Projectiles alone were the means for breaking the citadels. All at once the earth itself would crack open; it was as if a lightning bolt had shattered the stones. In fear, the members of one tribe after another went before the gum tree, carrying in their hands the signs of the citadels, with the result that a mountain of stones is there today. Only a few of these aren’t cut stones; the rest look as though they had been split with an axe. The result is there on the plain named Petatayub; it is obvious to this day.

. . .

Then they went off, those who are called the Point of the Arrow, Angel of the Bowstring. Their grandfathers and fathers split up then; they were on each of the mountains. They went just as guards of the mountains, and as arrowhead and bowstring guards, and as guards against the makers of war as well. None of them had been there at the dawning nor did any of them have his own god; they just blocked the way to the citadel. They all went out: