How the Raven Died, by Alfred Henry Lewis

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How the Raven Died
by Alfred Henry Lewis, 1902



"WHICH if you-all is out to hear of Injuns, son," observed the Old Cattleman, 
doubtfully, "the best I can do is shet my eyes an' push along regyardless, like 
a cayouse in a storm of snow. But I don't guarantee no facts; none whatever; I 
never does bend myse'f to severe study of savages, an' what notions I packs 
concernin' 'em is the casual frootes of what I accidental hears an' what I sees. 
It's only now an' then, as I observes former, that Injuns invades Wolfville; an' 
when they does, we-all scowls 'em outen camp— sort o' makes a sour front, so as 
to break 'em early of habits of visitin' us. We shore don't hone none to have 
'em hankerin' 'round. 
"Nacherally, I makes no doubt that if you goes clost to Injuns an' studies their 
little game you finds some of 'em good an' some bad, some gaudy an' some sedate, 
some cur'ous an' some indifferent, same as you finds among shore-enough folks. 
It's so with mules an' broncos; wherefore, then, may not these differences exist 
among Injuns? Come squar' to the turn, you-all finds white folks separated the 
same. Some gents follows off one wagon track an' some another; some even makes a 
new trail. 
"Speakin' of what's opposite in folks, I one time an' ag'in sees two white 
chiefs of scouts who frequent comes pirootin' into Wolfville from the Fort. Each 
has mebby a score of Injuns at his heels who pertains to him personal. One of 
these scout chiefs is all buckskins, fringes, beads an' feathers from y'ears to 
hocks, while t'other goes garbed in a stiff hat with a little jim-crow rim— one 
of them kind you deenom'nates as a darby— an' a diag'nal overcoat; one chief 
looks like a dime novel on a spree an' t'other as much like the far East as he 
saveys how. An' yet, son, this voylent person in buckskins is a Second 
Lootenant— a mere boy, he is— from West P'int; while that outcast in the 
reedic'lous hat is foaled on the plains an' never does go that clost to the 
risin' sun as to glimpse the old Missouri. The last form of maverick bursts 
frequent into Western bloom; it's their ambition, that a-way, to deloode you 
into deemin' 'em as fresh from the States as one of them tomatter airtights. 
"Thar's old gent Jeffords; he's that sort. Old Jeffords lives for long with the 
Apaches; he's found among 'em when Gen'ral Crook— the old 'Gray Fox'— an' 
civilization and Gatlin' guns comes into Arizona arm in arm. I used to note old 
Jeffords hibernatin' about the Oriental over in Tucson. I shore reckons he's 
procrastinatin' about thar yet, if the Great Sperit ain't done called him in. As 
I says, old Jeffords is that long among the Apaches back in Cochise's time that 
the mem'ry of man don't run none to the contrary. An' yet no gent ever sees old 
Jeffords wearin' anything more savage than a long-tail black surtoot an' one of 
them stove-pipe hats. Is Jeffords dangerous? No, you-all couldn't call him a 
distinct peril; still, folks who goes devotin' themse'fs to stirrin' Jeffords up 
jest to see if he's alive gets disastrous action. He has long gray ha'r an' a 
tangled white beard half-way down his front; an' with that old plug hat an' 
black coat he's a sight to frighten children or sour milk! Still, Jeffords is 
all right. As long as towerists an' other inquisitive people don't go pesterin' 
Jeffords, he shore lets 'em alone. Otherwise, you might as well be up the same 
saplin' with a cinnamon b'ar; which you'd most likely hear something drop a lot! 

"For myse'f, I likes old Jeffords, an' considers him a pleasin' conundrum. About 
tenth drink time he'd take a cha'r an' go camp by himse'f in a far corner, an' 
thar he'd warble hymns. Many a time as I files away my nosepaint in the Oriental 
have I been regaled with 
  "'Jesus, Lover of my soul,
        Let me to Thy bosom fly,
    While the nearer waters roll,
        While the tempest still is high,' 
as emanatin' from Jeffords where he's r'ared back conductin' some personal 
services. Folks never goes buttin' in interferin' with these concerts; which 
it's cheaper to let him sing. 
