The Dog and the Stick

A Blackfoot Legend

This happened long ago. In those days the people were hungry. No
buffalo nor antelope were seen on the prairie. The deer and the elk
trails were covered with grass and leaves; not even a rabbit could be
found in the brush. Then the people prayed, saying: “Oh, Old Man, help
us now, or we shall die. The buffalo and deer are gone. Uselessly we
kindle the morning fires; useless are our arrows; our knives stick fast
in the sheaths.”

Then Old Man started out to find the game, and he took with him a young
man, the son of a chief. For many days they traveled the prairies and
ate nothing but berries and roots. One day they climbed a high ridge,
and when they had reached the top, they saw, far off by a stream, a
single lodge.

“What kind of a person can it be,” said the young man, “who camps there
all alone, far from friends?”

“That,” said Old Man, “is the one who has hidden all the buffalo and
deer from the people. He has a wife and a little son.”

Then they went close to the lodge, and Old Man changed himself into a
little dog, and he said, “That is I.” Then the young man changed
himself into a root-digger, and he said, “That is I.”

Now the little boy, playing about, found the dog, and he carried it to
his father, saying, “Look! See what a pretty little dog I have found.”
“Throw it away,” said his father; “it is not a dog.” And the little boy
cried, but his father made him carry the dog away. Then the boy found
the root-digger; and, again picking up the dog, he carried them both to
the lodge, saying, “Look, mother! see the pretty root-digger I have
found!”

“Throw them both away,” said his father; “that is not a stick, that is
not a dog.”

“I want that stick,” said the woman; “let our son have the little dog.”

“Very well,” said her husband, “but remember, if trouble comes, you
bring it on yourself and on our son.” Then he sent his wife and son off
to pick berries; and when they were out of sight, he went out and
killed a buffalo cow, and brought the meat into the lodge and covered
it up, and the bones, skin and offal he threw in the creek. When his
wife returned, he gave her some of the meat to roast; and while they
were eating, the little boy fed the dog three times, and when he gave
it more, his father took the meat away, saying, “That is not a dog, you
shall not feed it more.”

In the night, when all were asleep, Old Man and the young man arose in
their right shapes, and ate of the meat. “You were right,” said the
young man; “this is surely the person who has hidden the buffalo from
us.” “Wait,” said Old Man; and when they had finished eating, they
changed themselves back into the stick and the dog.

In the morning the man sent his wife and son to dig roots, and the
woman took the stick with her. The dog followed the little boy. Now, as
they traveled along in search of roots, they came near a cave, and at
its mouth stood a buffalo cow. Then the dog ran into the cave, and the
stick, slipping from the woman’s hand, followed, gliding along like a
snake. In this cave they found all the buffalo and other game, and they
began to drive them out; and soon the prairie was covered with buffalo
and deer. Never before were seen so many.

Pretty soon the man came running up, and he said to his wife, “Who now
drives out my animals?” and she replied, “The dog and the stick are now
in there.” “Did I not tell you,” said he, “that those were not what
they looked like? See now the trouble you have brought upon us,” and he
put an arrow on his bow and waited for them to come out. But they were
cunning, for when the last animal a big bull was about to go out, the
stick grasped him by the hair under his neck, and coiled up in it, and
the dog held on by the hair beneath, until they were far out on the
prairie, when they changed into their true shapes, and drove the
buffalo toward camp.

When the people saw the buffalo coming, they drove a big band of them
to the pis’kun; but just as the leaders were about to jump off, a raven
came and flapped its wings in front of them and croaked, and they
turned off another way.

Every time a band of buffalo was driven near the pis’kun, this raven
frightened them away. Then Old Man knew that the raven was the one who
had kept the buffalo cached.

So he went and changed himself into a beaver, and lay stretched out on
the bank of the river, as if dead; and the raven, which was very
hungry, flew down and began to pick at him. Then Old Man caught it by
the legs and ran with it to camp, and all the chiefs came together to
decide what should be done with it. Some said to kill it, but Old Man
said, “No! I will punish it,” and he tied it over the lodge, right in
the smoke hole.

As the days went by, the raven grew poor and weak, and his eyes were
blurred with the thick smoke, and he cried continually to Old Man to
pity him. One day Old Man untied him, and told him to take his right
shape, saying: “Why have you tried to fool Old Man? Look at me! I
cannot die. Look at me! Of all peoples and tribes I am the chief. I
cannot die. I made the mountains. They are standing yet. I made the
prairies and the rocks. You see them yet. Go home, then, to your wife
and your child, and when you are hungry hunt like any one else, or you
shall die.”