Old Indian Legends | Page 4

only knew what is in my blanket. Sing on! dance on! I must not
show you what I carry on my back," answered Iktomi, nudging his own
sides with his elbows. This reply broke up the ring entirely. Now all the
ducks crowded about Iktomi.
"We must see what you carry! We must know what is in your blanket!"
they shouted in both his ears. Some even brushed their wings against
the mysterious bundle. Nudging himself again, wily Iktomi said, "My
friends, 't is only a pack of songs I carry in my blanket."
"Oh, then let us hear your songs!" cried the curious ducks.
At length Iktomi consented to sing his songs. With delight all the ducks
flapped their wings and cried together, "Hoye! hoye!"
Iktomi, with great care, laid down his bundle on the ground.
"I will build first a round straw house, for I never sing my songs in the
open air," said he.
Quickly he bent green willow sticks, planting both ends of each pole
into the earth. These he covered thick with reeds and grasses. Soon the
straw hut was ready. One by one the fat ducks waddled in through a
small opening, which was the only entrance way. Beside the door
Iktomi stood smiling, as the ducks, eyeing his bundle of songs, strutted
into the hut.
In a strange low voice Iktomi began his queer old tunes. All the ducks
sat round-eyed in a circle about the mysterious singer. It was dim in
that straw hut, for Iktomi had not forgot to cover up the small entrance
way. All of a sudden his song burst into full voice. As the startled
ducks sat uneasily on the ground, Iktomi changed his tune into a minor
strain. These were the words he sang:
"Istokmus wacipo, tuwayatunwanpi kinhan ista nisasapi kta," which is,
"With eyes closed you must dance. He who dares to open his eyes,
forever red eyes shall have."

Up rose the circle of seated ducks and holding their wings close against
their sides began to dance to the rhythm of Iktomi's song and drum.
With eyes closed they did dance! Iktomi ceased to beat his drum. He
began to sing louder and faster. He seemed to be moving about in the
center of the ring. No duck dared blink a wink. Each one shut his eyes
very tight and danced even harder. Up and down! Shifting to the right
of them they hopped round and round in that blind dance. It was a
difficult dance for the curious folk.
At length one of the dancers could close his eyes no longer! It was a
Skiska who peeped the least tiny blink at Iktomi within the center of
the circle. "Oh! oh!" squawked he in awful terror! "Run! fly! Iktomi is
twisting your heads and breaking your necks! Run out and fly! fly!" he
cried. Hereupon the ducks opened their eyes. There beside Iktomi's
bundle of songs lay half of their crowd--flat on their backs.
Out they flew through the opening Skiska had made as he rushed forth
with his alarm.
But as they soared high into the blue sky they cried to one another: "Oh!
your eyes are red-red!" "And yours are red-red!" For the warning words
of the magic minor strain had proven true. "Ah-ha!" laughed Iktomi,
untying the four corners of his blanket, "I shall sit no more hungry
within my dwelling." Homeward he trudged along with nice fat ducks
in his blanket. He left the little straw hut for the rains and winds to pull
down.
Having reached his own teepee on the high level lands, Iktomi kindled
a large fire out of doors. He planted sharp-pointed sticks around the
leaping flames. On each stake he fastened a duck to roast. A few he
buried under the ashes to bake. Disappearing within his teepee, he came
out again with some huge seashells. These were his dishes. Placing one
under each roasting duck, he muttered, "The sweet fat oozing out will
taste well with the hard-cooked breasts."
Heaping more willows upon the fire, Iktomi sat down on the ground
with crossed shins. A long chin between his knees pointed toward the

red flames, while his eyes were on the browning ducks.
Just above his ankles he clasped and unclasped his long bony fingers.
Now and then he sniffed impatiently the savory odor.
The brisk wind which stirred the fire also played with a squeaky old
tree beside Iktomi's wigwam.
From side to side the tree was swaying and crying in an old man's voice,
"Help! I'll break! I'll fall!" Iktomi shrugged his great shoulders, but did
not once take his eyes from the ducks. The dripping of amber oil into
pearly dishes, drop by drop, pleased his hungry eyes. Still the old tree
man