{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_23173/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_23173","id":"gutenberg_23173","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/23173","summary":null,"tags":["Category: American Literature","Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Category: Short Stories","Short stories"],"text":"Produced by David Widger\n\n\n\n\n\n\nHOW THE RAVEN DIED\n\nBy Alfred Henry Lewis\n\nFrom \"Wolfville Nights,\" copyright, 1902, by Frederick A. Stokes Company\n\n\n\"Which 'f you-all is out to hear of Injuns, son,\" observed the Old\nCattleman, doubtfully, \"the best I can do is shet my eyes an' push along\nregyardless, like a cayouse in a storm of snow. But I don't guarantee\nno facts; none whatever; I never does bend myse'f to severe study of\nsavages, an' what notions I packs concernin' 'em is the casual frootes\nof what I accidental hears an' what I sees. It's only now an' then, as\nI observes former, that Injuns invades Wolfville; an' when they does,\nwe-all scowls 'em outen camp-sort o' makes a sour front, so as to break\n'em early of habits of visitin' us. We shore don't hone none to have 'em\nhankerin' 'round.\n\n\"Nacherally, I makes no doubt that if you goes clost to Injuns an'\nstudies their little game you finds some of 'em good an' some bad, some\ngaudy an' some sedate, some cur'ous an' some indifferent, same as\nyou finds among shore-enough folks. It's so with mules an' broncos;\nwherefore, then, may not these differences exist among Injuns? Come\nsquar' to the turn, you-all finds white folks separated the same. Some\ngents follows off one wagon track an' some another; some even makes a\nnew trail.\n\n\"Speakin' of what's opposite in folks, I one time an' ag'in sees two\nwhite chiefs of scouts who frequent comes pirootin' into Wolfville from\nthe Fort. Each has mebby a score of Injuns at his heels who pertains to\nhim personal. One of these scout chiefs is all buckskins, fringes, beads\nan' feathers from y'ears to hocks, while t'other goes garbed in a stiff\nhat with a little jim-crow rim--one of them kind you deenom'nates as a\ndarby--an' a diag'nal overcoat; one chief looks like a dime novel on a\nspree an' t'other as much like the far East as he saveys how. An' yet,\nson, this voylent person in buckskins is a Second Lootenant-a mere boy,\nhe is-from West P'int; while that outcast in the reedic'lous hat is\nfoaled on the plains an' never does go that clost to the risin' sun as\nto glimpse the Old Missouri. The last form of maverick bursts frequent\ninto Western bloom; it's their ambition, that a-way, to deloode you into\ndeemin' 'em as fresh from the States as one of them tomatter airtights.\n\n\"Thar's old gent Jeffords; he's that sort. Old Jeffords lives for long\nwith the Apaches; he's found among 'em when Gen'ral Crook-the old 'Gray\nFox'-an' civilization and Gatlin' guns comes into Arizona arm in arm. I\nused to note old Jeffords hibernatin' about the Oriental over in Tucson,\nI shore reckons he's procrastinatin' about thar yet, if the Great Sperit\nain't done called him in. As I says, old Jeffords is that long among the\nApaches back in Cochise's time that the mem'ry of man don't run none to\nthe contrary. An' yet no gent ever sees old Jeffords wearin' anything\nmore savage than a long-tail black surtoot an' one of them stove-pipe\nhats. Is Jeffords dangerous? No, you-all couldn't call him a distinct\nperil; still, folks who goes devotin' themse'fs to stirrin' Jeffords up\njest to see if he's alive gets disastrous action. He has long gray ha'r\nan' a tangled white beard half-way down his front; an' with that old\nplug hat an' black coat he's a sight to frighten children or sour milk!\nStill, Jeffords is all right. As long as towerists an' other inquisitive\npeople don't go pesterin' Jeffords, he shore lets 'em alone. Otherwise,\nyou might as well be up the same saplin' with a cinnamon b'ar; which\nyou'd most likely hear something drop a lot.