Native Americans: 22 Books on History, Mythology, Culture & Linguistic Studies. James Mooney

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СКАЧАТЬ country, especially in the shade of the beautiful forests, the atmosphere is ideal; but in winter these higher levels are covered deep with snow, swept by fierce winds that chill one to the very marrow.

      The typical Apache habitation, called kówa, consists of a framework of poles loosely thatched with native grass, through which the smoke from the central fire finds its outlet and the rain and snow sift in, rendering it anything but a comfortable shelter in time of storm. The kówa is erected by the women, who are little more than drudges, and as an Apache may have as many wives as he feels able to support, he may have as many homes as circumstances require. The various wives are prone to be quarrelsome among themselves, for which reason a man usually maintains one wife on one part of the reservation and another wife perhaps many miles away.

      Primitive Apache Home

      In the good old days the radius of Apache wandering centred in the mountains of what is now southeastern Arizona; this was their stronghold, their lair, whence they raided to the south, well down into Sonora and Chihuahua, westward to the Colorado river, northward into the Hopi and Navaho country, and eastward as far at least as western Texas. From this mountain rendezvous they swept down upon the Mexicans and Indians of Sonora and Chihuahua, and on the Pueblo villages of the north, while in later years they terrorized the white settlers of the entire Southwest. To follow them was a fruitless task which often led to the destruction of the pursuers.

      The primitive Apache was a true nomad, a wandering child of Nature, whose birthright was a craving for the warpath, with courage and endurance probably exceeded by no other people, and with cunning beyond reckoning. Although his character is a strong mixture of courage and ferocity, the Apache is gentle and affectionate toward those of his own flesh and blood, particularly his children. Fear, to him, is unknown. Death he faces with stolid indifference; yet Apache men have been known to grieve so deeply over the loss of a friend as to end their troubles by self-destruction.

No people could be better fitted than the Apache to conduct continuous predatory warfare. Every form of plant and animal life pays him tribute. An entirely naked Indian, without implements of any sort, would stop on a mountain slope and in a few minutes be sitting by a cheerful fire preparing a welcome meal. With a fragment of stone he would shape fire-sticks from the dead stalk of a yucca. Sitting with the flattened piece held firmly by his feet, a pinch of sand at the point of contact between the two sticks, with a few deft whirls of the round stick over his improvised hearth the lone traveller would soon have a fire kindled. Into the blaze he would cast a few sections of green, juicy mescal1 stalk which, when cooked, would afford him both food and drink. This part of his meal finished, the Apache might gather other dead yucca stalks, split them, and often find within small stores of honey.

      Many plants furnish small seeds rich in nutriment. These are gathered in a basket, ground on a metate, and the oily mass formed into a ball with the hands. The Apache assert that a lump as large as one's two fists would subsist a man for two days; but in addition he would eat wild greens of various kinds, either cooked or raw. One of the principal vegetal foods of the Apache is the mescal—in their language, náta. Nothing can give a better idea of the economic life of these people than a description of one of their annual mescal harvests.

      The mescal harvest occurs in the season of new life and growth, when the call from the wild is strong in the blood, and like a class of children—for they are but grown-up children—they pour out into the wilds. From the camp where they have passed the winter they take to the trails which lead to the mescal hills.

      For some hours after leaving the huts on White river the path leads across the hot, dusty desert; then it reaches the rim of White river cañon and follows its edge so closely that a pebble tossed from the saddle would drop into the torrent more than a thousand feet below. How musical the roar of the stream, and how cool its waters look! As the trail passes some especially dizzy spot the Indian women lean away from the sheer edge in fear. For miles the trail traverses the bluff. At times the river is out of sight and hearing, then it emerges again and both eye and ear receive its greeting. At the hour when the piñon trees stretch their long shadows across the land the Indians urge their horses down a steep, winding trail and arrive at the river's bank. Here they ford, follow the course of the stream for a while, and then at a bend reach an open flat dotted here and there with shapely live-oaks. In this park-like opening the long straggling line comes to a halt.

      Cutting Mescal - Apache

      All the worldly possessions of the Apache woman are packed on the horse which she and her children have ridden. The mother, with the youngest in her arms, first clambers down, followed by the little girl four years of age; she then removes the blankets that cover the pack, then the burden basket containing her cooking utensils, next the water bottle, and from across the saddle seat the large rawhide carryall that contains the family supplies and extra clothing. A smaller rawhide bag holds those little essentials necessary to the comfort of the family. The unloading finished, the woman fills the water bottle at the stream and gathers fuel for preparing the simple meal, which is soon over. If anything is more simple than the cooking it is the preparation of the bed. A small circular spot is cleared and an armful of grass, if any exists, is spread over it; the blankets are laid on the grass, and the bed is made. The blankets may not be clean, and certainly the pallet is not downy, but this matters little to a people inured to hardship; they are happy.

      With a laugh the children tumble upon the blankets. Being dressed in a single garment a little girl innocently exposes more of her body than meets with her modest mother's approval. The scolding is full and positive. Little Miss Apache, sitting in the middle of the blanket with her knees drawn to her chin and with scant skirt now tucked carefully about her feet, looks up with roguish smile, then down at her wiggling toes in coquettish defiance.

      From far down the stream resound the splash of water and the merry laughter of matrons and maidens bathing in the clear pools, and from above the more boisterous shouts of men and boys. Surely he who says the American Indian is morose, stolid, and devoid of humor never knew him in the intimacy of his own home.

      With the coming of light the women are at work building the campfires, and the rising sun finds them at their morning meal. The breaking of camp is a brief task. To-day they are to cross the divide, ford Black river, and continue on to the mountains where the mescal grows abundantly. Travel in the cool morning hours is a delight, and seven o'clock finds the party well on its way. The long cavalcade winds slowly over the mountain trail. Just ahead is a mother with two children, a little girl astride behind her and a two-year-old boy standing in her lap. The mourning dove sounds its melancholy note from the forest, and the children take up the call. The little boy is not very proficient in the imitation, and sister corrects him time after time. Truly, in Indian-land, nature study begins early in life.

      There is noticeable change in the vegetation. The giant yuccas appear almost as a forest to-day; yesterday there was none. Soon the party gains the summit of the range, before which winds the valley of the Black with miles of placid stream in view. Quite different is this from White river, which is ever hurrying, rushing along. The Black flows within its grassy banks for long distances with scarcely a ripple; then a whirling rapid is passed, beyond which glides another long stretch of almost silent water.

      However, mescal does not grow by cool streams, and the trail again leads up into high mountains. On a broad slope well toward the summit the final halt is made. Close by is the mescal pit, perhaps twenty feet in diameter and three feet deep; it may have been used a hundred years or a thousand, abandoned for a long period, and then brought into use again. Each time it is employed it must first be cleaned of the refuse from the last burning; this done, СКАЧАТЬ