When we had eaten in silence for a while, Eagle Voice fumbled in his long tobacco sack, charged his pipe and lighted it. “_Dho_,” he said, starting the pipe on its rounds; “I could tell the story about the time when the Shoshonis were chased over the bank, for I was there. Maybe I will tell it to my grandson here, but I will not tell it now.” He searched our faces with the amused, crinkled look about his eyes. “I do not want to kill any more people today. Too many dead husbands around here already.” No Water slapped his knee and bellowed with laughter. Moves Walking fixed us in turn with the glaring eye. “It is a true story!” he protested; the good eye belying its fellow with a gleam of amusement. “_Wo-ya kapi!_ I can prove it!” “_Dho!_ It is a true story, _kola_,” resumed Eagle Voice soberly, “and it is a good story; but there were thirty Shoshonis, and I am full of good tender meat. I do not feel like killing so many more people today. It is getting dark, so I can tell an _ohunka kapi_ [fairy tale the old people make up]. If I tell it in the daytime, maybe I get long hair all over my backside. That is what I heard my grandfather say. But it is getting dark now, so I am not afraid of that.” Having shared in the chuckling of his hearers over the hoary joke, he continued. “Maybe the story was true so long ago that we cannot believe it any more. I do not know. It is about Falling Star.” “Ho, ho!” exclaimed No Water and Moves Walking together. “_Washtay!_” said the latter. “My grandmother told it to me when I was very little. There were two girls and they married stars.” “_Dho_,” No Water agreed, “they did that. I think it was my grandfather told me first. And the girls fell through the sky.” “One girl,” corrected Moves Walking. “You are in a hurry to tell my story for me, _kola_,” said Eagle Voice; “but I am going to tell it myself, and now I will tell it. “This happened so long ago that I think the oldest person who ever told it had heard it from his grandfather. So I cannot prove it. In that time there was a big village, and I think the people were not even Lakotas yet.” No Water and Moves Walking sat with their hands on their knees, leaning towards the story-teller with eager expectancy, something child-like in their age-scarred faces. “--and in this village there were two girls who were just beginning to be women; and these girls were sisters.” “_Ah-a-a!_” agreed No Water and Moves Walking, sharing the pleasure of recognition.