Moh-Kwa was the wisest of all the beasts along the Upper Yellowstone; an’ yet Moh-Kwa could not catch a fish. This made Moh-Kwa have a bad heart, for next to honey he liked fish. What made it worse was that in Moh-Kwa’s cavern where he lived, there lay a deep pool which was the camp of many fish; an’ Moh-Kwa would sit an’ look at them an’ long for them, while the fish came close to the edge an’ laughed at Moh-Kwa, for they knew beneath their scales that he could not catch them; an’ the laughter of the fish made a noise like swift water running among rocks. Sometimes Moh-Kwa struck at a fish with his big paw, but the fish never failed to dive out of reach; an’ this made the other fish laugh at Moh-Kwa more than before. Once Moh-Kwa got so angry he plunged into the pool to hunt the fish; but it only made him seem foolish, for the fish swam about him in flashing circles, an’ dived under him an’ jumped over him, laughing all the time, making a play an’ a sport of Moh-Kwa. At last he gave up an’ swam ashore; an’ then he had to sit by his fire an’ comb his fur all day to dry himself so that he might feel like the same bear again.
One morning down by the Yellowstone, Moh-Kwa met Strongarm, the young Sioux, an’ Strongarm had a buffalo fish which he had speared in the river. An’ because Moh-Kwa looked at the fish hungrily an’ with water in his mouth, Strongarm gave him the buffalo fish. Also he asked Moh-Kwa why he did not catch fish since he liked them so well an’ the pool in his cavern was the camp of many fish. An’ Moh-Kwa said it was because the fish were cowards an’ would not stay an’ fight with him, but ran away.
“They are not so brave as the bees,” said Moh-Kwa, “for when I find a bee-tree, they make me fight for the honey. The bees have big hearts though little knives, but the fish have no hearts an’ run like water down hill if they but see Moh-Kwa’s shadow from his fire fall across the pool.”
Strongarm said he would catch the fish for Moh-Kwa; an’ with that he went to the Wise Bear’s house an’ with his spear took many fish, being plenty to feed Moh-Kwa two days. Moh-Kwa was very thankful, an’ because Strong-arm liked the Wise Bear, he came four times each moon an’ speared fish for Moh-Kwa who was never so well fed with fish before.
Strongarm was a mighty hunter among the Sioux an’ killed more elk than did the ten best hunters of his village. So many elk did Strong-arm slay that his squaw, the Blossom, made for their little son, Feather-foot, a buckskin coat on which was sewed the eye-teeth of elk, two for each elk, until there were so many eye-teeth on Feather-foot’s buckskin coat it was like counting the leaves on a cottonwood to find how many there were. An’ the Blossom was proud of Feather-foot’s coat, for none among the Sioux had so beautiful a garment an’ the eye-teeth of the elk told how big a hunter was Strongarm.
While the Sioux wondered an’ admired at the elk-tooth coat, it made the Big Medicine Elk, who was chief of the Elk people, hot an’ angry, an’ turned his heart black against Strongarm. The Big Medicine Elk said he would have revenge.
Thus it happened one day that when Strong-arm stepped from his lodge, he saw standing in front a great Elk who had antlers like the branches of a tree. An’ the great Elk stamped his foot an’ snorted at Strongarm. Then Strongarm took his bow an’ his lance an’ his knife an’ hunted the great Elk to kill him; but the great Elk ran always a little ahead just out of reach.
At last the great Elk ran into the Pouch canyon an’ then Strongarm took hope into his heart like a man takes air into his mouth, for the sides of the Pouch canyon were high an’ steep an’ it ended with a high wall, an’ nothing save a bird might get out again once it went in; for the Pouch canyon was a trap which the Great Spirit had set when the world was new.
Strongarm was happy in his breast as he followed the great Elk into the Pouch canyon for now he was sure. An’ he thought how the big eye-teeth of so great an Elk would look on the collar of Feather-foot’s buckskin coat.
When Strongarm came to the upper end of the Pouch canyon, there the great Elk stood waiting.
“Hold!” said the great Elk, when Strongarm put an arrow on his bowstring.
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But Strongarm shot the arrow which bounded off the great Elk’s hide an’ made no wound. Then Strongarm ran against the great Elk with his lance, but the lance was broken as though the great Elk was a rock. Then Strongarm drew his knife, but when he went close to the great Elk, the beast threw him down with his antlers an’ put his forefoot on Strongarm an’ held him on the ground.
“Listen,” said the great Elk, an’ Strongarm listened because he couldn’t help it. “You have hunted my people far an’ near; an’ you can never get enough of their blood or their eye-teeth. I am the Big Medicine Elk an’ chief of the Elk people; an’ now for a vengeance against you, I shall change you from the hunter to the hunted, an’ you shall know how good it is to have fear an’ be an elk.”
