Coyote and his wife, Mole, and their children were living by themselves, away from the winter encampment of the people. The other people did not want Coyote around, he was so lazy and tricky. Coyote and his family were poor that winter. They had only a little food, and that was supplied by the faithful Mole. Each day she would go out and gather herbs and moss and dried and shriveled sko-qeeu (rose-hips). She did that to keep the five children from starving. And she carried all the wood and water, while Coyote loafed and practised his war songs.

One sun, as Mole was chopping a rotten stump for firewood, a little fawn jumped out of the stump. The deer family had put it there. The deer felt sorry for Mole. They wanted her to have the fawn for food.

Mole dropped her axe and caught the little deer. She told her oldest boy to run and tell his father to come with a knife and cut the fawn’s throat.

“Tell your father to hurry,” said Mole, “because I cannot hold this fawn long. My strength will give out.”

The boy ran fast to the tepee. He told Coyote what Mole had said.

“Go back to your mother and tell her to hold the fawn while I get my bow and arrows ready,” Coyote ordered, and the boy ran back to his mother with the message.

Coyote ran out of the lodge and got a piece of dogwood, from which he made a bow. Then he ran to a service berry bush, where he cut two arrows. Then he ran back to his lodge to finish making his weapons. Taking feathers from his war bonnet, he feathered the arrows and, as he had no sinew for a bowstring, he tore the strings off his moccasins and made a string. Then he was ready to shoot the fawn.

All the while Mole was having a hard time holding the fawn. It struggled and kicked and fought to get away, and Mole’s strength was leaving her. Her arms ached. She called to Coyote to hurry. He ran out of the lodge and tramped down the snow so he could kneel and shoot. He told Mole to let loose of the fawn so he could shoot it. Mole let go and Coyote shot his arrow, but the little deer fell just then and the arrow missed it. With his second and last arrow Coyote shot again as the fawn leaped up, and again Coyote missed. The fawn escaped into the woods.

Mole was disgusted and angry. She went back to the tepee. There she discovered that Coyote had eaten all the rose-hips, all the food that was left, while he was making his weapons. When Coyote came in, Mole spoke to him about that. They quarreled, and Coyote stabbed her with his flint knife. Mole ran out. Coyote followed. He meant to kill her. Mole changed herself into a real Mole as Coyote stabbed again. He stabbed the earth, and Mole quickly untied her little pouch of tul-meen (red facial paint) and put some of the paint on the point of the knife. Drawing the knife out of the ground, Coyote saw the red paint and thought it was blood. He was satisfied that his wife must be dead from that last blow.

Coyote soon found that he could not take care of his children without Mole’s help. They could not live as they had before, so Coyote told the four oldest children to visit their “uncle,” Kingfisher-Z-reece’, who was a good hunter and had plenty of food in his lodge. The four boys started for Kingfisher’s home, and Coyote took his youngest and favorite son and went traveling. The youngest boy’s name was Top’-kan.

They traveled many suns without getting much to eat. They were hungry when they came to a large prairie, where a woman dressed in red-painted buckskin was digging spit-lum (bitter-root). Seeing her digging reminded Coyote of his wife, and he wished that Mole were alive to dig roots for him to eat. He took Top’-kan off his back, where the little boy rode much of the time to keep from tiring, and told him to wait. Then Coyote went toward the strange woman.

“Tell me a story, tell me news, good woman,” said Coyote upon getting near to the digger. But the woman did not take any notice of him. She kept on digging roots and cleaning them as she put them in her basket, which was strapped to her side.

Not so easily discouraged, Coyote walked closer, saying: “Tell me news. I am a traveler from a distant country.”

“I will tell you a story,” said the woman, and she turned angrily to Coyote. “Coyote deserted his children and killed his wife!”

Then Coyote recognized the woman as his own wife, Mole. She had followed him to watch over little Top’-kan, but Coyote had not known that. Grabbing his knife, Coyote ran at his wife. He meant to kill her, but she changed into a real mole and went underground and got away.

Coyote returned to Top’-kan. He picked the boy up, put him on his back, and resumed his journey. He sought new lands where his tricks and mischief-making were not known.

Taken from Coyote Tales by Humishuma, Colville-Okanogan for Mourning Dove [Christine Quintasket], 1933
By Morning Dove

Coyote wanted to travel, to see some new country, so he took Mole and the children to the lodge of his friend, Badger. He asked Badger to take care of them, and Badger said he would.

