American Indian Trickster Tales (Myths and Legends) (36 page)

The men were more than glad to do that; it was what they had been hoping to do for a long time. So they hurried to put on their best clothes, and neatly braided their hair, and then started off with Old Man to the women’s camp. When they came in sight of it, Old Man told them to stop right there and he would go ahead and plan with the women just what should be done. They sat down, and he went on to the women’s camp. Himself he had no his old, soiled clothes; his fine clothes he had left behind with the men.

Arrived in the camp, he found only two or three women there; the women’s chief and all the others were down at the buffalo trap, butchering the animals that they had that morning decoyed into it. When he told the few women that he found why he had come, he greatly excited and pleased them, and they started at once to run and tell the others to hurry up from the trap and meet the men.

“But wait. Not so fast. I want a word with you,” Old Man called out; and when they came back to him, he asked: “What kind of a woman is your chief?”

“Everything that is good and kind and brave, that is our chief,” one answered. And another said: “Ai! She is all that, and more; and she is the most beautiful woman of us all!”

This pleased Old Man. He said to himself: “That is the woman for me. I must have her.” And to the waiting women he said: “It is right that chief woman should mate with chief man. You women are to come to us, and each select the man you want. Now tell your chief woman that the chief man is brave and kind and handsome, and that she shall select him for her man. She will know him by the way he is dressed. He wears a buckskin shirt and leggings, embroidered with porcupine quills, and a cow-leather robe with a big porcupine-quill-embroidered sun in the center of it. You tell her to take him for her man!”

“We will do so!” the women cried, and started off for the buffalo trap as fast as they could run.

Old man hurried back to the waiting men and hurriedly put on his fine clothes, the ones he had described to the women.

Trembling with excitement, and out of breath from their long, swift run, Old Man’s messengers arrived at the buffalo trap and told their wonderful news—that men had come to marry them; that each woman was to choose the man that she thought would best suit her. The butchering of the animals ceased at once, and the women started for their camp to put on their good clothes and recomb their hair. They wanted to appear as neat and clean and well dressed as possible before the men. Yes, all ran for their camp, all except the chief woman. Said she: “I cannot leave here until I finish skinning this spotted medicine calf. Go, all of you, and I will join you as soon as I can.”

The work took more time than she thought would be required, and when she arrived in camp with the valuable skin, she found all the other women dressed and impatient to go and choose their men. “Oh, well, it doesn’t matter how I look,” she said. “I am a chief, I have a name; I can choose my man dressed just as I am. How did you say the man chief is dressed?”

They told her again what he wore, according to what Old Man had told them, and she said: “I’ll choose him. Chief, I suppose, must mate with chief.”

And so she went right with the others, wearing her butchering dress, all stiff with blood and grease from the neck down to the bottom of the skirt; and her moccasins were even more foul than the skirt. Her hands were caked with dry blood, and her hair was not even braided.

Their chief leading, the women approached the waiting men, all standing in a line and singing a song of greeting. Old Man stood at the head of the line, very straight and proud, and of fine appearance in his new, porcupine-embroidered clothes. By these the chief woman recognized him from afar, and said to herself: “He is a fine-looking man. I hope that he will prove to be as good of heart as he is good to look at.” And, leading her women, she walked straight up to him and laid a hand on his arm: “I will take you for my man,” she told him.

But Old Man shrank back, his face plainly showing his loathing of such a bloody and greasy, wild-haired woman.

“I take you for my man,” the woman chief repeated.

Then he broke away from her hold and ran behind his men: “No! No! I do not want you, bloody, greasy woman,” he cried, and went still farther off behind his men.

The woman chief turned to her followers: “Go back! Go back to that little hill and there wait for me,” she told them. And to the men she said: “Remain where you are until I return. I shall not be gone long.” And with that she turned and hurried to her camp. Her women went to the hill. The men remained where they were.

Down at her camp the chief woman took off her old clothes and bathed in the river. Then she put on her fine clothes, a pair of new moccasins, braided her hair, scented herself with sweet grass, and returned to her women. She was now better dressed than any of them, and they told Old Man the truth when they said that she was beautiful of face and form; she was the most beautiful of them all.

