rushed upon him and wailed, “I want to be an arrow! Make me into an arrow! I want to pierce the blue Blue overhead. I want to strike yonder summer sun in its center. Make me into an arrow!”
“Can you keep a condition? One condition, though hard it be?” the arrow turned to ask.
“Yes! Yes!” shouted Iktomi, delighted.
Hereupon the slender arrow tapped him gently with his sharp flint beak. There was no Iktomi, but two arrows stood ready to fly. “Now, young arrow, this is the one condition. Your flight must always be in a straight line. Never turn a curve nor jump about like a young fawn,” said the arrow magician. He spoke slowly and sternly.
At once he set about to teach the new arrow how to shoot in a long straight line.
“This is the way to pierce the Blue overhead,” said he; and off he spun high into the sky.
While he was gone a herd of deer came trotting by. Behind them played the young fawns together. They frolicked about like kittens. They bounced on all fours like balls. Then they pitched forward, kicking their heels in the air. The Iktomi arrow watched them so happy on the ground. Looking quickly up into the sky, he said in his heart, “The magician is out of sight. I’ll just romp and frolic with these fawns until he returns. Fawns! Friends, do not fear me. I want to jump and leap with you. I long to be happy as you are,” said he. The young fawns stopped with stiff legs and stared at the speaking arrow with large brown wondering eyes. “See! I can jump as well as you!” went on Iktomi. He gave one tiny leap like a fawn. All of a sudden the fawns snorted with extended nostrils at what they beheld. There among them stood Iktomi in brown buckskins, and the strange talking arrow was gone.
“Oh! I am myself. My old self!” cried Iktomi, pinching himself and plucking imaginary pieces out of his jacket.
“Hin-hin-hin! I wanted to fly!”
The real arrow now returned to the earth. He alighted very near Iktomi. From the high sky he had seen the fawns playing on the green. He had seen Iktomi make his one leap, and the charm was broken. Iktomi became his former self.
“Arrow, my friend, change me once more!” begged Iktomi.
“No, no more,” replied the arrow. Then away he shot through the air in the direction his comrades had flown.
By this time the fawns gathered close around Iktomi. They poked their noses at him trying to know who he was.
Iktomi’s tears were like a spring shower. A new desire dried them quickly away. Stepping boldly to the largest fawn, he looked closely at the little brown spots all over the furry face.
“Oh, fawn! What beautiful brown spots on your face! Fawn, dear little fawn, can you tell me how those brown spots were made on your face?”
“Yes,” said the fawn. “When I was very, very small, my mother marked them on my face with a red hot fire. She dug a large hole in the ground and made a soft bed of grass and twigs in it. Then she placed me gently there. She covered me over with dry sweet grass and piled dry cedars on top. From a neighbor’s fire she brought hither a red, red ember. This she tucked carefully in at my head. This is how the brown spots were made on my face.”
“Now, fawn, my friend, will you do the same for me? Won’t you mark my face with brown, brown spots just like yours?” asked Iktomi, always eager to be like other people.
“Yes. I can dig the ground and fill it with dry grass and sticks. If you will jump into the pit, I’ll cover you with sweet smelling grass and cedar wood,” answered the fawn.
“Say,” interrupted Ikto, “will you be sure to cover me with a great deal of dry grass and twigs? You will make sure that the spots will be as brown as those you wear.”
“Oh, yes. I’ll pile up grass and willows once oftener than my mother did.”
“Now let us dig the hole, pull the grass, and gather sticks,” cried Iktomi in glee.
Thus with his own hands he aids in making his grave. After the hole was dug and cushioned with grass, Iktomi, muttering something about brown spots, leaped down into it. Lengthwise, flat on his back, he lay. While the fawn covered him over with cedars, a faraway voice came up through them, “Brown, brown spots to wear forever!” A red ember was tucked under the dry grass. Off scampered the fawns after their mothers; and when a great distance away they looked backward. They saw a blue smoke rising, writhing upward till it vanished in the blue ether.
“Is that Iktomi’s spirit?” asked one fawn of another.
“No! I think he would jump out before he could burn into smoke and cinders,” answered his comrade.
The Badger and the Bear
On the edge of a forest there lived a large family of badgers. In the ground their dwelling was made. Its walls and roof were covered with rocks and straw.
Old father badger was a great hunter. He knew well how to track the deer and buffalo. Every day he came home carrying on his back some wild game. This kept mother badger very busy, and the baby badgers very chubby. While the well-fed children played about, digging little make-believe dwellings, their mother hung thin sliced meats upon long willow racks. As fast as the meats were dried and seasoned by sun and wind, she packed them carefully away in a large thick bag.
This bag was like a huge stiff envelope, but far more beautiful to see, for it was painted all over with many bright colors. These firmly tied bags of dried meat were laid upon the rocks in the walls of the dwelling. In this way they were both useful and decorative.
One day father badger did
