VIII
THE SERPENT OF THE SEA
 

N the village of K'yákime, which word means The Home of the Eagles, there lived an old priest. Now this man had a lovely daughter. She was beautiful, and although she was not proud, she could not endure the slightest particle of dust or dirt upon her clothes or person. She took great care of her long black hair, and would sit on the house-top and brush it in the sunshine. She spent most of her time at a pool which was sacred to Kolowissi, the Serpent of the Sea, and, although she disobeyed the priests of her village, she would wash all the things she used, and bathe in the clear waters which flowed from the spring, held precious.

Now when Kolowissi learned of this he became very angry. —  "Why does this maiden disobey the priests of K'yákime, and come to my sacred spring to bathe and wash her clothing? I must see to this." And so he planned to punish her.

When the maiden went again to the pool, there in the very middle of it, sat a beautiful little child, splashing and smiling. It was of course the Serpent of the Sea who had turned himself into the little child, for a god may take any form he chooses. There sat the child laughing and playing in the water; and although the girl looked in all directions, she could see no one, and she wondered who could have left such a very little boy in the waters of the pool.

"O, poor baby!" cried the maiden. "He is happy as he does not know that he is alone. I will take him in my arms and care for him." So the maiden talked softly to the young child, and, taking him in her arms, hastened up the hill to her home. She carried him to her room which was built on the roof of her father's house, and placed him upon the many colored rugs that formed her bed. Then she played with him, laughing at his pranks, and smiling into his face, and so her heart became very happy and loving, and she was utterly unmindful of the time.

Meanwhile the younger sisters had prepared the meal, and were waiting the return of the elder sister. They waited and waited, but she did not come. One of the little girls ran to the Sacred Spring to call her; but of course she was not there. Another climbed the ladder to the house-top and looked through the open door into her room. There before her was the elder sister playing with the child.

The little girl hurried down to where the others were gathered, and told them of what she had seen. The family was greatly excited, but the old father sat apart, silent and thoughtful, for he knew that the waters of the spring were sacred, and he feared for his eldest daughter. The young girl went again and again to the door of the maiden's room, and begged her to come down into the house with them; but she would not heed them, and only sat there on the rugs playing with the little child.

The baby at length grew sleepy. The maiden covered him with her blankets, and, growing drowsy herself, laid down beside him, and fell fast asleep.

The child was only pretending to sleep, and as soon as the maiden breathed deeply, he began to stretch, and as in some horrible dream, he stretched and stretched until he had become an enormous Serpent. He coiled himself around and around the little room until it was full of scaly, gleaming circles. Then the great Serpent surrounded the maiden, and put his huge head on the blankets beside her.

The night passed, and in the morning when the maiden did not descend, the younger sisters began to call loudly, but the old priest, their father, said: — "Hush, for the child that she has so strangely found, has bewitched her!" The little girls ran up the ladder, and finding the door closed, tried to open it; but they could not move it because the Serpent's coils filled the whole room, and pressed against it. They pounded and called, but no answer came, and beginning to be frightened, they ran to the sky-hole and summoned the family.

Then up the ladder to the house-top came the old father and the mother and the aunts and the sisters; they all pushed against the door of the maiden's room and it opened a very little way, and great was their terror when they saw the shining scales of the Serpent. The women ran away screaming; but the old father called to the Serpent of the Sea: —  

"O, Kolowissi, it is I who speak to you, I your priest. Let my child come to me again, I pray you. Let her come back to me, and I will do what-so-ever you command."

When he had said this the great Serpent loosened his coils, and as he did so the whole house shook, and the fearful noise was heard throughout the entire village and the people trembled with fear.

The maiden at once awoke, and cried to her father for help.

As the coils loosened she found herself able to rise. No sooner had the girl done this than the great Serpent bent the folds of his large coils nearest the doorway upward so that they formed an arch, and under this, filled with terror, she passed. She was almost stunned with the din of the monster's scales rasping past one another like the sound of flints trodden under the feet of a rapid runner. And once away from the writhing mass of coils, the poor maiden ran like a frightened deer, out of the doorway, and into her mother's arms.