\n\n\"For myse'f, I likes old Jeffords, an' considers him a pleasin'\nconundrum. About tenth drink time he'd take a cha'r an' go camp by\nhimse'f in a far corner, an' thar he'd warble hymns. Many a time as I\nfiles away my nosepaint in the Oriental have I been regaled with\n\n     \"'Jesus, Lover of my soul,\n        Let me to Thy bosom fly,\n     While the nearer waters roll,\n        While the tempest still is high,'\n\nas emanatin' from Jeffords where he's r'ared back conductin' some\npersonal services. Folks never goes buttin' in interferin' with these\nconcerts; which it's cheaper to let him sing.\n\n\"Speakin' of Injuns, as I su'gests, I never does see overmuch of 'em in\nWolfville. An' my earlier experiences ain't thronged with 'em neither,\nthough while I'm workin' cattle along the Red River I does carom on\nInjuns more or less. Thar's one old hostile I recalls speshul; he's a\nfool Injun called Black Feather-Choctaw, he is. This Black Feather's\nweakness is fire-water; he thinks more of it than some folks does of\nchildren.\n\n\"Black Feather used to cross over to where Dick Stocton maintains a\nstore an' licker house on the Upper Hawgthief. Of course, no gent sells\nthese Injuns licker. It's ag'in the law; an' onless you-all is onusual\neager to make a trip to Fort Smith with a marshal ridin' herd on you\ndoorin' said visit, impartin' of nosepaint to aborigines is a good\nthing not to do. But Black Feather, he'd come over to Dick Stocton's an'\nlinger 'round the bar'ls of Valley Tan, an' take a chance on stealin' a\nsnifter or two while Stocton's busy.\n\n\"At last Stocton gets tired an' allows he'll lay for Black Feather. This\nyere Stocton is a mighty reckless sport; he ain't carin' much whatever\nhe does do; he hates Injuns an' shotguns, an' loves licker, seven-up,\nan' sin in any form; them's Stocton's prime characteristics. An' he gets\nmighty weary of the whiskey-thievin' Black Feather, an' lays for him.\n\n\"One evenin' this aggravatin' Black Feather crosses over an' takes to\nha'ntin' about Dick Stocton's licker room, as is his wont. It looks like\nBlack Feather has already been buyin' whiskey of one of them boot-laig\nparties who takes every chance an' goes among the Injuns an' sells 'em\nnosepaint on the sly. 'Fore ever he shows up on the Upper Hawgthief that\ntime, this Black Feather gets nosepaint some'ers an puts a whole quart\nof it away in the shade; an' he shore exhibits symptoms. Which for one\nthing he feels about four stories tall!\n\n\"Stocton sets a trap for Black Feather. He fills up the tin cup into\nwhich he draws that Valley Tan with coal-oil--karoseen you-all calls\nit--an' leaves it, temptin' like, settin' on top a whiskey bar'l. Shore!\nit's the first thing Black Feather notes. He sees his chance an' grabs\nan' downs the karoseen; an' Stocton sort o' startin' for him, this Black\nFeather gulps her down plump swift. The next second he cuts loose the\nyell of that year, burns up about ten acres of land, and starts for Red\nRiver. No, I don't know whether the karoseen hurts him none or not; but\nhe certainly goes squatterin' across the old Red River like a wounded\nwild-duck, an' he never does come back no more.\n\n\"But, son, as you sees, I don't know nothin' speshul or much touchin'\nInjuns, an' if I'm to dodge the disgrace of ramblin' along in this\ndesultory way, I might better shift to a tale I hears Sioux Sam relate\nto Doc Peets one time in the Red Light. This Sam is a Sioux, an' a\nmighty decent buck, considerin' he's Injun; Sam is servin' the Great\nFather as a scout with the diag'nal-coat, darby-hat sharp I mentions.\nPeets gives this saddle-tinted longhorn a four-bit piece, an' he tells\nthis yarn. It sounds plenty-childish, but you oughter ba'r in mind that\nsavages' mental ain't no bigger nor older than ten-year-old young ones\namong the palefaces.\n\n\"'This is the old story my mother tells me,' says Sioux Sam, 'to show me\nthe evils of curiosity. \"The Great Sperit allows to every one the right\nto ask only so many questions,\" says my mother, \"an' when they ask one\nmore than is their right, they die.