Muskrat and his grandmother were gathering wood for the camp the next morning, when they came to an old buffalo skull. The plains were dotted with these relics of the chase, for already the hide-hunting white man had played havoc with the great herds of buffalo. This skull was in a grove of cottonwood-trees near the river, and as they approached two Mice scampered into it to hide. Muskrat, in great glee, secured a stick and was about to turn the skull over and kill the Mice, when his grandmother said: "No, our people never kill Mice. Your grandfather will tell you why if you ask him. The Mice-people are our friends and we treat them as such. Even small people can be good friends, you know—remember that."
All the day the boy wondered why the Mice-people should not be harmed; and just at dark he came for me to accompany him to War Eagle's lodge. On the way he told me what his grandmother had said, and that he intended to ask for the reason, as soon as we arrived. We found the other children already there, and almost before we had seated ourselves, Muskrat asked:
"Grandfather, why must we never kill the Mice-people? Grandmother said that you knew."
"Yes," replied War Eagle, "I do know and you must know. Therefore I shall tell you all to-night why the Mice-people must be let alone and allowed to do as they please, for we owe them much; much more than we can ever pay. Yes—they are great people, as you will see.
"It happened long, long ago, when there were few men and women on the world. OLD-man was chief of all then, and the animal-people and the bird-people were greater than our people, because we had not been on earth long and were not wise.
"There was much quarrelling among the animals and the birds. You see the Bear wanted to be chief, under OLD-man, and so did the Beaver. Almost every night they would have a council and quarrel over it. Beside the Bear and Beaver, there were other animals, and also birds, that thought they had the right to be chief. They couldn't agree and the quarrelling grew worse as time went on. Some said the greatest thief should be chosen. Others thought the wisest one should be the leader; while some said the swiftest traveller was the one they wanted. So it went on and on until they were most all enemies instead of friends, and you could hear them quarrelling almost every night, until OLD-man came along that way.
"He heard about the trouble. I forget who told him, but I think it was the Rabbit. Anyhow he visited the council where the quarrelling was going on and listened to what each one had to say. It took until almost daylight, too. He listened to it all—every bit. When they had finished talking and the quarrelling commenced as usual, he said, 'stop!' and they did stop.
"Then he said to them: 'I will settle this thing right here and right now, so that there will be no more rows over it, forever.'
"He opened his paint sack and took from it a small, polished bone. This he held up in the firelight, so that they might all see it, and he said:
"'This will settle the quarrel. You all see this bone in my right hand, don't you?'
"'Yes,' they replied.
"'Well, now you watch the bone and my hands, too, for they are quick and cunning.'
"OLD-man began to sing the gambling song and to slip the bone from one hand to the other so rapidly and smoothly that they were all puzzled. Finally he stopped singing and held out his hands—both shut tight, and both with their backs up.
"'Which of my hands holds the bone now?' he asked them.
"Some said it was in the right hand and others claimed that it was the left hand that held it. OLD-man asked the Bear to name the hand that held the bone, and the Bear did; but when OLD-man opened that hand it was empty—the bone was not there. Then everybody laughed at the Bear. OLD-man smiled a little and began to sing and again pass the bone.
"'Beaver, you are smart; name the hand that holds the bone this time.'
"The Beaver said: 'It's in your right hand. I saw you put it there.'
"OLD-man opened that hand right before the Beaver's eyes, but the bone wasn't there, and again everybody laughed—especially the Bear.
"'Now, you see,' said OLD-man, 'that this is not so easy as it looks, but I am going to teach you all to play the game; and when you have all learned it, you must play it until you find out who is the cleverest at the playing. Whoever that is, he shall be chief under me, forever.'
"Some were awkward and said they didn't care much who was chief, but most all of them learned to play pretty well. First the Bear and the Beaver tried it, but the Beaver beat the Bear easily and held the bone for ever so long. Finally the Buffalo beat the Beaver and started to play with the Mouse. Of course the Mouse had small hands and was quicker than the Buffalo—quicker to see the bone. The Buffalo tried hard for he didn't want the Mouse to be chief but it didn't do him any good; for the Mouse won in the end.
"It was a fair game and the Mouse was chief under the agreement. He looked quite small among the rest but he walked right out to the centre of the council and said:
"'Listen, brothers—what is mine to keep is mine to give away. I am too small to be your chief and I know it. I am not warlike. I want to live in peace with my wife and family. I know nothing of war. I get my living easily. I don't like to have enemies. I am going to give my right to be chief to the man that OLD-man has made like himself.'
"That settled it. That made the man chief forever, and that is why he is greater than the animals and the birds. That is why we never kill the Mice-people.
