BESIDE a white lake, beneath a large grown willow tree, sat

Iktomi on the bare ground. The heap of smouldering ashes told of

a recent open fire. With ankles crossed together around a pot of

soup, Iktomi bent over some delicious boiled fish.

Fast he dipped his black horn spoon into the soup, for he was

ravenous. Iktomi had no regular meal times. Often when he was

hungry he went without food.

Well hid between the lake and the wild rice, he looked nowhere

save into the pot of fish. Not knowing when the next meal would

be, he meant to eat enough now to last some time.

"How, how, my friend!" said a voice out of the wild rice.

Iktomi started. He almost choked with his soup. He peered through

the long reeds from where he sat with his long horn spoon in

mid-air.

"How, my friend!" said the voice again, this time close at his

side. Iktomi turned and there stood a dripping muskrat who had

just come out of the lake.

"Oh, it is my friend who startled me. I wondered if among the

wild rice some spirit voice was talking. How, how, my friend!"

said Iktomi. The muskrat stood smiling. On his lips hung a ready

"Yes, my friend," when Iktomi would ask, "My friend, will you sit

down beside me and share my food?"

That was the custom of the plains people. Yet Iktomi sat

silent. He hummed an old dance-song and beat gently on the edge of

the pot with his buffalo-horn spoon. The muskrat began to feel

awkward before such lack of hospitality and wished himself under

water.

After many heart throbs Iktomi stopped drumming with his horn

ladle, and looking upward into the muskrat's face, he said:

"My friend, let us run a race to see who shall win this pot of

fish. If I win, I shall not need to share it with you. If you

win, you shall have half of it." Springing to his feet, Iktomi

began at once to tighten the belt about his waist.

"My friend Ikto, I cannot run a race with you! I am not a

swift runner, and you are nimble as a deer. We shall not run any

race together," answered the hungry muskrat.

For a moment Iktomi stood with a hand on his long protruding

chin. His eyes were fixed upon something in the air. The muskrat

looked out of the corners of his eyes without moving his head. He

watched the wily Iktomi concocting a plot.

"Yes, yes," said Iktomi, suddenly turning his gaze upon the

unwelcome visitor;

"I shall carry a large stone on my back. That will slacken my

usual speed; and the race will be a fair one."

Saying this he laid a firm hand upon the muskrat's shoulder

and started off along the edge of the lake. When they reached the

opposite side Iktomi pried about in search of a heavy stone.

He found one half-buried in the shallow water. Pulling it out

upon dry land, he wrapped it in his blanket.

"Now, my friend, you shall run on the left side of the lake,

I on the other. The race is for the boiled fish in yonder kettle!"

said Iktomi.

The muskrat helped to lift the heavy stone upon Iktomi's back.

Then they parted. Each took a narrow path through the tall reeds

fringing the shore. Iktomi found his load a heavy one.

Perspiration hung like beads on his brow. His chest heaved hard

and fast.

He looked across the lake to see how far the muskrat had gone,

but nowhere did he see any sign of him. "Well, he is running low

under the wild rice!" said he. Yet as he scanned the tall grasses

on the lake shore, he saw not one stir as if to make way for the

runner. "Ah, has he gone so fast ahead that the disturbed grasses

in his trail have quieted again?" exclaimed Iktomi. With that

thought he quickly dropped the heavy stone. "No more of this!"

said he, patting his chest with both hands.

Off with a springing bound, he ran swiftly toward the goal.

Tufts of reeds and grass fell flat under his feet. Hardly had they

raised their heads when Iktomi was many paces gone.

Soon he reached the heap of cold ashes. Iktomi halted stiff

as if he had struck an invisible cliff. His black eyes showed a

ring of white about them as he stared at the empty ground. There

was no pot of boiled fish! There was no water-man in sight! "Oh,

if only I had shared my food like a real Dakota, I would not have

lost it all! Why did I not know the muskrat would run through the

water? He swims faster than I could ever run! That is what he has

done. He has laughed at me for carrying a weight on my back while

he shot hither like an arrow!"

Crying thus to himself, Iktomi stepped to the water's brink.

He stooped forward with a hand on each bent knee and peeped far

into the deep water.

"There!" he exclaimed, "I see you, my friend, sitting with

your ankles wound around my little pot of fish! My friend, I am

hungry. Give me a bone!"

"Ha! ha! ha!" laughed the water-man, the muskrat. The sound

did not rise up out of the lake, for it came down from overhead.

With his hands still on his knees, Iktomi turned his face upward

into the great willow tree. Opening wide his mouth he begged, "My

friend, my friend, give me a bone to gnaw!"

"Ha! ha!" laughed the muskrat, and leaning over the limb he

sat upon, he let fall a small sharp bone which dropped right into

Iktomi's throat. Iktomi almost choked to death before he could get

it out. In the tree the muskrat sat laughing loud. "Next time,

say to a visiting friend, 'Be seated beside me, my friend. Let me

share with you my food.'"