So here is the tale as it’s told! THERE were several stories, each supposed to be a true account, of how Cho-gay, the lone Indian boy, came to live among the Black Hills of Timbertangle, a wild, secluded country, where no other man-animal ever had lived.
Probably Kaw, the crow, alone knew the truth. That wise old bird, who seemed to know almost everything, had told the animals how, several summers before, he had seen a curious brown spot floating down one of the flood-swollen streams, clinging to a mass of brush. Upon investigation, the spot had proven to be a small Indian man-child and, when the brush had caught to a branch overhanging the stream from the shore, the little creature had finally crawled to land. From that day to this, Cho-gay had lived in Timbertangle, seeming to be as much at home among the animals as he could have been among his own people.
Where he had come from no one knew, but he was accepted on friendly terms by all—except the gray-wolf pack. He was looked upon as having strange power, that was, somehow, greater even than the power of tooth and claw, for his hands did many things that clumsy beaks and paws could not do.
Before the coming of Cho-gay, Kil-fang, the leader of the gray-wolf pack, had been the feared and despised ruler of the Black Hills, but Cho-gay had one day put secret fear into his heart. The wolf saw a strange deep look in the eyes of the Indian boy that he greatly disliked and could not understand. Twice had Kil-fang tried to make Cho-gay understand that he alone must rule among all the animal people of the hills, but each time Cho-gay had looked him in the eyes with that strange, steady gaze, and had walked slowly toward him until the wolf had lost power to do anything but slink back, and back, and finally turn away. Thereupon this man-child had grunted and had made a quick snapping noise with his fingers, which somehow seemed to mean that he, and not Kil-fang, was the one with power to lead.
All this pleased the other animals greatly, for they loved Cho-gay, because they had learned that he was just, and they despised the great wolf, because he thought of nothing but to kill and eat. And now all knew that Kil-fang had found one who did not fear him—one who had greater power—and all knew that this meant that the wolf must leave the Black Hills with his pack or lose all power over it.
So, with jealous rage in his heart, Kil-fang had taken his followers into the north, vowing that he would return with a mightier pack, that would eat up the thin-skinned Cho-gay, and all others who might be so foolish as to dispute his power, or stand in the way of the wolf-pack.
Two winters had passed and, with these years of added strength and experience, the Indian boy had established a kind of rule and order among the animal people of the hills.
One morning, in the short sunny days of the fall, Cho-gay squatted on a flat-topped rock near the entrance to his cave—a snug little hole at the base of a mountain—and scraped the fat from a fresh bobcat pelt with a sharp flint knife. As he labored he mumbled under his breath as if addressing the skin:
“I wouldn’t have killed you, old Short-tail, but the cold of the white frost comes soon, and the warm skin must be changed from your back to mine. Now that you have gone dead, you have no need of it, but as I am alive I can use it with much good. You were filled with the long years of much living, for I find very little fat on your skin, and you could have hunted not much longer—one more season, maybe. But I, I am young. Kaw says that no more than twelve winters have gone since I came to life, and I am filled with strength to hunt, and it may be I will have to fight, if the evil Kil-fang and his miserable pack come from the north to keep the vow Kil-fang has made. But Kil-fang is all growl, and is filled with much bragging talk; in his heart is fear, and it is fear of Cho-gay.”
As a small black shadow flashed across the rock beside him, Cho-gay looked up in time to see a large black crow alight on the limb of an old juniper tree that stood near by. From this perch the bird looked down on the man-child, nodding gravely.
Cho-gay scraped the pelt of a bobcat with a knife“Welcome, Brother Kaw,” said the boy. “Many days have passed since you and I have met.”Kaw made no immediate reply, but looked steadily at the bobcat skin. Then, in a deep, serious voice, he said:
“So this is the end of old Short-tail—the most noble bobcat that ever robbed a grouse’s nest or gobbled up young crows. And Cho-gay, the friend of all animals, the leader of Timbertangle, has slain him.”
Although the Indian boy detected a teasing note in Kaw’s voice, the reference to his friendship for all animals produced an unhappy feeling within him, and rising to his full height on the rock he replied:
“The cold of winter comes; Cho-gay must have covering for warmth. There was no anger in my heart for old Short-tail. He was both old and lame, and is it not wiser that I have his skin for good use than that it should be in the greedy stomach of Yap-kii the coyote? Soon he, or one of his family, would have hunted him down and eaten him.”
“Yes,” said Kaw, solemnly, “what you say may be true, but he was such a good friend of all birds. He would do most anything for them. How he loved them!” Then in a sad voice he sang:
“Oh, here lies the skin of old Bobtail, the cat;
Our loving old friend is no more.
When I think of his life, it surprises me that
Someone didn’t kill him before!”
At this Cho-gay grinned, for he had half-feared that beneath the mock sadness of his friend was a rebuke for what he had done.
“To kill only where there is great need is an old law of the hills. This you taught me yourself when I was yet very little, and I do not break the law,” said Cho-gay.
As he squatted down again to resume his work, a soft pad, pad of broad feet was heard coming down the trail that led along the mountain side, and Kaw remarked, “Here comes our friend Wongo, the bear. I’ll wager that curiosity or hunger brings him here, for he always is filled with curiosity, even when empty of food.”
Cho-gay looked over his shoulder as the little bear came up, and called out, “Welcome, brother Wongo! Had you come sooner you would have heard a good rhyming talk from the mouth of our friend Kaw. It may be that he will again say it.”
“Welcome, Brother Kaw,” said Cho-gay“If the rhyming talk was the kind he makes about me, I don’t think I missed much,” said the little bear crossly. Then, as he seated himself on the rock, he caught sight of the bobcat skin, and with eyes wide with wonder he exclaimed:“Who is it that leaves his hide for another to use? Did you kill him in a fair fight, or in a trap? Was he—”
But the voice of Kaw broke in before the last question was finished:
“Did you? Was he? Oh what and who?
How very inquisitive are we.
Oh, we must know all about all that you do,
For we’re curious as curious can be.”
“Well, if that’s the kind of silly talk you were making before I came, I’m glad I did not hear it,” said Wongo.
