do me service if you will.” Coyote then directed the giant to build a sweat-house for himself, and, while the latter was building it, Coyote set out on another errand.

In those days there was a maiden of renowned beauty in the land. She was the only sister of eleven divine brothers. She had been sought in marriage by the Sun and by many potent gods, but she had refused them all because they could not comply with certain conditions which she imposed on all suitors. It was to visit her that Coyote went when he left Yelapahi at work on the sweat-house.

“Why have you refused so many beautiful gods who want you for a wife?” said Coyote to the maiden after he had greeted her. “It would profit you nothing to know,” she replied, “for you could not comply with any one of my demands.” Four times he asked her this question, and three times he got the same reply. When he asked her the fourth time she answered: “In the first place, I will not marry any one who has not killed on of the anaye.” When he heard this Coyote arose and returned to the place where he had left Yelapahi.

On his way back he looked carefully for the bone of some big animal which Great Wolf had slain and eaten. At length he found a long thigh-bone which suited his purpose. He took this home with him, concealing it under his shirt. When Coyote got back, Yelapahi had finished the sweat-house. Together they built the fire, heated the stones, and spread the carpet of leaves. Coyote hung over the doorway four blankets of sky, – one white, one blue, one yellow, and one black, and put the hot stones into the lodge. Then they hung their arms and clothes on a neighboring tree, entered the sudatory, and sat down.

“Now,” said Coyote, “if you want to become a fast runner, I will show you what to do. You must cut the flesh of your thigh down to the bone and then break the bone. It will heal again in a moment, and when it heals you will be stronger and swifter than ever. I often do this myself, and every time I do it I am fleeter of foot than I was before. I will do it now, so that you may observe how it is done.” Coyote then produced a great stone knife and pretended to cut his own thigh, wailing and crying in the mean time, and acting as if he suffered great pain. After a while of this pretense he put the old femur on top of his thigh, held it by both ends, and said to the giant: “I have no reached the bone. Feel it.” When the giant put forth his hand, in the absolute darkness of the sweat-house, and felt the bare bone, Coyote shoved the hand away and struck the bone hard with the edge of his knife several times until he broke the bone, and he made the giant feel the fractured ends. Then he threw away the old bone, rubbed spittle on his thigh, prayed and sang, and in a little while presented his sound thigh to the giant for his examination, saying: “See! My limb is healed again. It is as well as ever.” When he had thus spoke Coyote handed his knife to Yelapahi, and the latter with many tears and loud howls slowly amputated his own thigh. When the work was done he put the two severed ends together, spat upon them, sang and prayed, as Coyote had done. “Tohe! Tohe! Tohe!” he cried, “Heal together! Grow together!” he commanded; but the severed ends world not unite. “Cousin,” he called to Coyote, “help me to heal this leg.” Coyote thought it was not time to finish his work. He ran from the sweat-house, seized his bow, and discharged his arrows into the helpless Yelapahi, who soon expired with many wounds.

Coyote scalped his victim, and tied the scalp to the top of a branch which he broke from a cedar-tree; as further evidence of his victory, he took the quiver and weapons of the slain and set out for the lodge of the maiden. He knew she could not mistake the scalp, for the yei (a name for a part of the Navajo pantheon and the anaye), in those days, had yellow hair, such as no other people had. When he reached the lodge he said to the maiden: “Here is the scalp and here are the weapons of one of the anaye. Now you must marry me.” “No,” said the maiden, “not yet; I have not told you all that one must do in order to win me. He must be killed four times and come to life again four times.” “Do you speak the truth? Have you told me all?” said Coyote. “Yes; I speak only the truth,” she replied. Four times he asked this question, and four times he received the same answer. When she had spoken for the fourth time Coyote said: “Here I am. Do with me as you will.” The maiden took him a little distance from the lodge, laid him on the ground, beat him with a great club until she thought she had smashed every bone in his body, and left him for dead. But the point of his nose and the end of his tail she did not smash. She hurried back to her hut, for she had much work to do. She was the only woman in a family of twelve. She cooked the food and tanned the skins, and besides she made baskets. At this particular time she was engaged in making four baskets. When she returned to the lodge she sat down and went on with her basket-work; but she had not worked long before she became aware that some one was standing in the doorway, and, looking up, she beheld Coyote. “Here I am,” he said; “I have won one game; there are only three more to win.”