"You saw the Mice run into the buffalo skull, of course. There is where they have lived and brought up their families ever since the night the Mouse beat the Buffalo playing the bone game. Yes—the Mice-people always make their nests in the heads of the dead Buffalo-people, ever since that night.
"Our people play the same game, even today. See," and War Eagle took from his paint sack a small, polished bone. Then he sang just as OLD-man did so long ago. He let the children try to guess the hand that held the bone, as the animal-people did that fateful night; but, like the animals, they always guessed wrong. Laughingly War Eagle said:
"Now go to your beds and come to see me to-morrow night. Ho!"
It was rather late when we left War Eagle's lodge after having learned why the Indians never kill the Mice-people; and the milky way was white and plain, dimming the stars with its mist. The children all stopped to say good night to little Sees-in-the-dark, a brand-new baby sister of Bluebird's; then they all went to bed.
The next day the boys played at war, just as white boys do; and the girls played with dolls dressed in buckskin clothes, until it grew tiresome, when they visited relatives until it came time for us all to go to their grandfather's lodge. He was smoking when we entered, but soon laid aside the pipe and said:
"You know that the otter skin is big medicine, no doubt. You have noticed that our warriors wear it sometimes and you know that we all think it very lucky to wear the skin of the Otter. But you don't know how it came to be great; so I shall tell you.
"One time, long before my grandfather was born, a young-man of our tribe was unlucky in everything. No woman wanted to marry him, because he couldn't kill enough meat to keep her in food and clothes. Whenever he went hunting, his bow always broke or he would lose his lance. If these things didn't happen, his horse would fall and hurt him. Everybody talked about him and his bad luck, and although he was fine-looking, he had no close friends, because of his ill fortune. He tried to dream and get his medicine but no dream would come. He grew sour and people were sorry for him all the time. Finally his name was changed to 'The Unlucky-one,' which sounds bad to the ear. He used to wander about alone a good deal, and one morning he saw an old woman gathering wood by the side of a River. The Unlucky-one was about to pass the old woman when she stopped him and asked:
"'Why are you so sad in your handsome face? Why is that sorry look in your fine eyes?'
"'Because,' replied the young-man, 'I am the Unlucky-one. Everything goes wrong with me, always. I don't want to live any longer, for my heart is growing wicked.'
"'Come with me,' said the old woman, and he followed her until she told him to sit down. Then she said: 'Listen to me. First you must learn a song to sing, and this is it.' Then she sang a queer song over and over again until the young-man had learned it well.
"'Now do what I tell you, and your heart shall be glad some day.' She drew from her robe a pair of moccasins and a small sack of dried meat. 'Here,' she said, 'put these moccasins on your feet and take this sack of meat for food, for you must travel far. Go on down this river until you come to a great beaver village. Their lodges will be large and fine-looking and you will know the village by the great size of the lodges. When you get to the place, you must stand still for a long time, and then sing the song I taught you. When you have finished the singing, a great white Beaver, chief of all the Beavers in the world, will come to you. He is wise and can tell you what to do to change your luck. After that I cannot help you; but do what the white Beaver tells you, without asking why. Now go, and be brave!'
"The young-man started at once. Long his steps were, for he was young and strong. Far he travelled down the river—saw many beaver villages, too, but he did not stop, because the lodges were not big, as the old woman told him they would be in the right village. His feet grew tired for he travelled day and night without resting, but his heart was brave and he believed what the old woman had told him.
"It was late on the third day when he came to a mighty beaver village and here the lodges were greater than any he had ever seen before. In the centre of the camp was a monstrous lodge built of great sticks and towering above the rest. All about, the ground was neat and clean and bare as your hand. The Unlucky-one knew this was the white Beaver's lodge—knew that at last he had found the chief of all the Beavers in the world; so he stood still for a long time, and then sang that song.
"Soon a great white Beaver—white as the snows of winter—came to him and asked: 'Why do you sing that song, my brother? What do you want of me? I have never heard a man sing that song before. You must be in trouble.'
"'I am the Unlucky-one,' the young-man replied. 'I can do nothing well. I can find no woman who will marry me. In the hunt my bow will often break or my lance is poor. My medicine is bad and I cannot dream. The people do not love me, and they pity me as they do a sick child.'
"'I am sorry for you,' said the white Beaver—chief of all the Beavers in the world—'but you must find my brother the Coyote, who knows where OLD-man's lodge is. The Coyote will do your bidding if you sing that song when you see him. Take this stick with you, because you will have a long journey, and with the stick you may cross any river and not drown, if you keep it always in your hand. That is all I can do for you, myself.'