“It’s too bad you can’t appreciate the work of a real poet,” said Kaw sadly, “but I suppose when one is hungry his judgment is affected.”
At a sudden noise, half bark and half whine, that came from a point a little above the cave’s entrance, Cho-gay rose, picked up a handful of the fat that had been scraped from the skin, and went up to a flat rock on the hillside. Moving the stone ever so little, he called out:
“Stop the noise, you little sharp-nosed thief! Your whining will bring all the fox family here to ask questions why I have shut you up. Here is all you get this day,” he added as he tossed the fat through the crack. “Many days will go before you are out. Twice you have been a thief, and this time you will be a long time behind the rock so that you will learn that it is not good to steal the dried meat from Cho-gay.”
Kaw and Wongo watched this performance with great interest, and the little bear wanted to ask many questions, but he feared the teasing remarks that would surely follow. As it turned out, he heard all that he wanted to know without asking.
After the fox had been silenced with the scraps of fat, two other prisoners were visited and fed; one an old mountain sheep, and the other a young bobcat. At the hole, or small cave, where the sheep was confined, the Indian boy spoke to his prisoner:
“Old Twisted-horns, three more days and you will again run over the hills as honest people run, but if you again steal corn from me your skin will become a covering for the floor in the cave of Cho-gay.” The old sheep made no reply, but ate what was given him in sullen silence.
At the prison of the bobcat the Indian boy peered in through the crack beside the slab of rock that served as a door, and then picked up a rope of stout buckskin that ran into the prison from the outside. As he pulled it there came an angry snarl from within.
“So!” exclaimed Cho-gay. “You are still filled with anger. I will not take the rope from your neck until you speak more softly. I know the hole is too small for you, but here you shall remain until old Twisted-horns is free. Then you will go into his house, but you shall not be free until Cho-gay has taught you to keep the laws of Timbertangle.”
As he returned to his work in front of his cave, the Indian boy remarked to his callers, “While Cho-gay lives in the Black Hills all thieves that are caught will be made to obey the law of the hills. There was great anger in Big-paw, the cat, when he caught himself in the rope trap, yet he was stealing meat from my cave when the rope went round his head. When I came he wanted to fight, but a twist and a quick pull, and Cho-gay had him without breath to snarl. Now he shall not go free until the hunger in his stomach has eaten up his anger. They that steal shall be punished. Is it not a just law, my brothers?”
“It is just,” said Kaw.
“Yes, it has the sound of being just,” said Wongo, “but when there is hunger and poor hunting, the hunter must have food.”At this remark, Kaw cocked his head on one side and looked keenly at the little bear. Then he said, “About an hour ago, while I was flying over the twin hills, I saw an aged mountain sheep who had been driven from the flock by the young rams.”
“Where was that?” asked Wongo eagerly, as he got to his feet.
“On the cliffs above the aspen trees, on the south side of the first hill,” said Kaw.
Scarcely were the last words of the crow spoken before the little bear was speeding away toward the place where Kaw had seen the sheep.
“I have sharp eyes,” said Cho-gay, addressing the crow, “but how is it that you have eyes that can see hunger in the stomach of a bear?”
“Have you not learned that hunger makes all of us cross? It is only when our friend Wongo is very hungry that he is cross, and we do not have to see crossness. We sometimes hear it. Hunger will not take the anger away from Big-paw, the cat. If you feed him and give him more room he will soon lose his anger,” continued Kaw, “and it is because he is a captive, and not because of hunger, that he will learn to be honest.”
“Your words have the sound of wisdom,” said the Indian boy, rising, “and I shall see if they are not true.”
Going up to the flat rock that covered the entrance to the prison of the old mountain sheep, he rolled it to one side. A moment later the astonished sheep leaped out and dashed away up the side of the mountain. Kaw watched this performance with keenest interest. Passing on to the prison of the bobcat, Cho-gay picked up the buckskin rope with one hand and drew his knife from his belt with the other. Then pulling the flat stone from the mouth of the hole he gave the rope a sudden pull. The bobcat came tumbling out, and before it could regain its feet it was dragged to the former prison of the mountain sheep, too dazed to realize what had happened before it was in new quarters and the stone door lifted into place.
“Very quickly and neatly done,” said Kaw, in admiration. Then he added in a low tone to himself, “Our friend Wongo should have good hunting to-day, for if he should miss the old sheep on the cliff, he will surely get old Twisted-horns, who is making for the same place.”
As the Indian boy returned to his cave to get food for the young bobcat, there arose the sound of many yapping voices from the sagebrush below.
“News! News for Brother Cho-gay!” came the voices. A thin, sharp-nosed coyote emerged from the edge of the sage and stood a little in the open, as though he feared to come nearer. Then the heads of three or four of his followers were poked from the brush, as though to lend support to their timid leader, and to see the great man-child to whom their remarks had been addressed.“News is of no use until it is told,” said Cho-gay. “Speak up, Brother Fearful. What is there to tell?”
“Is it not a law among us that if one makes a lie, and tells it against a brother, he shall be punished?” asked Fearful.
“It is a law,” replied Cho-gay. “Who is it that breaks the law?”
“It is Sandy, the red fox, who has made a great lie, saying that he has flown like an eagle from the valley to the top of Skull-top mountain, and that as he left the top to come down, a rock fell and rolled down to the valley. And that our old cousin, Rip, the outcast wolf, who is very brave, ran in great fear, believing that the mountain was tumbling down. So our cousin Rip is made a coward in the eyes of all, because of the lie.”
“Where is your cousin Rip that he does not come to accuse the fox?” asked Cho-gay.
“He and Sandy hunt together, and he is afraid to make Sandy angry. Why, we know not,” answered Fearful.
At the sound of a chuckle from the juniper tree, Cho-gay looked up to see Kaw shaking with laughter. Paying no heed to this, he again spoke to the coyote:
“All know that a fox cannot fly through the air to a mountain top. Go, bring this maker of lies to me and we shall hear his story from his own mouth.”
This order was evidently what the coyotes wanted, for they quickly vanished into the brush.
