# In the Reign of Coyote/The Story of the Pleiades

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THE STORY OF THE PLEIADES
HE children's father had showed them a map of the heavens in an old astronomy that had belonged to their great-grandfather. He had also pointed out certain groups in the sky and had told them the old stories connected with each. They were charmed with their new knowledge, and night after night they insisted on indicating the Dipper, Orion, Cassiopeia's Chair, and the Pleiades, and repeating by turns the myth of each.
One day they were discussing the story of the Pleiades near the blacksmith shop. Wantasson stood at his door and listened to them.
"Ugh!" he muttered. "My people have a better story than that about the seven sisters, a better story."
​"Oh, have you a story about the seven sisters, Wantasson?" and the two children were at his side, eager to listen.
"Yes, we have seven sisters up in the sky, too, but they are not the seven sisters you children were just talking about."
Wantasson sank to the doorsill and fixed himself comfortably.
Many, many rains ago, when the earth was still in its infancy, seven brothers wedded seven sisters, and they all lived in one little village together. Socoy, the oldest brother, married Fosate, the eldest sister; Vichili, the second brother, married the second sister, Alachu; and so on they mated, according to their ages,—Stapocono and Moquem Chapac and Yacumu; Sauset and Ajalis; Canuya and Tacchel; until the youngest brother, Tucay, took unto himself the youngest sister, the radiant Lilote.
In the daytime the seven brothers climbed the hills together, hunting game, while the seven sisters went together down to the lake basin to dig roots.
Every evening, as the sun withdrew to his council with the creators, the sisters returned home. Their shoulders were bent low with loads of lily roots. Always they found the seven brothers at ​home before them, lying around the fire, with tongues eager to explain the lack of game. Night after night the six oldest brothers had nothing for their wives. Tucay alone each sundown produced a rabbit for his Lilote. In silence the sisters roasted their roots and shared them with their husbands.
This experience was repeated daily for eight moons. Then the sisters began to grumble among themselves. Fosate, the eldest, said: "This will not do. My bones are rattling in my skin. I want flesh food. We must think of something to do to save ourselves."
The next morning the seven husbands took their bows and arrows and went to meet the sun. Then Fosate said to her youngest sister: "Lilote, you must stay here to-day. Hide yourself behind the willows, and when our husbands come home, watch what they do. Then you can tell them that you stayed at home because you had a pain in your face."
When the sun was smiling its broadest, Lilote heard the brothers returning. She hid herself behind the willows. Laughing, each man threw down two rabbits and busied himself renewing the fire. As the flames changed the wood into coals, they skinned their prey. Tucay chose the larger of his rabbits and laid it to one side.
​Thereupon Socoy, his eldest brother, laughed at him. "O stupid Tucay! to stint yourself, when your Lilote knows nothing of your success! We men need the flesh to give us great strength. It is a woman's place to deny herself for us."
The five other brothers argued in the same strain. Tucay answered each time: "You do what you like. I wish to save half of my game for my wife."
"And the better half at that," scoffed Socoy; and all the others joined in teasing their youngest brother.
Lilote behind the willows heard and saw all. Her heart quickened as she listened to Tucay's words. Her mouth watered when the rabbit legs sizzled on the hot coals, but she kept as still as the quail in the thicket.
The brothers licked their lips in satisfaction over the last morsels, and hid the bones and skins in the gulch below the village. Then they settled around the fire to smoke.
In a little while Lilote came noisily out of her own hut. She rubbed her eyes and yawned broadly. Her face was bound up in cascara leaves. As she saw the brothers, she stopped in apparent surprise. "Are you home so soon, or have I slept all day? I had a pain in my face this morning and did not go out. How much game did you get?"
​She seemed sleepy and unsuspicious. The brothers asked a few questions, and then believed that she knew nothing of their feast.
When the sisters returned that night, there was the same old story of no game. Then in silence they roasted their roots and shared them with their husbands. As Lilote watched the men eat, she thought: "These must surely be gopher snakes. No man could eat a meal so soon after their gorging."
When the brothers settled around the fire again and began smoking, the sisters crept behind the willows. There Lilote whispered the story of their husbands' treachery.
"Let us steal down to the lake," murmured Fosate, "and there think what to do."
Down along the stream's bank they stole without a word. When they reached the shore of the lake, they huddled together in the darkness.
Fosate declared: "We must do something to get away from these greedy men. What shall we do?"
"Let us change ourselves into water," suggested Alachu, the second sister.
"Oh, no! They would drink us," the others answered.
"Let us change ourselves into stone," said Moquem, the third sister.
​"Oh, no! They would step on us," came the response.
"Let us turn ourselves into trees," recommended Yacumu, the fourth sister.
"Oh, no! They would burn us," was the chorus.
"Let us change ourselves into quails," advised Ajalis, the fifth sister.
"Oh, no! They would shoot us," the others replied.
"Let us turn ourselves into stars," said Tacchel, the sixth sister.
"Oh, no! They would look at us," rang out five voices.
But Lilote said: "Yes, let us change ourselves into stars. Then we shall be out of reach."
"And we can watch them hunt for us," added Tacchel. This decided the sisters. Stars they would be.
They said to the tules on the lake's brink: "O tules! give us your aid. We wish a boat lighter and swifter than any canoe. We want to sail into the very heavens, away from these greedy husbands."
They fashioned the tules into a boat and carried it to a high point of rock. Then they stepped into it and rowed off into space. When they were far enough away, they got out and sat together in a ​group in the sky. Then they let the tule boat glide back to earth.
From their seat on high they watched their husbands. The six oldest brothers looked around a little while and then settled back to smoke by the fire. But Tucay, the youngest, wandered around wailing. "My wife, my fair Lilote," he cried, "come again and warm my heart. No more shall I follow the advice of my brothers. You shall have all that I slay. Come, Lilote, come, or I perish in this loneliness."
Lilote watched his misery for a day and a night. Then she declared: "I shall throw myself back to earth. I cannot leave him so."
"And would you not grieve for us?" inquired Fosate.
"We will never go back," cried the other sisters. "O little one! do not desert us."
Lilote endured her husband's sorrow for another day and another night. Then she said, "I must go back, sisters, although I shall ever grieve over your absence."
"No, little one," answered Fosate. "You will stay here, and we will bring your beloved to you. He has proved himself worthy of our companionship."
All the sisters agreed to this, and they told Tucay how to use the tule boat. He came speeding ​up to them, and they changed him into the constellation Taurus.
You can still see them sitting in the high heavens, the Pleiades and Taurus, always in happy companionship and ever watching over the loyal lovers of this world.
"Oh, I'm so glad they took up Tucay. You wouldn't eat all the rabbits and give me none, would you, Tonio?" and Juanita pressed her head against her brother's arm.
"No, Ninita mia." Antonio moved himself free. "I'd get the rabbits, and you'd get the roots, and we would build a big fire as they do at the barbecues, and roast them. Let's play barbecue now. I'll go back of the corral and make a fire. You can go and ask Maria for a piece of meat. And get some figs. They'll do for roots," and Antonio started off.
"Aha, Tonito! So Juanita will be bringing both the rabbit and the roots. You're worse than the six brothers," and Wantasson chuckled as the children sped away to their play.