Part 17

“_Ah-a-a-a!_” agreed the erstwhile contenders in unison. Was not Eagle Voice much older than they?

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.

“They were pretty girls and they were sisters. So one summer night when the wind was still, and most of the people were sleeping, and no dog barked, and the sky was full of stars, these two girls were not sleeping. They were outside in the warm, still night, lying back against the side of their tepee and looking up at the sky. They were looking at the star nations, and they were saying to each other they wondered how far it was up yonder, how many sleeps it would take to get there, and how pleasant it would be to live in that country among those bright, happy people.

“Then they just lay back against the tepee for a while, and I think by now they were looking at the star nation we call Carrier [Big Dipper]. Then the older sister yawned and said to the younger sister, ‘Do you see that big star up there--the biggest one?’ And her sister yawned and said, ‘Yes, I see it.’ And the older sister said, ‘That is the very star I like best of all.’ And the younger sister said, ‘Can you see that small star not far away from the big star?’ And her sister said, ‘Yes, I can see it.’ And the younger sister said, ‘That is the very one I like best of all the stars.’

“So they yawned and were still for a while, just looking at the two stars they liked best of all. Then the older sister said, ‘I think I will marry my star if you will marry your star.’ And the younger sister said, ‘Yes, let us do that; but I am so sleepy now, I think I will not get married tonight.’ And the older sister said, ‘I too am sleepy; I can hardly keep my eyes open. We can dream about our stars tonight, and then we can marry them when we are not so sleepy.’ And the younger sister said, ‘Yes, we can do that.’

“So the two sleepy sisters started walking around the side of the tepee to the opening, for they wanted to go to bed.”

“Ho, ho!” exclaimed No Water and Moves Walking, keenly aware of what was about to happen.

“_Sh-h-h!_” Eagle Voice raised an admonishing forefinger and continued slowly, speaking scarcely above a whisper. “They were in front of the flap and the older sister was reaching to lift it. But she did not lift it.”

At this point the teller ceased abruptly, with a surprised stare into vacancy. It was clear by the faces of the three old men that the tale was still unfolding in the tense silence.

“Two men were standing there,” Eagle Voice continued, speaking low and with an air of mystery. “They were men, but they were not like other men, for they made the light they lived in, and there was no shadow where they stood. This light was soft and kind, and when the two men smiled, it spread about the sisters so that they were not afraid at all. Then they saw that one man was young and one was very old. The younger one was taller than any man the girls had ever seen; but the older one was even taller. I think he stood above the other like a tree, and the light he made was that much brighter. He was old, old; but he was young too. I think he was much older than the other because he had been young so much longer. I think there are no canes where these men came from, no wrinkled skins, and no uprooted teeth, and no white hairs.

“Then the older man said to the older sister, ‘We heard you talking, and I heard you say that you would marry me; so I am here.’ Then the younger man spoke to the younger sister, and said, ‘We heard you talking, and I heard you say that you would marry me; so I am here.’ The girls could not say anything at all, but their hearts were singing in their breasts, and the two men heard. So the older man said to the older sister, ‘Put your arms about my neck, and we will go.’ And the younger man said to the younger sister, ‘Put your arms about my neck and we will go.’

“That is what the sisters did, and so they went.

“It was like eagles flying, only faster, higher than eagles fly. And all at once there was no village down below and no earth. There was only air--blue air, blue air; and nothing anywhere but two men made of light and two girls with their arms about the necks of those, flying fast and higher, very fast and very high. Then all at once there were shining villages of star people on a wide blue prairie, and from all the villages came singing as the fliers passed, for all the people there were happy. And afterwhile there was a village bigger than all the others in that wide blue country, and there the flying men of light came swooping down like eagles to their nests.

“Then the older star-man said to the older sister, ‘You are my wife now, and I have brought you home.’ And the younger star-man spoke to the younger sister, saying, ‘You are now my wife and I have brought you home.’

“The sisters did not say anything at all, but their hearts were singing. And all at once the whole hoop of the village about them was one great song, and all the bright star people came from every side, singing together as they came to welcome their great head chief and his son with their new wives. And the singing was like many happy colors in the brightness of that place.

“So there was dancing as for a great victory, and there was feasting. Four days and nights the people danced and feasted and were glad.”

The teller ceased, gazing out and upward as into wide blue air. The two silent collaborators, with their hands upon their knees, gazed also in the same direction, like children lost in wonder. Were they really only feigning for the sly fun of it, or had they for the moment lost the burden of their years?