“I am going to hunt for enemies, E-whe-whoot’-ken, my friend,” said Coyote. “I am going where there is great danger. Here is a little sack that belongs to me. Hang it on a tepee pole. If it should fall from the pole, you will know that I am dead. If it stays where you hang it, I am alive.”

Badger hung the sack on a tepee pole, and Coyote started. He traveled for some time without meeting any enemies or getting into trouble. Then, one sun, he heard someone singing at the top of a high cliff. He went that way. He saw a sweat-house by the edge of the cliff. Inside was the singer. Hanging on a branch of a tree by the sweat-house was a suit of very fine buckskin clothes. Coyote liked that suit. He wanted it. He walked up to the sweat-house.

“I would like to sweat with you,” he called, and the singer, who was Sin-nee-iut-Wind, stopped singing.

“I have used up all the water,” he answered. “If you want to sweat-house you will have to get water down at the bottom of this cliff.”

“I will get some water,” Coyote said, and he picked up a water-basket and went down to the base of the cliff and filled it with water. He carried it back to Wind’s sweat-lodge. “I have the water. I will pass it in to you,” and he lifted the door-flap as if to hand the basket in to “Wind. But, as Wind reached for the basket, Coyote threw all of the water on the hot stones in the sweat-house. That made such a steam that Wind was scalded to death.

Coyote laughed and put on the fine buckskin clothing, which was decorated with nice shell ornaments. Quite pleased with himself, Coyote walked away. Pretty soon he wished there was a gentle breeze to blow the shells and make them rattle. Right away his wish brought a soft breeze that tinkled the shells. Then Coyote wished for a stronger wind, and a strong wind came. It blew harder and harder, until it lifted Coyote off his feet and spun him through the air. His wishing had brought Sin-nee-iut back to life.

The wind carried Coyote to the top of the cliffs that watch over the Big Falls of the Swah-netk’-qhu. There he grasped a little bush that grew out of the cliff. The bush was Spet-zen’ – Hemp-and her sister. The Hemp sisters stripped Coyote of his stolen clothes, and they held him down under the edge of the cliff. Wind came along presently, looking for Coyote. “Where is Sm-ka-lip’?” he asked.

“He fell into the falls and was drowned,” answered Hemp, and Wind believed her. He put on his clothes and went away. Then the sisters pulled Coyote up beside them. He was glad to be saved, and he said, “Now, what can I do to help you?”

“We barely exist,” said Hemp. “All the time we suffer from thirst. We have to live on the little moisture that sprays up from the falls. It is not enough. We need water.”

“I will give you water,” said Coyote, and he walked off a few steps and threw water on the rocks around Hemp and her sister. Then, out of the cliff trickled some water. You will notice today that hemp grows only where the ground is wet.

Coyote left the Hemp sisters and walked until he came to a large encampment by a lake. Yelling that enemies were coming, he ran into the camp like he was being chased. The people were scared. They grabbed their weapons and made their canoes ready for war. Then Coyote talked to his squas-tenk’. He had it put all of the people to sleep. Coyote collected their weapons and food, which he loaded into one canoe. Then he broke all the other canoes and paddled out on the lake.

When the people awoke they hurried to make new weapons and new canoes. They knew who had tricked them. They started after Coyote. Seeing them coming, he caused a heavy fog with his medicine-power. The fog settled close to the water and all over the lake. None of the people could see into the fog-none but Swa-lah’-kin – Frog-woman. The fog did not bother her. She took the lead and guided the others. Not knowing that Frog-woman could follow through the fog, Coyote thought he was safe. He paddled his canoe to shore and went to sleep on the beach. There the people found and killed him.

Many moons later, Sui-ah’-Cougar-traveled through that country. He traveled high up along the mountain sides. As he came close to the death-place of Coyote, he became thirsty and went down to the lake. There he found what was left of Coyote. He collected the remains and stepped over Coyote three times, and Coyote returned to life.

“Eh-ahe! Kes-sap tee-seh-eet!” (“Eh! Long time sleep!”) said Coyote, stretching and yawning.

“You have not been sleeping,” corrected Cougar. “You were dead. You were killed by the Arrow Lakes people.”

