Scarcely
had they entered the lodge when the rumblings of distant thunder
could be heard. Nearer, and nearer, came the sound, until at last
the storm overspread the locality in all its fury. Flash upon
flash of lightning burst forth from the heavens. Deafening peals
of thunder followed each flash. Finally, one flash brighter than
any of the others, one peal more deafening than those preceding it,
and the storm had passed.
Sadly the warriors gathered together, mounted their horses and
slowly rode to the tepee on the high point. Arriving there they
looked inside the lodge and saw the two brothers lying cold and
still in death, each holding the lariat of his favorite war horse.
The horses also lay dead side by side in front of the tent. (From
this came the custom of killing the favorite horse of a dead
warrior at the burial of the owner).
As the Indians sadly left the hill to return home, they heard a
noise at the top of the tepee, and looking up they saw the crow
sitting on one of the splintered tepee poles. He was crying most
pitifully, and as they rode off he flew up high in the air and his
pitiful "caw" became fainter and fainter till at last they heard it
no more. And from that day, the story goes, no crow ever goes near
the village of that band of Indians.
THE "WASNA" (PEMMICAN) MAN AND THE
UNKTOMI (SPIDER)
Once upon a time there appeared from out of a large belt of timber
a man attired in the fat of the buffalo.
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