The Black Lion Inn

by Alfred Henry Lewis

As the great Elk said this, Strongarm felt his head turn heavy with antlers, while his nose grew long an’ his mouth wide, an’ hair grew out of his skin like grass in the moon of new grass, an’ his hands an’ feet split into hoofs; an’ then Strong-arm stood on his four new hoofs an’ saw by his picture in the stream that he was an elk. Also the elk-fear curled up in his heart to keep him ever in alarm; an’ he snuffed the air an’ walked about timidly where before he was Strongarm and feared nothing.

Strongarm crept home to his lodge, but the Blossom did not know her husband; an’ Feather-foot, his little son, shot arrows at him; an’ as he ran from them, the hunters of his village came forth an’ chased him until Strongarm ran into the darkness of the next night as it came trailing up from the East, an’ the darkness was kind an’ covered him like a blanket an’ Strongarm was hid by it an’ saved.

When Strongarm did not come with the next sun to spear fish for Moh-Kwa, the Wise Bear went to Strongarm’s lodge to seek him for he thought that he was sick. An’ Moh-Kwa asked the Blossom where was Strongarm? An’ the Blossom said she did not know; that Strongarm chased the great Elk into the Pouch canyon an’ never came out again; an’ now a big Doubt had spread its blankets in her heart an’ would not leave, but was making a long camp, saying she was a widow. Then the Blossom wept; but Moh-Kwa told her to wait an’ he would see, because he, Moh-Kwa, owed Strongarm for many fish an’ would now pay him.

Moh-Kwa went to the Big Medicine Elk.

“Where is the Strongarm?” said Moh-Kwa.

“He runs in the hills an’ is an elk,” said the Big Medicine Elk. “He killed my people for their teeth, an’ a great fright was on all my people because of the Strongarm. The mothers dare not go down to the river’s edge to drink, an’ their children had no time to grow fat for they were ever looking to meet the Strongarm. Now he is an elk an’ my people will have peace; the mothers will drink an’ their babies be fat an’ big, being no more chased by the Strongarm.”

Then Moh-Kwa thought an’ thought, an’ at last he said to the Big Medicine Elk:

“That is all proud talk. But I must have the Strongarm back, for he catches my fish.”

But the Big Medicine Elk said he would not give Moh-Kwa back the Strongarm.

“Why should I?” asked the Big Medicine Elk. “Did not I save you in the Yellowstone,” said Moh-Kwa, “when as you swam the river a drifting tree caught in your antlers an’ held down your head to drown you? An’ did you not bawl to me who searched for berries on the bank; an’ did I not swim to you an’ save you from the tree?” Still the Big Medicine Elk shook his antlers.