“May I go along with you, Big Teeth?” asked Coyote.

“Well, I prefer to travel alone,” said Cougar, “but you may come with me, if you will promise to keep out of mischief.”

Coyote said he would keep out of trouble, so they set out together. That night they camped on a mountain top. Cougar brought out a small bag of food. Coyote thought it would not be enough for the both of them. He was hungry-he was always hungry. Cougar read his thoughts.

“There is plenty here for the two of us,” he said. “Eat all you want.” So Coyote ate heartily. When he and Cougar had finished, he was surprised to see that the bag was as full of food as at first. Cougar told Coyote to throw the scraps away. Coyote did not want to do that. He thought that was wasteful. But Cougar insisted, and he threw away the scraps. Then they slept.

In the morning Cougar brought out another bag-a deer-bladder full of food-and, when they were through eating, the bladder was still full. That day, from the top of a mountain, Cougar pointed out his lodge.

“I must go home now to my children, as they are hungry,” he said. “I will give you a bow and two arrows,” and he gave them to Coyote. “This first arrow is to kill deer. Shoot it through a divide in a hill and you will kill a deer. This other arrow is for birds. Do not get them mixed up. Do not shoot a bird with the deer-arrow and do not loot a deer with the bird-arrow. If you use them wrong, you will lose the arrows.

After Cougar left him, Coyote tried is new arrows. He shot the deer-arrow through a divide and killed a deer. He ate the deer. Then he shot a pheasant with the bird-arrow, and he ate the pheasant. He saw another pheasant He shot it with the deer-arrow, but it did not fall. It sat, with the arrow sticking through it. So he shot the bird-arrow, and the pheasant flew off with both arrows. It sailed down the mountain and out of sight. Coyote hated to lose those arrows so he tried to follow the pheasant. He came to a tepee. He went in. By the fire sat Char’-tups – Fisher. The two lost arrows were there. Fisher had them.

“Long Tail,” said Coyote, “I came to get those arrows.”

“The arrows belonged to my older brother, Sui-ah’ answered Fisher. “I have found them and I will keep them. But I will give you two of my own arrows. They are like the others, and the rule is the same. Do not mix them when you shoot.”

Coyote took Fisher’s arrows and went away feeling good. But he soon forgot the rule for the arrows. He mixed them, shooting the wrong one first, and a pheasant flew off with both arrows. Following the pheasant. Coyote came to the lodge of Pip-qus-Marten, who had the lost arrows in his hand.

“No, I cannot give you these arrows,” explained Marten. “They belonged to my older brother, Fisher. I found them, and I will keep them, but I will give you two of my own arrows. They are used the same way, by the same rule.”

Marten gave Coyote two arrows, but it was not long before foolish Coyote forgot the rule and shot the wrong one and then the other, and both arrows were lost. He hunted for them until he grew tired. Then he decided to go home. When he reached his tepee, he stopped outside to listen. He heard Badger crying. He crept close and peeked through the doorway, and his youngest son shouted:

“Le-ee’-oo!” (“Father!”)

“Your father is dead,” Badger said to the boy. “He never will come back.”

“No!” the boy answered. “I see my father now! Look-at the doorway.” He pointed. Then Badger saw Coyote peeking.

“You were dead,” said Badger. “The little sack fell from the pole many moons ago.”

“I was tired,” Coyote replied. “I slept by the water. The Arrow Lakes people followed me. They found me sleeping. They killed me. Big Teeth found my bones and helped me back to life.”

Coyote was glad to be home again, and Mole and the children were glad, too. So was Badger.

Taken from Coyote Tales by Humishuma, Colville-Okanogan for Mourning Dove [Christine Quintasket], 1933

One time Great Spirit called all the Animal People together. They came from all over the earth to one camp and set up their lodges. Spirit Chief said there was going to be a change. There was going to be a new kind of people coming along. He told all the Animal People they would now have to have names.

“Some of you have names now, some have no names. Tomorrow everyone will have a name. This name will be your name forever, for all your descendants. In the morning you must come to my lodge and choose your name. The first one to come may choose any name he wants. The next person will take any other name. That is the way it will go. And to each person I will give some work to do.”

All the Animal People wanted to have powerful names and be well known. They wanted to be the first to Old Man’s lodge in the morning.

