“How the Weasel Got His White Breast.
“A long time ago, before there were any Indians, the world was inhabited by spirits. These spirits were the souls of all the animals and plants and things we see to-day. One of them was called Kanhlalas, the Weasel. He was little and brown and lived in a field. One day a strange thing happened to him. Listen, I will tell you about it.
“Near the field where the Weasel had his home there was a mountain. On top of the mountain lived an old man called Waida Dikit, the Speckled Trout. He felt lonely up there, so he sent for Saroki Sakahl, the Green Snake. When Saroki came Waida Dikit took him to his wigwam and said:
“‘My son, here is pipe and tobacco. Let us smoke awhile.’
“Saroki sat down by the wall and smoked. He smoked so much that soon Waida Dikit could not see across the wigwam.
“‘My son,’ said he, taking his own pipe from his mouth, ‘you are a strong smoker.’
“Saroki did not answer. After a time Waida Dikit stuck his head from the wigwam and saw that the whole world was covered with the smoke from Saroki’s pipe. Waida Dikit was frightened. He felt about on the floor for his flute.
“‘You have smoked enough,’ he said to Saroki. ‘Here is a flute. Let me hear you play.’
“Saroki took the flute and played for three days and three nights without stopping. By the end of the first day Waida Dikit could see through the smoke which was fast thinning, and he could see the other side of the wigwam.
“By the end of the third day the smoke was all gone and the blue sky could be seen once more. Then Saroki stopped playing.