One day Moh-Kwa, the Wise Bear, had a quarrel with Ish-koo-dah, the
Fire. Moh-Kwa was gone from home two days, for Moh-Kwa had found a large
patch of ripe blackberries, an’ he said it was prudent to stay an’ eat
them all up lest some other man find them. So Moh-Kwa stayed; an’ though
he ate very hard the whole time an’ never slept, so many an’ fat were
the blackberries, it took two suns to eat them.
When Moh-Kwa came into his cavern, he found Ish-koo-dah, the Fire, grown
small an’ hot an’ angry, for he had not been fed for two days. Moh-Kwa
gave the Fire a bundle of dry wood to eat, an’ when the Fire’s stomach
was full an’ he had grown big an’ bright with plenty, he sat up on his
bed of coals an’ found fault with Moh-Kwa for his neglect.
“An’ should you neglect me again for two days,” said the Fire, “I will
know I am not wanted an’ shall go away.”
Moh-Kwa was much tired with no sleep, so he answered Ish-koo-dah, the
Fire, sharply.
“You are always hungry,” said Moh-Kwa; “also you are hard to suit. If I
give you green wood, you will not eat it; if the wood be wet, you turn
away. Nothing but old dry wood will you accept. Beggars like you should
not own such fine tastes. An’ do you think, Fire, that I who have much
to do an’ say an’ many places to go--I, Moh-Kwa, who am as busy as the
bees in the Moon of Blossoms, have time to stay ever by your side
to pass you new dry wood to eat? Go to; you are more trouble that a
papoose!”
Ish-koo-dah, the Fire, did not say anything to this, for the Fire’s
feelings were hurt; an’ Moh-Kwa who was heavy with his labors over the
blackberries lay down an’ took a big sleep.
When Moh-Kwa awoke, he sat blinking in the darkness of his cavern, for
Ish-koo-dah, while Moh-Kwa slept, had gone out an’ left night behind.
For five days Moh-Kwa had no fire an’ it gave him a bad heart; for while
Moh-Kwa could eat his food raw an’ never cared for that, he could not
smoke his kinnikinick unless Ish-koo-dah, the Fire, was there to light
his pipe for him.
For five days Moh-Kwa smoked no kinnikinick; an’ Moh-Kwa got angry
because of it an’ roared an’ shouted up an’ down the canyons, an’ to
show he did not care, Moh-Kwa smashed his redstone pipe on a rock. But
in his stomach Moh-Kwa cared, an’ would have traded Ish-koodah, the
Fire, four armsful of dry cedar just to have him light his kinnikinick
but once. But Ish-koo-dah, the Fire, was gone out an’ would not come
back.
[Illustration: 0239]
Openhand, the good Sioux an’ great hunter, heard Moh-Kwa roaring for his
kinnikinick. An’ Openhand told him he behaved badly, like a young squaw
who wants new feathers an’ cannot get them. Then Openhand gave Moh-Kwa
another pine, an’ brought the Fire from his own lodge; an’ again
Moh-Kwa’s cavern blazed with Ish-koo-dah, the Fire, in the middle of the
floor, an’ Moh-Kwa smoked his kinnikinick. An’ Moh-Kwa’s heart felt good
an’ soft an’ pleasant like the sunset in the Moon of Fruit. Also, he
gave Ish-koo-dah plenty of wood to eat an’ never scolded him for being
always hungry.
All the Sioux loved Openhand; for no one went by his lodge empty but
Openhand gave him a piece of buffalo meat; an’ if a Sioux was cold, he
put a blanket about his shoulders. An’ for this he was named “Openhand,”
an’ the Sioux were never tired of talking good talk of Open-hand, an’
the noise of his praises never died out.
Coldheart hated Openhand because he was so much loved. Coldheart was
himself sulky an’ hard, an’ his hand was shut tight like a beaver-trap
that is sprung, an’ it would not open to give anything away. Those who
came hungry went hungry for all of Coldheart; an’ if they were cold,
they were cold. Coldheart wrapped his robes the closer, an’ was the
warmest whenever he thought the frost-wolf was gnawing others.
“I do not rule the ice,” said Coldheart; “hunger does not come or go
on its war-trail by my orders. An’ if the Sioux freeze or starve, an’
Pau-guk, the Death, walks among the lodges, it is because the time is
Pau-guk’s an’ I cannot help it.”
