this is in the long time ago when the sun is younger an’ not so big an’ hot as now, an’ kwa-sind, the strong man, is a chief of the upper yellowstone sioux. it is on a day in the moon-of-the-first-frost an’ moh-kwa, the wise bear, is gathering black-berries an’ filling his mouth. as moh-kwa pulls the bush towards him, he pierces his paw with a great thorn so that it makes him howl an’ shout, for much is his rage an’ pain. moh-kwa cannot get the great thorn out; because moh-kwa’s claws while sharp an’ strong are not fingers to pull out a thorn; an’ the more moh-kwa bites his paw to get at the thorn, the further he pushes it in. at last moh-kwa sits growling an’ looking at the thorn an’ wondering what he is to do.

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while moh-kwa is wondering an’ growling, there comes walking shaw-shaw, the swallow, who is a young man of the sioux. the swallow has a good heart; but his spirit is light an’ his nature as easily blown about on each new wind as a dead leaf. so the sioux have no respect for the swallow but laugh when he comes among them, an’ some even call him shau-goh-dah-wah, the coward, for they do not look close, an’ mistake lightness for fear.

when the swallow came near, moh-kwa, still growling, held forth his paw an’ showed the swallow how the thorn was buried in the big pad so that he could not bite it out an’ only made it go deeper. an’ with that the swallow, who had a good heart, took moh-kwa’s big paw between his knees an’ pulled out the great thorn; for the swallow had fingers an’ not claws like moh-kwa, an’ the swallow’s fingers were deft an’ nimble to do any desired deed.

when moh-kwa felt the relief of that great thorn out of his paw, he was grateful to the swallow an’ thought to do him a favor.

“you are laughed at,” said moh-kwa to the swallow, “because your spirit is light as dead leaves an’ too much blown about like a tumbleweed wasting its seeds in foolish travelings to go nowhere for no purpose so that only it goes. your heart is good, but your work is of no consequence, an’ your name will win no respect; an’ with years you will be hated since you will do no great deeds. already men call you shau-goh-dah-wah, the coward. i am moh-kwa, the wise bear of the yellowstone, an’ i would do you a favor for taking my paw an’ the thorn apart. but i cannot change your nature; only pau-guk, the death, can do that; an’ no man may touch pau-guk an’ live. yet for a favor i will give you three gifts, which if you keep safe will make you rich an’ strong an’ happy; an’ all men will love you an’ no longer think to call you shau-goh-dah-wah, the coward.”

moh-kwa when he had ended this long talk, licked his paw where had been the great thorn, an’ now that the smart was gone an’ he could put his foot to the ground an’ not howl, he took the swallow an’ carried him to his house in the rocks. an’ moh-kwa gave the swallow a knife, a necklace of bear-claws, an’ a buffalo robe.

“while you carry the knife,” said moh-kwa, “all men will respect an’ fear you an’ the squaws will cherish you in their hearts. while you wear the bear-claws, you will be brave an’ strong, an’ whatever you want you will get. as for the skin of the buffalo, it is big medicine, an’ if you sit upon it an’ wish, it will carry you wherever you ask to go.”

besides the knife, the bear-claws an’ the big medicine robe, moh-kwa gave the swallow the thorn he had pulled from his foot, telling him to sew it in his moccasin, an’ when he was in trouble it would bring moh-kwa to him to be a help. also, moh-kwa warned the swallow to beware of a cunning squaw.