\"'\n\n\"'This is the story of the fate of _Kaw-kaw-chee_, the Raven, a Sioux\nchief who died long ago exactly as my mother told me. The Raven died\nbecause he asked too many questions an' was too cur'ous. It began\nwhen Sublette, who was a trader, came up the _Mitchi-zoor-rah_, the\nBig-Muddy, an' was robbed by the Raven's people. Sublette was mad at\nthis, an' said next time he would bring the Sioux a present so they\nwould not rob him. So he brought a little cask of firewater an' left it\non the bank of the Big-Muddy. Then Sublette went away, an' twenty of the\nRaven's young men found the little cask. An' they were greedy an' did\nnot tell the camp; they drank the fire-water where it was found.\n\n\"'The Raven missed his twenty young men an' when he went to spy for\nthem, behold! they were dead, with their teeth locked tight an' their\nfaces an' bodies writhen an' twisted as the whirlwind twists the\ncottonwoods. Then the Raven thought an' thought; an' he got very cur'ous\nto know why his young men died so writhen an' twisted. The fire-water\nhad a whirlwind in it, an' the Raven was eager to hear. So he sent for\nSublette.\n\n\"'Then the Raven an' Sublette had a big talk. They agreed not to hurt\neach other; an' Sublette was to come an' go an' trade with the Sioux;\nan' they would never rob him.\n\n\"'At this, Sublette gave the Raven some of the whirlwind that so killed\nan' twisted the twenty young men. It was a powder, white; an' it had no\nsmell. Sublette said its taste was bitter; but the Raven must not taste\nit or it would lock up his teeth an' twist an' kill him. For to swallow\nthe white powder loosed the whirlwind on the man's heart an' it bent him\nan' twisted him like the storms among the willows.\n\n\"'But the Raven could give the powder to others. So the Raven gave it\nin some deer's meat to his two squaws; an' they were twisted till they\ndied; an' when they would speak they couldn't, for their teeth were held\ntight together an' no words came out of their mouths--only a great foam.\nThen the Raven gave it to others that he did not love; they were twisted\nan' died. At last there was no more of the powder of the whirlwind; the\nRaven must wait till Sublette came up the Big-Muddy again an' brought\nhim more.\n\n\"'There was a man, the Gray Elk, who was of the Raven's people. The Gray\nElk was a _Choo-ayk-eed_, a great prophet. And the Gray Elk had a wife;\nshe was wise an' beautiful, an' her name was Squaw-who-has-dreams. But\nthe Gray Elk called her _Kee-nee-moo-sha_, the Sweetheart.\n\n\"'While the Raven waited for Sublette to bring him more powder of the\nwhirlwind, a star with a long tail came into the sky. This star with the\ntail made the Raven heap cur'ous. He asked Gray Elk to tell him about\nit, for he was a prophet. The Raven asked many questions; they fell from\nhim like leaves from a tree in the month of the first ice. So the Gray\nElk called _Chee-bee_, the Spirit; an' the Spirit told the Gray Elk.\nThen the Gray Elk told the Raven.\n\n\"'It was not a tail, it was blood--star blood; an' the star had been\nbit an' was wounded, but would get well. The Sun was the father of the\nstars, an' the Moon was their mother. The Sun, _Gheezis_, tried ever to\npursue an' capture an' eat his children, the stars. So the stars all ran\nan' hid when the Sun was about. But the stars loved their mother who was\ngood an' never hurt them; an' when the Sun went to sleep at night an'\n_Coush-ee-wan_, the Darkness, shut his eyes, the Moon an' her children\ncame together to see each other. But the star that bled had been\ncaught by the Sun; it got out of his mouth, but was wounded. Now it was\nfrightened, so it always kept its face to where the Sun was sleeping\nover in the west. The bleeding star, _Sch-coo-dah_, would get well an'\nits wound would heal.\n\n\"'Then the Raven wanted to know how the Gray Elk knew all this. An' the\nGray Elk had the Raven into the medicine lodge that night; an' the Raven\nheard the spirits come about an' heard their voices; but he could not\nunderstand. Also, the Raven saw a wolf all fire, with wings like the\neagle which flew overhead. Also he heard the Thunder, _Boom-wa-wa_,\ntalking with the Gray Elk; but the Raven couldn't understand. The Gray\nElk told the Raven to draw his knife an' stab with it in the air outside\nthe medicine lodge. An' when he did, the Raven's blade an' hand came\nback covered with blood. Still, the Raven was cur'ous an' kept askin'\nto be told how the Gray Elk knew these things. An' the Gray Elk at last\ntook the Raven to the Great Bachelor Sycamore that lived alone, an'\nasked the Raven if the Bachelor Sycamore was growing. An' the Raven\nsaid it was. Then Gray Elk asked him how he knew it was growing. An'\nthe Raven said he didn't know. Then Gray Elk said he did not know how\nhe knew about _Sch-coo-dah_, the star that was bit. This made the Raven\nangry, for he was very cur'ous; an' he thought the Gray Elk had two\ntongues.