American Indian Trickster Tales (Myths and Legends) (21 page)

“Is that so?” said Hehaka.

“Mi lekshi,
uncle of mine, you have the power, you can do anything. Make me like yourself; let me join your tribe.”

“I have heard about you. They are saying bad things about you. You have a very bad reputation.”

“It’s just mean gossip, uncle, you know how people are. They are always bad-mouthing me because of my luck with women. They are just envious.”

“They also say that you are a sniveling coward.”

“Uncle, they are lying,” Iktomi protested. “I am a mighty warrior. I have taken many scalps in battle. I have earned eagle feathers. I am invincible!”

“Can you spy an enemy from far, far away?” asked Hehaka. “Can you discover buffalo and other game from a great distance?”

“My eyes are sharper then those of the eagle,” said Iktomi.

“Can you hear an enemy creeping stealthily up on our camp?”

“My sense of hearing is so keen,” said Iktomi, “I can hear a mouse walking from a hundred paces away.”

“Can you detect the scent of grizzlies, wolves, or cougars creeping up on our herd?”

“M
^y
sense of smell is so acute,” said Iktomi, “I could detect their odor from a mile away, even from upwind.”

“Well,” said Hehaka, “you might make a good member of our tribe.”

“Pilamaya,
thank you, uncle, but I would not like to join the Elk Nation in the puny shape I am in. Uncle, you are so very powerful, you can do anything you want. Please make me as big and tall as you are.”

“Well, all right,” said Hehaka, and he made Iktomi big and tall.

“And could you give me a handsome shiny coat like yours?”

“Well, all right, I’ll do it,” said Hehaka, and gave Iktomi a new coat.

“And, uncle, would you be so kind as to also give me a pair of mighty antlers?” Iktomi kept on begging.

“Well, all right,” said Hehaka, “but that’s enough. Don’t be greedy.” And so he gave Iktomi a pair of magnificent antlers.

Iktomi was capering and prancing about, showing off his new coat and antlers. “Is there anybody as handsome as I?” he crowed. “Is there anybody stronger and braver?” Already he assumed the pose and manners of a chief. Thus he joined Hehaka Oyate, the Elk Nation.

Some weeks later, as Iktomi was resting among his new relatives, a small twig from a tree fell upon him. He was seized by a panic: “Help! I’ve been hit by an arrow!” he screamed. “Enemies, hunters, cougars!” Then all the elk stampeded, with Iktomi way in front, leading the flight.

After a while the elk noticed that there were no hunters or predators in sight. “You scare easily,” they told Iktomi. “Don’t make false alarms.”

A day or two later they were all resting again. An acorn fell down upon Iktomi. “Help!” he screamed. “Enemies, hunters! I’ve been hit by a bullet!” Again the elk stampeded, with Iktomi far in front.

After running at top speed for a while, the elk discovered that they were all alone on the empty prairie. “Didn’t we tell you to give us no false warnings?” they scolded Iktomi.

Again, a few days later, as they all were walking slowly, grazing, wandering from one grassy spot to another, Iktomi was caught and scratched by some thorns. “Help, help!” he cried. “I’ve been cut by a knife! I’ve been torn apart by the fangs of wild wolves!”

“There are no hunters with knives here, and no wolves,” said the Hehaka Itancan, the Elk Chief. “Have we not told you to stop scaring us with your wild imaginings? You lied. You are not a mighty warrior.”

Again, a few days later, in the middle of the night, Iktomi awoke, hearing something rustling in the bushes. “Help, help!” Iktomi screeched. “Wake up! Enemies are coming! There must be hundreds of them!” The whole camp was in an uproar. Then, in the silvery light of a full moon, the elk discovered that it was only a little rabbit that had terrorized Iktomi.

The morning after, when Iktomi was out of earshot, the elk were whispering to each other. It had to do with Iktomi. That evening they camped and went to sleep. At sunrise, when Iktomi woke up, he found that he was all alone. The elk had gone, he knew not where. And he was no longer an elk. He was no longer big and tall. His antlers had disappeared. Once again he was the undersized, puny, hairy, pitiful Spider-Man. It was his own fault. He had cried “wolf” once too often.

{
Omaha
}

 

Iktinike was walking along. On his way he met Coyote. “My younger brother,” said Iktinike, “how are you doing?”

“Very well, honored elder brother,” replied Coyote. He pointed to a sleeping horse, lying on its side. “I found this dead pony. Friend, let us drag it to my place and have a big feast.”

“How can we drag it?” asked Iktinike. “It is too heavy for us.”

“Not at all, friend,” said Coyote. “I’ll tie your hands to its tail, then you pull. At the same time, I’ll pull on the hind legs.”

“Yes! Let’s try!”