“for,” said moh-kwa, “your nature is light like dead leaves, an’ such as you seek ever to be a fool about a cunning squaw.”

when the swallow came again among the sioux he wore the knife an’ the bear-claws that moh-kwa had given him; an’ in his lodge he spread the big medicine robe. an’ because of the knife an’ the bear-claws, the warriors respected an’ feared him, an’ the squaws loved him in their hearts an’ followed where he went with their eyes. also, when he wanted anything, the swallow ever got it; an’ as he was swift an’ ready to want things, the swallow grew quickly rich among the sioux, an’ his lodge was full of robes an’ furs an’ weapons an’ new dresses of skins an’ feathers, while more than fifty ponies ate the grass about it.

now, this made kwa-sind, the strong man, angry in his soul’s soul; for kwa-sind was a mighty sioux, an’ had killed a pawnee for each of his fingers, an’ a blackfoot an’ a crow for each of his toes, an’ it made his breast sore to see the swallow, who had been also called shau-goh-dah-wah, the coward, thought higher among the sioux an’ be a richer man than himself. yet kwa-sind was afraid to kill the swallow lest the sioux who now sung the swallow’s praises should rise against him for revenge.

kwa-sind told his hate to wah-bee-noh, who was a medicine man an’ juggler, an’ agreed that he would give wah-bee-noh twenty ponies to make the swallow again as he was so that the sioux would laugh at him an’ call him shau-goh-dah-wah, the coward.

wah-bee-noh, the medicine man, was glad to hear the offer of kwa-sind, for he was a miser an’ thought only how he might add another pony to his herd. wah-bee-noh told kwa-sind he would surely do as he asked, an’ that the swallow within three moons would be despised among all the sioux.

wah-bee-noh went to his lodge an’ made his strongest medicine an’ called jee-bi, the spirit. an’ jee-bi, the spirit, told wah-bee-noh of the swallow’s knife an’ bear-claws an’ the medicine robe.

an’ now wah-bee-noh made a plan an’ gave it to his daughter who was called oh-pee-chee, the robin, to carry out; for the robin was full of craft an’ cunning, an’ moreover, beautiful among the young girls of the sioux.

the robin dressed herself until she was like the red bird; an’ then she walked up an’ down in front of the lodge of the swallow. an’ when the swallow saw her, his nature which was light as dead leaves at once became drawn to the robin, an’ the swallow laughed an’ made a place by his side for the robin to sit down. with that the robin came an’ sat by his side; an’ after a little she sang to him ewah-yeah, the sleep-song, an’ the swallow was overcome; his eyes closed an’ slumber settled down upon him like a night-fog.

then the robin stole the knife from its sheath an’ the bear-claws from about the neck of the swallow; but the medicine robe the robin could not get because the swallow was asleep upon it, an’ if she pulled it from beneath him he would wake up.

the robin took the knife an’ the bear-claws an’ carried them to wah-bee-noh, her father, who got twelve ponies from kwa-sind for them an’ added the ponies to his herd. an’ the heart of wah-bee-noh danced the miser’s dance of gain in his bosom from mere gladness; an’ because he would have eight more ponies from kwa-sind, he sent the robin back to steal the medicine robe when the swallow should wake up.

the robin went back, an’ finding the swallow still asleep on the medicine robe, lay down by his side; an’ soon she too fell asleep, for the robin was a very tired squaw since to be cunning an’ full of craft is hard work an’ soon wearies one.

when the swallow woke up he missed his knife an’ bear-claws. also, he remembered that moh-kwa had warned him for the lightness of his spirit to beware of a cunning squaw. when these thoughts came to the swallow, an’ seeing the robin still sleeping by his side, he knew well that she had stolen his knife an’ bear-claws.

now, the swallow fell into a great anger an’ thought an’ thought what he should do to make the robin return the knife an’ bear-claws she had stolen. without them the sioux would laugh at him an’ despise him as before, an’ many would again call him shau-goh-dah-wah, the coward, an’ the name bit into the swallow’s heart like a rattlesnake an’ poisoned it with much grief.

while the swallow thought an’ the robin still lay sleeping, a plan came to him; an’ with that, the swallow seeing he was with the robin lying on the medicine robe, sat up an’ wished that both himself an’ the robin were in a far land of rocks an’ sand where a great pack of wolves lived.