Coyote walked around saying he would be the first. He did not like his name. He was called Trickster and Imitator. Everybody said those names fitted him, but he wanted a new name.

“I will take one of the three powerful names,” said Coyote. “The Mountain Person, Grizzly Bear, who rules all the four legged, or Eagle, who rules the birds, or Good Swimmer, the Salmon, the chief of the Fish People. These are the best names. I will take one of these names.”

Fox, who was Coyote’s brother, said, “Maybe you will have to keep the name you have, which is Sinkalip. People don’t like that name. No one wants it.”

“I am tired of that name, Sinkalip!” said Coyote. “Let some old person who cannot do anything take it. I am a warrior! Tomorrow when I am called Grizzly Bear or Eagle or Salmon you will not talk like this. You will beg to have my new name, brother.”

“You had better go home and get some sleep, Sinkalip,” said Fox, “or you will not wake up in time to get any name.”

But Coyote didn’t go home. He went around asking the Animal People questions. When he heard the answers he would say, “Oh, I knew that before. I did not have to ask.” This is the way he was. He lost his shirt in a game of hoop and stick, then he went home and talked with his wife. She would be called Mole, the Mound Digger, after the naming day.

“Bring in plenty of wood now. I must stay awake all night. Tomorrow I must get my new name. I will be Grizzly Bear. I will be a great warrior and a chief.” Coyote sat watching the fire.

Mole went to bed with the children. Half the night passed. Coyote got sleepy. His eyes grew heavy and started to close, so he took two small sticks and wedged them between his eyelids to hold his eyes open. “Now I can stay awake,” he thought, but before long he was asleep with his eyes wide open. The sun was high in the sky when Coyote woke up. Mole made a noise that woke Coyote.

She did not wake him up before this because she was afraid if he got a great name he would go away and leave her. So she didn’t say anything.

Coyote went right over to the lodge of Old Man. He saw no one around and thought he was the first. He went right in and said, “I am going to be Grizzly Bear. That shall be my name.”

He was talking very loudly.

“The name Grizzly Bear was taken at dawn,” said the Great Spirit.

“Then my name shall be Eagle.”

“Eagle flew away at sunrise.”

“Well, I shall be called Salmon then,” said Coyote in a quiet voice.

“The name Salmon has also been taken,” said the Great Spirit.

“All the names have been taken except yours. No one wanted to steal your name.”

Coyote looked very sad. He sat down by the fire and was very quiet. The Great Spirit was touched.

“Imitator,” he said, “you must keep your name. It is a good name for you. I wanted you to have that name and so I made you sleep late. I wanted you to be the last one here. I have important work for you to do. The New People are coming, you will be their chief.”

“There are many bad creatures on the earth. You will have to kill them. Otherwise they will eat the New People. When you do this, the New People will honor you. They will say you are a great chief. Even the ones who come after them will remember what you have done, and they will honor you for killing the People-devouring monsters and for teaching the New People all the ways of living.”

“The New People will not know anything when they come, not how to dress, how to sing, how to shoot an arrow. You will show them how to do all these things. And put the buffalo out for them and show them how to catch salmon.”

“But you will do foolish things too, and for this the New People will laugh at you. You cannot help it. This will be your way. To make your work easier, I will give you a special power. You will be able to change yourself into anything. You will be able to talk to anything and hear anything talk except the water.”

“If you die, you will come back to life. This will be your way. Changing Person, do you work well!”

Coyote was glad. He went right out and began his work. This is the way it was with him. He went out to make things right.

Taken from Pale Moon: Tales of the American Indians edited by John Long, 1995 Pages 12-14.

As he was walking through the timber one morning, Coyote heard someone say: “I throw you up and you come down in!”

Coyote thought that was strange talk. It made him curious. He wanted to learn who was saying that, and why. He followed the sound of the voice, and he came upon little Zst-skaká-na–Chicka-dee–who was throwing his eyes into the air and catching them in his eye-sockets. When he saw Coyote peering at him from behind a tree, Chickadee ran. He was afraid of Coyote.

“That is my way, not yours,” Coyote yelled after him.

Now, it wasn’t Coyote’s way at all, but Coyote thought he could juggle his eyes just as easily as Chickadee juggled his, so he tried. He took out his eyes and tossed them up and repeated the words used by the little boy: “I throw you up and you come down in!” His eyes plopped back where they belonged. That was fun. He juggled the eyes again and again.