She made no reply, but took him off farther than she had taken him before, and pounded him to pieces with a club. She threw the pieces away in different directions and returned to her work again; but she had not taken many stitches in her basket when again the resurrected Coyote appeared in the doorway, saying: “I have won two games; there are only two more to win.”

Again she led him forth, but took him still farther away from the lodge than she had taken him before, and with a heavy club pounded him into a shapeless mass, until she thought he must certainly be dead. She stood a long time gazing at the pounded flesh, and studying what she would do with it to make her work sure. She carried the mass to a great rock, and there she beat it into still finer pieces. These she scattered farther than she had scattered the pieces before, and went back to the house. But she had still failed to injure the two vital spots. It took the Coyote a longer time on this occasion than on the previous occasions to pull himself together; still she had not wrought much on her basket when he presented himself and said: “I have won three games; there is but one more game to win.”

The fourth time she led him farther away than ever. She not only mashed him to pieces, but she mixed the pieces with earth, ground the mixture, like corn, between two stones, until it was ground to a fine powder, and scattered this powder far and wide. But again she neglected to crush the point of the nose and the tip of the tail. She went back to the lodge and worked a long time undisturbed. She had just begun to entertain hopes that she had seen the last of her unwelcome suitor when again he entered the door. Now, at last, she could not refuse him. He had fulfilled all her conditions, and she consented to become his wife. He remained all the afternoon. At sunset they heard the sound of approaching footsteps, and she said: “My brothers are coming. Some of them are evil of mind and may do you harm. You must hide yourself.” She hid him behind a pile of skins, and told him to be quiet.

When the brothers entered the lodge they said to their sister: “Here is some fat young venison which we bring you. Put it down to boil and put some of the fat into the pot, for our faces are burned by the wind and we want to grease them.” The woman slept on the north side of the lodge and kept there her household utensils. She had about half of the lodge to herself. The men slept on the south side, the eldest next to the door.

The pot was put on and the fire replenished, and when it began to burn well an odor denoting the presence of some beast filled the lodge. One of the brothers said: “It smells as if some animal had been in the wood-pile. Let us throw out this wood and get fresh sticks from the bottom of the pile.” They did as he desired; but the unpleasant odors continued to annoy them, and again the wood was taken from the fire and thrown away. Thinking the whole pile of wood was tainted with the smell, they went out, broke fresh branches from trees, and built the fire up again; but this did not abate the rank odor in the least. Then one said: “Perhaps the smell is in the water. Tell us, little sister, where did you get the water in the pot?” “I got it at the spring where I always get it,” she replied. But they got her to throw out the water and fill the pot with snow, and to put the meat down to boil again. In spite of all their pains the stench was as bad as ever. At length one of the brothers turned to his sister and said: “What is the cause of this odor? It is not in the wood. It is not in the water. Whence comes it?” She was silent. He repeated the question three times, yet she made no answer. But when the question had been asked for the fourth time, Coyote jumped out of his hiding-place into the middle of the lodge and cried: “It is I, my brothers-in-law!” “Run out there!” the brothers commanded, and turning to their sister they said: “Run out you with him!”

They both departed from the lodge. As Coyote went out he took a brand from the fire, and with this he lighted a new fire. Then he broke boughs from the neighboring trees and built a shelter for himself and his wife to live in. When this was completed she went back to the lodge of her brothers, took out her pots, skins, four awls, baskets, and all her property, and carried them to her new home.

One of the elder brothers said to the youngest: “Go out to-night and watch the couple, and see what sort of a man this is that we have for a brother-in-law. Do not enter the shelter, but lie hidden outside and observe them.” So the youngest brother went forth and hid himself near the shelter, where he could pee in and see by the light of the fire what took place and hear what was said. The pair sat side by side near the fire. Presently the woman laid her hand in a friendly manner on Coyote’s knee, but Coyote threw it away. These motions were repeated four times, and when he had thrown her hand away for the fourth time he said: “I have sworn never to take a woman for a wife until I have killed her four times.” For a while the woman remained silent and gazed at the fire. At length she said: “Here I am. Do with me as you will.” (The myth then relates four deaths and resurrections of the woman, similar to those of the Coyote, but it does not state how or where she preserved her vital principle.) When she returned for the fourth time she lay down, and Coyote soon followed her to her couch. From time to time during the night they held long, low conversations, of which the listener could hear but little. At dawn the watcher went home. In reply to the questions of his brothers he said: “I cannot tell you all that I saw and heard, and they said much that I could not hear; but all that I did hear and behold was tsindas” (devilish evil).

