“By the souls of my ancestors!” exclaimed the Coyote, “be careful what you do in there!”
The Horned-toad replied by laying his hand on the Coyote’s liver, and exclaiming: “What is this I feel?”
“Where?” said the Coyote.
“Down here.”
“Merciful daylight! it is my liver, without which no one can have solidity of any kind, or a proper vitality. Be very careful not to injure that; if you do, I shall die at once, and what will become of my poor wife and children?”
Then the Horned-toad climbed up to the stomach of the Coyote. “What is this, my friend?” said he, feeling the sides of the Coyote’s food-bag.
“What is it like?” asked the Coyote.
“Wrinkled,” said the Horned-toad, “and filled with a fearful mess of stuff!”
“Oh! mercy! mercy! good daylight! My precious friend, be very careful! That is the very source of my being—my stomach itself!”
“Very well,” said the Horned-toad. Then he moved on somewhat farther and touched the heart of the Coyote, which startled him fearfully. “What is this?” cried the Horned-toad.