American fiction -- 20th century; Short stories, American
Now the Robin did not hesitate. She tore the big medicine robe from
beneath the Swallow; throwing herself into its folds, the Robin wished
herself again before Wah-bee-noh’s lodge, an’ with that the robe rushed
with her away across the skies like the swoop of a hawk. The Swallow was
only awake in time to see the Robin go out of sight like a bee hunting
its hive.
Now the Swallow was so cast down with shame that he thought he would
call Pau-guk, the Death, an’ give himself to the wolves who sat watching
with their hungry eyes. But soon his heart came back, an’ his spirit
which was light as dead leaves, stirred about hopefully in his bosom.
While he considered what he should now do, helpless an’ hungry, in this
desolate stretch of rocks an’ sand an’ no water, the thorn which
had been in Moh-Kwa’s paw pricked his foot where it lay sewed in his
moccasin. With that the Swallow wished he might only see the Wise Bear
to tell him his troubles.
As the Swallow made this wish, an’ as if to answer it, he saw Moh-Kwa
coming across the rocks an’ the sand. When the wolves saw Moh-Kwa, they
gave a last howl an’ ran for their hiding places.
Moh-Kwa himself said nothing when he came up, an’ the Swallow spoke not
for shame but lay quiet while Moh-Kwa took him by the belt which was
about his middle an’ throwing him over his shoulder as if the Swallow
were a dead deer, galloped off like the wind for his own house.
When Moh-Kwa had reached his house, he gave the Swallow a piece of
buffalo meat to eat. Then Moh-Kwa said:
“Because you would be a fool over a beautiful squaw who was cunning, you
have lost my three gifts that were your fortune an’ good fame. Still,
because you were only a fool, I will get them back for you. You must
stay here, for you cannot help since your spirit is as light as dead
leaves, an’ would not be steady for so long a trail an’ one which calls
for so much care to follow.”
Then Moh-Kwa went to the door of his house an’ called his three
friends, Sug-gee-mah, the Mosquito, Sub-bee-kah-shee, the Spider, an’
Wah-wah-tah-see, the Firefly; an’ to these he said:
“Because you are great warriors an’ fear nothing in your hearts I have
called you.”
An’ at that, Wah-wah-tah-see, an’ Sub-bee-kah-shee, an’ Sug-gee-mah
stood very straight an’ high, for being little men it made them proud
because so big a bear as Moh-Kwa had called them to be his help.
“To you, Sub-bee-kah-shee,” said Moh-Kwa, turning to the Spider, “I
leave Kwa-Sind; to you, Wah-wah-tah-see, the Firefly, falls the honor of
slaying Wah-bee-noh, the bad medicine man; while unto you, Sug-gee-mah
descends the hardest task, for you must fight a great battle with
Nee-pah-win, the Sleep.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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