So Coldheart kept his blankets an’ his buffalo meat for himself an’
his son, the Blackbird, an’ gave nothing away. An’ for these things,
Coldheart was hated while Openhand was praised; an’ the breast of
Coldheart was so eaten with his wrath against Openhand that it seemed as
though Ish-koo-dah, the Fire, had gone into Coldheart’s bosom an’ made a
camp.
Coldheart would have called Pau-guk to his elbow an’ killed Openhand;
but Coldheart was not sure. The Openhand moved as quick as a fish in the
Yellowstone, an’ stood as tall an’ strong as the big pine on the hill;
there were no three warriors, the bravest of the Sioux, who could have
gone on the trail of Openhand an’ shown his skelp on their return, for
Openhand was a mighty fighter an’ had a big heart, so that even Fear
himself was afraid of Openhand an’ never dared come where he was.
Coldheart knew well that he could not fight with Openhand; for to find
this out, he made his strongest medicine an’ called Jee-bi, the
Spirit; an’ Jee-bi talked with Pau-guk, the Death, an’ asked Pau-guk
if Coldheart went on the trail of Openhand to take his skelp, which one
Pau-guk would have at the trail’s end. An’ Pau-guk said he would have
Coldheart, for Openhand would surely kill him. When Jee-bi, the Spirit,
told Coldheart the word of Pau-guk, Coldheart saw then that he must go a
new trail with his hate.
Coldheart smoked an’ smoked many pipes; but the thoughts of Openhand
an’ how he was loved by the Sioux made his kinnikinick bitter. Still
Coldheart smoked; an’ at last the thought came that if he could not kill
Openhand, he would kill the Young Wolf, who was Openhand’s son. When
this thought folded its wings an’ perched in the breast of Coldheart, he
called for the evil Lynx, who was Coldheart’s friend, an’ since he was
the wickedest of the Sioux, would do what Coldheart said.
The Lynx came an’ sat with Coldheart in his lodge; an’ the lodge was
closed tight so that none might listen, an’ because it was cold. The
Coldheart told the Lynx to go with his war-axe when the next sun was up
an’ beat out the brains of the Young Wolf.
“An’ when he is dead,” said Coldheart, “you must bring me the Young
Wolf’s heart to eat. Then I will have my revenge on Openhand, his
father, whom I hate; an’ whenever I meet the Openhand I will laugh with
the thought that I have eaten his son’s heart.”
But there was one who listened to Coldheart while he gave his orders
to the evil Lynx, although she was no Sioux. This was the Widow of the
Great Rattlesnake of the Rocks who had long before been slain by Yellow
Face, his brother medicine. The Widow having hunted long an’ hard had
crawled into the lodge of Cold-heart to warm herself while she rested.
An’ as she slept beneath a buffalo robe, the noise of Coldheart talking
to the evil Lynx woke the Widow up; an’ so she sat up under her buffalo
robe an’ heard every word, for a squaw is always curious an’ would
sooner hear new talk than find a string of beads.
That night as Moh-Kwa smoked by Ish-koo-dah, the Fire, an’ fed him
dry sticks so he would not leave him again, the Widow came an’ warmed
herself by Moh-Kwa’s side. An’ Moh-Kwa asked the Widow how she fared;
an’ the Widow while hungry said she was well, only that her heart was
made heavy by the words of Coldheart. Then the Widow told Moh-Kwa what
Coldheart had asked the evil Lynx to do, an’ how for his revenge against
Openhand he would eat the Young Wolf’s heart.
Moh-Kwa listened to the Widow with his head on one side, for he would
not lose a word; an’ when she had done, Moh-Kwa was so pleased that he
put down his pipe an’ went to a nest which the owls had built on the
side of the cavern an’ took down a young owl an’ gave it to the Widow to
eat. An’ the Widow thanked Moh-Kwa an’ swallowed the little owl, while
the old owl flew all about the cavern telling the other owls what
Moh-Kwa had done. The owls were angry an’ shouted at Moh-Kwa.
“The Catfish people said you were a Pawnee! But you are worse; you are
a Shoshone, Moh-Kwa; yes, you are a Siwash! Bird-robber, little
owl-killer, you an’ your Rattlesnake Widow are both Siwashes!”