"Speakin' of Injuns, as I su'gests, I never does see overmuch of 'em in 
Wolfville. An' my earlier experiences ain't thronged with 'em neither, though 
while I'm workin' cattle along the Red River I does carom on Injuns more or 
less. Thar's one old hostile I recalls speshul; he's a fool Injun called Black 
Feather— Choctaw, he is. This Black Feather's weakness is fire-water; he thinks 
more of it than some folks does of children. 
"Black Feather used to cross over to where Dick Stocton maintains a store an' 
licker house on the Upper Hawgthief. Of course, no gent sells these Injuns 
licker. It's ag'in the law; an' onless you-all is onusual eager to make a trip 
to Fort Smith with a marshal ridin' herd on you doorin' said visit, impartin' of 
nosepaint to aborigines is a good thing not to do. But Black Feather, he'd come 
over to Dick Stocton's an' linger 'round the bar'ls of Valley Tan, an' take a 
chance on stealin' a snifter or two while Stocton's busy. 
"At last Stocton gets tired an' allows he'll lay for Black Feather. This yere 
Stocton is a mighty reckless sport; he ain't carin' much whatever he does do; he 
hates Injuns an' shotguns, an' loves licker, seven-up, an' Sill in any form; 
them's Stocton's prime characteristics. An' he gets mighty weary of the 
whiskey-thievin' Black Feather, an' lays for him. 
"One evenin' this aggravatin' Black Feather crosses over an' takes to ha'ntin' 
about Dick Stocton's licker room, as is his wont. It looks like Black Feather 
has already been buyin' whiskey of one of them boot-laig parties who takes every 
chance an' goes among the Injuns an' sells 'em nosepaint on the sly. 'Fore ever 
he shows up on the Upper Hawg-thief that time, this Black Feather gets nosepaint 
some'ers an' puts a whole quart of it away in the shade; an' he shore exhibits 
symptoms. Which for one thing he feels about four stories tall! 
"Stocton sets a trap for Black Feather. He fills up the tin cup into which he 
draws that Valley Tan with coal-oil— karoseen you-all calls it— an' leaves it, 
temptin' like, settin' on top a whiskey bar'l. Shore! it's the first thing Black 
Feather notes. He sees his chance an' grabs an' downs the karoseen; an' Stocton 
sort o' startin' for him, this Black Feather gulps her down plump swift. The 
next second he cuts loose the yell of that year, burns up about ten acres of 
land, and starts for Red River. No, I don't know whether the karoseen hurts him 
none or not; but he certainly goes squatterin' across the old Red River like a 
wounded wild-duck, an' he never does come back no more. 
"But, son, as you sees, I don't know nothin' speshul or much touchin' Injuns, 
an' if I'm to dodge the disgrace of ramblin' along in this desultory way, I 
might better shift to a tale I hears Sioux Sam relate to Doc Peets one time in 
the Red Light. This Sam is a Sioux, an' a mighty decent buck, considerin' he's 
Injun; Sam is servin' the Great Father as a scout with the diag'nal-coat, 
darby-hat sharp I mentions. Peets gives this saddle-tinted longhorn a four-bit 
piece, an' he tells this yarn. It sounds plenty-childish, but you oughter b'ar 
in mind that savages' mental ain't no bigger nor older than ten-year-old young 
ones among the palefaces. 
"'This is the old story my mother tells me,' says Sioux Sam, 'to show me the 
evils of curiosity. "The Great Sperit allows to every one the right to ask only 
so many questions," says my mother, "an' when they ask one more than is their 
right, they die." 
