Αν κρίνουμε από την ενδυμασία αλλά και τις πόλεις τους που τις έχτιζαν με μάρμαρο, ίσως. Παραθ;eτω το κείμενο όπως είναι στα αγγλικά από το κείμενο The Secrets of the Mojave [7th edition] Compiled by 'The Group' -- Edited by 'Branton':

The author of the following story is a Navaho Indian. He revealed this tribal secret which he

learned from the Paiute Indians, who inhabit the Great Basin and Mojave deserts of Utah,

Nevada, and California.

This native American, who went by the name Oga-Make, related the following account in

appreciation for a story on the Navaho which appeared in the Spring of 1948 in a magazine

which was carrying numerous articles on the mysterious "signs" or "fires" in the skies which

were causing an enormous amount of confusion and debate during that same year, as well as the

years following.

The article on the Navaho nation, which appeared in an earlier issue, told of the suffering that

their tribe had gone through during past winter seasons, and encouraged the readership to send

goods and supplies to help them through the upcoming winter of '48-'49, which many of them

did.

In appreciation of this, Oga-Make related the following 'legend' which told of the secret history

of the Americas which ran it's course, possibly thousands of years before white men set their foot

en masse upon it's shores:

"...Most of you who read this are probably white men of a blood only a century or two out of

Europe. You speak in your papers of the Flying Saucers or Mystery Ships as something new, and

strangely typical of the twentieth century. How could you but think otherwise? Yet if you had

red skin, and were of a blood which had been born and bred of the land for untold thousands of

years, you would know this is not true. You would know that your ancestors living in these

mountains and upon these prairies for numberless generations, had seen these ships before, and

had passed down the story in the legends which are the unwritten history of your people. You do

not believe? Well, after all, why should you? But knowing your scornful unbelief, the storytellers

of my people have closed their lips in bitterness against the outward flow of this knowledge.

"Yet, I have said to the storytellers this: now that the ships are being seen again, is it wise that

we, the elder race, keep our knowledge to ourselves? Thus for me, an American Indian, some of

the sages among my people have talked, and if you care to, I shall permit you to sit down with us

and listen.

"Let us say that it is dusk in that strange place which you, the white-man, calls 'Death Valley.' I

have passed tobacco...to the aged chief of the Paiutes who sits across a tiny fire from me and

sprinkles corn meal upon the flames...

"The old chief looked like a wrinkled mummy as he sat there puffing upon his pipe. Yet his eyes

were not those of the unseeing, but eyes which seemed to look back on long trails of time. His

people had held the Inyo, Panamint and Death Valleys for untold centuries before the coming of

the white-man. Now we sat in the valley which white-man named for Death, but which the

Paiute calls Tomesha--The Flaming Land. Here before me as I faced eastward, the Funerals

(mountains forming Death Valley's eastern wall) were wrapped in purple-blue blankets about

their feet while their faces were painted in scarlet. Behind me, the Panamints rose like a milehigh

wall, dark against the sinking sun.

"The old Paiute smoked my tobacco for a long time before he reverently blew the smoke to the

four directions. Finally he spoke.

"'You ask me if we heard of the great silver airships in the days before white-man brought his

wagon trains into the land?'

"'Yes grandfather, I come seeking knowledge.' (Among all tribes of my people, grandfather is the

term of greatest respect which one man can pay to another.)

"'We, the Paiute Nation, have known of these ships for untold generations. We also believe that

we know something of the people who fly them. They are called The Hav-musuvs.'

"'Who are the Hav-musuvs?'

"'They are a people of the Panamints, and they are as ancient as Tomesha itself.'

"He smiled a little at my confusion.

"'You do not understand? Of course not. You are not a Paiute. Then listen closely and I will lead

you back along the trail of the dim past.

"'When the world was young, and this valley which is now dry, parched desert, was a lush,

hidden harbor of a blue water- sea which stretched from half way up those mountains to the Gulf

of California, it is said that the Hav-musuvs came here in huge rowing-ships. They found great

caverns in the Panamints, and in them they built one of their cities. At that time California was

the island which the Indians of that state told the Spanish it was, and which they marked so on

their maps.

"'Living in their hidden city, the Hav-musuvs ruled the sea with their fast rowing-ships, trading

with far-away peoples and bringing strange goods to the great quays said still to exist in the

caverns.

"'Then as untold centuries rolled past, the climate began to change. The water in the lake went

down until there was no longer a way to the sea. First the way was broken only by the southern

mountains, over the tops of which goods could be carried. But as time went by, the water

continued to shrink, until the day came when only a dry crust was all that remained of the great

blue lake. Then the desert came, and the Fire-God began to walk across Tomesha, The Flaming-

Land.