Two ravens happened to fly that way. They saw what Coyote was doing, and one of them said: “Sin-ka-lip is mocking someone. Let us steal his eyes and take them to the Sun-dance. Perhaps then we can find out his medicine-power.”

“Yes, we will do that,” agreed the other raven. “We may learn something.”

As Coyote tossed his eyes the next time, the ravens swooped, swift as arrows from a strong bow. One of them snatched one eye and the other raven caught the other eye.

“Quoh! Quoh! Quoh’,” they laughed, and flew away to the Sun-dance camp.

Oh, but Coyote was mad! He was crazy with rage. When he could hear the ravens laughing no longer, he started in the direction they had gone. He hoped somehow to catch them and get back his eyes. He bumped into trees and bushes, fell into holes and gullies, and banged against boulders. He soon was bruised all over, but he kept on going, stumbling along. He became thirsty, and he kept asking the trees and bushes what kind they were, so that he could learn when he was getting close to water. The trees and bushes answered politely, giving their names.

After awhile he found he was among the mountain bushes, and he knew he was near water. He came soon to a little stream and satisfied his thirst. Then he went on and presently he was in the pine timber. He heard someone laughing. It was Kok-qhi Ski-kaka–Bluebird. She was with her sister, Kwas-Kay–Bluejay.

“Look, sister,” said Bluebird. “There is Sin-ka-lip pretending to be blind. Isn’t he funny?”

“Do not mind Sin-ka-lip,” advised Bluejay. “Do not pay any attention to him. He is full of mean tricks. He is bad.”

Coyote purposely bumped into a tree and rolled over and over toward the voices. That made little Bluebird stop her laughing. She felt just a little bit afraid.

“Come, little girl,” Coyote called. “Come and see the pretty star that I see!”

Bluebird naturally was very curious, and she wanted to see that pretty star, but she hung back, and her sister warned her again not to pay attention to Coyote. But Coyote used coaxing words; told her how bright the star looked.

“Where is the star?” asked Bluebird, hopping a few steps toward Coyote.

“I cannot show you while you are so far away,” he replied. “See, where I am pointing my finger?”

Bluebird hopped close, and Coyote made one quick bound and caught her. He yanked out her eyes and threw them into the air, saying: “I throw you up and you come down in!” and the eyes fell into his eye-sockets.

Coyote could see again, and his heart was glad. “When did you ever see a star in the sunlight?” he asked Bluebird, and then ran off through the timber.

Bluebird cried, and Bluejay scolded her for being so foolish as to trust Coyote. Bluejay took two of the berries she had just picked and put them into her sister’s eye-sockets, and Bluebird could see as well as before. But, as the berries were small, her new eyes were small, too. That is why Bluebird has such berrylike eyes.

While his new eyes were better than none at all, Coyote was not satisfied. They were too little. They did not fit very well into his slant sockets. So he kept on hunting for the ravens and the Sun-dance camp. One day he came to a small tepee. He heard someone inside pounding rocks together. He went in and saw an old woman pounding meat and berries in a stone mortar. The old woman was Su-see-wass–Pheasant. Coyote asked her if she lived alone.

“No,” she said, “I have two granddaughters. They are away at the Sun-dance. The people there are dancing with Coyote’s eyes.”

“Aren’t you afraid to be here alone!” Coyote asked. “Isn’t there anything that you fear?”

“I am afraid of nothing but the stet-chee-hunt (stinging-bush),” she said.

Laughing to himself, Coyote went out to find a stinging-bush. In a swamp not far away he found several bushes of that kind. He broke off one of those nettle bushes and carried it back to the tepee. Seeing it, Pheasant cried, “Do not touch me with the stet-chee-hunt! Do not touch me! It will kill me!”

But Coyote had no mercy in his heart, no pity. He whipped poor Pheasant with the stinging-bush until she died. Then, with his nint knife, he skinned her, and dressed himself in her skin. He looked almost exactly like the old woman. He hid her body and began to pound meat in the stone mortar. He was doing that when the granddaughters came home. They were laughing. They told how they had danced over Coyote’s eyes. They did not recognize Coyote in their grandmother’s skin, but Coyote knew them. One was little Bluebird and the other was Bluejay. Coyote smiled. “Take me with you to the Sun-dance, granddaughters,” he said in his best old-woman’s voice.

