Published on May 17, 2013 by Amy
No Buffalo ever lived in the Swah-netk’-qhu country. That was Coyote’s fault. If he had not been so foolish and greedy, the people beside the Swah-netk’-qhu would not have had to cross the Rockies to hunt the quas-peet-za (curled-hairs).
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This is the way it happened: Coyote was traveling over the plains beyond the big mountains. He came to a flat. There he found an old Buffalo skull. It was the skull of Buffalo Bull. Coyote always had been afraid of Buffalo Bull. He remembered the many times Bull Buffalo had scared him, and he laughed upon seeing the old skull there on the flat.
“Now I Will have some fun,” Coyote remarked. “I will have revenge for the times Buffalo made me run.”
He picked up the skull and threw it into the air; he kicked it and spat on it; he threw dust in the eye-sockets. He did these things many times, until he grew tired. Then he went his way. Soon he heard a rumbling behind him. He thought it was thunder, and he looked at the sky. The sky was clear. Thinking he must have imagined the sound, he walked on, singing. He heard the rumbling again, only much closer and louder. Turning around, he saw Buffalo Bull pounding along after him, chasing him. His old enemy had come to life!
Coyote ran, faster than he thought he could run, but Buffalo gained steadily. Soon Buffalo was right at his heels. Coyote felt his hot breath.
“Oh, Squas-tenk’, help me!” Coyote begged, and his power answered by putting three trees in front of him. They were there in the wink of an eye. Coyote jumped and caught a branch of the first tree and swung out of Buffalo’s way. Buffalo rammed the tree hard, and it shook as if in a strong wind. Then Buffalo chopped at the trunk with his horns, first with one horn and then the other. He chopped fast, and in a little while over went the tree, and with it went Coyote. But he was up and into the second tree before Buffalo Bull could reach him. Buffalo soon laid that tree low, but he was not quick enough to catch Coyote, who scrambled into the third and last tree.
“Buffalo, my friend, let me talk with you,” said Coyote, as his enemy hacked away at the tree’s trunk. “Let me smoke my pipe. I like the kinnikinnick. Let me smoke. Then I can die more content.”
“You may have time for one smoke,” grunted Bull Buffalo, resting from his chopping.
Coyote spoke to his medicine-power, and a pipe, loaded and lighted, was given to him. He puffed on it once and held out the pipe to Buffalo Bull.
“No, I will not smoke with you,” said that one. “You made fun of my bones. I have enough enemies without you. Young Buffalo is one of them. He killed me and stole all my fine herd.”
“My uncle,” said Coyote, “you need new horns. Let me make new horns for you. Then you can kill Young Buffalo. Those old horns are dull and worn.”
Bull Buffalo was pleased with that talk. He decided he did not want to kill Coyote. He told Coyote to get down out of the tree and make the new horns. Coyote jumped down and called to his power. It scolded him for getting into trouble, but it gave him a flint knife and a stump of pitchwood. From this stump Coyote carved a pair of fine heavy horns with sharp points. He gave them to Buffalo Bull. All Buffalo bulls have worn the same kind of horns since.
Buffalo Bull was very proud of his new horns. He liked their sharpness and weight and their pitch-black color. He tried them out on what was left of the pitchwood stump. He made one toss and the stump flew high in the air, and he forgave Coyote for his mischief. They became good friends right there. Coyote said he would go along with Buffalo Bull to find Young Buffalo.
They soon came upon Young Buffalo and the big herd he had won from Buffalo Bull. Young Buffalo laughed when he saw his old enemy, and he walked out to meet him. He did not know, of course, about the new horns. It was not much of a fight, that fight between Young Buffalo and Buffalo Bull. With the fine new horns, Buffalo Bull killed the other easily, and then he took back his herd, all his former wives and their children. He gave Coyote a young cow, the youngest cow, and he said: “Never kill her, Sin-ka-lip’! Take good care of her and she will supply you with meat forever. When you get hungry, just slice off some choice fat with a flint knife. Then rub ashes on the wound and the cut will heal at once.”
Coyote promised to remember that, and they parted. Coyote started back to his own country, and the cow followed. For a few suns he ate only the fat when he was hungry. But after awhile he became tired of eating fat, and he began to long for the sweet marrow-bones and the other good parts of the Buffalo. He smacked his lips at the thought of having some warm liver.
“Buffalo Bull will never know,” Coyote told himself, and he took his young cow down beside a creek and killed her. As he peeled off the hide, crows and magpies came from all directions. They settled on the carcass and picked at the meat. Coyote tried to chase them away, but there were too many of them. While he was chasing some, others returned and ate the meat. It was not long until they had devoured every bit of the meat.
“Well, I can get some good from the bones and marrow-fat,” Coyote remarked, and he built a fire to cook the bones. Then he saw an old woman walking toward him. She came up to the fire.
“Sin-ka-lip’,” she said, “you are a brave warrior, a great chief. Why should you do woman’s work! Let me cook the bones while you rest.”
Vain Coyote! He was flattered. He believed she spoke her true mind. He stretched out to rest and he fell asleep. In his sleep he had a bad dream. It awoke him, and he saw the old woman running away with the marrow fat and the boiled grease. He looked into the cooking basket. There was not a drop of soup left in it. He chased the old woman. He would punish her! But she could run, too, and she easily kept ahead of him. Every once in awhile she stopped and held up the marrow fat and shouted: “Sin-ka-lip’, do you want this!”
Finally Coyote gave up trying to catch her. He went back to get the bones. He thought he would boil them again. He found the bones scattered all around, so he gathered them up and put them into the cooking basket. Needing some more water to boil them in, he went to the creek for it, and when he got back, there were no bones in the basket! In place of the bones was a little pile of tree limbs!
Coyote thought he might be able to get another cow from Buffalo Bull, so he set out to find him. When he came to the herd, he was astonished to see the cow he had killed. She was there with the others! She refused to go with Coyote again, and Buffalo Bull would not give him another cow. Coyote had to return to his own country without a Buffalo.
That is why there never have been any Buffalo along the Swah-netk’-qhu.