Next morning the brothers proposed to go out hunting. While they were getting ready Coyote came and asked leave to join them, but they said to him tauntingly; “No; stay at home with your wife; she may be lonely and may need some one to talk to her,” and they chased him out of the lodge. Just as they were about to leave he came back again and begged them to take him with them. “No,” they replied, “the woman will want you to carry wood; you must stay at home with her.” They bade him begone and set out on their journey. They had not gone far on their way when he overtook them, and for the third time asked to be allowed to join the party; but again they drove him back with scornful words. They travelled on till they came to the edge of a deep canyon bordered with very steep cliffs, and here Coyote was seen again, skulking behind them. For the fourth time he pleaded with them; but now the youngest brother took his part, and suggested that Coyote might assist in driving game towards them. So, after some deliberation, they consented to take Coyote along. At the edge of the canyon they made a bridge of rainbow, on which they proceeded to cross the chasm. Before the brothers reached the opposite bluff Coyote jumped on it from the bridge, with a great bound, and began to frolic around, saying: “This is a nice place to play.”

They travelled farther on, and after a while came to a mesa, or table-land, which projected into a lower plain, and was connected with the plateau on which they stood by a narrow neck of level land. It was a mesa much like that on which the three eastern towns of the Mokis stand, with high, precipitous sides and a narrow entrance. On the neck of land they observed the tracks of four Rock Mountain sheep, which had gone in on the mesa but had not returned. They had reason, therefore, to believe that the sheep were still on the mesa. At the neck they built a fire, sat down near it, and sent Coyote in on the mesa to drive the sheep out. Their plans were successful; soon the four sheep came running out over the neck, within easy range of the hunters’ weapons, and were all killed. Presently Coyote returned and lay down on the sand.

In those days the horns of the Rocky Mountain sheep were slat and fleshy and could be eaten. The eldest brother said: “I will take the horns for my share.” “No,” said Coyote, “the horns shall be mine: give them to me.” Three times each repeated the same declaration. When both had spoken for the fourth time, the eldest brother, to end the controversy, drew out him knife and began to cut one of the horns; as he did so Coyote cried out, “Tsinantlehi! Tsinantlehi! Tsinantlehi! Tsinantlehi!” (Turn to bone! Turn to bone! Turn to bone! Turn to bone!” Each time he cried, the horn grew harder and harder, and the knife slipped as it cut, hacking but not severing the horn. This is why the horns of the Rocky Mountain sheep are now hard, not fleshy, and to this day they bear the marks of the hunter’s knife. “Tsindi! Tsindas bilnaalti!” (You devil! You evil companion in travel!) said the hunter to Coyote.

The hunters gathered all the meat into one pile, and by means of the mystic power which they possessed they reduced it to a very small compass. They tied it in a small bundle which one person might easily carry, and they gave it to Coyote to take home, saying to him, “Travel round by the head of the canyon over which we crossed and go not through it, for they are evil people who dwell there, and open not your bundle until you get home.”

The bundle was lifted to his back and he started for home, promising to heed all that had been told him. But as soon as he was well out of sight of his companions he slipped his bundle to the ground and opened it. At once the meat expanded and became again a heap of formidable size, such that he could not bind it up again or carry it; so he hung some of it up on the trees and bushes; he stuck part of it into crevices in the rocks; a portion he left scattered on the ground; he tied up as much as he could carry in a new bundle, and with this he continued on his journey.

When he came to the edge of the forbidden canyon he looked down and saw some birds playing a game he had never witnesses before. They rolled great stones down the slope, which extended from the foot of the cliff to the bottom of the valley, and stood on the stones while they were rolling, yet the birds were not upset or crushed or hurt in the least by this diversion. The sight so pleased Coyote that he descended into the canyon and begged for him; he got on it and handled himself so nimbly that he reached the bottom of the slope without injury. Again and again he begged them to give him a trial until he thus three times descended without hurting himself. When he asked the birds for the fourth time to roll a stone for him they became angry and hurled it with such force that Coyote lost his footing, and he and the stone rolled over one another to the bottom of the slope, and he screamed and yelped all the way down.