"On down the river the Unlucky-one travelled and the sun was low in the west on the fourth day, when he saw the Coyote on a hillside near by. After looking at Coyote for a long time, the young-man commenced to sing the song the old woman had taught him. When he had finished the singing, the Coyote came up close and asked:
"'What is the matter? Why do you sing that song? I never heard a man sing it before. What is it you want of me?'
"Then the Unlucky-one told the Coyote what he had told the white Beaver, and showed the stick the Beaver-chief had given him, to prove it.
"'I am hungry, too,' said the Unlucky-one, 'for I have eaten all the dried meat the old woman gave me.'
"'Wait here,' said the Coyote, 'my brother the Wolf has just killed a fat Doe, and perhaps he will give me a little of the meat when I tell him about you and your troubles.'
"Away went the Coyote to beg for meat, and while he was gone the young-man bathed his tired feet in a cool creek. Soon the Coyote came back with meat, and young-man built a fire and ate some of it, even before it was warm, for he was starving. When he had finished the Coyote said:
"'Now I shall take you to OLD-man's lodge, come.'
"They started, even though it was getting dark. Long they travelled without stopping—over plains and mountains—through great forests and across rivers, until they came to a cave in the rough rocks on the side of a mighty mountain.
"'In there,' said the Coyote, 'you will find OLD-man and he can tell you what you want to know.'
"The Unlucky-one stood before the black hole in the rocks for a long time, because he was afraid; but when he turned to speak to the Coyote he found himself to be alone. The Coyote had gone about his own business—had silently slipped away in the night.
"Slowly and carefully the young-man began to creep into the cave, feeling his way in the darkness. His heart was beating like a tom-tom at a dance. Finally he saw a fire away back in the cave.
"The shadows danced about the stone sides of the cave as men say the ghosts do; and they frightened him. But looking, he saw a man sitting on the far side of the fire. The man's hair was like the snow and very long. His face was wrinkled with the seams left by many years of life and he was naked in the firelight that played about him.
"Slowly the young-man stood upon his feet and began to walk toward the fire with great fear in his heart. When he had reached the place where the firelight fell upon him, the OLD-man looked up and said:
"'How, young-man, I am OLD-man. Why did you come here? What is it you want?'
"Then the Unlucky-one told OLD-man just what he had told the old woman and the white Beaver and the Coyote, and showed the stick the Beaver had given him, to prove it.
"'Smoke,' said OLD-man, and passed the pipe to his visitor. After they had smoked OLD-man said:
"'I will tell you what to do. On the top of this great mountain there live many ghost-people and their chief is a great Owl. This Owl is the only one who knows how you can change your luck, and he will tell you if you are not afraid. Take this arrow and go among those people, without fear. Show them you are unarmed as soon as they see you. Now go!'
"Out into the night went the Unlucky-one and on up the mountain. The way was rough and the wind blew from the north, chilling his limbs and stinging his face, but on he went toward the mountain-top, where the storm-clouds sleep and the winter always stays. Drifts of snow were piled all about, and the wind gathered it up and hurled it at the young man as though it were angry at him. The clouds waked and gathered around him, making the night darker and the world lonelier than before, but on the very top of the mountain he stopped and tried to look through the clouds. Then he heard strange singing all about him; but for a long time there was no singer in sight. Finally the clouds parted and he saw a great circle of ghost-people with large and ugly heads. They were seated on the icy ground and on the drifts of snow and on the rocks, singing a warlike song that made the heart of the young-man stand still, in dread. In the centre of the circle there sat a mighty Owl—their chief. Ho!—when the ghost-people saw the Unlucky-one they rushed at him with many lances and would have killed him but the Owl-chief cried, 'Stop!'
"The young-man folded his arms and said: 'I am unarmed—come and see how a Blackfoot dies. I am not afraid of you.'
"'Ho!' said the Owl-chief, 'we kill no unarmed man. Sit down, my son, and tell me what you want. Why do you come here? You must be in trouble. You must smoke with me.'
"The Unlucky-one told the Owl-chief just what he had told the old woman and the Beaver and the Coyote and OLD-man, and showed the stick that the white Beaver had given him and the arrow that OLD-man had given to him to prove it.