But Moh-Kwa paid no heed; he did not like the owls, for they stole his
meat; an’ when he would sleep, a company of the older owls would get
together an’ hold a big talk that was like thunder in Moh-Kwa’s cavern
an’ kept him awake. Moh-Kwa said at last that if the owls called the
Widow who was his guest a Siwash again, he would give her two more baby
owls. With that the old owls perched on their points of rocks an’ were
silent, for they feared Moh-Kwa an’ knew he was not their friend.
When the Widow had eaten her little owl, she curled up to sleep two
weeks, for such was the Widow’s habit when she had eaten enough. An’ as
she snored pleasantly, feathers an’ owl-down were blown out through her
nose, but the young owl was gone forever.
Moh-Kwa left the Widow sleeping an’ went down the canyon in the morning
to meet the evil Lynx where he knew he would pass close by the bank of
the Yellowstone. An’ when Moh-Kwa saw the evil Lynx creeping along with
his war-axe in his hand on the trail of the Young Wolf’s heart, he gave
a great shout: “Ah! Lynx, I’ve got you!” An’ then he started for the
Lynx with his paws spread. For Moh-Kwa loved the Open-hand, who brought
back to him Ish-koo-dah, the Fire, when he had gone out of Moh-Kwa’s
cavern an’ would not return.
But Moh-Kwa did not reach the Lynx, for up a tree swarmed the Lynx out
of Moh-Kwa’s reach.
When Moh-Kwa saw the evil Lynx hugging close to the tree, the new
thought made Moh-Kwa laugh. An’ with that he reached up with his great
arms an’ began to bend down the tree like a whip. When Moh-Kwa had bent
the tree enough, he let it go free; an’ the tree sprang straight like
an osage-orange bow. It was so swift an’ like a whip that the Lynx could
not hold on, but went whirling out over the river like a wild duck when
its wing is broken by an arrow; an’ then the Lynx splashed into the
Yellowstone.
When the Lynx struck splashing into the Yellowstone, all the Catfish
people rushed for him with the Big Chief of the Catfish at their head.
Also, Ah-meek, the Beaver, was angry; for Ahmeek was crossing the
Yellowstone with a bundle of bulrushes in his mouth to help build his
winter house on the bank, an’ the Lynx struck so near to Ah-meek that
the waves washed his face an’ whiskers, an’ he was startled an’ lost the
bulrushes out of his mouth an’ they were washed away.
Ah-meek who was angry, an’ the Catfish people who were hungry, charged
on the Lynx; but the Lynx was not far enough from the shore for them,
an’ while the Catfish people pinched him an’ Ah-meek, the Beaver, clawed
him, the Lynx crawled out on the bank an’ was safe.
But Moh-Ivwa met the Lynx when he crawled out of the Yellowstone looking
like Dah-hin-dah, the Bull-frog, an’ Moh-Kwa picked him up with his paws
to throw him back.
But a second new thought came; an’ although the Catfish people screamed
at him an’ Ah-meek who had lost his bulrushes was black with anger,
Moh-Kwa did not throw the Lynx back into the river but stood him on his
feet an’ told him what to do. An’ when Moh-Kwa gave him the orders, the
Lynx promised to obey.
Moh-Kwa killed a fawn; an’ the Lynx took its heart in his hand an’
went with it to Coldheart an’ said it was the heart of Young Wolf. An’
Coldheart roasted it an’ ate it, thinking it was Young Wolf’s heart.
For a day was the Coldheart glad, for he felt strong an’ warm with the
thought that now he was revenged against Openhand; an’ Coldheart longed
to tell Openhand that he had eaten his son’s heart. But Coldheart was
too wise to make this boast; he knew that Openhand whether with knife or
lance or arrow would give him at once to Pau-guk, an’ that would end his
revenge.
Still Coldheart thought he would go to Open-hand’s lodge an’ feed his
eyes an’ ears with Open-hand’s groans an’ mournings when now his son,
the Young Wolf, was gone. But when Coldheart came to the lodge of
Openhand, he was made sore to meet the Young Wolf who was starting forth
to hunt. Coldheart spoke with the Young Wolf to make sure he had been
cheated; an’ then he went back to kill the Lynx.