"'This is the story of the fate of Kaw-kaw-chee, the Raven, a Sioux chief who 
died long ago exackly as my mother told me. The Raven died because he asked too 
many questions an' was too cur'ous. It began when Sublette, who was a trader, 
came up the Mitchi-zoor-rah, the Big-Muddy, an' was robbed by the Raven's 
people. Sublette was mad at this, an' said next time he would bring the Sioux a 
present so they would not rob him. So he brought a little cask of firewater an' 
left it on the bank of the Big-Muddy. Then Sublette went away, an' twenty of the 
Raven's young men found the little cask. An' they were greedy an' did not tell 
the camp; they drank the fire-water where it was found. 
"'The Raven missed his twenty young men an' when he went to spy for them, 
behold! they were dead, with their teeth locked tight an' their faces an' bodies 
writhen an' twisted as the whirlwind twists the cottonwoods. Then the Raven 
thought an' thought; an' he got very cur'ous to know why his young men died so 
writhen an' twisted. The firewater had a whirlwind in it, an' the Raven was 
eager to hear. So he sent for Sublette. 
"'Then the Raven an' Sublette had a big talk. They agreed not to hurt each 
other; an' Sublette was to come an' go an' trade with the Sioux; an' they would 
never rob him. 
"'At this, Sublette gave the Raven some of the whirlwind that so killed an' 
twisted the twenty young men. It was a powder, white; an' it had no smell. 
Sublette said its taste was bitter; but the Raven must not taste it or it would 
lock up his teeth an' twist an' kill him. For to swallow the white powder loosed 
the whirlwind on the man's heart an' it bent him an' twisted him like the storms 
among the willows. 
"'But the Raven could give the powder to others. So the Raven gave it in some 
deer's meat to his two squaws; an' they were twisted till they died; an' when 
they would speak they couldn't, for their teeth were held tight together an' no 
words came out of their mouths— only a great foam. Then the Raven gave it to 
others that he did not love; they were twisted an' died. At last there was no 
more of the powder of the whirlwind; the Raven must wait till Sublette came up 
the Big-Muddy again an' brought him more. 
"'There was a man, the Gray Elk, who was of the Raven's people. The Gray Elk was 
a Choo-ayk-eed, a great prophet. And the Gray Elk had a wife; she was wise an' 
beautiful, an' her name was Squaw-who-has-dreams. But the Gray Elk called her 
Kee-nee-moo-sha, the Sweetheart. 
"'While the Raven waited for Sublette to bring him more powder of the whirlwind, 
a star with a long tail came into the sky. This star with the tail made the 
Raven heap cur'ous. He asked Gray Elk to tell him about it, for he was a 
prophet. The Raven asked many questions; they fell from him like leaves from a 
tree in the month of the first ice. So the Gray Elk called Chee-bee, the Spirit; 
an' the Spirit told the Gray Elk. Then the Gray Elk told the Raven. 
"'It was not a tail, it was blood— star blood; an' the star had been bit an' was 
wounded, but would get well. The Sun was the father of the stars, an' the Moon 
was their mother. The Sun, Gheezis, tried ever to pursue an' capture an' eat his 
children, the stars. So the stars all ran an' hid when the Sun was about. But 
the stars loved their mother who was good an' never hurt them; an' when the Sun 
went to sleep at night an' Coush-ee-wan, the Darkness, shut his eyes, the Moon 
an' her children came together to see each other. But the star that bled had 
been caught by the Sun; it got out of his mouth, but was wounded. Now it was 
frightened, so it always kept its face to where the Sun was sleeping over in the 
west. The bleeding star, Sch-coo-dah, would get well an' its wound would heal. 
"'Then the Raven wanted to know how the Gray Elk knew all this. An' the Gray Elk 
had the Raven into the medicine lodge that night; an' the Raven heard the 
spirits come about an' heard their voices, but he could not understand. Also, 
the Raven saw a wolf all fire, with wings like the eagle which flew overhead. 