When, at length, it seemed the tale was waiting for the dancing and the feasting to be ended yonder, No Water turned suddenly upon Eagle Voice with his grieved and anxious look. “_Turnips!_” he prompted in an explosive whisper. Moves Walking fixed a glaring eye upon him, and with a raised forefinger Eagle Voice deplored the interruption. “_Sh-h-h-h!_”

But the spell was broken, and the tale continued. “So the two sisters lived with their husbands among the bright star people, and they were happy. Then one day it was the time when the turnips are getting to be good, and there were many growing on the wide blue prairie. So the older sister said to the younger sister, ‘I think my husband would like to eat turnips, so I will go out and dig some.’ And the younger sister said, ‘I think my husband likes them too, so I will go along with you, and we will dig some.’ Then they made themselves two sharp sticks and went out to dig the turnips that were growing big and juicy on the wide blue prairie.

“Many other women were out there getting turnips for their husbands, and they were all happy and joking together as they dug. One of these was a wise and good old woman, and the great head chief was her son. So she came over to the older sister and said, ‘Daughter, you are already big in the belly, and I see it will not be long until I shall have a grandchild. So I wish you would be very careful, and do not press the stick against your belly when you are digging, for that might hurt the baby.’ And the older sister said, ‘I will be careful, Mother.’ And she was.

“But it was much harder to dig the turnips if she did not lean against the stick, for then she had to do it all with her arms. She had to chop with the stick, and it was not easy to make the sharp end go deep enough. So she was chopping harder and harder, harder and harder, harder and--”

The tale stopped with a shock of surprise. _Ah-h-h-h!_ Open-mouthed, wide-eyed, No Water and Moves Walking stared appalled upon an approaching catastrophe.

“Chop--chop--chop,” the teller resumed slowly, wielding an imaginary turnip stick. “Chop--chop--chop--_chop!_ It was too hard that time, and all at once the blue ground broke wide open right under the older sister, and she fell head-first through the hole. The younger sister screamed and came running, and all the other women screamed and came running; but they could not do anything at all. So they all crowded around the hole in the sky prairie and looked and looked. They saw the older sister tumbling over and over, over and over, getting smaller and smaller, smaller and smaller as she fell. And then they saw nothing at all.

“It was a long way down to the earth, and I cannot say how many sleeps the older sister fell. But afterwhile she got here, and when she struck the ground she broke wide open, pop!--just like a seed-pod--and a baby boy rolled out on some thick, soft bunch grass that was growing there. I think some buffalo manure made the grass soft and thick in that place, so the baby boy did not get hurt at all.”

“That will be _me_!” exclaimed No Water, with an air of gloating triumph. “No, it will be _me_!” challenged Moves Walking, the off-eye glaring, although the rivals were grinning at each other. Clearly, the explosive interruption at this point in the story was a traditional obligation of the co-operative hearer.

Eagle Voice raised a conciliating forefinger and smiled benignly upon the two, like a kindly grandfather silencing over-eager children. “It was a good day,” he continued; “and so the baby was just lying there in the bunch of thick soft grass with his thumb in his mouth. And afterwhile there was a magpie who saw something and came to look. This was an old-woman magpie, and she walked around and around the baby, with her head on one side and then on the other, for I think she had never seen anything like this before.”

[With cocked heads, the three collaborators curiously examined the baby in the grass for a few moments of silence.] “But a magpie knows everything, and when this one had looked for a while, she said to herself, ‘This is a baby of the two-legged people without wings. It has four legs, but it is not a four-legged because it has no fur, and all four-leggeds have fur.’ Then she said to the baby, ‘You _are_ a fine big baby, and you _are_ a boy too, aren’t you?’ And the baby said, ‘_Goo-oo_,’ like that. And the magpie said, ‘But how are you going to live, for I see your mother lying dead over there?’ Then the baby took his thumb out of his mouth and began to cry.

“This made the old-woman magpie feel very sad, and she said, ‘Somebody must come and take care of this baby that has no mother. I cannot, because I have to fly around and talk so much that I could never take care of him. And if I did not fly around, telling people everything, how would they ever know anything?’

“So she flew away; and as she flew around all over the prairie, she kept crying out to the four-leggeds and the wings of the air and those that crawl on their bellies in the grass, and she said, ‘Come quick! Come quick! There is a two-legged baby without a mother! Come quick and help! Come quick and help! There is a baby without a mother!’