When they had gone, Kaw could scarce contain himself for mirth. Anticipating the scene that would follow when Sandy, the fox, faced Cho-gay, he hopped up and down as he sang:
“’Tis a funny old world, for often I see
The right of a thing turned about,
And when it occurs, then we say ‘it can’t be,’
Till proof makes it true without doubt.”
As the old crow spread his wings to depart, Cho-gay asked, “Does that rhyming talk mean that a fox might fly?”
“It might!” said Kaw from over his wing as he flew away.
IN THE afternoon of the day following the visit of the coyotes to the cave of Cho-gay, a dapper little red fox and a gaunt, one-eyed, old timber-wolf trotted over a narrow trail that led along the rim of a canyon.
They were Sandy, or Red-eagle Fox, as he loved to call himself, and Rip, the veteran outcast of a once great pack. Why this strange pair hunted together was a mystery to all but Kaw, the crow. He knew that it was because the conceited little fox, who never tired of boasting of his supposed skill as a hunter, felt it a great compliment to be permitted to hunt with a real wolf, and that old Rip endured the companionship of the boastful little fox for the simple reason that when game is to be found, two sharp, young eyes are better than one old one. In truth, the old wolf knew that his days of hunting alone were gone.
The alert little fox, filled with false pride and great vanity, formed a strange contrast to Rip, for even a casual observer would have noticed that the old wolf had passed a long way beyond the prime of life. Old Rip’s left eye had been lost in one of the numerous battles he had been called upon to fight, but the right eye still retained some of its former fire; a part of one ear was missing, but he could hear with it very well. As he ran, it could be seen that his joints were not just as limber as they once had been. His greatest characteristic was an insatiable appetite; he was always hungry. But, in spite of all this, he was a wolf, and that fact made him great in the eyes of Sandy, the fox.
While on hunting trips, the luck of this strange pair was a very uncertain thing, but usually the little fox managed to catch a rabbit or some birds, and old Rip was always careful to pay his partner some gruff compliment before devouring the larger portion of the game.
Secretly Kaw enjoyed the fox and wolf, as they afforded him many a quiet chuckle, of which they were ignorant. Because of his interest, Kaw frequently helped them to find game when hunting was poor, and the two learned to look upon him as a valued friend.
On this particular afternoon, the hunters were in no pleasant mood, for it was growing late and they had killed nothing since early morning but a small grouse, which did not satisfy their appetite for long.
Sandy, the fox, and Old Rip, the timber-wolfAs they stuck close to the trail, it was evident that, though hungry, they were on some business other than hunting.“How much farther is it to this bear’s den?” growled Rip, who was beginning to weary of the journey.
“Only a little way now,” replied the fox. “Soon we will go up the mountain side a short distance, and then we are there.”
The old wolf made no reply to this, but trotted doggedly along after his companion. Wishing to turn Rip’s thoughts to less tiresome things than trails and distances, the little fox asked, “How did you learn that Kil-fang and his pack are returning to the Black Hills?”
“I have ears, haven’t I?” growled Rip. “When there is news of a kill abroad, I hear of it, and there will be good hunting for many of us when the pack comes down the north canyon. All animals will run over the hills to the broad valley to get out of the way of Kil-fang, and it is there I shall be before them.”
“I also will be there,” remarked the fox, and each of these brave hunters had visions of the great number of rabbits, squirrels, and small animals that would swarm over the hills and into the valley to the east, as the wolf pack came through the canyon that opened into the Black Hill region on the north.
“When does the pack come?” asked the fox.
“Yap-kii, the coyote, gave me the news,” replied Rip, “and he says the pack now numbers more than fifty, and that they will come into the Black Hills when the moon is again at the full. I have no liking for this Cho-gay, but I have less for the strutting Kil-fang, and I shall howl the death howl with great happiness if the Indian man-child kills him and drives his boastful pack again into the north.”
“It is not many days from now that the moon is at the full,” said the fox, “no more than a dozen, at most. Does anyone but Yap-kii and you know about the coming of the pack?”
“No one,” replied Rip, “for he does not dare to tell Fearful and his brothers, as they talk too much, and the rabbits and squirrels have sharp ears.”
Suddenly a voice that came from the limb of a cottonwood tree above their heads called out:
“Two bold, brave hunters are we,
As all who will look can see.
To fight the fierce rabbit,
With us is a habit;
We fear nothing that’s smaller than we—
Let’s see—
We mean smaller and weaker than we!”
At the sound of Kaw’s voice, for it was he, the spirits of the two hungry hunters began to rise, for now there was hope of finding something to eat.
“Where are we going, so far from home, on so fine an afternoon?” inquired the crow. Then without waiting for a reply, he continued, “I’ll guess you are just out for a quiet stroll after eating a nice meal of fat mountain sheep and jack-rabbit.”
At the mention of such delicious food old Rip licked his chops, and the little fox squirmed uneasily. As usual he spoke for the two:
“We certainly would have had a fine meal if we had been on one of our regular hunting trips, for as you know I always bag my game, and there is no greater hunter than—”
“Then you have had poor hunting to-day?” broke in Kaw, who did not care to hear the boastful remarks that he knew the little fox was getting ready to make.
“Yes, that’s just it,” replied the little fox. “As I was saying, we are on our way to make an important call, and though we have come a great distance, there has been nothing good to eat within sight or sound of us since dawn.”
At that moment the keen eyes of the old crow caught sight of a short line of moving animals far back along the canyon rim, but though his eyes twinkled as he realized that Fearful and his brothers were trailing the little fox, to tell him of Cho-gay’s order, he said nothing to the two hunters, who were ignorant of the fact that they were being followed.
“Well,” said Kaw, “as I flew over the sage that is just around the point ahead of you, I saw a number of jack-rabbits that were headed up the mountain. If you cut in above the trail you will head them off!”
Instantly the two hunters sprang forward toward the place indicated, each trying to be first, and neither remembering to thank the old crow for the information he had given them.
“So they are making an important call,” said Kaw to himself, as he watched the odd pair loping away up the mountain side. “It’s quite plain who they are calling upon. I wonder what kind of a plot is in the wind now.” Then he looked back far down the canyon trail, where the small line of coyotes were slowly approaching, and chuckled to himself as he flew off over the mountain.