Also he heard the Thunder, Boom-wa-wa, talking with the Gray Elk; but the Raven 
couldn't understand. The Gray Elk told the Raven to draw his knife an' stab with 
it in the air outside the medicine lodge. An' when he did, the Raven's blade an' 
hand came back covered with blood. Still, the Raven was cur'ous an' kept askin' 
to be told how the Gray Elk knew these things. An' the Gray Elk at last took the 
Raven to the Great Bachelor Sycamore that lived alone, an' asked the Raven if 
the Bachelor Sycamore was growing. An' the Raven said it was. Then Gray Elk 
asked him how he knew it was growing An' the Raven said he didn't know. Then 
Gray Elk said he did not know how he knew about Sch-ooo-dah, the star that was 
bit. This made the Raven angry, for he was very cur'ous; an' he thought the Gray 
Elk had two tongues. 
"'Then it came the month of the first young grass an' Sublette was back for 
furs. Also he brought many goods; an' he gave to the Raven more of the powder of 
the whirlwind in a little box. At once the Raven made a feast of ducks for the 
Gray Elk; an' he gave him of the whirlwind powder; an' at once his teeth came 
together an' the Gray Elk was twisted till he died. 
"'Now no one knew that the Raven had the powder of the whirlwind, so they could 
not tell why all these people were twisted and went to the Great Spirit. But the 
Squaw-who-has-dreams saw that it was the Raven who killed her husband, the Gray 
Elk, in a vision. Then the Squaw-who-has-dreams went into the mountains four 
days an' talked with Moh-kwa, the Bear who is the wisest of the beasts. The Bear 
said it was the Raven who killed the Gray Elk an' told the Squaw-who-has-dreams 
of the powder of the whirlwind. 
"'Then the Bear an' the Squaw-who-has-dreams made a fire an' smoked an' laid a 
plot. The Bear did not know where to find the powder of the whirlwind which the 
Raven kept always in a secret place. But the Bear told the Squaw-who-has-dreams 
that she should marry the Raven an' watch until she found where the powder of 
the whirlwind was kept in its secret place; an' then she was to give some to the 
Raven, an' he, too, would be twisted an' die. There was a great danger, though; 
the Raven would, after the one day when they were wedded, want to kill the 
Squaw-who-has-dreams. So to protect her, the Bear told her she must begin to 
tell the Raven the moment she was married to him the Story-that-never-ends. 
Then, because the Raven was more cur'ous than even he was cruel, he would put 
off an' put off giving the powder of the whirlwind to the Squaw-who-has-dreams, 
hoping to hear the end of the Story-that-never-ends. Meanwhile the 
Squaw-who-has-dreams was to watch the Raven until she found the powder of the 
whirlwind in its secret place. 
"'Then the wise Bear gave the Squaw-who-has-dreams a bowlful of words as seed, 
so she might plant them an' raise a crop of talk to tell the 
Story-that-never-ends. An' the Squaw-who-has-dreams planted the seed-words, an' 
they grew an' grew, an' she gathered sixteen bundles of talk an' brought them to 
her wigwam. After that she put beads in her hair, an' dyed her lips red, an' 
rubbed red on her cheeks, An' put on a new blanket; an' when the Raven saw her, 
he asked her to marry him. So they were wedded; an' the Squaw-who-has-dreams 
went to the teepee of the Raven an' was his wife. 
"'But the Raven was old an' cunning like Yah-mee-kee, the Beaver, an' he said, 
"He is not wise who keeps a squaw too long!" An' with that he thought he would 
kill the Squaw-who-has-dreams the next day with the powder of the whirlwind. But 
the Squaw-who-has-dreams first told the Raven that she hated When-dee-goo, the 
Giant; an' that she should not love the Raven until he had killed When-dee-goo. 
She knew the Giant was too big an' strong for the Raven to kill with his lance, 
an' that he must get his powder of the whirlwind; she would watch him an' learn 
its secret place. The Raven said he would kill the Giant as the sun went down 
next day. 