"'When the Hav-musuvs could no longer use their great rowing-ships, they began to think of

other means to reach the world beyond. I suppose that is how it happened. We know that they

began to use flying canoes. At first they were not large, these silvery ships with wings. They

moved with a slight whirring sound, and a dipping movement, like an eagle.

"'The passing centuries brought other changes. Tribe after tribe swept across the land, fighting to

possess it for awhile and passing like the storm of sand. In their mountain city still in the caverns,

the Hav-musuvs dwelt in peace, far removed from the conflict. Sometimes they were seen in the

distance, in their flying ships or riding on the snowy-white animals which took them from ledge

to ledge up the cliffs. We have never seen these strange animals at any other place. To these

people the passing centuries brought only larger and larger ships, moving always more silently.'

"'Have you ever seen a Hav-musuv?'

"'No, but we have many stories of them. There are reasons why one does not become too

curious.'

"'Reasons?'

"'Yes. These strange people have weapons. One is a small tube which stuns one with a prickly

feeling like a rain of cactus needles. One cannot move for hours, and during this time the

mysterious ones vanish up the cliffs. The other weapon is deadly. It is a long, silvery tube. When

this is pointed at you, death follows immediately.'

"'But tell me about these people. What do they look like and how do they dress?'

"'They are a beautiful people. Their skin is a golden tint, and a head band holds back their long

dark hair. They dress always in a white fine-spun garment which wraps around them and is

draped upon one shoulder. Pale sandals are worn upon their feet...'

"His voice trailed away in a puff of smoke. The purple shadows rising up the walls of the

Funerals splashed like the waves of the ghost lake. The old man seemed to have fallen into a sort

of trance, but I had one more question.

"'Has any Paiute ever spoken to a Hav-musuv, or were the Paiutes here when the great rowingships

first appeared?'

"For some moments I wondered if he had heard me. Yet as is our custom, I waited patiently for

the answer. Again he went through the ritual of the smoke-breathing to the four directions, and

then his soft voice continued:

"'Yes. Once in the not-so-distant-past, but yet many generations before the coming of the

Spanish, a Paiute chief lost his bride by sudden death. In his great and overwhelming grief, he

thought of the Hav-musuvs and their long tube-of-death. He wished to join her, so he bid

farewell to his sorrowing people and set off to find the Hav-musuvs. None appeared until the

chief began to climb the almost unscaleable Panamints. Then one of the men in white appeared

suddenly before him with the long tube, and motioned him back. The chief made signs that he

wished to die, and came on. The man in white made a long singing whistle and other Havmusuvs

appeared. They spoke together in a strange tongue and then regarded the chief thoughtfully.

Finally they made signs to him making him understand that they would take him with

them.

"'Many weeks after his people had mourned him for dead, the Paiute chief came back to his

camp. He had been in the giant underground valley of the Hav-musuvs, he said, where white

lights which burn night and day and never go out, or need any fuel, lit an ancient city of marble

beauty. There he learned the language and the history of the mysterious people, giving them in

turn the language and legends of the Paiutes. He said that he would have liked to remain there

forever in the peace and beauty of their life, but they bade him return and use his new knowledge

for his people.'

"I could not help but ask the inevitable.

"'Do you believe this story of the chief?'

"His eyes studied the wisps of smoke for some minutes before he answered.

"'I do not know. When a man is lost in Tomesha, and the Fire-God is walking across the salt

crust, strange dreams like clouds, fog through his mind. No man can breathe the hot breath of the

Fire-God and long remain sane. Of course, the Paiutes have thought of this. No people knows the

moods of Tomesha better than they.

"'You asked me to tell you the legend of the flying ships. I have told you what the young men of

the tribe do not know, for they no longer listen to the stories of the past. Now you ask me if I

believe. I answer this. Turn around. Look behind you at that wall of the Panamints. How many

giant caverns could open there, being hidden by the lights and shadows of the rocks? How many

could open outward or inward and never be seen behind the arrow-like pinnacles before them?

How many ships could swoop down like an eagle from the beyond, on summer nights when the

fires of the furnace-sands have closed away the valley from the eyes of the white-man? How

many Hav-musuvs could live in their eternal peace away from the noise of white-man's guns in

their unscaleable stronghold? This has always been a land of mystery. Nothing can change that.

Not even white-man with his flying engines, for should they come too close to the wall of the

Panamints a sharp wind like the flying arrow can sheer off a wing. Tomesha hides its secrets well

even in winter, but no man can pry into them when the Fire-God draws the hot veil of his breath

across the passes.

"'I must still answer your question with my mind in doubt, for we speak of a weird land. Whiteman

does not yet know it as well as the Paiutes, and we have ever held it in awe. It is still the

forbidden 'Tomesha--Land-Of-The-Flaming-Earth.'"