As the great Elk said this, Strongarm felt his head turn heavy with antlers, while his nose grew long an’ his mouth wide, an’ hair grew out of his skin like grass in the moon of new grass, an’ his hands an’ feet split into hoofs; an’ then Strong-arm stood on his four new hoofs an’ saw by his picture in the stream that he was an elk. Also the elk-fear curled up in his heart to keep him ever in alarm; an’ he snuffed the air an’ walked about timidly where before he was Strongarm and feared nothing.
Strongarm crept home to his lodge, but the Blossom did not know her husband; an’ Feather-foot, his little son, shot arrows at him; an’ as he ran from them, the hunters of his village came forth an’ chased him until Strongarm ran into the darkness of the next night as it came trailing up from the East, an’ the darkness was kind an’ covered him like a blanket an’ Strongarm was hid by it an’ saved.
When Strongarm did not come with the next sun to spear fish for Moh-Kwa, the Wise Bear went to Strongarm’s lodge to seek him for he thought that he was sick. An’ Moh-Kwa asked the Blossom where was Strongarm? An’ the Blossom said she did not know; that Strongarm chased the great Elk into the Pouch canyon an’ never came out again; an’ now a big Doubt had spread its blankets in her heart an’ would not leave, but was making a long camp, saying she was a widow. Then the Blossom wept; but Moh-Kwa told her to wait an’ he would see, because he, Moh-Kwa, owed Strongarm for many fish an’ would now pay him.
Moh-Kwa went to the Big Medicine Elk.
“Where is the Strongarm?” said Moh-Kwa.
“He runs in the hills an’ is an elk,” said the Big Medicine Elk. “He killed my people for their teeth, an’ a great fright was on all my people because of the Strongarm. The mothers dare not go down to the river’s edge to drink, an’ their children had no time to grow fat for they were ever looking to meet the Strongarm. Now he is an elk an’ my people will have peace; the mothers will drink an’ their babies be fat an’ big, being no more chased by the Strongarm.”
Then Moh-Kwa thought an’ thought, an’ at last he said to the Big Medicine Elk:
“That is all proud talk. But I must have the Strongarm back, for he catches my fish.”
But the Big Medicine Elk said he would not give Moh-Kwa back the Strongarm.
“Why should I?” asked the Big Medicine Elk. “Did not I save you in the Yellowstone,” said Moh-Kwa, “when as you swam the river a drifting tree caught in your antlers an’ held down your head to drown you? An’ did you not bawl to me who searched for berries on the bank; an’ did I not swim to you an’ save you from the tree?” Still the Big Medicine Elk shook his antlers.
“What you say is of another day. You saved me an’ that is ended. I will not give you back the Strongarm for that. One does not drink the water that is gone by.”
Moh-Kwa then grew so angry his eyes burned red like fire, an’ he threatened to kill the Big-Medicine Elk. But the Big Medicine Elk laughed like the fish laughed, for he said he could not be killed by any who lived on the land.
“Then we will go to the water,” said Moh-Kwa; an’ with that he took the Big Medicine Elk in his great hairy arms an’ carried him kicking an’ struggling to the Yellowstone; for Moh-Kwa could hold the Big Medicine Elk though he could not hurt him.
When Moh-Kwa had carried the Big Medicine Elk to the river, he sat down on the bank an’ waited with the Big Medicine Elk in his arms until a tree came floating down. Then Moh-Kwa swam with the Big Medicine Elk to the tree an’ tangled the branches in the antlers of the Big Medicine Elk so that he was fast with his nose under the water an’ was sure to drown.
“Now you are as you were when I helped you,” said Moh-Kwa.
An’ the Catfish people in the river came with joy an’ bit the legs of the Big Medicine Elk, an’ said, “Thank you, Moh-Kwa; you do well to bring us food now an’ then since you eat so many fish.”
As Moh-Kwa turned to swim again to the bank, he said over his shoulder to the Big Medicine Elk:
“Now you may sing your death song, for Pauguk, the Death, is in the river with you an’ those are Pauguk’s catfish which gnaw your legs.”
At this the Big Medicine Elk said between his cries of grief an’ fear that if Moh-Kwa would save him out of the river, he would tell him how to have the Strongarm back. So Moh-Kwa went again an’ freed the Big Medicine Elk from the tree an’ carried him to the bank, while the Catfish people followed, angrily crying:
“Is this fair, Moh-Kwa? Do you give an’ then do you take away? Moh-Kwa! you are a Pawnee!”
When the Big Medicine Elk had got his breath an’ wiped the tears from his eyes, he told Moh-Kwa that the only way to bring the Strongarm back to be a hunter from being one of the hunted was for Feather-foot, his son, to cut his throat; an’ for the Blossom, his squaw, to burn his elk-body with cedar boughs.
