N the days of the ancients, there lived at K'yákime, a youth, the son of the chief-priest. It was this young man's custom to dress himself as for a dance and run all the way around To'yállanne, the Sacred Mountain, each morning before the sun rose. Then he would plant prayer wands and they were pleasing to the Gods, for his heart was sacred and he was handsome and his costume was beautiful.

Now, below the two broad columns of rock which stand at the south-west end of the great mountain, an old, old Tarantula had his den. Every morning, as the young man in his beautiful dress ran by, the old Tarantula heard the horn-bells which were attached to his belt, and looking out from his dark cave, saw the youth disappear in the distance.

"Ah, ha!" he thought to himself, "If I could only get his fine clothes away from him, what luck it would be for me! I will wait for him the next time."

Early the next morning, just as the sun peeped over the lid of the world, sure enough the old Tarantula heard the horn-bells, and thrusting his head out of his den, waited, and as the young man approached, he called out to him, "Stop, my young friend. Come over here."

"What for?" replied the youth. "I am in a great hurry."

"Never mind that; come here," said the Tarantula. "But what do you want?" asked the youth.

"You are very handsome," said the old Tarantula in his softest voice. "Wouldn't you like to look at yourself today? — For if you would, I can show you how."

"How?" asked the youth. "Be quick about it for I am in a hurry."

The old Tarantula told him to take off his beautiful clothing and heap it on the ground before him; and he would take off his hairy clothing and pile it before the youth. "Then I will put on all of the fine things you wear, and you will see what a handsome fellow you are."

"All right," said the young man, and he drew off his beautiful painted moccasins, red and green; his fine white leggings and his garments of white cotton that were marked with figures in many colors. He took off his sacred anklets of white shell; his turquoise earrings, like the sky in blueness; and last of all his plaited headband of many colored fibers, and his bunch of blue, red and yellow macaw feathers, which he wore in his hair-knot at the back of his head. All these things, one after another, he took off and laid before the ugly old Tarantula.

Then the woolly, hairy creature hauled off his clothing gray-blue, ugly, coarse — and began to put on the handsome garments that the young man had placed before him. After he had dressed he perched himself up on his crooked hindlegs, and said, "Look at me, now. How do I look?"

"Well, the clothing is indeed handsome," said the young man.

"Just wait till I get a little farther off," said the old Tarantula, and he straightened himself up and walked backwards toward the door of his den. Presently he stood still, and said, "How do I look now?"

"Handsomer," said the youth.

"Just wait till I get a little farther." And now he backed to the, very door of his den, and said, "Now, then, how do I look?"

"Very handsome indeed," said the youth.

"Ah, ha!" chuckled the old Tarantula, and he turned around and plunged headforemost into his hole. "Out upon him!" cried the young man,

"Out upon the old rascal! So this is the trick he has played me! What shall I do? I can't go home without my beautiful clothes; and I certainly don't want to put on those dirty, hairy old things; but I guess have to." And he wrapped the ugly old mantle around himself, and very much ashamed, returned to the village.

When he at last reached his home the sun was high, which had never happened before. The old ones had wondered what could have happened to their child, strong young Swift-Runner; and when they saw him they asked many questions.

"Ha!" said the youth. "The wicked old Tarantula who lives under the two columns of To'yállanne, has stolen my garments. He is deep down in his hole with them, and he left me only his own old rags. This day I have been stupid; but I never dreamed that he would play me such a trick."

"We thought some misfortune must have overtaken you, my son. Let us send for the warrior-priests, and see what can be done."

So the warrior-priests came, and after much talking, they decided to dig old Tarantula out. They ordered the men to take their digging-sticks, and the women and even the children, to carry baskets and bowls with which to remove the sand and earth.

They worked and worked from morning till night, and at last they came to the solid rock which forms the mountain; and still they had not gotten to the bottom of the old Tarantula's den. Loudly he mocked them in his croaking voice; and angry and weary were they when they were forced to give up, and return to their homes.

Now, in the evening, the old ones of K'yákime were very thoughtful as they sat in the fire-light and talked the matter over. Someone suggested that they send for the King-Fisher, so the chief warrior-priest called to Swift-Runner, and bade him go with all speed to the Hill of the Great King-Fisher.