"'Good,' said the Owl-chief, 'I can help you, but first you must help yourself. Take this bow. It is a medicine-bow; then you will have a bow that will not break and an arrow that is good and straight. Now go down this mountain until you come to a river. It will be dark when you reach this river, but you will know the way. There will be a great cottonwood-tree on the bank of the stream where you first come to the water. At this tree, you must turn down the stream and keep on travelling without rest, until you hear a splashing in the water near you. When you hear the splashing, you must shoot this arrow at the sound. Shoot quickly, for if you do not you can never have any good luck. If you do as I have told you the splasher will be killed and you must then take his hide and wear it always. The skin that the splasher wears will make you a lucky man. It will make anybody lucky and you may tell your people that it is so.
"'Now go, for it is nearly day and we must sleep.'
"The young-man took his bow and arrow and the stick the white Beaver had given him and started on his journey. All the day he travelled, and far into the night. At last he came to a river and on the bank he saw the great cottonwood-tree, just as the ghost Owl had told him. At the tree the young-man turned down the stream and in the dark easily found his way along the bank. Very soon he heard a great splashing in the water near him, and—zipp—he let the arrow go at the sound—then all was still again. He stood and looked and listened, but for a long time could see nothing—hear nothing.
"Then the moon came out from under a cloud and just where her light struck the river, he saw some animal floating—dead. With the magic stick the young-man walked out on the water, seized the animal by the legs and drew it ashore. It was an Otter, and the young-man took his hide, right there.
"A Wolf waited in the brush for the body of the Otter, and the young-man gave it to him willingly, because he remembered the meat the Wolf had given the Coyote. As soon as the young-man had skinned the Otter he threw the hide over his shoulder and started for his own country with a light heart, but at the first good place he made a camp, and slept. That night he dreamed and all was well with him.
"After days of travel he found his tribe again, and told what had happened. He became a great hunter and a great chief among us. He married the most beautiful woman in the tribe and was good to her always. They had many children, and we remember his name as one that was great in war. That is all—Ho!"
Firelight—what a charm it adds to story-telling. How its moods seem to keep pace with situations pictured by the oracle, offering shadows when dread is abroad, and light when a pleasing climax is reached; for interest undoubtedly tends the blaze, while sympathy contributes or withholds fuel, according to its dictates.
The lodge was alight when I approached and I could hear the children singing in a happy mood, but upon entering, the singing ceased and embarrassed smiles on the young faces greeted me; nor could I coax a continuation of the song.
Seated beside War Eagle was a very old Indian whose name was Red Robe, and as soon as I was seated, the host explained that he was an honored guest; that he was a Sioux and a friend of long standing. Then War Eagle lighted the pipe, passing it to the distinguished friend, who in turn passed it to me, after first offering it to the Sun, the father, and the Earth, the mother of all that is.
In a lodge of the Blackfeet the pipe must never be passed across the doorway. To do so would insult the host and bring bad luck to all who assembled. Therefore if there be a large number of guests ranged about the lodge, the pipe is passed first to the left from guest to guest until it reaches the door, when it goes back, unsmoked, to the host, to be refilled ere it is passed to those on his right hand.
Briefly War Eagle explained my presence to Red Robe and said:
"Once the Moon made the Sun a pair of leggings. Such beautiful work had never been seen before. They were worked with the colored quills of the Porcupine and were covered with strange signs, which none but the Sun and the Moon could read. No man ever saw such leggings as they were, and it took the Moon many snows to make them. Yes, they were wonderful leggings and the Sun always wore them on fine days, for they were bright to look upon.
"Every night when the Sun went to sleep in his lodge away in the west, he used the leggings for a pillow, because there was a thief in the world, even then. That thief and rascal was OLD-man, and of course the Sun knew all about him. That is why he always put his fine leggings under his head when he slept. When he worked he almost always wore them, as I have told you, so that there was no danger of losing them in the daytime; but the Sun was careful of his leggings when night came and he slept.
"You wouldn't think that a person would be so foolish as to steal from the Sun, but one night OLD-man—who is the only person who ever knew just where the Sun's lodge was—crept near enough to look in, and saw the leggings under the Sun's head.
"We have all travelled a great deal but no man ever found the Sun's lodge. No man knows in what country it is. Of course we know it is located somewhere west of here, for we see him going that way every afternoon, but OLD-man knew everything—except that he could not fool the Sun.
"Yes—OLD-man looked into the lodge of the Sun and saw the leggings there—saw the Sun, too, and the Sun was asleep. He made up his mind that he would steal the leggings so he crept through the door of the lodge. There was no one at home but the Sun, for the Moon has work to do at night just as the children, the Stars, do, so he thought he could slip the leggings from under the sleeper's head and get away.