After this experience he left the birds and travelled on until he observed some Otters at play by the stream at the bottom of the canyon. They were playing the Navaho game of nanzoz. They bet their skins against one another on the results of the game. But when one lost his skin at play he jumped into the water and came out with a new skin. Coyote approached the Otters and asked to be allowed to take part in the game, but the Otters had heard about him and knew what a rascal he was. They refused him and told him to begone; but still he remained and pleaded. After a while they went apart and talked among themselves, and when they returned they invited Coyote to join them in their game. Coyote bet his skin and lost it. The moment he lost, the Otters all rushed at him, and, notwithstanding his piteous cries, they tore the hide from his back, beginning at the root of his tail and tearing forward. When they came to the vital spot at the end of his nose his wails were terrible. When he found himself denuded of his skin he jumped into the water, as he had seen the Otters doing; but, alas! His skin did not come back to him. He jumped again and again into the water; but come out every time as bare as he went in. At length he became thoroughly exhausted, and lay down in the water until the Otters took pity on him and pulled him out. They dragged him to a badger hole, threw him in there, and covered him up with earth. Previous to this adventure Coyote had a beautiful smooth fur like that of the otter. When he dug his way out of the badger hole he was again covered with hair, but it was no longer the glossy fur which he once wore; it was coarse and rough, much like that of the badger, and such a pelt the coyotes have worn ever since.

But this sad experience did not make him mend his ways. He again went round challenging the Otters to further play, and betting his new skin on the game. “Your skin is of no value; no one would play for it. Begone!” they said. Being often refused and insolently treated, he at length became angry. Retired to a safe distance, and began to revile the Otters shamefully. “You are braggarts,” he cried; “you pretend to be brave, but you are cowards. Your women are like yourselves; their heads are flat; their eyes are little; their teeth stick out; they are ugly; while I have a bride as beautiful as the sun.” He shook his foot at them as if to say, “I am fleeter than you.” He would approach them, and when they made motion as if to pursue him, he would take a big jump and soon place himself beyond their reach. When they quieted down, he would approach them again and continue to taunt and revile them. After a while he went to the cliff, to a place of safety, and shouted from there his words of derision. The Otters talked together, and said they could suffer his abuse no longer, that something must be done, and they sent word to the chiefs of the Spiders, who lived farther down the stream, telling them what had occurred, and asking for their aid.

The Spiders crept up the bluff, went round behind where Coyote sat cursing and scolding, and wove strong webs in the trees and bushes. When their work was finished they told the Otters what they had done, and the latter started to climb the bluff and attack Coyote. Conscious of his superior swiftness, he acted as if indifferent to them, and allowed them to come quite close before he turned to run; but he did not run far until he was caught in the webs of the Spiders. Then the Otters seized him and dragged him, howling, to the foot of the hill. He clung so hard to the grasses and shrubs as he passed that they were torn out by the roots. When the Otters got him to the bottom of the hill they killed him, or seemed to kill him. The Cliff Swallows (Hastsosi) flew down from the walls of the canyon and tore him in pieces; they carried off the fragments to their nests, leaving only a few drops of blood on the ground; they tore his skin into strips and made of these bands which they put around they heads, and this accounts for the band which the cliff swallow wears upon his brow to-day.

It was nightfall when the brothers came home. They saw that Coyote had not yet returned, and they marvelled what had become of him. When they entered the lodge and sat down, the sister came and peeped in over the portiere, scanned the inside of the lodge, and looked inquiringly at them. They did not speak to her until she had done this four times, then the eldest brother said: “Go back and sleep, and don’t worry about that worthless man of yours. He is not with us, and we know not what has become of him. We suppose he has gone into the canyon, where we warned him not to go, and has been killed.” She only said, “What have you done with him?” and went away in anger.

Before they lay down to sleep they sent the youngest brother out to hide where he had hidden the night before to watch their sister, and this is what he saw: At first she pretended to go to sleep. After a while she rose and sat facing the east. Then she faced in turn the south, the west, and the north, moving sunwise. When this was done she pulled out her right eye-tooth, broke a large piece from one of her four bone awls and inserted it in the place of the tooth, making a great tusk where the little tooth had once been. As she did this she said aloud: “He who shall hereafter dream of losing a right eye-tooth shall lose a brother.” After this she opened her mouth to the four points of the compass in the order in which she had faced them before, tore out her left eye-tooth and inserted in its place the pointed end of another awl. As she made this tusk she said: “He who dreams of losing his left eye-tooth shall lose a sister.”

