Once when Old Man was travelling about and felt tired, he sat down
on a rock to rest. After he was rested he started on his way, and
because the sun was hot he threw his robe over the rock and said to
it, "Here, I give you my robe because you are poor and have let me
rest on you. Keep it always."
He had not gone far when it began to rain, and meeting a coyote, he
said to him, "Little brother, run back to that rock and ask him to
lend me his robe. We will cover ourselves with it and keep dry."
The coyote ran back to the rock, but presently returned without the
robe.
"Where is the robe?" asked Old Man.
"Why," said the coyote, "the rock said that you had given him the
robe and he was going to keep it."
This made Old Man angry, and he went back to the rock and snatched
the robe off it, saying, "I was only going to borrow this robe until
the rain was over, but now that you have acted so mean about it, I
will keep it. You don't need a robe, anyhow. You have been out in
the rain and snow all your life, and it will not hurt you to live so
always."
When he had said this he put the robe about his shoulders, and with
the coyote he went off into a ravine and they sat down there. The
rain was falling and they covered themselves with the robe, and were
warm and dry.
Pretty soon they heard a loud, rumbling noise, and Old Man said to
the coyote, "Little brother, go up on the hill and see what that
noise is."
The coyote went off, but presently he came back, running as hard as
he could, saying, "Run, run, the big rock is coming." They both
started, and ran away as fast as they could. The coyote tried to
creep into a badger-hole, but it was too small for him and he stuck
fast, and before he could get out the rock rolled over him and
crushed his hips. Old Man was frightened, and as he ran he threw
away his robe and everything that he had on, so that he might run
faster. The rock was gaining on him all the time.
Not far away on the prairie a band of buffalo bulls were feeding,
and Old Man cried out to them, saying, "Oh, my brothers, help me,
help me; stop that rock." The bulls ran and tried to stop it,
butting against it, but it crushed their heads. Some deer and
antelope tried to help Old Man, but they too were killed. Other
animals came to help him, but could not stop the rock; it was now
close to Old Man, so close that it began to hit his heels. He was
just going to give up when he saw circling over his head a flock of
night-hawks.
"Oh, my little brothers," he cried, "help me; I am almost dead." The
bull bats flew down one after another against the rock, and every
time one of them hit it he chipped off a piece, and at last one hit
it fair in the middle and broke it into two pieces.
Then Old Man was glad. He went to where there was a nest of
night-hawks and pulled their mouths out wide and pinched off their
bills, to make them pretty and queer looking. That is the reason
they look so to-day.