Less than half an hour later, Rip and Sandy had managed to kill two jack-rabbits, and were trotting along the well-worn little trail that led to the cave of Wongo, the bear. Suddenly the fox, who was in the lead, stopped beside some jack-oak bushes and spoke to his companion:
“You can wait here, friend Rip, while I talk to Wongo, for you see he must not know that you are in this plan of ours. If he learns that you are interested in the escape of the mountain sheep, or I should say in eating the sheep after it has escaped, he would tell Cho-gay. If this Indian man-child hears of it, you would never get the sheep, and my brother might not be set free in time to escape Kil-fang and his pack.”
“I keep my word,” replied Rip, who was in a better humor after the meal of the jack-rabbit. “But remember,” he added warningly, “I am to have the mountain sheep in return for telling you the news of Kil-fang and the pack. Go on; I’ll wait for you here.”
Sandy trotted up the trail, leaving his companion, who was glad enough to rest his weary bones after so long a journey.
A few minutes later the fox, after announcing his presence with a short bark, poked his head into the bear’s cave and called out, “A good evening to you, Brother Wongo. I hope I am not interrupting a nap.”
“No,” replied the little bear, who was suddenly curious to know why Sandy was so far from his own hunting grounds, “but I am just getting ready to take a walk into the canyon. What brings you to the cave of Wongo?”
“I have just been on one of my famous hunting trips,” replied Sandy. “I often make long journeys when in search of big game, for, as you may know, I am one of the greatest—”
“All right,” cut in Wongo, who had learned from Kaw about Sandy’s habit of boasting, “but what brings you here?”
“As I was just saying,” replied the fox, “I was passing this way, and thought I’d just drop in to see you, and perhaps ask a question or two that you might be able to answer.” Sandy looked anxiously at the little bear.
“Go on,” said Wongo, whose curiosity was growing.
“I have just heard that you visited the cave of Cho-gay, the man-child, yesterday, and it may be that you can tell me something about him. They say that he has many animals that he keeps as prisoners in little holes in the rocks near his cave, and that he does not let them out. Is it so?”
“He has only three animals,” replied Wongo, “and he keeps them shut up because they steal, and so have not kept the law. One is a mountain sheep, who stole his corn, another is a young bobcat, who stole or tried to steal dried meat from his cave, and the third is a fox who has twice stolen from him, but will not steal again very soon.”
The little fox remained silent for a few moments, not knowing just how to gain the real information he had come for, but just as the impatient Wongo was about to ask him to go on, he remarked, “All say that this Cho-gay knows all animal talk, that he can do strange things, and that he carries a long, sharp claw with which he can kill very quickly when he wishes to. Is it so?”
“That he can do strange things is true, and the thing you call a claw is a knife,” said Wongo, and he took on a superior air as he gave this information, for he was quite proud of his knowledge of Cho-gay.
“Could he kill the gray-wolf pack if it should come?” asked Sandy.
“That is a silly question,” replied Wongo. “No one could kill the pack single handed, unless he had as many heads and as many teeth as the pack, and of course we know that no such animal lives in Timbertangle.”
“Would Cho-gay shut me up if I went to tell him something he would like to hear?” inquired Sandy.
“No, if what you tell is true. But why not tell me, who knows him, and I can tell him for you,” suggested the little bear, whose curiosity was now thoroughly aroused.
“No,” replied Sandy, “I have reasons why I must tell him myself; I have valuable information to give him and—well, it may be that I will ask him for something in return.”
“Oh, very well,” said Wongo with pretended indifference. “I can’t see that the matter concerns me, so I will bid you good——”
“Yes, yes!” broke in the fox quickly, “It does concern you, as I want you to take me to this Cho-gay, for I have never seen him except from a great distance and—well, you could tell him who I am, you know, and that we are close friends, and about my reputation as a great——”
“Ho, ho!” grunted Wongo. “You mean that we are acquainted because we both happen to be friends of Kaw, the crow.”
“Just that,” said the fox, who wished to be very agreeable to the little bear. “By the way, did you happen to hear Cho-gay say just when he expected to free the mountain sheep and the fox?”
“Yes,” replied Wongo, who was anxious to show his caller that he knew a great deal about the doings of the ruler of the Black Hills, “I heard him say that the mountain sheep is to go free in three days, that’s the day after to-morrow, but the fox is to be kept for a long time, as he is a great thief and has twice broken the law.”
The little fox squirmed uneasily when the last statement was made, but his uneasiness escaped the notice of the bear.
“But what has all that to do with the great secret that you have to tell Cho-gay?” asked Wongo.
“You will learn all that if you will just agree to accompany me to his cave, and if you would—well, just tell him that I am Red-eagle Fox, the hunter.”
Wongo made no reply for some time, merely for the impressive effect his silence would have on his caller.
“Yes,” he said at length, “although it is a long, hard trip from here to Cho-gay’s cave, and I have no love for long trips, I can see no great reason why I should not do you the favor to accompany you. Then, too, Cho-gay may want my advice.”Before Sandy could make any reply to this, five silent gray figures suddenly appeared in a semi-circle behind him and Fearful, the coyote, spoke.
“Brother Sandy is wanted by our leader, the Indian man-child. There is a tale that our brother, the fox, has been telling and Cho-gay would hear it from his own mouth.”
At this announcement the little fox began to swell with pride, and all interest in Wongo vanished.
“Ah, it is well that you bring me word from our great leader, Brother Fearful.” Then turning to Wongo, “I will not need your company after all, Wongo, so I will bid you good-day.”
“Well, I will be glad to accompany you anyway,” said Wongo hastily, as he followed his caller out of the cave entrance, for he had no intention of missing the chance to learn what mysterious news Sandy had for Cho-gay.
“It will not be necessary now that he has sent for me,” replied Sandy.
“I fully intended to visit Cho-gay again very soon, anyway, Brother Sandy, and it suits me just as well to go along with you now. Of course,” added the little bear, “he will see no one until the sun is up, and we could not get to his cave much before dawn.”
