One day in the long ago, two young girls were lying on the grass outside their tipi on a warm summer evening. They were looking up into the sky, describing star-pictures formed by their imaginations.

“That is a pretty star. I like that one,” said First Girl.

“I like that one best of all–over there,” Second Girl pointed.

First Girl pointed to the brightest star in the sky and said, “I like the brightest one best of all. That is the one I want to marry.”

That evening they agreed to go out the next day to gather wood. Next morning they started for the timbered area. On their way they saw a porcupine climb a tree.

“I’ll climb the tree and pull him down,” said First Girl. She climbed but could not reach the porcupine.

Every time she stretched her hand for him, the porcupine climbed a little higher. Then the tree started growing taller. Second Girl below called to her friend, “Please come down, the tree is growing taller!”

“No,” said First Girl as the porcupine climbed higher and the tree grew taller. Second Girl could see what was happening, so she ran back to the camp and told her people. They rushed to the tree, but First Girl had completely disappeared!

The tree continued to grow higher and higher. Finally, First Girl reached another land. She stepped off the tree branch and walked upon the sky! Before long she met a kindly looking middle-aged man who spoke to her. First Girl began to cry.

“Whatever is the matter? Only last night I heard you wish that you could marry me. I am the Brightest-Star,” he said.

First Girl was pleased to meet Brightest-Star and became happy again when she got her wish and married him. He told her that she could dig roots with the other star-women, but to beware of a certain kind of white turnip with a great green top. This kind she must never dig. To do so was “against the medicine”–against the rules of the Sky-Chief.

Every day First Girl dug roots. Her curiosity about the strange white turnip became so intense that she decided to dig up one of them. It took her a long, long time. When she finally pulled out the root, a huge hole was left. She looked into the hole and far, far below she saw the camp of her own people.

Everything and everyone was very small, but she could see lodges and people walking. Instantly she became homesick to see her own people again. How could she ever get down from the sky? She realized it was a long, long way down to earth. Then her eyes fell upon the long tough grass growing near her. Could she braid it into a long rope? She decided to try, every day pulling more long grass and braiding more rope.

One time her husband Brightest-Star asked, “What is it that keeps you outdoors so much of the time?”

“I walk a great distance and that makes me tired. I need to sit down and rest before I can start back home.”

At last she finished making her strong rope, thinking by now it must be long enough. She tied one end of the rope to a log that she rolled across the top of the hole as an anchor. She let down the rope. It looked as though it touched the ground.

She lowered herself into the hole, holding onto the braided rope. It seemed to take a long time as she slowly lowered herself until she came to the end of the rope. But it did not touch the earth! For a long while she hung on dangling in midair and calling uselessly for help. When she could hold on no longer, she fell to the ground and broke into many pieces. Although she died, her unborn son did not die, because he was made of star-stone and did not break.

A meadowlark saw what happened and took the falling-star baby to her nest. There the lark kept him with her own baby birds.

When they were older, Falling-Star crept out of the nest with the little birds. The stronger the birds grew, the stronger grew Falling-Star. Soon all of them could crawl and run. The young birds practiced their flying while Falling-Star ran after them. Then the young birds could fly anywhere they wished, while Falling-Star ran faster and faster to keep up with them.

“Son, you had better go home to your own people,” said Mother Meadowlark. “It is time for us to fly south for the winter. Before long, the weather here will be very cold.”

“Mother Meadowlark,” asked Falling-Star. “Why do you want me to leave you? I want to go with you.”

“No, Son,” she replied. “You must go home now.”

“I will go if Father Meadowlark will make me a bow and some arrows.”

Father Meadowlark made a bow and pulled some of his own quills to feather the arrows. He made four arrows and a bow for Falling-Star. Then he started Falling-Star in the right direction toward his home, downstream.

Falling-Star traveled a long time before he reached the camp of his people. He went into the nearest lodge owned by an old grandmother.

“Grandmother,” he said. “I need a drink of water.”

“My grandson,” she said to him, “only the young men who are the fastest runners can go for water. There is a water-monster who sucks up any people who go too close to it.”

“Grandmother, if you will give me your buffalo-pouch and your buffalo-horn ladle, I will bring you water.”

“Grandson, I warn you that many of our finest young men have been destroyed by the water-monster. I fear that you will be killed too.” But she gave him the things he asked for. He went upstream and dipped water, at the same time keeping watch for the monster.

At the very moment Falling-Star filled his bucket, the Water- monster raised its head above the water. His mouth was enormous. He sucked in his breath and drew in Falling-Star, the bucket, water, and the ladle. When Falling-Star found himself inside the monster’s stomach, he saw all the other people who had ever been swallowed. With his Star-stone, he cut a hole in the animal’s side. Out crawled all the people, and Falling-Star rescued his pouch and ladle for his grandmother, taking her some cool, fresh water.