like the flash an’ the flight of an arrow, the swallow with the robin still asleep by his side, an’ with the medicine robe still beneath them on the ground, found himself in a desolate land of rocks an’ sands, an’ all about him came a band of wolves who yelped an’ showed their teeth with the hunger that gnawed their flanks.

because the wolves yelped, the robin waked up; an’ when she saw their white teeth shining with hunger she fell down from a big fear an’ cried an’ twisted one hand with the other, thinking pau-guk, the death, was on his way to get her. the robin wept an’ turned to the swallow an’ begged him to put her back before the lodge of wah-bee-noh, her father.

but the swallow, with the anger of him who is robbed, spoke hard words out of his mouth.

“give me back the knife an’ the bear-claws you have stolen. you are a bad squaw, full of cunning an’ very crafty; but here i shall keep you an’ feed you—legs an’ arms an’ head an’ body—to my wolf-friends who yelp an’ show their teeth out yonder, unless i have my knife an’ bear-claws again.”

this brought more fear on the robin, an’ she felt that the swallow’s words were as a shout for pau-guk, the death, to make haste an’ claim her; yet her cunning was not stampeded but stood firm in her heart.

the robin said that the swallow must give her time to grow calm an’ then she would find the knife an’ bear-claws for him. while the swallow waited, the robin still wept an’ sobbed for fear of the white teeth of the wolves who stood in a circle about them. but little by little, the crafty robin turned her sobs softly into ewah-yeah, the sleep-song; an’ soon slumber again tied the hands an’ feet an’ stole the eyes of the swallow.

now the robin did not hesitate. she tore the big medicine robe from beneath the swallow; throwing herself into its folds, the robin wished herself again before wah-bee-noh’s lodge, an’ with that the robe rushed with her away across the skies like the swoop of a hawk. the swallow was only awake in time to see the robin go out of sight like a bee hunting its hive.

now the swallow was so cast down with shame that he thought he would call pau-guk, the death, an’ give himself to the wolves who sat watching with their hungry eyes. but soon his heart came back, an’ his spirit which was light as dead leaves, stirred about hopefully in his bosom.

while he considered what he should now do, helpless an’ hungry, in this desolate stretch of rocks an’ sand an’ no water, the thorn which had been in moh-kwa’s paw pricked his foot where it lay sewed in his moccasin. with that the swallow wished he might only see the wise bear to tell him his troubles.

as the swallow made this wish, an’ as if to answer it, he saw moh-kwa coming across the rocks an’ the sand. when the wolves saw moh-kwa, they gave a last howl an’ ran for their hiding places.

moh-kwa himself said nothing when he came up, an’ the swallow spoke not for shame but lay quiet while moh-kwa took him by the belt which was about his middle an’ throwing him over his shoulder as if the swallow were a dead deer, galloped off like the wind for his own house.

when moh-kwa had reached his house, he gave the swallow a piece of buffalo meat to eat. then moh-kwa said:

“because you would be a fool over a beautiful squaw who was cunning, you have lost my three gifts that were your fortune an’ good fame. still, because you were only a fool, i will get them back for you. you must stay here, for you cannot help since your spirit is as light as dead leaves, an’ would not be steady for so long a trail an’ one which calls for so much care to follow.”

then moh-kwa went to the door of his house an’ called his three friends, sug-gee-mah, the mosquito, sub-bee-kah-shee, the spider, an’ wah-wah-tah-see, the firefly; an’ to these he said:

“because you are great warriors an’ fear nothing in your hearts i have called you.”

an’ at that, wah-wah-tah-see, an’ sub-bee-kah-shee, an’ sug-gee-mah stood very straight an’ high, for being little men it made them proud because so big a bear as moh-kwa had called them to be his help.