“Brother Sandy is wanted,” said Fearful“Don’t trouble yourself about it,” said the fox coolly, “for I am sure he will not want any but very important members of Timbertangle to hear the news I have for him.” With this he started down the trail followed by the five coyotes.The little bear watched them depart and decided that he would be at the cave of Cho-gay before them. After he had given them time to get a good start down the trail, he ambled down the path thinking of all that had taken place and wondering what could be the great news that Sandy had to tell. So occupied was he with his thoughts, he did not notice a black object perched on the low limb of a tree near the trail, but he looked up as a voice sang out:
“Oh, here comes a bear; a pigeon-toed bear,
And that is as plain as can be.
He lives in a den, it’s really a pen,
And I’d much rather live in a tree;
That’s me!
It’s much nicer to live in a tree.
“Wherever he goes, he turns in his toes,
Except when he scratches and bites,
And it’s sad to relate, he’s often out late!
Oh, what does he do with his nights?
Just fights!
Yes, that’s what he does with his nights!”
“I don’t either,” growled Wongo, pretending to be angry at his old friend, “and my cave isn’t a pen either. But what could a squawking old crow know about caves?”
“I believe I smell a wolf,” said Kaw, changing the subject, and he stuck his beak in the air in imitation of animals who sniff for a scent.
“Yes,” said Wongo, as he too sniffed the air, “I hadn’t noticed it before, but I too smell a wolf. Sandy the fox just stopped at my cave a few minutes ago to ask me to take him to the cave of Cho-gay, but that old one-eyed partner of his was not with him.”
“No?” queried Kaw, with a chuckle. Then he cocked his head on one side and continued:
“Well, it’s just as I thought,
There’s a gay little plot;
It’ll be about something to eat,
And there’s some axe to grind,
As we’re sure to find;
No doubt in exchange for fresh meat.”
“What do you mean by all that string of words?” asked Wongo.
“Nothing, nothing very important,” replied Kaw. “We’ll soon see for ourselves. Did Fearful, the coyote, come to your cave while Sandy was there?”
“Yes, he did,” said Wongo. “There were four other coyotes with him, and they told Sandy that Cho-gay wanted to see him about some important matter. What’s it all about? Do you know?”
“I suspect I know something about it,” said Kaw, “but not enough to tell. When do Sandy and the coyotes and Rip, the wolf, go to see Cho-gay?”
“I don’t know about old Rip,” said Wongo, “but Sandy and the coyotes have started to-night and I am going too, but I expect to be there when they arrive.”
“Well, you can bet that the old wolf is trailing along after them. The old rascal was with Sandy to-day, and there is some good reason why they did not want you to know that he was around. Did the fox say anything about things they are planning to kill or eat?”
“No,” replied Wongo, “he only asked if I knew when Cho-gay intended to free old Twisted-horns, the mountain sheep, and the fox that are shut up in the rocks near Cho-gay’s cave.”
“What did you tell him?” asked Kaw.
“I told him that the sheep was to be free in three days, and the fox was to be kept prisoner for a long time, as he had twice broken the law.”
“By the way,” said Kaw, “I see from your good humor that you must have had good hunting yesterday. Did you find the old mountain sheep on the cliffs?”
“No, I didn’t find him on the cliffs, or near the aspen trees. But I got him. I must have passed him on the way up, for when I had given up hope of finding him, I turned back down the trail and near the bottom of the hills I ran right into him. He was coming up so fast he didn’t see me. Those young rams in his flock must be good at fighting to turn him out of the flock, for he didn’t look like any outcast.” And then the little bear couldn’t understand why Kaw should laugh so long and hard over such simple news.
“I am glad you found a sheep even if it wasn’t the one I sent you to get,” said the crow, at length, “and it was lucky for you that I induced Cho-gay to free Twisted-horns when he did.”
“Do you mean that I got the old sheep that Cho-gay had shut up in the rocks?” asked Wongo in great excitement.
“Well, it looks that way to me,” said Kaw. Then changing the subject abruptly, he said, “If you are to be at Cho-gay’s cave by sunrise you will want to amble along. I think I’ll be there, too, but I can sleep half the night first and then be there before the rest of you.”
As the little bear started down the trail Kaw flew along beside him for a little way and as he flew he sang:
“Mr. Wolf and a bobcat had a fight,
Down in the hollow where the timber grows thick;
In just one minute Mr. Wolf took flight—
He was in a hurry, and lookin’ quite sick!
“Yes, old Mr. Wolf he ran away,
With a scratched-up nose and a bunged-up eye.
And he’s scared of bobcats to this day,
And he shakes with fear when he hears one cry!”
LONG before the dawn of the following morning, Wongo settled himself behind a thick clump of bushes a short distance from Cho-gay’s cave and waited.
About the time the first streaks of dawn lighted the east, Sandy, followed by his escort of coyotes, which by this time had grown to include about all of the coyote family, trotted up through the sage below the flat rock and seated themselves in the clearing.
Wongo, who could see without being seen, had decided not to show himself, for, in fact, he did not care to have even a coyote know that mere curiosity had led him on the long night journey.
He looked all about him in the bushes and trees for Kaw, but if the old crow had arrived, he was too well hidden to be seen. Then he looked among the coyotes for old Rip, but he was not there. Had the little bear been in a position to see behind the rocks that stood above Cho-gay’s cave, he would have seen the wolf crouched behind one that stood above the little cave in which the old mountain sheep had been confined. The sheep had been kept in this hole long enough to leave a strong scent behind him, and Rip had no difficulty in locating the right spot.
“Here,” thought he, “I will remain until my partner, Sandy, gets Cho-gay into the cave to hear the secret news, and then a strong push will upset the flat rock that imprisons the sheep, and the rest will be easy and satisfying.”
The greedy old wolf licked his great chops, as he thought of the juicy taste of fresh mutton, and could hardly wait for the time when the Indian man-child would come out and invite Sandy into the cave. Surely this would be a great day for Rip and the fox. As for the coyotes, they were nothing, and they knew enough to give their great cousin a wide berth until he permitted them to come and gnaw on the sheep bones that he might leave for them.
