“All right,” said the old Bear; “I will be along just about sunset. Then I can look at your bow and see whether you have made it well or not.”
So the boy trudged home with his bundle of sticks and his bow stave, and when he arrived there his mother happened to be climbing out, and saw him coming.
“You wretched boy,” she said, “I told you not to go out to the cave! I warrant you have been there where the Bear stays!”
“Oh, yes, my mother; just see what I have brought,” said the boy. “I sold you to the Bear. He will be here to get you this evening. See what I have brought!” and he laid out his bow-timber and arrow-shafts.
“Oh,” said she, “you are the most wretched and foolish of little boys; you pay no attention to what anyone says to you; your mother’s word is nothing but wind in your ears.”
“Just see what I have brought home,” said he. He worked as hard as he could to make his bow, stripped the arrow-shafts, smoothed and straightened them before the fire, and made the points of obsidian—very black it is; very hard and sharp were the points when he placed them on the arrows. Now, after placing the feathers on the arrows, he stood them up on the roof of the house against the parapet in the sunlight to dry; and he had his bow on the other side of the house against the other parapet to dry. He was still at work, toward sunset, when he happened to look up and saw the Bear coming along, slowly, comfortably, rolling over the sand.
“Ah!” said he, “the old man is coming.” He paid no attention to him, however.
Presently the Bear came close to the ladder, and shook it to see if it was strong enough to hold him.
“Thou comest?” asked the boy.
“Yes,” said the Bear. “How have you been all day?”
“Happy,” said the boy.
“How is your mother?”
“Happy,” said the boy, “expecting you.”
So the old Bear climbed up. “Ah, indeed,” said he, as he got over the edge of the house, “have you made the bow?”
“Yes, after a fashion.”
So the Bear went over, raised himself on his hind feet, looked at the bow, pulled it, and said, as he laid it down: “It is a splendid bow. What is this black stuff on these arrows?”
“Obsidian,” answered the boy.
“These points are nothing but black coals,” said the Bear.
“I tell you,” said the boy, “they are good, black, flint arrowheads, hard and sharp as any others.”
“No,” said the other, “nothing but coals.”
“Now, suppose you let me try one of those coals on you,” said the boy.
“All right,” said the Bear. He walked over to the other side of the roof and stood there, and the boy took one of the arrows, fitted it to the bow, and let go. It went straight into the heart of the Bear, and even passed through him entirely.
“Wah!” uttered the Bear, as he gave a great snort and rolled over on the housetop and died.
“Ha, ha!” shouted the boy, “what you had intended to do unto me, thus unto you! Oh, mother!” called he, as he ran to the sky-hole, “here is your husband; come and see him. I have killed him; but, then, he would have me make the experiment,” said the boy.
“Oh, you foolish, foolish, disobedient boy!” said the mother. “What have you been doing now? Are we safe?”
“Oh, yes,” said he; “my stepfather is as passive as if he were asleep.” And he went on and skinned his once prospective stepfather, and then took out his heart and hung it to the crosspiece of the ladder as a sign that the people could go and get all the bow-timber and arrows they pleased.
That night, after the evening meal was over, the boy sat down with his mother, and he said: “By the way, mother, are there any monsters or fearful creatures anywhere round about this country that kill people and make trouble?”
“No,” said the mother, “none whatever.”
“I don’t know about that; I think there must be,” said the boy.
“No, there are none whatever, I tell you,” answered the mother.
The boy began to tumble on the floor, rolling about, playing with his mother’s blankets, and throwing things around, and once in a while he would ask her again the same question, until finally she got very cross with him and said: “Yes, if you want to know, down there in the valley, beyond the great plains of sagebrush, is a den of Misho Lizards who are fearful and deadly to everyone who goes near them. Therefore you had better be careful how you run round the valley.”
“What makes them so fearful?” asked he.
“Well,” said she, “they are venomous; they have a way of throwing from their mouths or breath a sort of fluid which, whenever it strikes a person, burns him, and whenever it strikes the eyes it blinds them. A great many people have perished there. Whenever a man arrives at their den they are very polite and greet him most courteously; they say: ‘Come in; sit down right here in the middle of the floor before the fire.’ But as soon as the person is seated in their house they gather round the walls and throw this venom on him, and he dies almost immediately.”
“Is it possible?” responded the little boy; and for some reason or other he began to grow sleepy, and said: “Now, let us go to sleep, mother.”
So he lay down and slept. Just as soon as it was light the next morning he aroused himself, dressed, took his bow and arrows, and, placing them in a corner near the ladder, said: “Oh, mother, give me my breakfast; I want to go and shoot some little birds. I