"What is it?" asked King-Fisher, when he heard someone at the entrance of his house.

"Come quickly!" the young man called out. "The chief-priests of K'yákime are sitting in council and they want you to help them."

So Great King-Fisher followed the youth and when they arrived, the old ones told him all that had happened. "We have dug away his den," they said, "Down to the very heart of the mountain, but farther down still goes his den into the earth. What are we to do? We have sent for you, knowing your power to quickly snatch, even from under the water, whatsoever you will."

"Ah, ha! I will take a step toward this thing," said Great King-Fisher, "But it is a very difficult task you place before me. Old Tarantula is very cunning and also very keen of sight. However, I will try and if I have good luck, I will bring you back something."

Very early the next morning Great King-Fisher flew to the two columns of rock, and he lay down just between them, merely thrusting his beak over the edge, and looked at the opening of old Tarantula's hole.

The plumes of sunlight were but barely gleaming on the farther edge of the world when old Tarantula cast his eyes just out of his hole and looked around. Eyes like many eyes had he, wonderfully sharp and clear, and he looked around and around and of course he discovered Great King-Fisher. He called out to him in his hoarse old voice, and at the same time Great King-Fisher shook out his wings, and descended like a breath of strong wind; but he only brushed the tips of the feathers in old Tarantula's hair-knot as the creature doubled himself up and tumbled into his hole. And Great King-Fisher, with wings drooping, took his way back to the council.

"No use! I failed. As I said before, he is a crafty, keen-sighted, old fellow." And so saying he sprang into the air and flew back to the Hill of the King-Fisher.

Again the chief-priests talked with one another, and they decided to send for Great Eagle. He came, and when they told him their story, he turned quickly and said, — "I think that possibly I can succeed, though surely, as my brother has said, old Tarantula is a crafty, keen-sighted creature. I will do my best."

The next morning, long before sunrise, the Eagle flew to the peak of the Mountain of the Badgers, a long distance from To'yállanne, but still as no distance to the Eagle. There he stood with his head raised to the winds, turning first one eye, then the other, on the entrance of old Tarantula's den, until old Tarantula again thrust out his woolly nose. It was not long before he discovered the Eagle, and was just shouting at him, when the Eagle swept like a singing stone loosed from the sling, straight at the head of old Tarantula. But his wings hissed and buzzed past the hole. Great Eagle, crest-fallen and shame-smitten, took his way to the place of council, reported his failure, and departed.

Then again the wise-ones thought and thought, and at last they sent for the Falcon, for, said they, "He is like a well feathered arrow, swift and strong and light of weight." And the Falcon came, and the next morning he watched for old Tarantula. Of course the wicked old rascal saw him, but the Falcon shot into the very mouth of old Tarantula's den, grasped at his head, and brought away with him the macaw plumes of the youth's headdress.

This time the old Tarantula trembled with fright, and although he regretted the loss of his gay feathers, —  "Still," said he, "I could not see the old head-plumes for I wore them at the back of my head."

The Falcon took the head-dress back to the council, and dropping it at the feet of the old men, said good-bye and made his way to the thickets and hillsides.

Then the old priests said to one another, "This is serious, we must turn to the Gods for help." And they called Swift-Runner and said to him; — "We have chosen the wisest and the swiftest of the feathered creatures to aid us, and they have failed. We can not let old Tarantula keep your garments, for thinking himself both beautiful and powerful, he will try to rule the Land of Shíwina, and there will be much unhappiness. Go, therefore, to the War-Gods, and as you have been faithful in your duty to them, they will listen to your words."

All the people of K'yákime prepared plume-offerings, and selected rare treasures, and they gave them to young Swift-Runner that he might carry them to the War-Gods on the top of the Sacred Mountain. And on the following morning he climbed the steep trail, and soon neared the dwelling of the Gods and their grandmother.

The old woman was on the roof of the house, and as soon as she saw the stranger, she cried out to her grandchildren, — "Come quickly, both of you! A young man has arrived, and he brings you precious greetings." The two War-Gods came into the room, and looking at the tall youth, said, — "What is it that you wish? Because for nothing no stranger comes to the house of another."