Just as the sun peeped over the hills, Cho-gay came out of his cave and yawned as he stretched his arms over his head. Sandy, who had never taken his eyes from the cave entrance since he arrived, mistook the upraised arms for a signal for him to approach and he trotted boldly up to the flat rock.“A good-morning to you, Brother Cho-gay. I am here to know what you would like to hear from the mouth of Red-eagle Fox, the hunter.”
Cho-gay, who was never in very good humor before breakfast, stared at his caller and then at the row of coyotes seated in the clearing below.
“So you are the rascal who they say is a maker of lies. We will have ears for your strange story when I have had food,” said Cho-gay as he returned to his cave.
This remark had the effect of a dash of cold water on the boastful little Sandy, and the row of grins that faced him from the escort below did not add to his comfort. But he turned his back on them and waited as patiently as he could for the reappearance of Cho-gay.
A few minutes later the Indian boy came out and, seating himself on the flat rock, commanded the now timid Sandy to tell his story about flying like an eagle to the top of Skull-top mountain.
Although he had rehearsed the story again and again during his journey to the cave, the little fox now told it in such a halting manner that Cho-gay, Wongo and the coyotes were very certain that it was untrue.
“You would have us believe,” said Cho-gay, “that you flew through—”“That I jumped into the air,” corrected Sandy, “from the sage of the valley and did not light until I reached the highest cliffs on Skull-top mountain. And while I was up there, where no fox had ever been before, a big rock rolled down and when Rip, my hunting partner, heard it he ran in great fear up the valley, shouting ‘The mountain is falling! The mountain is falling!’”
“You have no wings and can jump but a little way,” said Cho-gay, “so it is plain to all that your words are not true.” Then he called out to the coyotes below, “You have heard the words of the fox. Are they true?”
“No—No—No!—They are lies!” came the replies.
Then to the surprise of all present, a loud, “Yes! They are true!” came from the top of the old juniper tree and Kaw flew down to a bush beside the flat rock.
At this the eyes of Cho-gay went wide in surprise and Wongo, the bear, forgetting that he had been hiding, raised up with a grunt of amazement. Both the Indian boy and the little bear had known Kaw a long, long time and neither had ever doubted his honesty.
Wongo, now that all knew he was there, came forward a bit sheepishly, but the others were too surprised at the crow’s remark to consider him.
“Do you make a joke, Brother Kaw?” asked Cho-gay.
“No,” replied the crow, “the funniest part of Sandy’s story is that it is all true.”
“I think I must go now,” said the little fox, who seemed to have been made very nervous by the unexpected appearance of the crow. “Brother Kaw, could I see you privately for a minute before I go?”
“No one shall leave until this matter is settled,” said Cho-gay, as he rose to his feet. “Our Brother Kaw says the words of the fox are true; let us hear why he says so.”
“You do not doubt the word of Kaw,” cried Sandy desperately. “Why should he tell—”
“Let Brother Kaw tell! Let him tell! Let him tell!” came the voices of the coyotes.
“Let us hear the proof, Brother Kaw,” added Wongo.
“Our ears are waiting for the proof,” said Cho-gay, as he folded his arms commandingly.
No word or act of the situation had escaped the old crow and he was enjoying himself more than he had for many a day. Clearing his croaking voice, he began:
“It was this way, for our Brother Sandy did pass through the air just as he has said. One evening I saw Sandy and Rip coming down through the sage valley on the other side of Skull-top mountain. I could see that they were tired and hungry and I said to myself, ‘I shall tell them where to find good hunting.’ I flew over to a tree under which they would pass and as they came beneath it I called out:
“‘To the fierce and the strong, we two belong;
That’s why we’re fat and merry.
Oh, we’re out for game that’s strong or lame,
And we always get our quarry!
“‘So give us meat that’s good to eat,
Or we’ll fill you all with terror!
We’re out to kill, and that we will,
If it takes us two together!’
“Then when they had stopped I said, ‘Down the valley a little way are some nice fat rabbits and what is still better, there are some nice, big rabbit-hawks circling around just above where they are hiding in the sage.’
“‘Fine,’ said Sandy. ‘We can catch rabbits but how could we catch a hawk?’
“‘That is easy,’ said I, for I have no use for hawks. ‘Come along and I will show you.’ When we got almost to the sagebrush where I had seen the rabbits, I said, ‘Now, Sandy. Go and catch a fat rabbit, but do not eat it.’ Rip growled at such instruction, but I told him to wait and that if they followed my instructions they would have both hawk and rabbit. Then they both sat quiet while I told them what to do.
“‘When you have killed a rabbit,’ said I, ‘drag him to the edge of the sage and lay him down in the open near a sagebrush. Then crouch down beside the brush ready to spring. In no time, as you both know, a hawk will see Mr. Rabbit and make a dive for him. Rip can hide here in the jack-oak bushes to wait for you and I will fly to the top of the tall pinyon tree where I can signal to you when to jump. When I see a hawk about to swoop down for the dead rabbit I will give a loud caw. Then jump for Mr. Hawk and you’ll have both hawk and rabbit.’
“‘Fine! Fine!’ said both of the hunters, and it was not long before Sandy—who is really a wonderful hunter—had a rabbit and laid it out beside a big sagebrush just as I had directed him to do. Then as I watched with great joy for the coming of a hawk, there came a sudden black shadow from out of the blue sky above and I almost fell off the limb as I recognized old Baldy, the eagle, swooping down on the rabbit. I gave one loud scream to warn Sandy, but he mistook my scream for the signal to jump and a moment later the claws of Baldy had closed on the hide of Sandy instead of the rabbit. And away he flew to his nest at the top of Skull-top mountain. I don’t think that Baldy knew that he had missed the rabbit and caught a fox until he let Sandy fall beside his nest on the cliffs. In the meantime old Rip had eaten the rabbit and run up to the foot of the mountain to see if Sandy would come back.
“When Sandy found himself free from the claws of the surprised Baldy, he ran behind a rock where the eagle could not reach him and as I flew up the mountain I could see old Baldy scolding and screaming around the rock, and the bushy tail of Sandy sticking out from behind it.