\n\n\"'Then it came the month of the first young grass an' Sublette was back\nfor furs. Also he brought many goods; an' he gave to the Raven more of\nthe powder of the whirlwind in a little box. At once the Raven made\na feast of ducks for the Gray Elk; an' he gave him of the whirlwind\npowder; an' at once his teeth came together an' the Gray Elk was twisted\ntill he died.\n\n\"'Now no one knew that the Raven had the powder of the whirlwind, so\nthey could not tell why all these people were twisted and went to the\nGreat Spirit. But the Squaw-who-has-dreams saw that it was the Raven\nwho killed her husband, the Gray Elk, in a vision. Then the\nSquaw-who-has-dreams went into the mountains four days an' talked with\n_Moh-kwa_, the Bear who is the wisest of the beasts. The Bear said it\nwas the Raven who killed the Gray Elk an' told the Squaw-who-has-dreams\nof the powder of the whirlwind.\n\n\"'Then the Bear an' the Squaw-who-has-dreams made a fire an' smoked\nan' laid a plot. The Bear did not know where to find the powder of the\nwhirlwind which the Raven kept always in a secret place. But the Bear\ntold the Squaw-who-has-dreams that she should marry the Raven an' watch\nuntil she found where the powder of the whirlwind was kept in its secret\nplace; an' then she was to give some to the Raven, an' he, too, would\nbe twisted an' die. There was a great danger, though; the Raven\nwould, after the one day when they were wedded, want to kill the\nSquaw-who-has-dreams. So to protect her, the Bear told her she\nmust begin to tell the Raven the moment she was married to him the\nStory-that-never-ends. Then, because the Raven was more cur'ous than\neven he was cruel, he would put off an' put off giving the powder of\nthe whirlwind to the Squaw-who-has-dreams, hoping to hear the end of the\nStory-that-never-ends. Meanwhile the Squaw-who-has-dreams was to watch\nthe Raven until she found the powder of the whirlwind in its secret\nplace.\n\n\"'Then the wise Bear gave the Squaw-who-has-dreams a bowlful of words\nas seed, so she might plant them an' raise a crop of talk to tell\nthe Story-that-never-ends. An' the Squaw-who-has-dreams planted the\nseed-words, an' they grew an' grew, an' she gathered sixteen bundles\nof talk an' brought them to her wigwam. After that she put beads in her\nhair, an' dyed her lips red, an' rubbed red on her cheeks, an' put on a\nnew blanket; an' when the Raven saw her, he asked her to marry him. So\nthey were wedded; an' the Squaw-who-has-dreams went to the teepee of the\nRaven an' was his wife.\n\n\"'But the Raven was old an' cunning like _Yah-mee-kee_, the Beaver, an'\nhe said, \"He is not wise who keeps a squaw too long!\" An' with that he\nthought he would kill the Squaw-who-has-dreams the next day with the\npowder of the whirlwind. But the Squaw-who-has-dreams first told the\nRaven that she hated _When-dee-goo_, the Giant; an' that she should not\nlove the Raven until he had killed _When-dee-goo_. She knew the Giant\nwas too big an' strong for the Raven to kill with his lance, an' that he\nmust get his powder of the whirlwind; she would watch him an' learn its\nsecret place. The Raven said he would kill the Giant as the sun went\ndown next day.\n\n\"'Then the Squaw-who-has-dreams told the Raven the first of the\nStory-that-never-ends an' used up one bundle of talk; an' when the story\nended for that night, the Squaw-who-has-dreams was saying: \"An' so, out\nof the lake that was red as the sun came a great fish that was green,\nwith yellow wings, an' it walked also with feet, an' it came up to me\nan' said:\" But then she would tell no more that night nor could the\nRaven, who was crazy with cur'osity, prevail on her. \"I must now sleep\nan' dream what the green fish with the yellow wings said,\" was the reply\nof the Squaw-who-has-dreams, an' she pretended to slumber. So the Raven,\nbecause he was cur'ous, put off her death.