And ever since then you will observe that the dancers of the Long Horn have blue faces, and whenever they arrive in our pueblo wear collars of coyote-skin about their necks. That is the way they got them. Before that they had no collars. It is presumable that that is the reason why they bellow so and have such hoarse voices, having previously taken cold, every one of them, for the want of fur collars.
Thus shortens my story.
THE COYOTE AND THE BEETLE
IN remote times, after our ancients were settled at Middle Ant Hill, a little thing occurred which will explain a great deal.
My children, you have doubtless seen Tip-beetles. They run around on smooth, hard patches of ground in spring time and early summer, kicking their heels into the air and thrusting their heads into any crack or hole they find.
Well, in ancient times, on the pathway leading around to Fat Mountain, there was one of these Beetles running about in all directions in the sunshine, when a Coyote came trotting along. He pricked up his ears, lowered his nose, arched his neck, and stuck out his paw toward the Beetle. “Ha!” said he, “I shall bite you!”
The Beetle immediately stuck his head down close to the ground, and, lifting one of his antennæ deprecatingly, exclaimed: “Hold on! Hold on, friend! Wait a bit, for the love of mercy! I hear something very strange down below here!”
“Humph!” replied the Coyote. “What do you hear?”
“Hush! hush!” cried the Beetle, with his head still to the ground. “Listen!”