🧚 Little Friend Coyote · page 2

The sky was overcast, and presently heavy rain, with thunder and lightning, came up, but she walked swiftly, steadily on, not knowing nor caring whither, so long as it was away from her enemies.81 The shower passed, and the moon came out, and then the poor woman heard shouts and calls, and the rushing tread of horses; the whole camp was aroused, and they were searching for her.82 She crouched in the shadow of a bowlder, and heard horsemen go by on either side.83 Once two or three of them rode by in plain sight.84 She remained there a long time, until everything was still again, and then hurried on.85 In a little while she approached a small lake, and saw three horses by its edge.86

“Here,” she said to herself, “would be a good chance if I only had a rope.87 Perhaps they are hobbled; if so, the thongs will do for a bridle.”88 She walked carefully nearer, when suddenly she saw three dim figures on the ground and heard a loud snore.89 She almost fainted with fright, knowing that these were some of her pursuers waiting for daylight to resume their search.90 Quick as a flash she stooped among the low brush, crawled slowly back, and then, rising, hurried away in another direction.91

In a little while day began to break, and she found herself on a wide plain south of the hills.92 In a little ravine near by there was an old wolf den; she crawled down into it, feet foremost, first carefully obliterating her footsteps in the soft, loose earth about it.93 There she remained all day, eating none of her little store of food, for she was so thirsty it choked her.94 Several times during the day she heard the distant tramp of horses, but she did not look out, much as she wished to see what was going on.95

When darkness came once more, she climbed out and started in search of water, not knowing which way to look for it, or whether she would ever find any.96 She travelled on, and on, and on, and, when daylight again brightened the sky, found herself at the place where her husband lay.97 Yes, there were the bodies of him and his friends, now shapeless and terrible objects.98 And the Kutenais were gone.99 Fearing that she might find her people, dreading the awful vengeance that would overtake them if she did, they were no doubt already fleeing towards the pine-covered slopes of the great mountains.100 Worn out from her long tramp, and nearly crazed from thirst, the poor woman had barely strength to go on to the spring, where she drank long of the cool water, and then fell asleep.101

The sun was hot, but Su-yé-sai-pi slept on.102 Well on in the afternoon she was awakened by something nudging her side.103 “They have found me,” she said to herself, shivering with terror, “and when I move a knife will be thrust in my side.”104 She lay motionless a little while, and then could bear the suspense no longer; slowly rising up and turning back her robe, what should she find lying by her side but a coyote, looking up into her face and wagging his tail!105

“Oh, little wolf!” she cried.106 “Oh, little brother!107 Have pity on me.108 You know the wide plains; lead me to my people, for my husband is killed, and I am lost.”109

The little animal kept wagging his tail, and when she arose and went again to the spring, he followed her.110 She drank, and then ate a little dried meat, not forgetting to give him some, which he hastily devoured.111 She talked to him all the time, telling him what had happened, and what she wished to do; and he seemed to understand, for when she started to leave the spring he bounded on ahead, often stopping and looking back, as much as to say, “Come on; this is the way.”112

They were passing through the broken hills, and the coyote, quite a long way ahead, had climbed to the top of a low butte and looked cautiously over it, when he turned, ran back part way, and then circled off to the right.113 Su-yé-sai-pi was frightened, thinking he had sighted the Kutenais, and she ran after him as fast as she could go.114 He led her to the top of another hill, and then, looking away along the ridge, she saw that he had led her around a band of grizzly bears, feeding and playing on the steep slope.115 Then she knew for certain that he was to be trusted, and she told him to keep a long way ahead, to look over the country from every rise of ground, and to warn her if he saw anything suspicious.116 This he did.117 He would wait for her at the top of a ridge, where they would sit and rest awhile, and as soon as she was ready to go on he would run to the top of the next rise before she had taken fifty steps.118 If thirsty, she would tell him, and in a little while he would always take her to some water.119 Sometimes it would be a small trickling stream in a coulée; sometimes a soft, damp gravel-bed, where she was obliged to scoop out a hole; sometimes it was a muddy buffalo-wallow—and it was always strong with alkali—but it was the best there was.120

