'Go, hunt! go,
hunt!' he said; 'the deer have come back to Talking Water.' Then he lay
still and heard them, as many as were able, going out joyfully. 'Stay
you here, Friend and Brother,' he said, 'for now I can sleep a little.'
"So the First Father of all the Dogs lay at his master's feet and whined
a little for sympathy while the people hunted for themselves, and the
myriad-footed Rain danced on the dry thatch of the hut and the baked
mesa. Later the creek rose in its withered banks and began to talk to
itself in a new voice, the voice of Raining-on-the-Mountain.
"'Now I shall sleep well, 'said the sick man. So he fell into deeper and
deeper pits of slumber while the rain came down in torrents, the grass
sprouted, and far away Younger Brother could hear the snapping of the
brush as the Horned People came down the mountain.
"It was about the first streak of the next morning that the people waked
in their huts to hear a long, throaty howl from Younger Brother.
Howkawanda lay cold, and there was no breath in him. They thought the
coyote howled for grief, but it was really because, though his master
lay like one dead, there was no smell of death about him, and the First
Father was frightened.
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