He has always been a family-man, has the Indian, and small children had to be carried, as well as his camp equipage. Wolf-dogs had to be fed, too, in some way, thus adding to his burden; for it took a great many to make it possible for him to travel at all.
When the night came and we visited War Eagle, we found he had other company—so we waited until their visit was ended before settling ourselves to hear the story that he might tell us.
"The Crows have stolen some of our best horses," said War Eagle, as soon as the other guests had gone. "That is all right—we shall get them back, and more, too. The Crows have only borrowed those horses and will pay for their use with others of their own. To-night I shall tell you why the Mountain lion is so long and thin and why he wears hair that looks singed. I shall also tell you why that person's nose is black, because it is part of the story.
"A long time ago the Mountain-lion was a short, thick-set person. I am sure you didn't guess that. He was always a great thief like OLD-man, but once he went too far, as you shall see.
"One day OLD-man was on a hilltop, and saw smoke curling up through the trees, away off on the far side of a gulch. 'Ho!' he said, 'I wonder who builds fires except me. I guess I will go and find out.'
"He crossed the gulch and crept carefully toward the smoke. When he got quite near where the fire was, he stopped and listened. He heard some loud laughing but could not see who it was that felt so glad and gay. Finally he crawled closer and peeked through the brush toward the fire. Then he saw some Squirrel-people, and they were playing some sort of game. They were running and laughing, and having a big time, too. What do you think they were doing? They were running about the fire—all chasing one Squirrel. As soon as the Squirrel was caught, they would bury him in the ashes near the fire until he cried; then they would dig him out in a hurry. Then another Squirrel would take the lead and run until he was caught, as the other had been. In turn the captive would submit to being buried, and so on—while the racing and laughing continued. They never left the buried one in the ashes after he cried, but always kept their promise and dug him out, right away.
"'Say, let me play, won't you?' asked OLD-man. But the Squirrel-people all ran away, and he had a hard time getting them to return to the fire.
"'You can't play this game,' replied the Chief-Squirrel, after they had returned to the fire.
"'Yes, I can,' declared OLD-man, 'and you may bury me first, but be sure to dig me out when I cry, and not let me burn, for those ashes are hot near the fire.'
"'All right,' said the Chief-Squirrel, 'we will let you play. Lie down,'—and OLD-Man did lie down near the fire. Then the Squirrels began to laugh and bury OLD-man in the ashes, as they did their own kind. In no time at all OLD-man cried: 'Ouch!—you are burning me—quick!—dig me out.'