The old priest remained and prayed to the Serpent long into the day. He then went and called together the warriors and priests of K'yákime. They sat long in sacred council, and performed solemn ceremonies, and prepared plumes, prayer-wands and offerings of treasure. After four days of labor they arranged these things for the Serpent of the Sea. The old priest called his daughter, and told her that she must make ready to take these sacrifices, and to give them together with herself, to the great Serpent.

The poor girl shivered in terror when she heard the words of the old priest, her father; but she knew that she must obey him. The people came and took her from her mother and led her to the edge of the town. They dressed her in sacred ceremonial robes of white cotton, richly embroidered, and they hung turquoise earrings in her ears, and placed around her neck shell beads. They painted her cheeks with red spots as for a dance, and they made a road of sacred meal toward the door of the Serpent of the Sea.

The old priest marked in yellow meal sacred terraces on the ground, and they placed the maiden upon it; and, as for an altar, they planted the plume-offerings. All during this time the people wept, for they loved the beautiful girl who had always been kind to everyone. And the women brought her gifts of all that they held most precious.

When all was ready the herald priest called for the Serpent to come.

The door of the maiden's room opened, and slowly, the huge snake began to uncoil itself. He did not heed the ladders the priests had placed against the wall for him, but lowering his head, he glided down from the housetop and on through the village. When he reached the maiden, he put his ugly head upon her shoulder.

The word was given, —  "It is time!" and the maiden started toward the west, cowering under her dreadful burden.

On, on they went toward the River Trail and in it; on and over the Mountain of Red Paint, and still the Serpent was not all uncoiled from the maiden's room; but when they passed beyond a second mountain the last of his length came forth, and he began to draw himself together, and to take a new shape.

The maiden staggered with fear and weariness now, and lifting his head from her shoulder, the god stood up, no longer the horrible monster, but in the form of a handsome youth in ceremonial attire. He placed the scales of his serpent form under his flowing mantle, and called out to the maiden in a hoarse, hissing voice, — "Let us speak together. Are you tired, girl?"

She never moved her head, but plodded on with her eyes cast down and her heart like a great stone in her breast.

"Are you weary, poor maiden?" said the god in a gentler voice, and he wrapped his scales more closely in his mantle. But still the maiden was silent, and went ever on until they came near to a bright stream of water.

THE SERPENT OF THE SEA.
 
The women brought the Maiden gifts of all that they held most precious

"Stop, for you are very tired, poor maiden." And the young man came near to her, and she stood by the bank of the stream and could not believe that one was speaking to her with kindness. She seemed still to feel the weight of the Serpent's head upon her shoulder, and she shrank and closed her eyes.

"May I walk by your side?" said the god. "Why do you not speak to me?"

"I am filled with fear and sadness and shame," she said.

"Why?" asked he. "What do you fear?"

"I fear the fearful creature I came with, and he rested his head upon my shoulder, and even now, I feel his presence here." She lifted her hand to the place where his head had rested, and turning, looked at the splendid youth by her side.

"But where is he, where is the great Serpent? Where has this fearful being gone?" she asked.

The god smiled and replied, — "I know where he has gone."

"Ah, youth and friend, will he now leave me in peace? Will he let me return to the home of my people?" asked the maiden.

"No, he will not do that," said the youth. "Because he thinks very much of you."

"O, where is he?" cried the maiden.

"He is here," said the youth smiling, and taking her little hand. "I am he. I love you, and I will take you to where I dwell in all the waters of the world, and we will be happy forever."

After he had finished saying this he stepped into the stream, and the maiden followed him. Beautiful ladders of shell and coral were pushed up, and they descended upon them.

The maiden forgot that she had been sad. She loved the god, and when they came to his dwelling in the green waters of the world, she became the wife of Kolowissi, the Serpent of the Sea.