Iktómi and the Coyote
Far off upon a large level land, a summer sun was shining bright. Here and there over the rolling green were tall bunches of coarse gray weeds. Iktómi, in his fringed buckskins, walked alone across the prairie with a bare black head glossy in the sunlight. He walked through the grass without following any well-worn footpath.
From one large bunch of coarse weeds to another, he wound his way about the great plain. He lifted his foot lightly and placed it gently forward like a wildcat prowling noiselessly through the thick grass. He stopped a few steps away from a very large bunch of wild sage. From shoulder to shoulder, he tilted his head. Still farther, he bent from side to side, first low over one hip and then over the other. Far forward, he stooped, stretching his long thin neck like a duck to see what lay under a fur coat beyond the bunch of coarse grass.
A sleek gray-faced prairie wolf, his pointed black nose tucked in between his four feet drawn snugly together, his handsome bushy tail wound over his nose and feet. A Coyote – šuŋgmánitu asleep in the shadow of a bunch of grass, this is what Iktómi spied.
Carefully he raised one foot and cautiously reached out with his toes. Gently, he lifted the foot behind and placed it before the other. Thus he came nearer to the round fur ball lying motionless under the sage grass.
Now Iktómi stood beside it, looking at the closed eyelids that did not quiver the least bit. Pressing his lips into straight lines and nodding his head slowly, he bent over the wolf. He held his ear close to the Coyote’s nose, but not a breath of air stirred from it.
“Dead!” said he at last. “Dead, but not long since he ran over these plains! See! There in his paw is caught a fresh feather. He is nice fat meat!”
Taking hold of the paw with the bird feather fast on it, he exclaimed, “Why he is still warm! I’ll carry him to my dwelling and have a roast for my evening meal. Ah-ha!” he laughed, as he seized the Coyote by its two fore paws and its two hind feet and swung him over head across his shoulders.
The wolf was large, and the teepee was far across the prairie. Iktómi trudged along with his burden, smacking his hungry lips together. He blinked his eyes hard to keep out the salty perspiration streaming down his face.
All the while, the Coyote on his back lay gazing into the sky with wide-open eyes. His long white teeth fairly gleamed as he smiled and smiled.
“To ride on one’s own feet is tiresome, but to be carried like a warrior from a brave fight is great fun!” said the Coyote in his heart. He had never been borne on anyone’s back before, and the new experience delighted him. He lay there lazily on Iktómi’s shoulders, now and then blinking blue winks. Did you never see a birdie blink a blue wink? This is how it first became a saying among the plains people. When a bird stands aloof watching your strange ways, a thin bluish white tissue slips quickly over his eyes and as quickly off again, so quick that you think it was only a mysterious blue wink. Sometimes when children grow drowsy, they blink blue winks, while others who are too proud to look with friendly eyes upon people blink in this cold bird-manner.
The Coyote was affected by both sleepiness and pride. His winks were almost as blue as the sky. In the midst of his new pleasure, the swaying motion ceased. Iktómi had reached his dwelling place. The Coyote felt drowsy no longer, for in the next instant, he was slipping out of Iktómi’s hands. He was falling, falling through space, and then he struck the ground with such a bump he did not wish to breathe for a while. He wondered what Iktómi would do. Thus he lay still where he fell.
Humming a dance song from his bundle of mystery songs, Iktómi hopped and darted about at an imaginary dance and feast. He gathered dry willow sticks and broke them in two against his knee. He built a large fire out of doors. The flames leaped up high in red and yellow streaks. Now Iktómi returned to the Coyote who had been looking on through his eyelashes.
Taking him again by his paws and hind feet, he swung him to and fro. Then as the wolf swung toward the red flames, Iktómi let him go. Once again, the Coyote fell through space. Hot air smote his nostrils. He saw red dancing fire, and now he struck a bed of cracking embers. With a quick turn, he leaped out of the flames. From his heels were scattered a shower of red coals upon Iktómi’s bare arms and shoulders. Dumfounded, Iktómi thought he saw a spirit walk out of his fire. His jaws fell apart. He thrust a palm to his face, hard over his mouth! He could scarcely keep from shrieking.
Rolling over and over on the grass and rubbing the sides of his head against the ground, the Coyote soon put out the fire on his fur. Iktómi’s eyes were almost ready to jump out of his head as he stood, cooling a burn on his brown arm with his breath.
Sitting on his haunches, on the opposite side of the fire from where Iktómi stood, the Coyote began to laugh at him.
“Another day, my friend, do not take too much for granted. Make sure the enemy is stone dead before you make a fire!” Then off he ran so swiftly that his long bushy tail hung out in a straight line with his back.