But Coldheart was too late; the Lynx had not waited; now he was gone
with his squaws an’ his ponies an’ his blankets to become a Pawnee. The
Lynx was tired of being a Sioux.
When the Widow’s sleep was out, Moh-Kwa sent her to hide in the lodge
of Coldheart to hear what next he would plan. The Widow went gladly,
for Moh-Kwa promised four more small young owls just out of the egg. The
Widow lay under the buffalo robe an’ heard the words of Coldheart. In a
week, she came back to Moh-Kwa an’ told him what Coldheart planned.
Coldheart had sent twenty ponies to the Black-foot chief, Dull Knife,
where he lived on the banks of the Little Bighorn. Also, Coldheart sent
these words in the mouth of his runner:
“My son and the son of my enemy will come to your camp in one moon. You
will marry the Rosebud, your daughter, to my son, while the son of my
enemy you will tie an’ give to your young men to shoot at with their
arrows until he be dead, an’ afterward until they have had enough sport.
My son will bring you a white arrow; the son of my enemy will bring
you a black arrow.” Moh-Kwa laughed when he heard this from the Widow’s
lips; an’ because she had been faithful, Moh-Kwa gave her the four small
owls just from the egg. An’ the older owls took it quietly an’ only
whispered their anger; for Moh-Kwa said that if they screamed an’
shouted when now he must sit an’ think until his head ached, he would
knock down every nest.
When his plan was ripe, Coldheart put on a good face an’ went to the
lodge of Openhand an’ gave him a red blanket an’ said he was Openhand’s
friend. An’ Openhand an’ all the Sioux said this must be true talk
because of the red blanket; for Coldheart was never known to give
anything away before.
Openhand an’ Coldheart sat down an’ smoked; for Moh-Kwa had never told
how Coldheart had sent the Lynx for the Young Wolf’s heart. Moh-Kwa
never told tales; moreover Moh-Kwa had also his own plans as well as
Coldheart.
When Openhand an’ Coldheart came to part, an’ Coldheart was to go again
to his own lodge, he asked that Openhand send his son, Young Wolf, with
the Blackbird who would go to wed the young squaw, Rosebud, where she
dwelt with Dull Knife, her father, in their camp on the Little Bighorn.
An’ Openhand did not hesitate, but said, “Yes;” an’ the Young Wolf
himself was glad to go, like all boys who hope to see new scenes.
As Young Wolf an’ the Blackbird next day rode away, Coldheart stuck a
black arrow in the cow-skin quiver of Young Wolf, an’ a white arrow in
that of the Blackbird, saying:
“Give these to the Dull Knife that he may know you are my sons an’ come
from me, an’ treat you with much love.”
Many days the young men traveled to reach Dull Knife’s camp on the
Little Bighorn. In the night of their last camp, Moh-Kwa came silently,
an’ while the young men slept swapped Coldheart’s arrows; an’ when
they rode to the lodge of Dull Knife, an’ while the scowling Blackfeet
gathered about--for the sight of a Sioux gives a Blackfoot a hot
heart--the black arrow was in the quiver of the Blackbird an’ the white
arrow in that of Young Wolf.
“How!” said the young men to Dull Knife. “How! how!” said Dull Knife.
“An’ now, my sons, where are the arrows which are your countersigns?”
When the young men took out the arrows they saw that they had been
changed; but they knew not their message an’ thought no difference would
come. So they made no talk since that would lose time; an’ Young Wolf
gave Dull Knife the white arrow while the Blackbird gave him the black
arrow.
An’ holding an arrow in each hand--one white, one black--Dull Knife
said:
“For the twenty ponies which we have got, the Blackfeet will carry forth
the word of Cold-heart; for the Blackfeet keep their treaties, being
honest men.”
[Illustration: 0251]
An’ so it turns that the Blackbird is shot full of arrows until he
bristles like the quills on the back of Kagh, the Hedgepig. But Young
Wolf is taken to the Rosebud, an’ they are married. The Young Wolf would
have said: “No!” for he did not understand; but Dull Knife showed him
first a war-axe an’ next the Rosebud. An’ the Rosebud was more beautiful
in the eye of youth than any war-axe; besides Young Wolf was many days
march from the lodge of his father, Openhand, an’ marriage is better
than death. Thinking all of which, the Young Wolf did not say “no” but
said “yes,” an’ at the wedding there was a great feast, for the Dull
Knife was a big chief an’ rich.