“An’ why his son, the Feather-foot?” asked Moh-Kwa.
“Because the Feather-foot owes the Strongarm a life,” replied the Big Medicine Elk. “Is not Strongarm the Feather-foot’s father an’ does not the son owe the father his life?”
Moh-Kwa saw this was true talk, so he let the Big Medicine Elk go free.
“I will even promise that the Strongarm,” said Moh-Kwa, as the two parted, “when again he is a Sioux on two legs, shall never hunt the Elk people.”
But the Big Medicine Elk, who was licking his fetlocks where the Catfish people had hurt the skin, shook his antlers an’ replied:
“It is not needed. The Strongarm has been one of the Elk people an’ will feel he is their brother an’ will not hurt them.”
Moh-Kwa found it a hard task to capture Strongarm when now he was an elk with the elk-fear in his heart. For Strongarm had already learned the elk’s warning which is taught by all the Elk people, an’ which says:
Look up for danger and look down for gain;
Believe no wolf’s word, and avoid the plain.
Strongarm would look down for the grass with one eye, while he kept an eye up among the branches or along the sides of the canyon for fear of mountain lions. An’ he stuck close in among the hills, an’ would not go out on the plains where the wolves lived; an’ he wouldn’t talk with a wolf or listen to his words.
But Strongarm, while he ran an’ hid from Moh-Kwa and the others, was not afraid of the Blossom, who was his squaw, but would come to her gladly if he might find her alone among the trees.
“It is not the first time,” said the Wise Bear, “that the hunter has made his trap of love.”
With that he told the Blossom to go into the hills an’ call Strongarm to her with her love. Then she was to bind his feet so that he might not get away an’ run.
The Blossom called Strongarm an’ he came; but he was fearful an’ suspicious an’ his nose an’ his ears an’ his eyes kept guard until the Blossom put her hand on his neck; an’ then Strongarm’s great love for the Blossom smothered out his caution as one might smother a fire with a robe; an’ the Blossom tied all his feet with thongs an’ bound his eyes with her blanket so that Strongarm might not see an’ be afraid.
Then came Feather-foot, gladly, an’ cut Strong-arm’s throat with his knife; for Feather-foot did not know he killed his father—for that was a secret thing with Moh-Kwa an’ the Blossom—an’ thought only how he killed a great Elk.
When Strongarm was dead, Moh-Kwa toiled throughout the day carrying up the big cedar; an’ when a pile like a hill was made, Moh-Kwa put Strongarm’s elk-body on its top, an’ brought fire from his house in the rocks, an’ made a great burning.
In the morning, the Blossom who had stayed with Moh-Kwa through the night while the fire burned, said, “Now, although the big elk is gone into ashes, I do not yet see the Strongarm.” But Moh-Kwa said, “You will find him asleep in the lodge.” An’ that was a true word, for when Moh-Kwa an’ the Blossom went to the lodge, there they found Strongarm whole an’ good an’ as sound asleep as a tree at midnight.
Outside the lodge they met the little Feather-foot who cried, “Where is the big elk, Moh-Kwa, that I killed?” An’ the Blossom showed him his father, Strongarm, where he slept, an’ said, “There is your big elk, Feather-foot; an’ this will ever be your best hunting for it found you your father again.”
When Moh-Kwa saw that everything was settled an’ well, an’ that he would now have always his regular fish, he wiped the sweat out of his eyes with his paws which were all singed fur an’ ashes, an’ said, “I am the weariest bear along the whole length of the Yellowstone, for I carried some heavy trees an’ have worked hard. Now I will sleep an’ rest.”
An’ with that Moh-Kwa lay down an’ snored an’ slept four days; then he arose an’ eat up the countless fish which Strongarm had speared to be ready for him. This done, Moh-Kwa lighted his pipe of kinnikinick, an’ softly rubbing his stomach where the fish were, said: “Fish give Moh-Kwa a good heart.”
“Now that is what I call a pretty story,” said the Jolly Doctor.
“It is that,” observed the Red Nosed Gentleman, with emphasis. “And I’ve no doubt the Strongarm made it a point thereafter to be careful as to what game he hunted. But, leaving fable for fact, my friend,”—the Red Nosed Gentleman addressed now the Sour Gentleman—“would you not call it your turn to uplift the spirits of this company? We have just enough time and I just enough burgundy for one more story before we go to bed.”
“While our friend, the Sioux Gentleman,” responded the Sour Gentleman, “was unfolding his interesting fable, my thoughts—albeit I listened to him and lost never a word—were to the rear with the old days which came on the back of that catastrophe of tobacco. They come to me most clearly as I sit here smoking and listening, and with your permission I’ll relate the story of The Smuggled Silk.”