"He got down on his hands and knees to walk like the Bear-people and crept into the lodge, but in the black darkness he put his knee upon a dry stick near the Sun's bed. The stick snapped under his weight with so great a noise that the Sun turned over and snorted, scaring OLD-man so badly that he couldn't move for a minute. His heart was not strong—wickedness makes every heart weaker—and after making sure that the Sun had not seen him, he crept silently out of the lodge and ran away.
"On the top of a hill OLD-man stopped to look and listen, but all was still; so he sat down and thought.
"'I'll get them to-morrow night when he sleeps again'; he said to himself. 'I need those leggings myself, and I'm going to get them, because they will make me handsome as the Sun.'
"He watched the Moon come home to camp and saw the Sun go to work, but he did not go very far away because he wanted to be near the lodge when night came again.
"It was not long to wait, for all the OLD-man had to do was to make mischief, and only those who have work to do measure time. He was close to the lodge when the Moon came out, and there he waited until the Sun went inside. From the bushes OLD-man saw the Sun take off his leggings and his eyes glittered with greed as he saw their owner fold them and put them under his head as he had always done. Then he waited a while before creeping closer. Little by little the old rascal crawled toward the lodge, till finally his head was inside the door. Then he waited a long, long time, even after the Sun was snoring.
"The strange noises of the night bothered him, for he knew he was doing wrong, and when a Loon cried on a lake near by, he shivered as with cold, but finally crept to the sleeper's side. Cautiously his fingers felt about the precious leggings until he knew just how they could best be removed without waking the Sun. His breath was short and his heart was beating as a war-drum beats, in the black dark of the lodge. Sweat—cold sweat, that great fear always brings to the weak-hearted—was dripping from his body, and once he thought that he would wait for another night, but greed whispered again, and listening to its voice, he stole the leggings from under the Sun's head.
"Carefully he crept out of the lodge, looking over his shoulder as he went through the door. Then he ran away as fast as he could go. Over hills and valleys, across rivers and creeks, toward the east. He wasted much breath laughing at his smartness as he ran, and soon he grew tired.
"'Ho!' he said to himself, 'I am far enough now and I shall sleep. It's easy to steal from the Sun—just as easy as stealing from the Bear or the Beaver.'
"He folded the leggings and put them under his head as the Sun had done, and went to sleep. He had a dream and it waked him with a start. Bad deeds bring bad dreams to us all. OLD-man sat up and there was the Sun looking right in his face and laughing. He was frightened and ran away, leaving the leggings behind him.
"Laughingly the Sun put on the leggings and went on toward the west, for he is always busy. He thought he would see OLD-man no more, but it takes more than one lesson to teach a fool to be wise, and OLD-man hid in the timber until the Sun had travelled out of sight. Then he ran westward and hid himself near the Sun's lodge again, intending to wait for the night and steal the leggings a second time.
"He was much afraid this time, but as soon as the Sun was asleep he crept to the lodge and peeked inside. Here he stopped and looked about, for he was afraid the Sun would hear his heart beating. Finally he started toward the Sun's bed and just then a great white Owl flew from off the lodge poles, and this scared him more, for that is very bad luck and he knew it; but he kept on creeping until he could almost touch the Sun.
"All about the lodge were beautiful linings, tanned and painted by the Moon, and the queer signs on them made the old coward tremble. He heard a night-bird call outside and he thought it would surely wake the Sun; so he hastened to the bed and with cunning fingers stole the leggings, as he had done the night before, without waking the great sleeper. Then he crept out of the lodge, talking bravely to himself as cowards do when they are afraid.
"'Now,' he said to himself, 'I shall run faster and farther than before. I shall not stop running while the night lasts, and I shall stay in the mountains all the time when the Sun is at work in the daytime!'
"Away he went—running as the Buffalo runs—straight ahead, looking at nothing, hearing nothing, stopping at nothing. When day began to break OLD-man was far from the Sun's lodge and he hid himself in a deep gulch among some bushes that grew there. He listened a long time before he dared to go to sleep, but finally he did. He was tired from his great run and slept soundly and for a long time, but when he opened his eyes—there was the Sun looking straight at him, and this time he was scowling. OLD-man started to run away but the Sun grabbed him and threw him down upon his back. My! but the Sun was angry, and he said:
"'OLD-man, you are a clever thief but a mighty fool as well, for you steal from me and expect to hide away. Twice you have stolen the leggings my wife made for me, and twice I have found you easily. Don't you know that the whole world is my lodge and that you can never get outside of it, if you run your foolish legs off? Don't you know that I light all of my lodge every day and search it carefully? Don't you know that nothing can hide from me and live? I shall not harm you this time, but I warn you now, that if you ever steal from me again, I will hurt you badly. Now go, and don't let me catch you stealing again!'
