IKTOMI AND THE TURTLE
THE huntsman Patkasa (turtle) stood bent over a newly slain
deer.
The red-tipped arrow he drew from the wounded deer was unlike
the arrows in his own quiver. Another's stray shot had killed the
deer. Patkasa had hunted all the morning without so much as spying
an ordinary blackbird.
At last returning homeward, tired and heavy-hearted that he
had no meat for the hungry mouths in his wigwam, he walked slowly
with downcast eyes. Kind ghosts pitied the unhappy hunter and led
him to the newly slain deer, that his children should not cry for
food.
When Patkasa stumbled upon the deer in his path, he exclaimed:
"Good spirits have pushed me hither!"
Thus he leaned long over the gift of the friendly ghosts.
"How, my friend!" said a voice behind his ear, and a hand fell
on his shoulder. It was not a spirit this time. It was old
Iktomi.
"How, Iktomi!" answered Patkasa, still stooping over the deer.
"My friend, you are a skilled hunter," began Iktomi, smiling
a thin smile which spread from one ear to the other.
Suddenly raising up his head Patkasa's black eyes twinkled as
he asked: "Oh, you really say so?"
"Yes, my friend, you are a skillful fellow. Now let us have
a little contest. Let us see who can jump over the deer without
touching a hair on his hide," suggested Iktomi.
"Oh, I fear I cannot do it!" cried Patkasa, rubbing his
funny, thick palms together.
"Have no coward's doubt, Patkasa. I say you are a skillful
fellow who finds nothing hard to do." With these words Iktomi led
Patkasa a short distance away. In little puffs Patkasa laughed
uneasily.
"Now, you may jump first," said Iktomi.
Patkasa, with doubled fists, swung his fat arms to and fro,
all the while biting hard his under lip.
Just before the run and leap Iktomi put in: "Let the winner
have the deer to eat!"
It was too late now to say no. Patkasa was more afraid of
being called a coward than of losing the deer. "Ho-wo," he
replied, still working his short arms. At length he started off on
the run. So quick and small were his steps that he seemed to be
kicking the ground only. Then the leap! But Patkasa tripped upon
a stick and fell hard against the side of the deer.
"He-he-he!" exclaimed Iktomi, pretending disappointment that
his friend had fallen.
Lifting him to his feet, he said: "Now it is my turn to try
the high jump!" Hardly was the last word spoken than Iktomi gave
a leap high above the deer.
"The game is mine!" laughed he, patting the sullen Patkasa on
the back. "My friend, watch the deer while I go to bring my
children," said Iktomi, darting lightly through the tall grass.
Patkasa was always ready to believe the words of scheming
people and to do the little favors any one asked of him. However,
on this occasion, he did not answer "Yes, my friend." He realized
that Iktomi's flattering tongue had made him foolish.
He turned up his nose at Iktomi, now almost out of sight, as
much as to say: "Oh, no, Ikto; I do not hear your words!"
Soon there came a murmur of voices. The sound of laughter
grew louder and louder. All of a sudden it became hushed. Old
Iktomi led his young Iktomi brood to the place where he had left
the turtle, but it was vacant. Nowhere was there any sign of
Patkasa or the deer. Then the babes did howl!
"Be still!" said father Iktomi to his children. "I know where
Patkasa lives. Follow me. I shall take you to the turtle's
dwelling." He ran along a narrow footpath toward the creek near
by. Close upon his heels came his children with tear-streaked
faces.
"There!" said Iktomi in a loud whisper as he gathered his
little ones on the bank. "There is Patkasa broiling venison!
There is his teepee, and the savory fire is in his front yard!"
The young Iktomis stretched their necks and rolled their round
black eyes like newly hatched birds. They peered into the water.
"Now, I will cool Patkasa's fire. I shall bring you the
broiled venison. Watch closely. When you see the black coals rise
to the surface of the water, clap your hands and shout aloud, for
soon after that sign I shall return to you with some tender meat."
Thus saying Iktomi plunged into the creek. Splash! splash!
the water leaped upward into spray. Scarcely had it become leveled
and smooth than there bubbled up many black spots. The creek was
seething with the dancing of round black things.
"The cooled fire! The coals!" laughed the brood of Iktomis.
Clapping together their little hands, they chased one another along
the edge of the creek. They shouted and hooted with great glee.
"Ahas!" said a gruff voice across the water. It was Patkasa.
In a large willow tree leaning far over the water he sat upon a
large limb. On the very same branch was a bright burning fire over
which Patkasa broiled the venison. By this time the water was calm
again. No more danced those black spots on its surface, for they
were the toes of old Iktomi. He was drowned.
The Iktomi children hurried away from the creek, crying and
calling for their water-dead father.