“to you, sub-bee-kah-shee,” said moh-kwa, turning to the spider, “i leave kwa-sind; to you, wah-wah-tah-see, the firefly, falls the honor of slaying wah-bee-noh, the bad medicine man; while unto you, sug-gee-mah descends the hardest task, for you must fight a great battle with nee-pah-win, the sleep.”

moh-kwa gave his orders to his three friends; an’ with that sub-bee-kah-shee, crept to the side of kwa-sind where he slept an’ bit him on the cheek; an’ kwa-sind turned first gray an’ then black with the spider’s venom, an’ then died in the hands of pau-guk, the death, who had followed the spider to kwa-sind’s lodge.

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while this was going forward, wah-wah-tah-see, the firefly, came as swift as wing could carry to the lodge where wah-bee-noh was asleep rolled up in a bear-skin. wah-bee-noh was happy, for with the big medicine robe which the robin had brought him, he already had bought the eight further ponies from kwa-sind an’ they then grazed in wah-bee-noh’s herd. as wah-bee-noh laughed in his sleep because he dreamed of the twenty ponies he had earned from kwa-sind, the firefly stooped an’ stung him inside his mouth. an’ so perished wah-bee-noh in a flame of fever, for the poison of wah-wah-tah-see, the firefly, burns one to death like live coals.

sug-gee-mah, the mosquito, found nee-pah-win, the sleep, holding the robin fast. but sug-gee-mah was stout, an’ he stooped an’ stung the sleep so hard he let go of the robin an’ stood up to fight.

all night an’ all day an’ all night, an’ yet many days an’ nights, did sug-gee-mah, the ‘bold mosquito, an’ nee-pah-win, the sleep, fight for the robin. an’ whenever nee-pah-win, the sleep, would take the robin in his arms, ‘sug-gee-mah, the mosquito, would strike him with his little lance. for many days an’ nights did sug-gee-mah, the mosquito, hold nee-pah-win, the sleep, at bay; an’ in the end the robin turned wild an’ crazy, for unless nee-pah-win, the sleep, takes each man an’ woman in his arms when the sun goes down it is as if they were bitten by the evil polecats who are rabid; an’ the men an’ women who are not held in the arms of nee-pah-win go mad an’ rave like starved wolves till they die. an’ thus it was with the robin. after many days an’ nights, pau-guk, the death, came for her also, an’ those three who had done evil to the swallow were punished.

moh-kwa, collecting the knife, the bear-claws an’ the big medicine robe from the lodge of kwa-sind, gave them to the swallow again. this time the swallow stood better guard, an’ no squaw, however cunning, might make a fool of him—though many tried—so he kept his knife, the bear-claws, an’ the big medicine robe these many years while he lived.

as for sub-bee-kah-shee, the spider, an’ wah-wah-tah-see, the firefly, an’ sug-gee-mah, the brave mosquito, moh-kwa, the wise bear, for a reward gave them an’ their countless squaws an’ papooses forever that fine swamp where apuk-wah, the bulrush, grows thick an’ green, an’ makes a best hunting grounds for the three little warriors who killed kwa-sind, wah-bee-noh, an’ the robin on that day when moh-kwa called them his enemies. an’ now when every man was at peace an’ happy, moh-kwa brought the sioux together an’ re-named the swallow “thorn-puller;” an’ by that name was he known till he died.

“how many are there of these sioux folk-lore tales?” asked the jolly doctor of sioux sam.

“how many leaves in june?” asked sioux sam. “if our great medicine”—so he called the jolly doctor—“were with the dakotahs, the old men an’ the squaws would tell him a fresh one for every fresh hour of his life. there is no end.”

while the jolly doctor was reflecting on this reply, the red nosed gentleman, raising his glass of burgundy to the sour gentleman who returned the compliment in whiskey, said:

“my respects to you, sir; and may we hope you will now give us that adventure of the german girl’s diamonds?”

“i shall have the utmost pleasure,” responded the sour gentleman. “you may not consider it of mighty value as a story, but perhaps as a chapter in former custom’s iniquity one may concede it a use.”