“Buffalo cow, maybe?” queried No Water; “—Big fat one?”
“No—o—o!” said Eagle Voice, raising a forefinger by way of emphasizing an important correction. “Two fat calves! That is what he brought. Two fat buffalo calves!”
“Ah—a—a!” breathed the two in unison, dutifully acknowledging error.
“That day, Falling Star made some drying racks, so that Mother Meadowlark could make papa of the calf meat, for they could not eat it all.
“Next morning Falling Star went hunting again—”
“Buffalo bull!” exclaimed Moves Walking, his off-eye glaring triumph.
“Fat cow?” queried No Water with his mildly grieved, anxious look.
“Dho!” said Eagle Voice. “A fat cow that time. Big fat bull next time. And by now Falling Star was bigger and stronger than any man ever was; and when he smiled, there was starlight all around him. So he made some more drying racks, and they all worked hard cutting the meat into strips and hanging it up to dry.
“Every morning Falling Star went hunting, and he was still getting bigger and stronger. Sometimes he would bring an elk. Then he would bring a fat cow and a deer. Then maybe he would bring an elk and three or four antelope. And afterwhile enough papa was drying around the camp to feed Meadowlark and his wife for many snows.”
Eagle Voice began fumbling in his long tobacco sack. No Water and Moves Walking, with hands on knees, leaned towards him expectantly. When the pipe was filled and lighted, Eagle Voice, his merry face emerging from the cloud he blew, said, “I think I will be a little boy now. I have raised Falling Star and made much papa. That is the hardest part. Now Moves Walking, my grandson here, and I will listen. No Water will be the grandfather and he will tell us all that happened next.”