Secure in the darkness from observation, the bands followed the Walpi chief across the valley, every man with his weapons in hand and a bundle of inflammables on his back. Beaching the Awatubi mesa they cautiously crept up the steep, winding trail to the summit, and then stole round the village to the passages leading to the different courts holding the kivas, near which they hid themselves. They waited till just before the gray daylight came, then the Walpi chief shouted his war cry and the yelling bands rushed to the kivas. Selecting their positions, they were at them in a moment, and quickly snatching up the ladders through the hatchways, the only means of exit, the doomed occupants were left as helpless as rats in a trap. Fire was at hand in the numerous little cooking pits, containing the jars of food prepared for the celebrants, the inflammable bundles were lit and tossed into the kivas, and the piles of firewood on the terraced roofs were thrown down upon the blaze, and soon each kiva became a furnace. The red pepper was then cast upon the fire to add its choking tortures, while round the hatchways the assailants stood showering their arrows into the mass of struggling wretches. The fires were maintained until the roofs fell in and buried and charred the bones of the victims. It is said that every male of Awatubi who had passed infancy perished in the slaughter, not one escaping. Such of the women and children as were spared were taken out, and all the houses were destroyed, after which the captives were divided among the different villages. The date of this last feudal atrocity can be made out with some degree of exactness, because in 1692, Don Diego Vargas with a military force visited Tusayan and mentions Awatubi as a populous village at which he made some halt. The Hano (Tewa) claim that they have lived in Tusayan for five or six generations, and that when they arrived there was no Awatubi in existence; hence it must have been destroyed not long after the close of the seventeenth century.