The watcher then returned to his brothers and told them what he had seen and heard. “Go back,” said they, “and watch her again, for you have not seen all her deeds.” When he went back he saw her make, as she had done before, two tusks in her lower jaw. When she had made that on the right she said: “He who dreams of losing this tooth (right lower canine) shall lose a child;” and when she made that on the left she said: “He who dreams of losing this tooth (left lower canine) shall lose a parent.”

When she first began to pull out her teeth, hair began to grow on her hands; as she went on with her mystic work the fair spread up her arms and her legs, leaving only her breasts bare. The young man now crept back to the lodge where his brethren waited and told them what he had seen. “Go back,” they said, “and hide again. There is more for you to see.”

When he got back to his hiding-place the hair had grown over her breasts, and she was covered with a coat of shaggy hair like that of a bear. She continued to move around in the direction of the sun’s apparent course, pausing and opening her mouth at the east, the south, the west, and the north as she went. After a while her ears began to wag, her snout grew long, her teeth were heard to gnash, her nails turned into claws. He watched her until dawn, when, fearing he might be discovered, he returned to his lodge and told his brothers all that had happened. They said: “These must be the mysteries that Coyote explained to her the first night.”

In a moment after the young man had told his story they heard the whistling of a bear, and soon a she-bear rushed past the door of the lodge, cracking the branches as she went. She followed the trail which Coyote had taken the day before and disappeared in the woods.

At night she came back groaning. She had been in the fatal canyon all day, fighting the slayers of Coyote, and she had been wounded in many places. Her brothers saw a light in her hut, and from time to time one of their number would go and peep in through an aperture to observe what was happening within. All night she walked around the fire. At intervals she would, by means of her magic, draw arrow-heads out of her body and heal the wounds.

Next morning the bear-woman again rushed past the lodge of her brethren, and again went off toward the fatal canyon. At night she returned, as before, groaning and bleeding, and again spent the long night in drawing forth missiles and healing her wounds by means of her magic rites.

Thus she continued to do for four days and four nights; but at the end of the fourth day she had conquered all her enemies; she had slain many, and those she had not killed she had dispersed. The swallows flew up into the high cliffs to escape her vengeance; the otters hid themselves in the water; the spiders retreated into holes in the ground, and in such places these creatures have been obliged to dwell ever since.

During these four days, the brothers remained in their camp; but at the end of that time, feeling that trouble was in store for them, they decided to go away. They left the youngest brother at home, and the remaining ten divided themselves into four different parties; one of which travelled to the east, another to the south, another to the west, and another to the north.

When they were gone, the Whirlwind, Niyol, and the Knife Boy, Pesasike, came to the lodge to help the younger brother who had remained behind. They dug for him a hole under the centre of the hogan; and from this they dug four branching tunnels, running east, south, west, and north, and over the end of each tunnel they put a window of gypsum to let in light from above. They gave him four weapons, atsinikliska, the chain-lightning arrow; hatsoilhalka (an old-fashioned stone knife as big as the open hand); natsilitka, the rainbow arrow; and hatsilkiska, the sheet-lightning arrow. They roofed his hiding-place with four flat stones, one white, one blue, one yellow, and one black. They put earth over all these, smoothing the earth and trampling it down so that it should look like the natural floor of the lodge. They gave him two monitors, Niltsi, the Wind, at his right ear, to warn him by day of the approach of danger; and Tsalyel, darkness, at his left ear, to warn him by night.

When morning came and the bear-woman went forth she discovered that her brothers had departed. She poured water on the ground to see which way they had gone. The water flowed to the east; she rushed on in that direction and soon overtook three of the fugitives, whom she succeeded in killing. Then she went back to her hut to see what had become of her older brothers. Again she poured water on the level ground and it flowed off to the south; she followed in that direction and soon overtook three others, whom she likewise slew. Returning to the lodge she again performed her divination by means of water. This time she was directed to the west, and, going that way, she overtook and killed three more of the men. Again she sought the old camp and poured on the ground water, which flowed to the north; going on in this direction she encountered but one man, and him she slew. Once more she went back to discover what had become of her last brother. She poured water for the fifth time on the level ground; it sank directly into the earth.