"Away went OLD-man, and on toward the west went the busy Sun. That is all.
"Now go to bed; for I would talk of other things with my friend, who knows of war as I do. Ho!"
Not so many miles away from the village, the great mountain range so divides the streams that are born there, that their waters are offered as tribute to the Atlantic, Pacific, and Arctic Oceans. In this wonderful range the Indians believe the winds are made, and that they battle for supremacy over Gunsight Pass. I have heard an old story, too, that is said to have been generally believed by the Blackfeet, in which a monster bull-elk that lives in Gunsight Pass lords it over the winds. This elk creates the North wind by "flapping" one of his ears, and the South wind by the same use of his other. I am inclined to believe that the winds are made in that Pass, myself, for there they are seldom at rest, especially at this season of the year.
To-night the wind was blowing from the north, and filmy white clouds were driven across the face of the nearly full moon, momentarily veiling her light. Lodge poles creaked and strained at every heavy gust, and sparks from the fires inside the lodges sped down the wind, to fade and die.
In his lodge War Eagle waited for us, and when we entered he greeted us warmly, but failed to mention the gale. "I have been waiting," he said. "You are late and the story I shall tell you is longer than many of the others." Without further delay the story-telling commenced.
"Once OLD-man came upon a lodge in the forest. It was a fine one, and painted with strange signs. Smoke was curling from the top, and thus he knew that the person who lived there was at home. Without calling or speaking, he entered the lodge and saw a man sitting by the fire smoking his pipe. The man didn't speak, nor did he offer his pipe to OLD-man, as our people do when they are glad to see visitors. He didn't even look at his guest, but OLD-man has no good manners at all. He couldn't see that he wasn't wanted, as he looked about the man's lodge and made himself at home. The linings were beautiful and were painted with fine skill. The lodge was clean and the fire was bright, but there was no woman about.
"Leaning against a fine back-rest, OLD-man filled his own pipe and lighted it with a coal from the man's fire. Then he began to smoke and look around, wondering why the man acted so queerly. He saw a star that shone down through the smoke-hole, and the tops of several trees that were near the lodge. Then he saw a woman—way up in a tree top and right over the lodge. She looked young and beautiful and tall.
"'Whose woman is that up there in the tree top?' asked OLD-man.
"'She's your woman if you can catch her and will marry her,' growled the man; 'but you will have to live here and help me make a living.'
"'I'll try to catch her, and if I do I will marry her and stay here, for I am a great hunter and can easily kill what meat we want,' said Old-man.
"He went out of the lodge and climbed the tree after the woman. She screamed, but he caught her and held her, although she scratched him badly. He carried her into the lodge and there renewed his promise to stay there always. The man married them, and they were happy for four days, but on the fifth morning OLD-man was gone—gone with all the dried meat in the lodge—the thief.
"When they were sure that the rascal had run away the woman began to cry, but not so the man. He got his bow and arrows and left the lodge in anger. There was snow on the ground and the man took the track of OLD-man, intending to catch and kill him.
"The track was fresh and the man started on a run, for he was a good hunter and as fast as a Deer. Of course he gained on OLD-man, who was a much slower traveller; and the Sun was not very high when the old thief stopped on a hilltop to look back. He saw the man coming fast.
"'This will never do,' he said to himself. 'That queer person will catch me. I know what I shall do; I shall turn myself into a dead Bull-Elk and lie down. Then he will pass me and I can go where I please.'
"He took off his moccasins and said to them: 'Moccasins, go on toward the west. Keep going and making plain tracks in the snow toward the big-water where the Sun sleeps. The queer-one will follow you, and when you pass out of the snowy country, you can lose him. Go quickly for he is close upon us.'
"The moccasins ran away as OLD-man wanted them to, and they made plain tracks in the snow leading away toward the big-water. OLD-man turned into a dead Bull-Elk and stretched himself near the tracks the moccasins had made.
"Up the hill came the man, his breath short from running. He saw the dead Elk, and thought it might be OLD-man playing a trick. He was about to shoot an arrow into the dead Elk to make sure; but just as he was about to let the arrow go, he saw the tracks the moccasins had made. Of course he thought the moccasins were on OLD-man's feet, and that the carcass was really that of a dead Elk. He was badly fooled and took the tracks again. On and on he went, following the moccasins over hills and rivers. Faster than before went the man, and still faster travelled the empty moccasins, the trail growing dimmer and dimmer as the daylight faded. All day long, and all of the night the man followed the tracks without rest or food, and just at daybreak he came to the shore of the big-water. There, right by the water's edge, stood the empty moccasins, side by side.