In this way, after many days, they came to the Little (Milk) River.121 The pouch had long been empty, and Su-yé-sai-pi was weak from hunger, and her weary feet were swollen and blistered, for the last pair of moccasins had been worn out.122 Here by the river were plenty of berries and some roots that are often eaten—good to fill the belly, but not strength-making food.123 Of them she ate all she could, and frequently bathed her feet, and kept on up the valley; but every day she went more slowly.124 The stops for rest were more frequent now, and the coyote showed that he was beginning to feel uneasy.125 When he thought she had sat still too long, he would whine and paw at her dress, and look away up the stream, urging her to go on.126 He himself fared well on the ground-squirrels and prairie-dogs he managed to catch, and often he brought one to her; but she could not bring herself to eat it raw, and she had no way of building a fire to roast it.127

One day, while the sun was hottest, the two stopped to rest in a thick patch of brush.128 They were near the mountains now, and the valley was wide, with low, sloping hills on either side.129 The woman had been telling her companion—she talked to him now as she would have talked to a person—that her feet were swollen so badly she could go no farther, and then she fell asleep.130 She was awakened by the coyote jerking her gown and whining, and she sat up and listened.131 Pretty soon she heard people talking; they were some distance away, but the murmur of their voices seemed familiar; they came nearer, and she heard one say, in her own language, “Let’s cross the river here.”132

She hobbled out to the edge of the brush and called to them, and when they rode up to where she stood, at first they did not know her, she was so worn and thin.133 She told them her story, and pointed to the coyote by her side, telling them how it had helped her, and begging them not to kill it.134 They told her that the camp was only a little way above on the river, and offered her a horse to ride, but she asked them to go on and tell her mother to come after her with a travois, for she felt too sore to ride.135 Presently her mother came, and her father, and a great throng of the people, and when she saw them approaching she put her arms around the coyote and kissed him.136

“You have saved my life,” she said; “and much as I grieve to, we must part now, for, while I might prevent the people from harming you, I could not stop the camp dogs from tearing you to pieces.137 But do not go far away.138 Every time we move camp my father’s lodge shall be the last to go; and when the rest and the dogs have all left, we will leave food for you where our lodge stood.139 We will always do that.”140

The coyote seemed to understand.141 He licked her face and whined, and as her mother and father approached he slowly moved away, looking back many, many times.142

Su-yé-sai-pi cried—cried at parting with her faithful guide, and because at sight of her mother all her trials and sufferings came back to her mind.143 They placed her on the travois and drew her to camp, where all the people came to sympathize with her, bringing something from their store of choice food as presents.144

The coyote was not forgotten; food was always left at the camp site, as she had promised, and often, as Su-yé-sai-pi and her people started on after the others, they saw him standing on a near hill, watching them out of sight.145

THE END146

NOTES147

[1] Of all the games played by men among the Pawnee Indians, none was so popular as the stick game.148 This was an athletic contest between pairs of young men, and tested their fleetness, their eyesight, and their skill in throwing the stick.149 The implements used were a ring six inches in diameter, made of buffalo rawhide, and two elaborate and highly ornamented slender sticks, one for each player.150 One of the two contestants rolled the ring over a smooth prepared course, and when it had been set in motion the players ran after it side by side, each one trying to throw his stick through the ring.151 This was not often done, but the players constantly hit the ring with their sticks and knocked it down, so that it ceased to roll.152 The system of counting was by points, and was somewhat complicated, but in general terms it may be said that the player whose stick lay nearest the ring gained one or more points.153 In this story, the Buffalo by their mysterious power transformed the girl into a ring, which they used in playing the stick game.154

[2] Cf.155 The Story of the Indian, p. 194, and The Indians of To-day, p. 43.156