“My grandson, who are you?” she asked, marveling at his survival.

“Grandmother, I am Falling-Star. I killed the monster who has caused our people much suffering, and I rescued all the people who had been swallowed.”

The old woman told the village crier to spread the good news that the monster was dead. Now that Falling-Star had saved the camp people there, he asked the grandmother, “Are there other camps of our people nearby?”

“Yes, there is one farther downstream,” she said.

Falling-Star took his bow and arrows and left camp. The fall of the year had now arrived. After travelling many days, he reached the other camp. Again he went into an old woman’s lodge where she sat near her fire.

“Grandmother, I am very hungry,” he said.

“My son, my son, we have no food. We cannot get any buffalo meat. Whenever our hunters go out for buffalo, a great white crow warns the buffalo, which drives them away.

“How sad,” he said. “I will try to help. Go out and look for a worn-out buffalo robe with little hair. Tell your chief to choose two of his fastest runners and send them to me.”

Later, the old woman returned with the robe and the two swift runners. Falling-Star told them his plan. “I will go to a certain place and wait for the buffalo. When the herd runs, I will follow, disguised as a buffalo in the worn-out robe. You two runners chase me and the buffalo for a long distance. When you overtake me, you must shoot at me. I will pretend to be dead. You pretend to cut me open and leave me there on the ground.”

When the real buffalo arrived, the white crow flew over them screaming, “They are coming! They are after you! Run, run!” The buffalo herd ran, followed by a shabby-looking bull.

The two swift runners chased the old bull according to plan. All kinds of birds, wolves, and coyotes came toward the carcass from all directions. Among them was the white crow. As he flew over Falling-Star in disguise, he called out shrilly, “I wonder if this is Falling-Star?”

Time after time the crow flew over the carcass, still calling, “I wonder if this is Falling-Star?” He came closer and closer with each pass. When he was close enough, Falling-Star sprang and grabbed the legs of the white crow. All of the other birds and animals scattered in every direction.

When Falling-Star brought the captive white crow home to the grandmother, she sent word for the chief.

“I will take the white crow to my lodge. I will tie him to the smoke hole and smoke him dead,” said the chief.

From that moment on, the good Cheyenne’s were able to kill many buffalo and they had plenty of buffalo meat for all their needs.

The people in gratitude gave Falling-Star a lovely lodge-home and a pretty Indian maiden waiting there to become his wife. They remained all of their lives with the Northern Cheyenne tribe.

http://www.indigenouspeople.net/fallings.htm

One Cheyenne man of long ago had a pointed leg. By running and jumping against trees he made his leg stick in them. When he said the magic word, he dropped again to the ground. Sometimes on a hot day he would stick himself high on the tree trunk for greater shade. However, he knew he could not do this trick more than four times in one day.

A white man came along, saw him perform, and cried out, “Brother, sharpen my leg!” Cheyenne man said, “That’s not too hard. I can sharpen your leg.” So the white man stood on a large log, and with an axe the Cheyenne sharpened his leg. “But you must remember never to perform your trick more than four times in one day, and keep exact count.”

White man then went down toward the river and saw a large tree growing on the bank. Toward this he ran, jumped, and thrust his leg into the tree, where it stuck. He called himself back to the ground. Again he jumped against another tree, but only counted one. The third time he only counted two. The fourth time, birds and animals stood by and watched as the white man jumped high and pushed his leg on the tree, up to his knee. But he only counted three.

Then coyotes, wolves, and other animals came to see him. Some asked, “How did the white man learn the trick?” They begged him to show them, so they could stick themselves to trees at night. The white man became even prouder from all of this admiration, and the fifth time he ran harder, jumped higher, and half his thigh entered the tree and there he stuck fast. Then he counted four.

He called and called to bring himself down to the ground again, but he still stuck fast. He called out all night and the next day-but nothing helped him. He asked his animal friends to find the Cheyenne who had taught him the trick, but no one knew whom to look for. The white man had forgotten the secret of freeing himself, and after many days stuck in the tree, he starved to death

Taken from George Bird Grinell. Journal of American Folklore 13 [1900 page 169]

A long, long time ago the Cheyenne warriors had not learned yet how to use eagle for their war ornaments. One of their men climbed a high mountain; there he lay for five days, crying, without food. Some powerful being, he hoped, would see him and come to him, to teach him something great for his people.

He was glad when he heard a voice say, “Try to be brave, no matter what comes, even if it might kill you. If you remember these words, you will bring great news to your people, and help them.” After a time he heard voices, and seven eagles came down, as if to fly away with him. But he was brave, as he had been told, though he continued to cry and keep his eyes closed. Now the great eagles surrounded him. One said “Look at me. I am powerful, and I have wonderfully strong feathers. I am greater than all other animals and birds in the world.” This powerful eagle showed the man his wings and his tail, and he spread all his feathers as wide as possible. He shows him how to make war headdresses and ornaments out of eagle feathers.