"The man turned and looked back. His eyes were red and his legs were trembling. 'Caw—caw, caw,' he heard a Crow say. Right over his head he saw the black bird and knew him, too.
"'Ho! OLD-man, you were in that dead Bull-Elk. You fooled me, and now you are a Crow. You think you will escape me, do you? Well, you will not; for I, too, know magic, and am wise.'
"With a stick the man drew a circle in the sand. Then he stood within the ring and sang a song. OLD-man was worried and watched the strange doings from the air overhead. Inside the circle the man began to whirl about so rapidly that he faded from sight, and from the centre of the circle there came an Eagle. Straight at the Crow flew the Eagle, and away toward the mountains sped the Crow, in fright.
"The Crow knew that the Eagle would catch him, so that as soon as he reached the trees on the mountains he turned himself into a Wren and sought the small bushes under the tall trees. The Eagle saw the change, and at once began turning over and over in the air. When he had reached the ground, instead of an Eagle a Sparrow-hawk chased the Wren. Now the chase was fast indeed, for no place could the Wren find in which to hide from the Sparrow-hawk. Through the brush, into trees, among the weeds and grass, flew the Wren with the Hawk close behind. Once the Sparrow-hawk picked a feather from the Wren's tail—so close was he to his victim. It was nearly over with the Wren, when he suddenly came to a park along a river's side. In this park were a hundred lodges of our people, and before a fine lodge there sat the daughter of the chief. It was growing dark and chilly, but still she sat there looking at the river. The Sparrow-hawk was striking at the Wren with his beak and talons, when the Wren saw the young-woman and flew straight to her. So swift he flew that the young-woman didn't see him at all, but she felt something strike her hand, and when she looked she saw a bone ring on her finger. This frightened her, and she ran inside the lodge, where the fire kept the shadows from coming. OLD-man had changed into the ring, of course, and the Sparrow-hawk didn't dare to go into the lodge; so he stopped outside and listened. This is what he heard OLD-man say:
"'Don't be frightened, young-woman, I am neither a Wren nor a ring. I am OLD-man and that Sparrow-hawk has chased me all the day and for nothing. I have never done him harm, and he bothers me without reason.'
"'Liar—forked-tongue,' cried the Sparrow-hawk. 'Believe him not, young-woman. He has done wrong. He is wicked and I am not a Sparrow-hawk, but conscience. Like an arrow I travel, straight and fast. When he lies or steals from his friends I follow him. I talk all the time and he hears me, but lies to himself, and says he does not hear. You know who I am, young-woman, I am what talks inside a person.'
"OLD-man heard what the Sparrow-hawk said, and he was ashamed for once in his life. He crawled out of the lodge. Into the shadows he ran away—away into the night, and the darkness—away from himself!
"You see," said War Eagle, as he reached for his pipe, "OLD-man knew that he had done wrong, and his heart troubled him, just as yours will bother you if you do not listen to the voice that speaks within yourselves. Whenever that voice says a thing is wicked, it is wicked—no matter who says it is not. Yes—it is very hard for a man to hide from himself. Ho!"
The next afternoon Muskrat and Fine Bow went hunting. They hid themselves in some brush which grew beside an old game trail that followed the river, and there waited for a chance deer.
Chickadees hopped and called, "chick-a-de-de-de" in the willows and wild-rose bushes that grew near their hiding-place; and the gentle little birds with their pretty coats were often within a few inches of the hands of the young hunters. In perfect silence they watched and admired these little friends, while glance or smile conveyed their appreciation of the bird-visits to each other.
The wind was coming down the stream, and therefore the eyes of the boys seldom left the trail in that direction; for from that quarter an approaching deer would be unwarned by the ever-busy breeze. A rabbit came hopping down the game trail in believed perfect security, passing so close to Fine Bow that he could not resist the desire to strike at him with an arrow. Both boys were obliged to cover their mouths with their open hands to keep from laughing aloud at the surprise and speed shown by the frightened bunny, as he scurried around a bend in the trail, with his white, pudgy tail bobbing rapidly.
They had scarcely regained their composure and silence when, "snap!" went a dry stick. The sharp sound sent a thrill through the hearts of the boys, and instantly they became rigidly watchful. Not a leaf could move on the ground now—not a bush might bend or a bird pass and escape being seen by the four sharp eyes that peered from the brush in the direction indicated by the sound of the breaking stick. Two hearts beat loudly as Fine Bow fitted his arrow to the bowstring. Tense and expectant they waited—yes, it was a deer—a buck, too, and he was coming down the trail, alert and watchful—down the trail that he had often travelled and knew so well. Yes, he had followed his mother along that trail when he was but a spotted fawn—now he wore antlers, and was master of his own ways. On he came—nearly to the brush that hid the hunters, when, throwing his beautiful head high in the air, he stopped, turning his side a trifle.