\n\n\"'All night she watched, but the Raven did not go to the secret place\nwhere he had hidden the powder of the whirlwind. Nor the next day,\nwhen the sun went down, did the Raven kill the Giant. But the\nSquaw-who-has-dreams took up again the Story-that-never-ends an' told\nwhat the green fish with the yellow wings said; an' she used up\nthe second bundle of talk. When she ceased for that time, the\nSquaw-who-has-dreams was saying: \"An' as night fell, _Moh-kwa_, the\nBear, called to me from his canyon, an' said for me to come an' he would\nshow me where the treasure of fire-water was buried for you who are the\nRaven. So I went into the canyon, an' _Moh-kwa_, the Bear, took me by\nthe hand an' led me to the treasure of fire-water which was greater an'\nricher than was ever seen by any Sioux.\"\n\n\"'Then the Squaw-who-has-dreams would tell no more that night, while the\nRaven eat his fingers with cur'osity. But he made up a new plan not\nto twist the Squaw-who-has-dreams until she showed him the treasure of\nfire-water an' told him the end of the Story-that-never-ends. On her\npart, however, the Squaw-who-has-dreams, as she went to sleep, wept an'\ntore the beads from her hair an' said the Raven did not love her, for\nhe had not killed the Giant, as he promised. She said she would tell no\nmore of the Story-that-never-ends until the Giant was dead; nor would\nshe show to a husband who did not love her the great treasure of\nfire-water which _Moh-kwa_, the Bear, had found. At this, the Raven,\nwho was hot to have the treasure of fire-water an' whose ears rang with\ncur'osity to hear the end of the Story-that-never-ends, saw that he must\nkill the Giant. Therefore, when the Squaw-who-has-dreams had ceased to\nsob and revile him, an' was gone as he thought asleep, the Raven went\nto his secret place where he kept the powder of the whirlwind an' took\na little and wrapped it in a leaf an' hid the leaf in the braids of his\nlong hair. Then the Raven went to sleep.\n\n\"'When the Raven was asleep the Squaw-who-has-dreams went also\nherself to the secret place an' got also a little of the powder of the\nwhirlwind. An' the next morning she arose early an' gave the powder\nof the whirlwind to the Raven on the roast buffalo, the _Pez-hee-kee_,\nwhich was his food.\n\n\"'When the raven had eaten, the Squaw-who-has-dreams went out of the\nteepee among the people an' called all the Sioux to come an' see the\nRaven die. So the Sioux came gladly, an' the Raven was twisted an'\nwrithen with the powder of the whirlwind wrenching at his heart; an' his\nteeth were tight like a trap; an' no words, but only foam, came from his\nmouth; an' at last the Spirit, the _Chee-bee_, was twisted out of the\nRaven; an' the Squaw-who-has-dreams was revenged for the death of the\nGray Elk whom she loved an' who always called her _Kee-nee-moo-sha_, the\nSweetheart, because it made her laugh.\n\n\"'When the Raven was dead, the Squaw-who-has-dreams went to the secret\nplace an' threw the powder of the whirlwind into the Big-Muddy; an'\nafter that she distributed her fourteen bundles of talk that were\nleft among all the Sioux so that everybody could tell how glad he felt\nbecause the Raven was twisted and died. An' for a week there was nothing\nbut happiness an' big talk among the Sioux; an' _Moh-kwa_, the Bear,\ncame laughing out of his canyon with the wonder of listening to it;\nwhile the Squaw-who-has-dreams now, when her revenge was done, went with\n_When-dee-goo_, the Giant, to his teepee and became his squaw. So now\neverything was ended save the Story-that-never-ends.'\n\n\"When Sioux Sam gets this far,\" concluded the Old Cattleman, \"he says,\n'an' my mother's words at the end were: An' boys who ask too many\nquestions will die, as did the Raven whose cur'osity was even greater\nthan his cruelty.\"","title":"How The Raven Died: 1902, From \"Wolfville Nights\"","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":3663}