“Your people must use only eagle feathers, and it would be a great help to them in war and bring them victories,” eagle said. Since no loose feathers were about, the seven eagles shook themselves, and plenty of feathers fell to the ground. The Cheyenne picked them up and gratefully took them home to his tribe.

On that day, eagle feathers were seen for the first time by the Cheyenne and they knew where they came from. The man showed his people how to make war ornaments from the eagle feathers, as he had been told. From that day onward, the man became a great warrior in his tribe, and their leader in war parties. He became so successful his people named him Chief Eagle Feather and he wore his Eagle Feather Warbonnet, as he led the Cheyenne’s with dignity and pride.

http://www.indigenouspeople.net/eaglewar.htm

Veeho is like some tourists who come into an Indian village not knowing how to behave or what to do, trying to impress everybody. One day Veeho met a medicine man with great powers. This man thought to amuse Veeho — and himself — with a little trick.

“Eyeballs,” he shouted, “I command you to fly out of my head and hang on that tree over there.”

At once his eyeballs shot out of his head and in a flash were hanging from a tree branch. Veeho watched open-mouthed.

“Ho! Eyeballs!” cried the medicine man, “now come back where you belong!” And quick as lightning, the eyeballs were back where they ought to be.

“Uncle,” said Veeho, “please give me a little of your power so that I too can do this wonderful trick.” To himself Veeho was thinking, “Then I can set up as a medicine man; then people will look up to me, especially good-looking girls; then people will give me many gifts!”

“Why not?” said the medicine man. “Why not give you a little power to please you? But, listen, Veeho, don’t do this trick more than four times a day, or your eyeballs won’t come back.”

Veeho could hardly wait to get away and try out this stunning trick. As soon as he was alone, he ordered: “Eyeballs, hop on that ledge over there. Jump to it!” And the eyeballs did. Veeho couldn’t see a thing. “Quickly, eyeballs, back into your sockets!” The eyeballs obeyed. “Boy, oh boy,” Veeho said to himself, “what a big man I am. Powerful, really powerful.” Soon he saw another tree. “Eyeballs, up into that tree, quick!” For a second time the eyeballs did as they were told. “Back into the skull!” Veeho shouted, snapping his fingers. And once more the eyeballs jumped back. Veeho was enjoying himself, getting used to this marvelous trick. He couldn’t stop. Twice more he performed it. “Well, that’s it for today,” he said.

Later he came to a big village and wanted to impress the people with his powers. “Would you believe it, cousins,” he told them, “I can make my eyeballs jump out of my head, fly over to that tree, hang themselves from a branch, and come back when I tell them.”

The people, of course, didn’t believe him; they laughed. Veeho grew angry. “It’s true, it’s true!” he cried. “You stupid people, I can do it.”

“Show us,” said the people.

“How often have I done this trick?” Veeho tried to remember. “Four times? No, no. The first time was only for practice; it doesn’t count. I can still show these dummies something.” And he commanded: “Eyeballs, hang yourselves on a branch of that tree!” The eyeballs did, and a great cry of wonder and astonishment went up. “There, you louts, didn’t I tell you?” said Veeho, strutting around, puffing himself up.

After a while he said: “All right, eyeballs, comeback!” But the eyeballs stayed up in the tree. “Come back, come back, you no-good eyeballs!” Veeho cried again and again, but the eyeballs stayed put.

Finally a big fat crow lighted on that tree and gobbled them up. “Mm, good,” said the crow, “very tasty.” The people laughed at Veeho, shook their heads, and went away. Veeho was blind now. He didn’t know what to do. He groped through the forest. He stumbled. He ran into trees. He sat down by a stone and cried.

He heard a squeaking sound. It was a mouse calling other mice. “Mouse, little mouse,” cried Veeho, “I am blind. Please lend me one of your eyes so that I can see again.”

“My eyes are tiny,” said the mouse, “much too tiny. What good would one of them do you? It wouldn’t fit.” But Veeho begged so pitifully that the mouse finally gave him an eye, saying: “I guess I can get along with the other one.”

So Veeho had one eye, but it was very small indeed. What he saw was just a tiny speck of light. Still, it was better than nothing. Veeho staggered on and met a buffalo. “Buffalo brother,” he begged, “I have to get along with just this one tiny mouse eye. How can a big man like me make do with that? Have pity on me, brother, and lend me one of your big, beautiful eyes.”

“What good would one of my eyes do you?” asked the buffalo. “It’s much too big for your eye-hole.”

