History of California | Page 7

Then,
as she saw the younger girl shivering as she crouched over the fire,
"Cleeta, you need not be cold any longer; your rabbit skin dress is done.
Go into the jacal and put it on." Cleeta obeyed with dancing eyes.
Gesnip followed her mother to the stream.
"Take this," said Macana, handing her an openwork net or bag, "and
hold it while I empty in some of the mussels. Now lift them up and
down in the water to wash out the sand. That will do; put them into this
basket, and I will give you some more."
Meantime some of the women had taken a dozen or more fish from
Sholoc's baskets, and removing their entrails with bone knives,
wrapped them in many thicknesses of damp grass and laid them in the
hot ashes and coals to bake.
When the mussels were all cleaned, Macana emptied them into a large
basket half filled with water, and threw in a little acorn meal and a
handful of herbs. Then, using two green sticks for tongs, she drew out
from among the coals some smooth gray stones which had become
very hot. Brushing these off with a bunch of tules, she lifted them by
means of a green stick having a loop in the end which fitted round the
stones, flinging them one by one into the basket in which were the
mussels and water. Immediately the water, heated by the stones, began
to boil, and when the soup was ready, she set the basket down beside
her own jacal and called her children to her. Payuchi, Gesnip, Cleeta,
and their little four-year-old brother, Nakin, gathered about the basket,
helping themselves with abalone shells, the small holes of which their
mother had plugged with wood.
"Isn't father going to have some first?" asked Payuchi, before they
began the meal.
"Not this time; he will eat with Sholoc and the men when the fish are
ready," replied his mother.
"This is good soup," said Gesnip. "I am glad I worked hard before the

water came up. But, Payuchi, didn't you and Nopal get any clams?"
"Yes," said her brother, making a face; he had dipped down where the
stones were hottest and the soup thickest, and had taken a mouthful that
burned him. "Yes, we got some clams, more than I could carry; but
Nopal was running races with the other boys and would not come, so I
left him to bring them. He will lose his fish dinner if he doesn't hurry."
"Mother," said Cleeta, "may we stay up to the fish bake?"
"No," answered her mother. "You and Nakin must go to bed, but I will
save some for your breakfast. You are tired, Cleeta."
"Yes, I am tired," said the little girl, leaning her head against her
mother's shoulder, "but I am warm in my rabbit-skin dress. We all have
warm dresses now. Please tell me a good-night story," she begged. "We
have been good and brought in much food."
"Yes, tell us how the hawk and coyote made the sun," said Gesnip.
"Very well," said the mother, "only you must be quite still."
"It was in the beginning of all things, and a bowl of darkness, blacker
than the pitch lining of our water basket, covered the earth. Man, when
he would go abroad, fell against man, against trees, against wild
animals, even against Lollah, the bear, who would, in turn, hug the
unhappy one to death. Birds flying in the air came together and fell
struggling to the earth. All was confusion."
"Once the hawk, by chance, flew in the face of the coyote. Instead of
fighting about it as naughty children might, they, like people of good
manners, apologized many times. Then they talked over the unhappy
state of things and determined to remedy the evil. The coyote first
gathered a great heap of dried tules, rolled them together into a ball,
and gave them to the hawk, with some pieces of flint. The hawk, taking
them in his talons, flew straight up into the sky, where he struck fire
with his flints, lit the ball of reeds, and left it there whirling along with
a bright yellow light, as it continues to whirl to-day; for it, children, is

our sun, ruler of the day."
"The hawk next flew back for another ball to rule the night, but the
coyote had no tule gathered, and the hawk hurried him so that some
damp stems were mixed in. The hawk flew with this ball into the sky
and set it afire but because of the green tules it burned with only a dim
light; and this, children, is our moon, ruler of the night."
"That is a fine story," said Payuchi. "I am glad I did not live