The sisters looked at each other in surprise, and Bluejay answered: “Why, you did not want to go with us when the morning was young.”

“Grandmother, how strange you talk!” said Bluebird.

“That is because I burned my mouth with hot soup,” said Coyote.

“And, Grandmother, how odd your eyes look!” Bluejay exclaimed. “One eye is longer than the other!”

“My grandchild, I hurt that eye with my cane,” explained Coyote.

The sisters did not find anything else wrong with their grandmother, and the next morning the three of them started for the Sun-dance camp. The sisters had to carry their supposed grandmother. They took turns. They had gone part way when Coyote made himself an awkward burden and almost caused Bluejay to fall.

That made Bluejay angry, and she threw Coyote to the ground. Bluebird then picked him up and carried him. As they reached the edge of the Sun-dance camp, Coyote again made himself an awkward burden, and Bluebird let him fall. Many of the people in the camp saw that happen. They thought the sisters were cruel, and the women scolded Bluebird and Bluejay for treating such an old person so badly.

Some of the people came over and lifted Coyote to his feet and helped him into the Sun-dance lodge. There the people were dancing over Coyote’s eyes, and the medicine-men were passing the eyes to one another and holding the eyes up high for everyone to see. After a little Coyote asked to hold the eyes, and they were handed to him.

He ran out of the lodge, threw his eyes into the air, and said: “I throw you up and you come down in!”

His eyes returned to their places, and Coyote ran to the top of a hill.

There he looked back and shouted: “Where are the maidens who had Coyote for a grandmother?”

Bluejay and Bluebird were full of shame. They went home, carrying Pheasant’s skin, which Coyote had thrown aside. They searched and found their grandmother’s body and put it back in the skin, and Pheasant’s life was restored. She told them how Coyote had killed her with the stinging-bush.

Taken from Coyote Tales by Humishuma, Colville-Okanogan for Mourning Dove [Christine Quintasket], 1933

One time during the moons of  snow, Coyote and Mole and their children were out of food. They were almost starved. Their nearest neighbors, Skem-huist’, the Claw-Grabber – Bear [black or brown],  and Z-reece’ – Kingfisher – had plenty to eat. Bear and Kingfisher always had plenty. Coyote knew this. He said to his wife; “Pul’-laqu-whu, I am going over the ridge and see your brother, [not his real brother but a form of flattery] Skem-huist”. He may give me something for us to eat.”

Coyote went to Bear’s lodge. Bear and his wife had no children. Coyote noticed that they had nothing in their lodge but some bedding and a klek’-chin (cooking-basket). There were no signs of food, which made Coyote wonder. For awhile he sat in silence. Then he yawned. Bear knew what that meant. It was a hunger yawn.

Bear turned to his wife and said: “Put the rock in the fire and bring water in the basket. Your brother-is hungry.”

Bear’s wife placed a rock in the fire and went after water. Coyote wondered where the food was to come from, and he yawned again. Bear’s wife returned with the cooking-basket nearly full of water. Bear took his flint knife and cut a piece of buckskin from his wife’s robe. He pressed the piece into a lump, and, when the rock in the fire was red-hot, he dropped the rock and the lump of buckskin into the cooking-basket. Then he rubbed ashes on his wife’s robe, and the robe became whole again. It did not show where it had been cut.

As soon as the water in the basket boiled. Bear emptied a bag of pebbles into it. Coyote thought he wouldn’t care for such food-buckskin and pebbles! But when the basket was placed before him, he tasted the food and quickly changed his mind; for the buckskin had become fine, tender meat, and the pebbles were juicy huckleberries!

Coyote ate all of the soup and the huckleberries and some of the meat, but he saved most of the meat for Mole and the children. “Let me carry this meat home in your cooking-basket,” he said to Bear.

“All right,” Bear answered. “You can send it back by one of your children.” But Coyote insisted that Bear come for the basket, that he should come and visit him. Bear did not want to, but Coyote kept insisting until Bear said, “I will come for the basket.”

The next sun Bear walked to Coyote’s lodge. Seeing him coming down the ridge. Coyote had Mole hide all of their rose-hips that they had been eating for lack of better food. The rose-hips were famine food, eaten only in times of starving. Coyote also had Mole clean up the tepee so it would look like Bear’s lodge, and beside the fire he had her leave only a cooking-basket, two sticks and a stone.