Zipp—went the arrow and, kicking out behind, away went the buck, crashing through willows and alders that grew in his way, until he was out of sight. Then all was still, save the chick-a-de-de-de, chick-a-de-de-de, that came constantly from the bushes about them.
Out from the cover came the hunters, and with ready bow they followed along the trail. Yes—there was blood on a log, and more on the dead leaves. The arrow had found its mark and they must go slowly in their trailing, lest they lose the meat. For two hours they followed the wounded animal, and at last came upon him in a willow thicket—sick unto death, for the arrow was deep in his paunch. His sufferings were ended by another arrow, and the chase was done.
With their knives the boys dressed the buck, and then went back to the camp to tell the women where the meat could be found—just as the men do. It was their first deer; and pride shone in their faces as they told their grandfather that night in the lodge.
"That is good," War Eagle replied, as the boys finished telling of their success. "That is good, if your mother needed the meat, but it is wrong to kill when you have plenty, lest Manitou be angry. There is always enough, but none to waste, and the hunter who kills more than he needs is wicked. To-night I shall tell you what happened to OLD-man when he did that. Yes, and he got into trouble over it.
"One day in the fall when the leaves were yellow, and the Deer-people were dressed in their blue robes—when the Geese and Duck-people were travelling to the country where water does not freeze, and where flowers never die, OLD-man was travelling on the plains.
"Near sundown he saw two Buffalo-Bulls feeding on a steep hillside; but he had no bow and arrow with him. He was hungry, and began to think of some way to kill one of the Bulls for meat. Very soon he thought out a plan, for he is cunning always.
"He ran around the hill out of sight of the Bulls, and there made two men out of grass and sage-brush. They were dummies, of course, but he made them to look just like real men, and then armed each with a wooden knife of great length. Then he set them in the position of fighting; made them look as though they were about to fight each other with the knives. When he had them both fixed to suit, he ran back to the place where the Buffalo were calling:
"'Ho! brothers, wait for me—do not run away. There are two fine men on the other side of this hill, and they are quarrelling. They will surely fight unless we stop them. It all started over you two Bulls, too. One of the men says you are fat and fine, and the other claims you are poor and skinny. Don't let our brothers fight over such a foolish thing as that. It would be wicked. Now I can decide it, if you will let me feel all over you to see if you are fat or poor. Then I will go back to the men and settle the trouble by telling them the truth. Stand still and let me feel your sides—quick, lest the fight begin while I am away.'
"'All right,' said the Bulls, 'but don't you tickle us.' Then OLD-man walked up close and commenced to feel about the Bulls' sides; but his heart was bad. From his robe he slipped his great knife, and slyly felt about till he found the spot where the heart beats, and then stabbed the knife into the place, clear up to the hilt.
"Both of the Bulls died right away, and OLD-man laughed at the trick he had played upon them. Then he gave a knife to both of his hands, and said:
"'Get to work, both of you! Skin these Bulls while I sit here and boss you.'
"Both hands commenced to skin the Buffalo, but the right hand was much the swifter worker. It gained upon the left hand rapidly, and this made the left hand angry. Finally the left hand called the right hand 'dog-face.' That is the very worst thing you can call a person in our language, you know, and of course it made the right hand angry. So crazy and angry was the right hand that it stabbed the left hand, and then they began to fight in earnest.
"Both cut and slashed till blood covered the animals they were skinning. All this fighting hurt OLD-man badly, of course, and he commenced to cry, as women do sometimes. This stopped the fight; but still OLD-man cried, till, drying his tears, he saw a Red Fox sitting near the Bulls, watching him. 'Hi, there, you—go away from there! If you want meat you go and kill it, as I did.'
"Red Fox laughed—'Ha!—Ha!—Ha!—foolish OLD-man—Ha!—ha!' Then he ran away and told the other Foxes and the Wolves and the Coyotes about OLD-man's meat. Told them that his own hands couldn't get along with themselves and that it would be easy to steal it from him.
"They all followed the Red Fox back to the place where OLD-man was, and there they ate all of the meat—every bit, and polished the bones.
"OLD-man couldn't stop them, because he was hurt, you see; but it all came about through lying and killing more meat than he needed. Yes—he lied and that is bad, but his hands got to quarrelling between themselves, and family quarrels are always bad. Do not lie; do not quarrel. It is bad. Ho!"