Coyote tied Iktinike’s hands tightly to the horse’s tail. “Now pull!” cried Coyote. “Pull real hard, honored elder brother!”

Iktinike did and the horse jumped up. It wasn’t dead, after all. It stampeded. Galloping away at a dead run, the horse dragged Iktinike through thornbushes and shrubs wuth long, sharp spikes. Iktinike was all scratched up. He was bleeding. Still the horse ran on, kicking furiously with its hind legs in order to free itself, kicking Iktinike with his hooves so that he was badly bruised. Finally the length of rope that tied Iktinike’s hands to the horse’s tail broke, leaving Iktinike lying on the ground, hurt and panting. Coyote laughed, fit to burst, wiping tears of merriment from his eyes. Shaking with laughter, he walked off. He had succeeded in something he had wanted to do for a long time—playing a trick on Iktinike.

Limping away, Iktinike was thinking of revenge. He bided his time. Summer turned into fall, fall into winter. Iktinike was placing himself along a path often taken by Coyote. Iktinike was sitting there with a big fish by his side. Coyote was coming along. He saw Iktinike and took particular notice of the big fish. “Honored elder brother,” said Coyote, “where did you get such a fine, big fish?”

“My friend,” answered Iktinike, “come with me and I’ll show you.” Iktinike led Coyote to a nearby lake that was entirely covered with ice. “Here is where I get my fine big fish in the wintertime.”

“How, honored elder brother, how do you get them?”

With his tomahawk Iktinike chopped a hole in the ice. “Here, friend,” said Iktinike. “Drop your tail through this hole and the fish will come and bite,” said Iktinike. Coyote dipped his tail through the hole in the ice that Iktinike had made. “Just sit still and be patient,” Iktinike advised Coyote.

After a while, Coyote said: “Honored elder brother, I think a fish is biting.”

“It’s too early,” said Iktinike.

The ice was closing in on the hole. Coyote felt it pinching his tail. “Elder brother,” he cried, “I really feel them biting now!”

“Patience, friend,” Iktinike told him. “The big one is still to come. You don’t want to go home to your wife with a measly, small-sized fish.”

“Well, all right, I’ll wait a little longer,” said Coyote. The hole froze completely over. The ice pinched Coyote’s tail badly. It held him in its grip. “Oh! Oh!” cried Coyote. “A big fish is biting my tail. It is biting on it hard. It has sharp teeth.”

“Well, friend,” said Iktinike, “I think this time you got the big one. Pull him out! Pull hard!”

Coyote pulled and pulled, but he was stuck in the ice. He could not extricate his tail. “Help! Help, elder brother!” Coyote wailed. “The fish clamped its teeth so hard on my tail that I cannot get it out. Help!”

“Here, take hold of my hands,” said Iktinike. “We’ll both pull.” They pulled so hard, they tore Coyote’s tail off. It remained stuck in the ice. Only a short, bleeding little stump was left.

“Oh, it hurts!” Cried Coyote, rubbing his sore backside.

“Maybe you should have gone for a smaller fish,” said Iktinike.

“Oh, my beautiful tall Elder brother, you have done me wrong. You played an evil trick on me!”

“I’ve only done to you, friend, as you did to me,” said Iktinike, walking off laughing.

{
Rosebud Sioux
}

 

Iktomi, the tricky Spider-Man, was starving. There had been no game for a long time. Iktomi was just skin and bones. His empty stomach growled. He was desperate. Then it occurred-to him to go for help to Inyan, the Rock, who has great powers, and who might answer his prayers.

Iktomi wrapped himself in his blanket, because it was late in the year and cold. Then he went to a place where a large upright rock was standing. This rock was
lila wakan,
very sacred. Sometimes people came to pray to it.

When Iktomi arrived at that place he lifted up his hands to Inyan:
“Tunkashila, onshimalaye,
grandfather, have pity on me. I am hungry. If you do not help me, I will starve to death. I need meat, grandfather.”

Iktomi took his blanket from his shoulder and draped it around Inyan. “Here, grandfather,
tunkashila,
accept this gift. It is the only thing I have to give. It will keep you warm. Please let me find something good to eat.”

After praying to Inyan for a long time, Iktomi went off to search for food. He had a feeling Inyan would answer his prayers, and he was right. Iktomi had not gone very far when he came upon a freshly killed deer. It had an arrow piercing its neck, the feathered nock sticking out on one side of the neck and the arrowhead on the other.

“Ohan,
said Iktomi, ”the deer has been able to run for a distance after being hit and the hunter has lost it. Inyan has arranged it that way. Well, that is only fair. Did I not give him my blanket? Well, anyhow,
pilamaya, tunkashila
—thank you, grandfather!“