Once, when Old Man was travelling about, he heard some singing that
sounded very queer. He had never before heard anything like it, and
looked all about to see where it came from. After a time he saw that
the cottontail rabbits were singing and making medicine. They had
built a fire, and raked out some hot ashes, and they would lie down
in these ashes and sing, while one of the others covered them up.
They could stay there only for a short time, though, for the ashes
were hot.
"Little brothers," said Old Man, "here is something wonderful--that
you can lie in those hot ashes and coals without burning. I ask you
to teach me how to do this."
"We will show you how to do it, Old Man," said the rabbits. "You
must sing our song, and stay in the ashes only a short time." They
taught Old Man their song, and he began to sing and lay down, and
they covered him with coals and ashes, and the hot ashes did not
burn him.
"That is good," he said. "You have strong medicine. Now, so that I
may know it all, do you lie down and let me cover you up."
All the rabbits lay down in the ashes, and Old Man covered them up,
and then he pulled the whole fire over them. One old rabbit got out,
and Old Man was just about to put her back when she said, "Pity me;
my children need me."
"It is good," replied Old Man. "You may go, so that there will be
more rabbits; but these I will roast, and have a feast." He put
more wood on the fire, and when the rabbits were cooked he got some
red willow brush and put the rabbits on it to cool. The grease from
their bodies soaked into the branches, so that even to-day if red
willow is held over a fire one may see the grease on the bark. Ever
since that time, too, the rabbits have a burnt place on the back,
where the one that got away was singed.
Old Man sat down by the fire, waiting for the rabbits to get cool,
when a coyote came along, limping. He went on three legs. "Pity me,
Old Man," he said. "You have plenty of cooked rabbits, give me one
of them."
"Go away," said Old Man, very cross; "if you are too lazy to catch
food, I will not give you any."
"But my leg is broken," said the coyote; "I cannot run. I cannot
catch anything, and I am starving. Give me half a rabbit."
"I don't care what happens to you," said Old Man; "I worked hard to
catch and cook these rabbits, and I shall not give any of them away.
I'll tell you what I will do, though; I will run a race with you
out to that far butte on the prairie, and if you beat me you can
have a rabbit."
"Good," said the coyote, and they started.
Old Man ran very fast, and the coyote limped along behind him, but
pretty close, until they got near the butte. Then the coyote turned
around and ran back very fast, for he was not lame at all. It took
Old Man a long time to get back, and just before he reached the
fire, the coyote finished eating the last rabbit and ran away.