In the Reign of Coyote/How the Animals secured Light
HOW THE ANIMALS SECURED LIGHT
AFTER breakfast the next morning Antonio and Juanita were each given two nectarines to eat in the garden.
"Let 's eat only one ourselves and take the others to Wantasson," suggested Antonio. "He did n't feel well yesterday afternoon."
"Let 's," agreed Juanita. "Then perhaps he 'll become good-natured and tell us another story."
"Well, don't ask any questions at the end and make him cross again."
"Don't ask questions yourself. Your question was what made him angry."
"But it was what you said that made me think of the dents. Sh—! Wantasson will hear us." As they were talking, they had skipped across the quadrangle to the smithy.
"Good morning, Wantasson; we 've brought you some nectarines, some that came from Santa Clara yesterday," said Juanita.
No work could be so important as eating nectarines. Wantasson sat down in the sunny doorway to devour the fruit. The children stood in the shade inside.
"You like the bright sunshine, don't you, Wantasson?" volunteered Juanita.
"Yes, child, I like the sunshine. I get as much of it as I can, for I remember that once the earth had no sun and no light, and I don't like to get into those ways."
"How did the earth get the sun? We should like to know about that," said Antonio.
"Yes, please tell us," added Juanita.
"It was because of Coyote. You will see that Coyote has much sense and is not easily fooled, as that woman Tecla tells you. Coyote is a very cunning animal."
The children waited eagerly until Wantasson settled his shoulders against the door jamb and began his story.
In the early days the earth was wrapped in darkness. The animals could not see more than a step in front of them. They were always bumping into each other, and they had bruises all over their bodies. Their limbs were growing stiff through lack of exercise; yet no one dared to run for fear of colliding with some other animal. They just groped about with staring eyes, trying to see what was ahead of them.
One day Coyote was thinking hard as he walked and forgot to peer into the darkness. Suddenly his head banged into somebody moving fast toward him. He fell back and saw lights dancing up and down before his eyes.
"Caw-hou!" came Hawk's voice. "My head is split. Oh, this terrible darkness! I wish we had some way of seeing how to get about. Oh, my poor head is split!"
"And my poor head, too," rejoined Coyote. "You 're not hurt worse than I. Lights are dancing up and down before my eyes."
"Is that you, Coyote? You can't be hurt so much as I, for you are heavier. If you have lights dancing before you, why don't you catch them and hang them up to give us all light?"
"The lights are gone now," answered Coyote, "but your thought is a wise one. Let us see what we can do."
He thought for a long time. Then he said, "Wait here for me."
He groped his way down to a swamp and gathered a bunch of dry tules. He picked up a piece of flint and wrapped the tules around it, making a ball. Then he groped his way back to the waiting Hawk.
"Here, Sister Hawk, take this in your bill and fly as high as you can. When you are too tired to go further, give it a twist and throw it up higher. As you toss it, say, 'Give us light, O Tules. Deliver us from darkness, O Flint.' Then you may come back."
"All right," answered Hawk, and she flew, and flew, and flew, straight up into the darkness, until her wings could not lift her body one stroke more. Then she gave the ball a twist and threw it above her. "Give us light, O Tules. Deliver us from darkness, O Flint," she murmured in a faint voice.
The ball spun upward. As it left her bill, it grew bright. It sent out more and more light as it sped, until finally it became the great golden Sun. Hawk's eyes were blinded. She drooped her head upon her breast and sank down to the earth.
There the animals were all sitting still in amazement. They covered their eyes with their paws. They did not know what to do. After a while 
"Hawk flew straight up into the darkness"
Turning to Hawk, Coyote continued: "You have done well, Sister Hawk. Let us do more. Let us make another sun so that this sun can rest sometimes."
"All right," answered Hawk.
Coyote ran to the swamp and hastily gathered an armful of tules. He took a piece of flint for a center and wound the tules into a ball. Then he sped back to Hawk.
"You need not fly so high this time, Sister Hawk, but take it far enough away from the world so that it will not burn us."
"Very well," answered Hawk; and she flew and flew, straight up, until she was tired. Then she rested a moment. As she cast the ball from her, she murmured, "Give us light, O Tules. Deliver us from darkness, O Flint."
Now Coyote had hurried so at the swamp the second time that he gathered damp tules. Therefore this second ball did not give out a bright golden light as the other did, but sent down pale silver rays.
Coyote looked at it. "It is not very bright," he muttered, "but it will be better than the darkness. We will call it the moon, and it shall be in the sky to show us our way when the sun gets tired."
"I should think the moon—" began Juañita, when Antonio raised his voice above hers with "That 's a fine story, Wantasson. Coyote did have a lot of sense, did n't he?"
"Yes, Coyote has sense, but you children must run away now. I must make another tire, or your Señor Padre will say that I don't work enough, as he did yesterday."