But Veeho begged and wept and wheedled until the buffalo said: “Well, all right, I’ll let you have one. I can’t stand listening to you carrying on like that. I guess I can get by with one eye.”

And so Veeho had his second eye. The buffalo bull’s eye was much too big. It stuck out of its socket like a shinny ball boys like to play with. It made everything look twice as big as his own eyes had. And since the mouse eye saw everything ten times smaller, Veeho got a bad headache. But what could he do? It was better than being blind.

“It’s a bad mess, though,” said Veeho. Veeho went back to his wife and lodge. His wife looked at him. “I believe your eyes are a little mismatched,” she told him. And he described all that had happened to him.

“You know,” she said, “I think you should stop fooling around, trying to impress people with your tricks.”

“I guess so, ” said Veeho.

Told by Rachel Strange Owl in Birney, Montana, 1971

Many thousands of years ago the Cheyenne inhabited a country in the far north, across a great body of water. For two or three years they had been overpowered by an enemy that outnumbered them, and they were about to become the enemy’s slaves, and they were filled with sorrow. Among their number was a great medicine-man who possessed a wooden hoop, like those used in the games of to-day. On one side of the hoop were tied magpie feathers, while opposite them, on the other side of the hoop, was a flint spear head, with the point projecting toward the center of the hoop. One night the great chief told the people to come to a certain place.

When they were assembled he led them away. He kept in advance of them all the time, and in his left hand he held a long staff, and in his right hand he held his hoop horizontally in front of him, with the spear head of the hoop pointing forward. No one was allowed to go in front of him. On the fourth night of their journey they saw, at some distance from the ground, and apparently not far in front of them, a bright light. As they advanced the light receded, and appeared always a little farther beyond. They traveled a few more nights, and the fire preceded them all the way, until they came to a large body of water. The medicine-man ordered the Cheyenne to form in a line along the edge of the water, and they obeyed. He then told them that he was going to take them across the water to another land, where they would live forever. As they stood facing the water the medicine-man asked them to sing four times with him, and he told them that as they sang the fourth time he would lead them across the water. As he sang the fourth time he began to walk forwards and backwards and the fourth time he walked directly into the water. All the people followed him. He commanded them not to look upward, but ever downward. As they went forward the waters separated, and they walked on dry ground, but the water was all around them. Finally, as they were being led by night the fire disappeared, but they continued to follow the medicine-man until daylight, when they found themselves walking in a beautiful country.

In the new country they found plenty of game to live on. The medicine-man taught the Cheyenne many things, but they seemed to be of weak minds, though they were physically strong. Out of these Cheyenne there sprang up men and women who were large, tall, strong, and fierce, and they increased in number until they numbered thousands. They were so strong that they could pick up and carry off on their backs the large animals that they killed. They tamed panther and bear and trained them to catch wild game for them to eat. They had bows and arrows, and were always dressed in furs and skins, and in their ignorance they roamed about like animals. In those days there were very large animals. One variety of these animals was of the form of a cow, though four times as large; by nature they were tame and grazed along the river banks; men milked them. Boys and men to the number of twenty could get upon their backs without disturbing them. Another variety of these large animals resembled in body the horse, and they had horns and long, sharp teeth. This was the most dangerous animal in the country. It ate man, had a mind like a human being, and could trail a human being through the rivers and tall grasses by means of its power of scent. Of these there were but few. In the rivers there were long snakes whose bodies were so large that a man could not jump over them.

The Cheyenne remained in the north a long time, but finally roamed southward, conveying their burdens by means of dogs. While they were traveling southward there came a great rain and flood all over the country. The rivers rose and overflowed, and still the rain kept falling. At last the high hills alone could be discerned. The people became frightened and confused. On a neighboring hill, and apart from the main body of the Cheyenne, were a few thousand of their number, who were out of view, and had been cut off from the main body by the rising water. When the rains ceased and the water subsided the part who were cut off looked for their tribesmen, but they found no sign of them; and it has ever since been a question among the Cheyenne whether this band of people was drowned, or whether it became a distinct tribe. Long afterward the Cheyenne met a tribe who used many of their words, and to-day they believe that a part of their people are still living in the north. Nearly all the animals were either drowned or starved to death. The trees and fruit upon which the people had formerly subsisted were destroyed. A few large gray wolves escaped with them, for they had crossed with the tame dogs. The dogs were so large that they could carry a child several miles in a day. After the flood had subsided the senses of the Cheyenne seemed to be awakened. They became strong in mind but weak in body, for now they had no game to subsist on. They lived on dried meat and mushrooms, which sustained them for a long time.

Tales of the North American Indians, by Stith Thompson [1929] and is now in the public domain’

(CHEYENNE: Dorsey, Field Museum: Anthropological Series, ix, 37, No. 15)