The brothers had always been very successful hunters and their home was always well supplied with meat. In consequence of this they had had many visitors who built in their neighborhood temporary shelters, such as the Navahoes build now when they come to remain only a short time at a place, and the remains of these shelters surrounded the deserted hut. She scratched in all these places to find traces of the fugitive, without success, and in doing so she gradually approached the deserted hut. She scratched all around outside the hut and then went inside. She scratched around the edge of the hut and then worked toward the centre, until at length she came to the fireplace. Here she found the earth was soft as if recently disturbed, and she dug rapidly downward with her paws. She soon came to the stones, and, removing these, saw her last remaining brother hidden beneath them. “I greet you, my younger brother! Come up, I want to see you,” she said in a coaxing voice. Then she held out one finger to him and said: “Grasp my finger and I will help you up.” But Wind told him not to grasp her finger; that if he did she would throw him upwards, that he would fall half dead at her feet and be at her mercy. “Get up without her help,” whispered Niltsi.

He climbed out of the hole on the east side and walked toward the east. She ran toward him in a threatening manner, but he looked at her calmly and said: “It is I, your younger brother.” Then she approached him in a coaxing way, as a dog approaches one with whom he wishes to make friends, and she led him back toward the deserted hogan. But as he approached it the Wind whispered: “We have had sorrow there, let us not enter,” she he would not go in, and this is the origin of the custom now among the Navahoes never to enter a house in which death had occurred.

“Come,” she then said, “and sit with your face to the west, and let me bomb your hair.” (It was not late in the afternoon.) “Heed her not,” whispered Wing; “sit facing the north, that you watch her shadow and see what she does. It is thus that she has killed your brothers.” They both sat down, she behind him, and she untied his queue and proceeded to arrange his hair, while he watched her out of the corner of his eye. Soon he observed her snout growing longer and approaching his head, and he noticed that her ears were wagging. “What does it mean that your snout grows longer and that your ears move so?” he asked. She did not reply, but drew her snout in and kept her ears still. When these occurrences had taken place for the fourth time, Wind whispered in his ear: “Let not this happen again. If she puts out her snout the fifth time she will bite your head off. Yonder, where you see that chattering squirrel, are her vital parts. He guards them for her. Now run and destroy them.” He rose and ran toward the vital parts and she ran after him. Suddenly, between them a large yucca sprang up to retard her steps, and then a cane cactus, and then another yucca, and then another cactus of a different king. She ran faster than he, but was so delayed in running around the plants that he reached the vitals before her, and heard the lungs breathing under the weeds that covered them. He drew forth his chain-lightning arrow, shot it into the weeds, and saw a bright stream of blood spurting up. At the same instant the bear-woman fell with the blood streaming from her side.

“See!” whispered Niltsi, the Wind, “the stream of blood from her body and the stream from her vitals flow fast and approach one another. If they meet she will revive, and then your danger will be greater than ever. Draw, with your stone knife, a mark on the ground between the approaching streams.” The young man did as he was bidden, when instantly the blood coagulated and ceased to flow.

Then the young man said: “You shall live again, but no longer as the mischievous Tsike Sas Natlehi. You shall live in other forms, where you may be of service to your kind and not a thing of evil.” He cut off the head and said to it: “Let us see if in another life you will do better. When you come to life again, act well, or again I will slay you.” He threw the head at the foot of a pinon-tree and it changed into a bear, which started at once to walk off. But presently it stopped, shaded its eyes with one paw, and looked back at the man, saying: “You have bidden me to act well; but what shall I do if others attack me?” “Then you may defend yourself,” said the young man, “but begin no quarrel, and be ever a friend to your people, the Dine. Go yonder to Black Mountain (Dsillizin) and dwell there.” There are now in Black Mountain many bears which are descended from this bear.

The hero cut off the nipples and said to them: “Had you belonged to a good woman and not to a foolish witch, it might have been your luck to suckle men. You were of no use to your kind; but now I shall make you of use in another form.” He threw the nipples up into a pinon-tree, heretofore fruitless, and they became edible pine nuts.

Next he sought the homes of his friends, the holy ones, Niyol and Pesasike. They led him to the east, to the south, to the west, and to the north, where the corpses of his brothers lay, and these they restored to life for him. They went back to the place where the brothers had dwelt before and built a new house; but they did not return to the old home, for that was now a tsindi hogan and accursed.

The holy one then gave to the young hero the name of Leyaneyani, or Reared Under the Ground, because they had hidden him in the earth when his brethren fled from the wrath of his sister. They bade him go and dwell at a place called Atahyitsoi (Big Point on the Edge), which is in the shape of a hogan, or Navaho hut, and here we think he still dwells.”

Source:

Navaho Legends, Washington Matthews, 1897