Again she led her women to the line of waiting men. Again Old Man stood first, stood at the head of them. But she passed him by, as though she did not see him, and he, with a little cry, ran after her, took her by the arm, and said: “You are the woman for me! I am the chief of the men. You must take me!”

She turned upon him, and her eyes were like fire. She tore his hand from her arm and cried: “Never touch me again, good-for-nothing, proud-and-useless man. I would die before I would mate with you!”

And to her women she said: “Do not, any of you, take him for your man.” And with that she turned and chose a man. The others, then, one by one, took their choice of the men. When all had chosen, there was one woman who had no man; all had been taken except Old Man. She would not have him, and became the second wife of one of the men.

The choosing over, all started for the women’s camp. Old Man, now very sad-hearted, was following them, but the chief woman turned and motioned him off. “Go away. There is no food for you, no place for you in our camp,” she told him; and he went away, crying by himself.

And that is what Old Man got for being so proud.

Old Man Napi was up to his usual tricks again. He came to a place where Deer and Elk played the game follow the leader. Napi watched them for a while. He asked those animals: “Can I play?”

The oldest, biggest Elk said: “Yes, you may.”

Napi took the lead. He was singing: “Follow me, follow me!” He ran all over the place. The Elk and Deer ran after him. He led them to the edge of a high cliff called Buffalo Jump. Old Man Napi jumped over the edge. He fell all the way down. He fell hard. He was knocked unconscious. When he came to, he called to the Elk: “Jump over the edge also!”

“No,” they said, “we won’t. We might get hurt.”

“You won’t get hurt,” Napi yelled up to them. “The earth down here is very soft. I just took a little nap.” Then the Elk hurled themselves over the cliff and fell to their deaths.

Napi called upon the Deer, shouting: “Jump, it’s your turn now.” “No, we won‘t,” said the Deer. “The Elk jumped and now they are dead.”

“They are not dead,” called Napi. “They are resting. They are lazy. They are asleep. They are fine.” Then all the Deer jumped over the edge and fell to their deaths.

There were some female Elk about to give birth. They told Napi: “In our condition it is not good for us to jump.” Then he let them off.

There were also some female deer who were pregnant. They also told Napi: “With our bellies so big, jumping would be bad for us.” Napi told them not to jump. Had he not done so, there would be no Elk or Deer in the world.

Old Man Napi said: “Now I will have a feast.” He cut up the bodies of the Deer and Elk who had fallen to their deaths. He hung up the meat to dry. Coyote smelled it from a long way off. He came, limping badly. “Old Man Napi,” he said, “my leg is broken. I cannot hunt. Let me have some of this meat.” Coyote was only pretending. There was nothing wrong with his leg.

Napi was stingy. He did not want to give Coyote any of his meat. He thought: “Coyote’s leg is broken. He cannot run.” Aloud he said: “Brother, let’s have fun. Let’s race for the meat!”

“Old Man Napi,” said Coyote, “I am hurt. I cannot race.”

“If you don’t want to race,” said Napi, “then you won’t get anything to eat.”

“It isn’t fair,” complained Coyote, “but what can I do? All right, we’ll race. I will run for a hundred paces.”

“No,” said Napi, “we will run a thousand paces. We will run to that faraway tree over there and then race back here to where we are standing.”

At first, Coyote hobbled along pitifully, crying: “Not so fast! Not so fast!” But on the backleg, after reaching the tree, he stopped pretending. He overtook Old Man Napi and left him far behind. Coyote came back first to the starting point, long before Napi. Coyote called all the other animals—Wolves, Cougars, Foxes, Bears, and Bobcats—to come and eat. He asked even little Weasels and tiny Shrews to come and help themselves.

At last Coyote heard Old Man Napi coming along, huffing and puffing, crying: “Have pity, leave me some of the meat, leave me some of the meat!” But there was nothing left when Napi arrived.