Ma-ma, the Woodpecker, stood on the top of a dead tree an’ saw the
wedding; an’ when it was over, he flew straight an’ told Moh-Kwa so that
Moh-Kwa might know.
When Young Wolf an’ the Rosebud on their return were a day’s ride from
the Sioux, Moh-Kwa went to the lodge of Coldheart an’ said:
“Come, great plotter, an’ meet your son an’ his new squaw.”
An’ Coldheart came because Moh-Kwa took him by his belts an’ ran with
him; for Moh-Kwa was so big an’ strong he could run with a pony an’ its
rider in his mouth.
Moh-Kwa told Coldheart how the Blackbird gave Dull Knife the black arrow
an’ was shot with all the arrows of five quivers. Coldheart groaned like
the buffalo when he dies. Then Moh-Kwa showed him where Young Wolf
came on with the beautiful Rosebud; and that he was followed by twenty
pack-ponies which carried the presents of Dull Knife for his daughter
an’ his new son.
“An’ now,” said Moh-Kwa, “you have seen enough; for you have seen that
you have made your foe happy an’ killed your own son. Also, I have
cheated the Catfish people twice; once with the Big Medicine Elk an’
once with the Lynx, both of whom I gave to the Catfish people an’ took
back. It is true, I have cheated the good Catfish folk who were once my
friends, an’ now they speak hard of me an’ call me a ‘Pawnee,’ the whole
length of the Yellowstone from the Missouri to the Falls. However, Moh
Kwa has something for the Catfish people this time which he will not
take back, an’ by to-morrow’s sun, the river will ring with Moh-Kwa’s
praises.”
Moh-Kwa carried Coldheart to the Yellowstone, an’ he sang an’ shouted
for all the Catfish people to come. Then Moh-Kwa took Coldheart to
a deep place in the river a long way from the bank. An’ Moh-Kwa held
Coldheart while the Chief of the Catfish got a strong hold, an’ his
squaw--who was four times bigger than the Catfish Chief--got also a
strong hold; an’ then what others of the Catfish people were there took
their holds. When every catfish was ready Moh-Kwa let Coldheart slip
from between his paws, an’ with a swish an’ a swirl, the Catfish people
snatched Coldheart under the water an’ tore him to pieces. For many days
the Yellowstone was bank-full of good words for Moh-Kwa; an’ all the
Catfish people said he was a Sioux an’ no cheat of a Pawnee who gives
only to take back.
That night in his cavern Moh-Kwa sat by Ish-koo-dah, the Fire, an’
smoked an’ told the Widow the story, an’ how it all began by Openhand
bringing the Fire back to be his friend when they had quarreled an’ the
Fire had gone out an’ would not return. An’ while Moh-Kwa told the tale
to the Widow, not an owl said a word or even whispered, but blinked in
silence each on his perch; for the Widow seemed lean an’ slim as she lay
by the fire an’ listened; an’ the owls thought it would be foolish to
remind Moh-Kwa of their presence.
*****
“Now, do you know,” said the Red Nosed Gentleman, with his head on one
side as one who would be deemed deeply the critic, “these Indian stories
are by no means bad.” Then leaning across to the Old Cattleman, he
asked: “Does our Sioux friend make them up?”
“Them tales,” said the Old Cattleman, lighting a new cigar, “is most
likely as old as the Yellowstone itse’f. The squaws an’ the old bucks
tell ’em to the children, an’ so they gets passed along the line.
Sioux Sam only repeats what he’s done heard from his mother.”
“And now,” remarked the Jolly Doctor, addressing the Sour Gentleman,
“what say you? How about that story of the Customs concerning which you
whetted our interest by giving us the name. It is strange, too, that
while my interest is still as strong as ever, the name itself has clean
slipped through the fingers of my memory.” At this the Jolly Doctor
glared about the circle as though in wonder at the phenomenon of an
interest which remained when the reason of it had faded away.
“I will willingly give you the story,” said the Sour Gentleman. “That
name you search for is ‘The Emperor’s Cigars.’”