“So in a little while all the four-leggeds and all the wings of the air and all of those that crawl on their bellies in the grass were going to see the baby without a mother. They were coming from all sides, galloping and crawling and flying; and when they came to where the baby was lying in the soft, thick grass, they made a big hoop all around it. Everybody was there except the finned people. They had to stay in the streams and lakes, and that is why they did not come to see.

“Then the old-woman magpie stood beside the baby in the center of the hoop of peoples, and she made her voice big and sent it forth like this: ‘Wings of the air, four-leggeds, and belly-crawlers, you have come to see the baby without a mother. Here you see him lying all alone with no one to care for him. Will you let him die here on the prairie?’

“Then she pointed her long nose at the bison bull, and said, ‘You are the biggest and strongest of all the four-leggeds. Will you not take care of this baby?’ And the bison bull said in his voice like thunder, ‘My wives and I would like to take this baby, but we have no tepee at all to live in, and the baby would die.’

“Then the magpie-woman pointed her sharp nose at the bull elk, and said, ‘Elk, you are almost as strong as the bison, and you could carry the baby in your antlers. Will you take care of him?’ And the elk said, ‘Even though I am stronger than the bison, I cannot take care of this baby, for I have no tepee but the sky.’

“So the magpie-woman spoke to the grizzly bear, and said, ‘Bear, you are very big and very strong, and you have a warm den to sleep in. _You_ could look after this baby that has no mother.’ And the bear said, ‘I wish I could take this baby, for he is much like a cub, except that he has no fur. Maybe he would get some fur afterwhile. But I cannot take this baby. You all know I am a very hard sleeper, and when I go to sleep I do not ’waken for a long while. Who would feed this baby while I was sleeping? He would starve before I could ’waken; or maybe I would roll over on him in my sleep.’

“Then the old-woman magpie spoke to each of the other four-leggeds in turn, the bigger ones before the smaller ones. They all felt sorry for the baby without a mother, but not one of them could take him. The wolf and his wife had too many children already. The jack rabbit and his wife also had all the children they could feed. The gopher’s home was too small, and the mouse’s was even smaller.

“Just then the magpie saw the snake standing up on his tail, so that he could look upon the baby without a mother. She could see that there were tears in the snake’s eyes, and he was moving his head back and forth in sorrow. So the magpie thought, ‘Here at last is one who will take the baby,’ and she said, ‘Snake, can you not take this baby into a cave somewhere and look after him?’ And the snake said, “My wife and I would like to have the baby, for often we are lonely. We could bring him frogs and mice to eat, and we could scare all the bad people away so that he would be safe. But we must not take this baby. Nobody likes us, and it would be bad for him to grow up with us.’ Then all at once he was afraid again, and he slid into the grass and flowed away like fast water, making a sound like _sho--sho--sho sho--sho sho_.

“So the old-woman magpie pointed her sharp nose towards the wings-of-the-air who were sitting together on their side of the hoop of peoples. And when she saw the eagle, she said, ‘Eagle, you are the great head chief of all the wings of the air, and you always make a kill. You are so strong that the baby could ride on your back between your wide wings. I am sure _you_ can raise this baby that has no mother.’ And the eagle said, ‘Yes, I am chief of all the winged ones because I am the strongest of them all, and I always make a kill; but I cannot take this baby, for I live in such high places that it is always cold up there, and the baby would get sick and die.’

“While the eagle was talking, everybody was very still, and when he was through, nobody said anything for a while. You could hear the baby whimpering in the grass. Then all at once the wren sent forth a small thin voice, and she said, ‘If I were as big as some of the winged ones around here, I myself would take this baby to raise, for it makes me sad to hear him crying for his mother. Small as I am, I would take him anyway, but my tepee is so little I could never get him into it. I think Hawk could take him. _He_ is big and strong, and _he_ does not live high up where it is cold.’

“When the tiny oriole heard the wren putting it out so boldly, it made her brave too, and she sent forth _her_ thin little voice. ‘I am small too, and little as _I_ am, I would take this baby; but my tepee is so narrow that even I can hardly get into it. I too think Hawk should raise the baby. He can always get something good to eat.’

“‘_Who! Who! Who!_’ cried the owl, which is the same as when we say ‘_how! how!_’ And the bluejay screamed, ‘_hiyay! hiyay!_’ It pleased them to hear the smallest of the winged ones making so brave.

