“The others were waiting to see what would happen. And we crawled up over the rocks that the Crows had piled in the opening. There was nobody. So we climbed on up a crooked way among rocks. Sometimes we crawled, then we would lie flat and listen. There was nothing. When we were nearly up the butte, we could see the others waiting, so we waved to them and they started up. The top of the butte was broader than we thought, and almost flat. Some brush grew here and there, and at the far end there were some crooked little trees half dead. We stood and stared around. There was nobody. There was a hawk floating high in the morning. We came to the little trees that were half dead at the far end of the butte top, and looked over. There was a wall of rock straight down to a slope at the bottom. A many-knotted rawhide rope was hanging there, and we saw that it was tied around the thickest little tree. “The others were running about the butte top, looking down over the steep sides and staring around. When they saw the knotted rawhide rope hanging, some were angry and wanted to follow; but there were more who laughed. Some could not believe all of the story the rope told. How could a horse get down there? Somebody said he just made himself some wings and flew. So it ended in laughing. “I was almost an old man when I heard all about that night on the butte top. It was long after we had all settled down on reservations, and some of us went over to visit the Crows. There were two old men there who had the ends of their right forefingers cut off, and they were in that party. It was a holy man who told the other Crows how to get away. First he prayed to Wakon Tonka for help, and if help came and they all got home, each man would cut off his forefinger as an offering. Then he told them to cut up their robes in broad strips and tie these together. When this was done, they let two men down over the cliff. If these saw anybody, they would jerk twice on the rope and the others would pull them up again. If there was nobody down there, they would jerk once. After a long while, the two men jerked once, for they had been crawling around and they had seen what we were doing on the other side of the butte. Then the Crows on the butte tied the horse’s legs together and let him down over the side with the rope sliding through a crotch of the thickest half-dead tree. There were thirty-two in the party, so there were thirty holding the rope. That was when the holy man with his dog began to mourn so loud. He mourned until most of the men were down too, and then he began the death-song to keep us watching over there while the main party was getting away with the horse. When he stopped singing, two who were left let him down with his dog; then they climbed down with their hands on the rope and their feet against the cliff. It was a good joke on us, and we laughed as friends with the old Crows who told the story.