Looking in. Bear asked for his basket. He did not intend to go inside, but Coyote urged him to enter and sit down. Being polite. Bear did. Then Coyote told Mole to heat the stone in the fire and get a basket of water. Mole obeyed. When the stone was hot. Coyote took out his flint knife and cut a large piece of buckskin from Mole’s robe-the only robe she owned. He pressed the piece into a lump, as he had seen Bear do, and he told Mole to put it and the hot stone in the cooking-basket. Using the two sticks as tongs. Mole lifted the stone from the fire and dropped it in the water along with the lump of buckskin. As Bear had done to his wife’s robe, Coyote rubbed ashes on Mole’s spoiled robe, but it did not become whole again. It remained as he had cut it. Mole felt bad. Then Coyote poured pebbles from a bag into the boiling water.

Soon all sat up to eat, but only tough buckskin and hard pebbles were taken from the basket. Coyote said nothing. He was ashamed. After awhile Bear spoke. “Sin-ka-lip”,” he said, “this is my way, not yours. You cannot do what I can, and I do not try to imitate people as you do.”

Then Bear rubbed ashes on Mole’s robe and it was as good as ever. Bear picked up his own cooking-basket and went home. Pretty soon Coyote looked into his cooking-basket. What he saw made him grunt with surprise. Instead of buckskin and pebbles, there was plenty of good meat and huckleberries. He laughed.

For many suns Coyote and Mole and their children lived on the meat and the berries that Bear had made for them with his magic power. When all of that food was eaten and they were hungry once more.

Coyote said: “Pul’-laqu-whu, I am going to see your brother, Z-reece’. Maybe he will give us something to eat,” and he went to Kingfisher’s tepee. Invited in, he entered and sat down. He saw nothing to eat in there. He yawned. Kingfisher knew what that meant, and he spoke to the older of his two children. “My son,” he said, “go and bring me three willows.”

Boy Kingfisher went out. He returned soon with three willow sticks, which Kingfisher took and heated over the fire. When they were hot, he twisted them to make them strong and tied them to his belt. Then he flew to the top of the lodge and from there to the river, where he dove through a hole in the ice. He came up with the willow sticks strung with fish. These were for his neighbor. Coyote. Kingfisher’s wife cooked the fish. Coyote ate his fill, but some were left for him to take to Mole and the children. “May I carry these fish home in your cooking-basket?” he asked.

“Yes, take the basket,” said Kingfisher. “Send it back by one of your children.”

“No, I want you to visit me,” Coyote replied. “You come over tomorrow
and get the basket.”

Kingfisher had no wish to visit Coyote, but Coyote coaxed him and at last he agreed, and the next sun he walked to Coyote’s lodge.

“My son,” said Coyote to the eldest of his sons, as Kingfisher sat down, “go and bring me three willows.”

“What do you want them for?” Boy Coyote asked. “How will you use them?”

“You must know why I want three willows,” Coyote scolded. “You always have brought them to me.”

Boy Coyote said nothing more. He went out and got three willow sticks, and his father heated them over the fire and twisted them, as he had seen Kingfisher do. He tied the sticks to his belt and tried to fly to the top of the lodge; he had a hard time climbing there without breaking down the whole tepee. From the lodge-top he jumped for a hole in the river ice. He missed the hole and smashed on the ice and was killed.

Kingfisher had been watching from the doorway and smiling to himself. He walked over to where Coyote lay. Taking the willow sticks from Coyote’s belt, he tied them to his own belt and dove through the hole in the ice. When he came up he had the willow sticks heavy with fish. These he placed beside Coyote and stepped over him three times. That brought Coyote back to life.

Then Kingfisher said: “This is my way, not yours, Sin-ka-lip’. I do not try to imitate others, as you do.”

Kingfisher took his basket and went home, and Coyote went back to his tepee. He carried the fish that Kingfisher had caught. He gave them to Mole to cook.

“See! We have plenty to eat now,” Coyote laughed. “We have plenty for my imitating Bear and Kingfisher. That is why I imitated them!”

Taken from Coyote Tales by Humishuma, Colville-Okanogan for Mourning Dove [Christine Quintasket], 1933