In a country of the Southwest,

In the deserts of the Southwest,

Long ago,

There lived a mighty chieftain

In a pueblo near the dessert

Near the hot and cruel desert.

To the westward law the mountains,

Far to westward were the mountains

Where the evening sun went down.

Arid the chieftain called his young men

All hit young and eager warriors,

All the braves -and ill kin tribesmen,

Called his people all together.

And the great chief looked upon them,

On these strong and fiery young men,

And he chose of them the strongest,

Those the five men that he wanted

In the glory of' their manhood.

The chieftain pointed from the mesa

And he pointed to the westward

And the chieftain told his warriors

Of the quest that they must make.

When the sun's above the desert

Shows its crimson edge again

Go you westward o'er the desert,

Go out swiftly and alone,

Till you reach the distant mountains.

Scale the highest peak and summit

And return.

And bring on returning

From your journey as token,

Bring a green leaf from a treetop.

E'er the day and night have wasted

Must you bring it back to me."

And the young men turned their faces

To the west.

In the coolness of the morning

Then, the young men started forth,

Bid a farewell to their tribesmen

As they departed from the mess

On their guest.

And the day wore on to noon-time

Ana the blazing sun was high,

E'er the first man reached the pueblo

Where the chieftain stood to wait.

And the young man bore a token

Bore a leaf wrenched from a cactus

From a thorny desert cactus.

The sun was high and blazing

And the send was fiery hot.

I could walk no further onward."

Said the first.

And the chieftain then dismissed him,

With a scornful look dismissed Elm.

And the sun past in the heavens,

In the high and empty heavens,

E'er the second crossed the desert.

In his hand he bore a pine cone

This I bring you from the forest

From the border of the desert.

There my strength and courage left me."

Said the second.

Still the aged chieftain waited

And the sun curved toward the westward

E'er the third young man returned,

In his hand he held an oak leaf,

Held a brown and withered oak leaf

Such as grow on stunted oak trees.

This I plucked off where the trees end

Oh those mighty western mountains

But could climb no further upward."

Said the third

And the sun was sinking lower

Growing redder in descending

When the fourth man climbed the mesa.

Climbed the steep and stony mesa.

He was worn from long endurance,

From the crossing of the desert

When he stood before his chieftain,

And the young men showed a dead twig,

Showed the chief a dead twig, saying,

This I found upon the mountain

Where no bush or tree is living

There I stopped and could riot finish

Thought the goal was just above me

There I turned away and weakened.

I could climb no further upward."

But the chieftain still was silent

And the warrior turned away.

Seeing this the people murmured,

But the fifth was not returned yet

And the sun set in the westward

And the night came on in blackness

And the chieftain still awaited

By the low door of his pueblo

The return of one young warrior.

And the people grew impatient

And they waited in the firelight.

Arid the moon was high in heaven

E'er he came.

And he stood before his chieftain

And the young man's hands were empty,

And the mark of pain was on him

For the hardships he had suffered.

And the old chief broke his silence

Saying," lo your hands are empty."

O my chief, I crossed the desert

Crossed the hot and sandy desert

And I climbed the western mountain

And I passed there all my brethren.

And I climbed above the highest pink

And I reached the peak and summit,

Yet I bear you back no token,

Nothing grows there in the coldness.

But as I stood there on the summit

And I looked into the sunset,

In the glory of the sunset,

I could sea the western ocean

Far away and without end."

And saying thus he dropped down lifeless

Ann the gathered tribe was still.