"It is true," said the youth. Then he gave to them the many colored prayer-offerings and the precious things of the people. And he asked them to help him overcome the old Tarantula, and recover his beautiful ceremonial attire.

The Two listened to all that the young man told them, and after looking at one another, the younger brother shouted out, — "He, grandmother, make haste! Bestir yourself! Grind flour for us, and let it be rock flour."

Then the old woman gathered some white sandstone, and breaking it into small pieces, ground it as fine as meal, and then into a soft white powder. She mixed this with water and made a kind of dough of it, and then she gave it to the two Gods. With their wonderful skill, they moulded the dough into little figures, two deer and two antelope images they made. When they had finished they placed them before the youth, and the elder God said, "Take these and stand them on the altar to the southern side of our Sacred Mountain. Then tell the old ones of your people what you have seen and done. Also tell them that we bid you go to the animals in the early morning, and greeting them first, guide them to the den of old Tarantula. He is very fond of hunting, nothing gives him greater joy than to kill something, — and he will surely leave his den when he sees the magic beings."

The youth did as he was directed, and when he had placed the images of the deer and the antelope on the altar, he hastened to his father and the warrior-priests and told them of the words of the Gods.

"Ah, so!" said the oldest warrior-priest, "Old Tarantula will be tempted forth from his den. Would it not be well for us to take the war-path against him?"

"It would indeed be well," said the chief priest; and so long before daylight on the following morning, many warriors hid in the low hills near the two columns.

At dawn the youth took his way toward the altar on the southern side of To'yállanne. When he arrived there the two antelope and the two deer were tamely walking about, cropping the grass and tender leaves. And speaking to them softly, young Swift-Runner guided the beings down the sloping sides of the foot-hills toward old Tarantula's den. As they neared the den the youth called out from one of the valleys below, "Hasten! There go some deer and antelope. Whoever may be near them, understand, there go some deer and antelope!"

"What is that?" said old Tarantula as he skipped toward his doorway, and heard the youth call a second time. "Ah, ha!" he said, "So deer are coming. Let us see.

He caught up his bow, twanged the string and started; but just as he was going out of his hole he said to himself, — "Good daylight! This will never do; they will be after me if I go out. O, pshaw! Nonsense! They will do nothing of the kind, and besides haven't I a bow and arrows with me?" And he leaped out of his hole and started off toward the deer. He climbed up a little hill, and there before him grazed the antelope and the deer beings. He drew an arrow and let fly, and one of them dropped at once. "Ah, ha!" cried he, "Who says I am not a good hunter?" He whipped out a second arrow and fired at the second deer, which also dropped. With many glad shouts he shot the first antelope and then the second, and they fell as the others had.

"Now," said he, "I suppose I might as well take my meat home. Fine game I have bagged today!" He untied the straps which he had brought along, and tied together the legs of the first deer he had shot. He stooped down, raised the deer, knelt on the ground and drew the strap over his forehead, and was just about to rise with his burden when, klo-o-o, he fell down almost crushed under a mass of white rock!

"Goodness! What's this?" He looked around but the deer had vanished and in its place was a shapeless mass of stone. "Well, I will try this one," said he to himself. And he had no sooner lifted the other on his back than down it bore him, another mass of white rock.

"What can be the matter? It must be witchcraft!" he said, but he tried the next one just the same, and with no better success. "I must have been dreaming about shooting so much game," said the old fellow. "There is really only one, and I will carry him easily." But he had just placed the strap over his forehead when he heard a mighty thundering tread, and great shouting and a terrible noise altogether, for the warriors were closing in around him. He made a rush for the mouth of his den, but the men caught him and clutched his stolen garments. They pulled the earrings out of his ears, and slipped the sacred shell anklets from off his hairy legs; and when they had recovered all of the youth's treasures, they dragged him before the old priests, who said, — "It will not be well if we let this beast go as he is; he is too large, too powerful, too crafty." So they built a great fire and cast him into the flames. He squeaked and sizzled and hissed, and swelled and swelled and swelled, until with a terrific noise, he burst, and little pieces were cast to the uttermost parts of the earth. These parts again took shape as beings not unlike old Tarantula himself.

And the strong young Swift-Runner recovered his ceremonial garments, and ran each morning around the Sacred Mountain, and it was pleasing to the Gods.