“Baldy was too angry and excited to notice me and, as it was my advice that had gotten Sandy into his plight, I flew along looking for help. On a trail a short distance from Baldy’s nest I found old Grayhead, the bear, and I asked him to go up and keep Baldy away from the rock so that Sandy could run for cover.
“Grayhead did as I told him and in the mix-up the old bear rolled the stone down the mountain side to scare Baldy. Well, the stone scared someone else more than it did Baldy, for as it rattled over the rocks and sand I saw Old Rip, the wolf, with his ears laid back and his tail between his legs, dashing madly across the valley in a cloud of dust. I had to fly like sixty to get near him. I shouted to him to stop and that there was no danger, but the louder I called the faster he ran. I stopped when I saw it was no use trying to keep up and the last I saw of him he was running across the third valley and still going like the wind!”
As Kaw ended his story, and the loud laughter of Wongo, the coyotes and Cho-gay had died down, the Indian boy spoke:
“Brothers, the words of our Brother Sandy are then true, and though he did not tell us how he flew to the mountain top, he made no lie.”
As the laugh seemed to have turned on old Rip instead of himself, the little fox felt more at ease. Then, suddenly remembering that he had important news for Cho-gay, he hastily arose and said:
“Brother Cho-gay, I had almost forgotten that I have very important news to tell you, and it may mean life or death to many of us. And,” he added nervously, as he glanced up toward the rocks above the cave’s entrance, “I must tell it to you alone. Can we go into your cave while I tell it?”
Rip meets Big-paw, the Bobcat“Yes,” spoke up Kaw, who now saw what none of the others but Sandy could see—that Rip lay hidden behind a certain rock on the hillside above. “Let Brother Sandy tell his great news privately, but let there be a witness. No doubt Wongo will do. The rest of us will wait outside, for it may be that strange things are about to happen.”“It is agreed,” said Cho-gay, addressing Kaw, “but why would you not be the witness?”
“I am not used to caves,” replied the crow, “but Wongo lives in one.”
Kaw’s remarks decided Cho-gay to hear the news of the little fox and he said,
“Come, Brother Wongo, we will learn what Brother Sandy has to say.”
Scarcely had the three reached the back of the cave, when there came the sound of a falling rock on the hillside above, and a moment later there arose a fearful noise of combat, of wolf howls, screeches, and the snarls of an angry cat.
Then out of a tumbling mixture of cat and wolf, old Rip scrambled to his feet and tore away like mad, and a moment later disappeared in a cloud of dust on the trail below.
When Cho-gay, Wongo, and Sandy ran out of the cave to learn the cause of the awful noise, the angry but triumphant young bobcat was loping away up the mountain.
Kaw, who alone knew what had happened, was laughing so hard he was unable to answer at once the many eager questions that were asked, but when he could speak, he said:
“Brother Rip has just had a little surprise party. It seems that on his way to our gathering he must have accidentally upset the stone that stood over the entrance to the cave that housed your prisoner, Big-paw, the bobcat. It may be that he mistook Big-paw for a sheep and jumped at him before he realized his mistake. Anyway, it was a mistake for poor old Rip, and for some reason he didn’t even stop to explain. And Big-paw has gone away mad, and I fear he will not come back.”
As they realized what had happened, both Wongo and Cho-gay laughed and the coyotes, who had gathered near, took up the laughter in a hundred “Ki—yi—yi’s” of mirth, but the meek smile on the face of Sandy was made with an effort, for he feared his next meeting with his old hunting partner would not be a pleasant one.
“But the news! The news!” exclaimed Kaw. “What is the news that Brother Sandy has told?”
“I didn’t have time to tell it,” said Sandy, “but now that—that is—I may as well tell it here,” he added lamely.
“The news is that Kil-fang and his pack of fifty wolves are coming from the north to kill Cho-gay!”
THE news that Kil-fang and his pack were returning to the Black Hills was a startling surprise for all who gathered about Sandy, but they showed no fear, for all knew how to keep out of the way of the pack and all had faith in the power of Cho-gay. Now they wanted to hear what he would say.
“Where do you get the news, and where is proof that it is true?” Cho-gay asked.
“Yap-kii, the coyote, got the news secretly from one of the coyotes that live in the north. He told Rip and Rip told me. They say that the pack will come through the north canyon when the moon is again full.”
“Where is Yap-kii?” asked Cho-gay, turning to the coyotes.
“Hunting,” said Fearful, who led the clan while Yap-kii was away. “He has said nothing to us about the coming of Kil-fang, but he has said that before the moon was again full we would all go over into the broad valley to the east, where there would soon be fine hunting.”
“That is proof enough for me,” said Kaw.
“Why is it proof?” asked Cho-gay.
“Yap-kii knows that with the coming of Kil-fang all small animals will run to get out of the way of the pack, and they will run eastward into the broad valley, as that is the easiest way out.”
“I believe the news must be true,” said Cho-gay, who placed great faith in the wisdom of his old friend Kaw.
“Is it good then that I brought the news to you?” asked Sandy timidly.
“It is good, and all people of the Black Hills will be glad that you have brought me the news,” said Cho-gay.
“Not all,” said Sandy. “For what will become of my brother that is kept shut up in the rocks?”
This surprising question puzzled Cho-gay and he scarcely knew how to reply.
“What do you say, brothers?” he asked. “Shall a thief who has twice stolen without cause be freed before he has been punished?”
“Kindness is greater than the law in this case,” said Kaw, “and Sandy has shown kindness to us all by bringing this news. It may be that the thief will be honest and steal no more.”“Free him,” advised Wongo.
“Free him! Free him!” echoed the coyotes.
At this Cho-gay, followed by Sandy, went up to the little cave of the imprisoned fox.
“Will you remember the law and steal no more if I set you free?” asked Cho-gay of his prisoner.
“Yes, I steal no more,” was the reply.
As Sandy and his brother trotted down the trail, Fearful and the remainder of his followers (for most of them had slipped away, one by one, to tell the great news to their friends) vanished into the sagebrush.
