Moh-Kwa carried Coldheart to the Yellowstone, an’ he sang an’ shouted for all the Catfish people to come. Then Moh-Kwa took Coldheart to a deep place in the river a long way from the bank. An’ Moh-Kwa held Coldheart while the Chief of the Catfish got a strong hold, an’ his squaw--who was four times bigger than the Catfish Chief--got also a strong hold; an’ then what others of the Catfish people were there took their holds. When every catfish was ready Moh-Kwa let Coldheart slip from between his paws, an’ with a swish an’ a swirl, the Catfish people snatched Coldheart under the water an’ tore him to pieces. For many days the Yellowstone was bank-full of good words for Moh-Kwa; an’ all the Catfish people said he was a Sioux an’ no cheat of a Pawnee who gives only to take back. That night in his cavern Moh-Kwa sat by Ish-koo-dah, the Fire, an’ smoked an’ told the Widow the story, an’ how it all began by Openhand bringing the Fire back to be his friend when they had quarreled an’ the Fire had gone out an’ would not return. An’ while Moh-Kwa told the tale to the Widow, not an owl said a word or even whispered, but blinked in silence each on his perch; for the Widow seemed lean an’ slim as she lay by the fire an’ listened; an’ the owls thought it would be foolish to remind Moh-Kwa of their presence. ***** “Now, do you know,” said the Red Nosed Gentleman, with his head on one side as one who would be deemed deeply the critic, “these Indian stories are by no means bad.” Then leaning across to the Old Cattleman, he asked: “Does our Sioux friend make them up?” “Them tales,” said the Old Cattleman, lighting a new cigar, “is most likely as old as the Yellowstone itse’f. The squaws an’ the old bucks tell ’em to the children, an’ so they gets passed along the line. Sioux Sam only repeats what he’s done heard from his mother.” “And now,” remarked the Jolly Doctor, addressing the Sour Gentleman, “what say you? How about that story of the Customs concerning which you whetted our interest by giving us the name. It is strange, too, that while my interest is still as strong as ever, the name itself has clean slipped through the fingers of my memory.” At this the Jolly Doctor glared about the circle as though in wonder at the phenomenon of an interest which remained when the reason of it had faded away. “I will willingly give you the story,” said the Sour Gentleman. “That name you search for is ‘The Emperor’s Cigars.’” CHAPTER XVI.--THE EMPEROR’S CIGARS.