“Eagle turned his head slowly and looked hard at Wren and Oriole. Hawk turned his head slowly and looked hard at Wren and Oriole. All the people were looking too, and they saw Wren and Oriole fluffing up their feathers and pulling their heads in, the way they do when they are cold; for all at once they did not feel brave at all.”

The story-teller paused, turned his head slowly, and cast a penetrating hawk-stare upon No Water and Moves Walking; whereat they hunched their shoulders, drew in their heads, and were frightened little birds, but they were grinning. With an approving grandfatherly smile, Eagle Voice continued:

“When Hawk had looked hard for awhile, he said, ‘You know I have no relatives. You know I do not belong with anyone. You know that everybody is my enemy. How could I raise this helpless being with no wings?’

“Nobody said anything at all for a while, and it was so still you could hear the baby whimpering in the soft bunch grass. Then the old-woman magpie said, ‘Will nobody take this baby to raise? Will he die here on the prairie all alone?’

“When the baby heard this, he began crying very hard. So the prairie hen felt very sorry for the baby, and she said, ‘_I_ think Mudswallow ought to take this baby. She has a good home and she daubs it up so that it is safe and warm. I think she could raise this baby.’

“And Mudswallow answered, ‘It is true that I have a good snug home, for I am very careful how I build it. But it is high up on the bank, and even if I should build it big enough, the baby would fall out and be killed.’

“‘_Heh--heh--heh! Heh--heh--heh!_’ said the kingfisher. He was feeling very sad, for it seemed that nobody at all was going to help the baby live. And when it was so still that there was nothing to hear but the baby crying in the soft grass, the kingbird sent forth a voice: ‘I know who can raise this baby! Meadowlark can do it! He can build a big nest around where the baby is now lying! It will be no trouble at all! Meadowlark is just the one to raise this baby!’

“When the people heard this, they all made the happy noises they knew how to make, and for a while the hoop of peoples was one big sound. Then when they were still again, Meadowlark hopped out to the center of the hoop and sent forth a very kind voice that was like little waters falling into a quiet pool, and he said, ‘Kingbird is right. My wife and I can take care of the baby, and we will. I did not say so before, because so many here are greater than I am. We can build a big soft nest all around the baby where he is lying, and we can bring him plenty of seeds and worms to eat. It will be no trouble at all. Our children can play with him, and he will make our home happier.’

“When Meadowlark had said this, his wife sang a song of joy she knew, and it was like sweet water gurgling when everything is thirsty. Then the wings of the air and the four-leggeds and the crawlers in the grass sent forth one great voice--squawking and squealing, chirping and screaming, barking and howling and whistling; and the bison cows lowed and the bulls thundered. That is how glad they were to know the baby would not die all alone on the prairie. They were so glad, I do not know how far away they could be heard; but all the finned peoples heard, and leaped and glittered in all the lakes and streams. I think the star nations also heard and began singing together all over the heavens; but this I do not know, because they are so far away.

“So that is how it was; and soon the hoop was broken up and all the peoples scattered to their homes, galloping and flying and crawling. And the baby went to sleep with his thumb in his mouth.

“Of course, old-woman magpie could not go away with the others. She had to stay there awhile and help. So she sat on top of some brush near by and told Meadowlark and his wife what they must do and how they must do it. Sometimes she would scream at them and say, ‘_No_, not _that_ grass! It is not soft enough for the baby! And you are not making the nest big enough! Don’t you know this baby is going to grow? _Bigger! Softer!_’ All the while Meadowlark and his wife went on building the nest around the baby the way they learned from their grandparents. But they were very kind people, and sometimes they would say, ‘Yes, Grandmother--you know best, Grandmother--we thank you for helping us, Grandmother.’ And so afterwhile the nest was finished, and the baby sleeping in it with his thumb in his mouth.

“Then old-woman Magpie hopped down and walked around the nest, turning her head this way and that way to see what she thought of it. And afterwhile she said, ‘It is not built as I would build it, but it will do. Now you must take care of the mother’s body lying over there. You are not strong enough to build a scaffold for it, so you must cover it up with grasses and little stones; for if you do not, her spirit will make trouble for you. And when you have done this, one of you must mourn all night by the body while the other watches the nest. I cannot stay longer to help you, for I have so much talking to do in so many places that I shall never get it all done if I do not hurry.’

“So old-woman magpie flew away as fast as she could flap her wings.