"'Then the Squaw-who has-dreams told the Raven the first of the 
Story-that-never-ends an' used up one bundle of talk; an' when the story ended 
for that night, the Squaw-who-has-dreams was saying "An' so, out of the lake 
that was red as the sun came a great fish that was green, with yellow wings, an' 
it walked also with feet, an' it came up to me an' said:" But then she would 
tell no more that night; nor could the Raven, who was crazy with cur'osity, 
prevail on her. "I must now sleep an' dream what the green fish with the yellow 
wings said," was the reply of the Squaw-who-has-dreams, an' she pretended to 
slumber. So the Raven, because he was cur'ous, put off her death. 
"'All night she watched, but the Raven did not go to the secret place where he 
had hidden the powder of the whirlwind. Nor the next day, when the sun went 
down, did the Raven kill the Giant. But the Squaw-who-has-dreallls took up again 
the Story-that-never-ends an' told what the green fish with the yellow wings 
said; an' she used up the second bundle of talk. When she ceased for that time, 
the Squaw-who-has-dreams was saying: "An' as night fell, Moh-kwa, the Bear, 
called to me from his canyon, an' said for me to come an' he would show me where 
the treasure of fire-water was buried for you who are the Raven. So I went into 
the canyon, an' Moh-kwa, the Bear, took me by the hand an' led me to the 
treasure of firewater which was greater an' richer than was ever seen by any 
Sioux." 
"'Then the Squaw-who-has-dreams would tell no more that night, while the Raven 
eat his fingers with cur'osity. But he made up a new plan not to twist the 
Squaw-who-has-dreams until she showed him the treasure of firewater an' told him 
the end of the Story-that-never-ends. On her part, however, the Squaw-who 
has-dreams, as she went to sleep, wept an' tore the beads from her hair an' said 
the Raven did not love her, for he had not killed the Giant, as he promised. She 
said she would tell no more of the Story-that-never-ends until the Giant was 
dead; nor would she show to a husband who did not love her the great treasure of 
firewater which Moh-kwa, the Bear, had found. At this, the Raven, who was hot to 
have the treasure of firewater an' whose ears rang with cur'osity to hear the 
end of the Story-that-never-ends, saw that he must kill the Giant. Therefore, 
when the Squaw-who-has-dreams had ceased to sob and revile him, an' was gone as 
he thought asleep, the Raven went to his secret place where he kept the powder 
of the whirlwind an' took a little and wrapped it in a leaf an' hid the leaf in 
the braids of his long hair. Then the Raven went to sleep. 
"'When the Raven was asleep the Squaw-who-has-dreams went also herself to the 
secret place an' got also a little of the powder of the whirlwind. An' the next 
morning she arose early an' gave the powder of the whirlwind to the Raven on the 
roast buffalo, the Pez-hee-kee, which was his food. 
"'When the Raven had eaten, the Squaw-who-has-dreams went out of the teepee 
among the people an' called all the Sioux to come an' see the Raven die. So the 
Sioux came gladly, an' the Raven was twisted an' writhen with the powder of the 
whirlwind wrenching at his heart; an' his teeth were tight like a trap; an' no 
words, but only foam, came from his mouth; an' at last the Spirit, the Chee-bee, 
was twisted out of the Raven; an' the Squaw-who-has-dreams was revenged for the 
death of the Gray Elk whom she loved an' who always called her Kee nee-moo-sha, 
the Sweetheart, because it made her laugh. 
"'When the Raven was dead, the Squaw-who-has-dreams went to the secret place an' 
threw the powder of the whirlwind into the Big-Muddy; an' after that she 
distributed her fourteen bundles of talk that were left among all the Sioux so 
that everybody could tell how glad he felt because the Raven was twisted and 
died. An' for a week there was nothing but happiness an' big talk among the 
Sioux; an' Moh-kwa, the Bear, came laughing out of his canyon with the wonder of 
listening to it; while the Squaw-who-has-dreams now, when her revenge was done, 
went with When-dee-goo, the Giant, to his teepee and became his squaw. So now 
everything was ended save the Story-that-never-ends.' 
"When Sioux Sam gets this far," concluded the Old Cattleman, "he says, 'an' my 
mother's words at the end were: An' boys who ask too many questions will die, as 
did the Raven whose cur'osity was even greater than his cruelty.'"