When Cho-gay had returned to the rock in front of the cave, Kaw asked, “What will you do about the coming of Kil-fang and his pack? The moon will be full again in fewer than a dozen days.”
“I shall kill him and all his pack,” said Cho-gay. “I will make many arrows and an extra bow, and I will have food and water in my cave to last until the wolves are all dead. I shall have big rocks at the door of my cave and I’ll shoot through the rocks, and cut with the knife all who try to enter.”
“All that might be very well,” said Kaw, slowly, “and you might kill them all. But Kil-fang with a dozen followers, and Kil-fang with a pack of fifty wolves of the north, are two different things. Why have a fight and kill and kill? Why should we let our old enemy return to our hills to scare all the game away? Why not have a little fun with him and give him such a scare that he and his pack will be glad to go back into the north and stay there?”
“That is easy to say, but how could it be done?” asked Cho-gay.
Wongo, who was for the first time having his ever-present curiosity satisfied without asking questions, looked confidently up at Kaw, for he knew, from past experience, that the wise old crow never suggested a thing unless he himself had thought of a way in which it could be carried out.
“Well,” said Kaw, “my plan would be this: You remember that this end of the north canyon, where it opens into the valley, is very narrow. Kil-fang will come through the canyon because it is the easiest way and the other end is wide and full of small game. We will get a number of bears to help you, and you can roll some big rocks down into the narrow place at this end, until there will be left only a space where one wolf can pass through at a time. That you can do to-morrow, so that any fresh earth that is torn up will look old and dry when the pack comes. Nothing will scare wolves or coyotes like a big noise, if they are not expecting it, so we will make a big drum.”
Wongo, Cho-gay and Kaw plan to scare Kil-fang“What is that?” asked Cho-gay.“It’s just the thing?” exclaimed Wongo, who remembered the drums used by the Indian men when old Grouch was captured.
“We’ll tell you what a drum is and how to make it,” replied Kaw. “Up the valley, a little way from here, is a nice piece of a hollow log lying beside the trail.”
“I remember it,” said Wongo.
“Can you roll it down here this afternoon?” asked Kaw.
“Yes, easily,” replied the little bear.
Then, turning to Cho-gay, Kaw continued:
“You will have to kill a young buck—which you will need for meat anyway—for you must have a fresh skin and one large enough to supply a piece of hide for each end of the log. When you kill the buck and Wongo brings the log I will be there to tell you how to finish the drum.
“When Kil-fang and his pack come down the canyon, he will be in the lead. It will be moonlight, for the pack will not travel in our country by day. We will have all the bears and coyotes we can get, hidden behind the big rocks that stand just this side of the narrow passage of the canyon, and it is there you can be stationed with the drum.
“We will let one of the biggest bears stand on the wall of the canyon just above the narrow passage with some big, round rocks, and after Kil-fang and three or four of the pack have passed through into the valley, the big bear can roll in enough rocks to fill the passage and separate the pack from their leader. Then we’ll all let loose the big noise and chase Mr. Kil-fang down the valley and over the mountains. A pack without a leader is easily confused and the noise we make will scare them out of their skins.”
“It all sounds as if it could be done,” said Cho-gay. “I will hunt for a buck this afternoon and if you are here to-morrow we can make this thing that makes the noise.”
“I will be here,” replied Kaw, “and as I also have much to do, if this plan is carried out, I will be going.”
With this parting remark, Kaw left his companions and flew away down the valley in search of old Rip. As he flew along he talked to himself:
“If I can get the old rascal to do what I tell him to, we’ll have more fun than a cat fight. First—I’ll find him some food and get him in a good humor. I’ll tell him that he’ll be looked upon as a hero by all, if he will join in my plan.” And he chuckled as he thought of it.
THE days that followed were busy ones for Kaw, Cho-gay, and Wongo, even though they had plenty of help. On the first night that the moon was full, a silent gathering of bears, crows, coyotes, and one wolf, hid themselves behind the rocks at the mouth of the canyon, and waited.
Presently a crow, who had been stationed far up in the canyon, flew down to tell Kaw that Kil-fang and his pack were coming.
Silently the old crow flew around among his helpers to give the final instructions. Then all waited.
It seemed hours before the pack were heard approaching the narrow passage. At last old Kil-fang, with three of his largest followers, trotted through the narrow pass.
Then came a sharp “Caw,” followed by the tumbling of rocks that separated the leader from his pack. There followed the most unearthly noise a wolf ever heard.
For a moment the great Kil-fang and his three companions seemed uncertain what to do, and too scared and confused to decide which way to run.
Then, with the booming of the drum, the growls of running bears, and yapping of coyotes, there came a great snow-white wolf, on whose back sat a black screeching object—a combination fearful to see.
This was too much for Kil-fang and his companions. With howls of terror, they fled down the valley in a panic, followed by a yelping, barking mob. But even the fleetest pursuers could not keep up with them, and soon Kil-fang and his followers disappeared in the moonlight.
Then the noise-makers ran up along the canyon rim to frighten the now leaderless pack. But though the crows flew low and the coyotes ran fast no trace of the wolves could be seen. They had vanished into the north, to return no more.
When the noise-makers had all gathered again in the moonlight, they chattered, yapped and laughed over the scattering of Kil-fang and his pack, and over the fearful appearance of old Rip, whom Cho-gay had skillfully painted with pipe-clay.
Their night’s work had been a complete success and all agreed that Kaw’s plan had been a great one and that, with the powers of Cho-gay and the wisdom of the old crow, they could now defeat all enemies who might attempt to disturb the happy state of the peaceful hills and valleys of Timbertangle.
As the joyous company prepared to depart for their dens, caves, and nests, Kaw flew up to the top of a near-by tree and after stretching his wings and shaking the dust from his feathers, he sang:
“Where, oh where, is the great wolf clan,
That came to fight and kill?
With cowardly hearts, in fear they ran;
I’ll bet they’re running still!”
“And so with all who brag and boast,
And try to rule by fear;
They’re always scared and frightened most
When no real danger’s near!”
“So let us live by justice and
Kill only when there’s need.
Then there’ll be peace in Black Hill land,
In place of fear and greed!”
