The post-diluvian part of this story presents the hero in quite another light than that generally accepted by most of the Pueblo tribes, in which he is represented as having been the very model of goodness and beneficence—the founder of their cities, of which Acoma was the first and Pecos the second. Before taking his departure from his people, he prophesied that they should suffer from drought and from the oppressions of a strange nation, but promised them to return as their deliverer. He then planted a tree upside down, and bade them preserve the sacred fire notwithstanding their misfortunes, until the tree fell, at which time he would return with a white race, who would destroy all their enemies and bring back the fertile showers. It is said that this tree fell from its place as the American army entered Santa Fé, in 1846. In the cramped, subterranean estufa, the Pueblo fed the sacred fire burning in the basin of a small altar. It was a warrior’s vigil, for by turns their heroes descended into its suffocating atmosphere, thick with smoke, and charged with carbonic acid, to wait often for two successive days and nights without refreshment, often even until death relieved the guard.[489] For generations these strange architects and faithful priests have waited for the return of their god—looked for him to come with the sun, and descend by the column of smoke which rose from the sacred fire. As of old the Israelitish watcher upon Mount Seir replied to the inquiry, “What of the night?” “The morning cometh,” so the Pueblo sentinel mounts the house-top at Pecos, and gazes wistfully into the east for the golden appearance, for the rapturous vision of his redeemer, for Montezuma’s return; and, though no ray of light meets his watching eye, his never-failing faith, with cruel deception, replies, “The morning cometh.”[490] • • • • •