s
and tambourines, and yell and scream, for he is afraid of these things."
The spider then went back to the big man and told him the camp was big
enough for them both. Then he marked a place which divided them half and
half, and said: "You are to have the one half and I am to have the other
half; but if you go ahead and eat your half and eat half of my half, I
will swallow you too." As they went along to the camp the spider said to
the big man: "I am the older, and will go ahead of you a little." In the
meantime he had told those in camp that they must all gather in one place
where he would lead this big man. As the big man walked along, he grew
tired, and would let out his breath and take in a great big breath, and
every time the spider would be drawn up against him. The spider told him
if he did it again he would draw in his breath and the big man would soon
be inside his stomach. As the spider went on into the place where all the
people were gathered, they began to beat their drums and yell and scream
and howl. The spider fell down as though he were dead, and kicked and
squirmed. The big man was really scared, and he fell down dead. When
they got up to the big man and found him dead, the spider told them how he
had worked the big man, and saved their lives. And thus the story ends.

[Chief Pretty Voice Eagle]

Chief Pretty Voice Eagle

Chief Pretty Voice Eagle

Sixty-eight years is a long time to be an Indian. Within this span of
life Pretty Voice Eagle has run with swift feet the warpath, and held with
strong hand the battle spear. Bearing well his weight of years and his
heavier burden of struggle, he moves erect and with lithe footstep. He
became stormy and vociferous as he told his story of broken treaties, how
the Indian had been wronged by the white man, and how his life had been
scarred by the storms of life. Then the calm of old age came over him and
the placid joy of childhood memories when asked to tell a folklore tale.
While relating his battle experiences we had the equinoctial gale of
Indian life and then the mellow haze of Indian summer. Recalling his
boyhood days, Pretty Voice Eagle told me that his tribe roamed along the
river, chiefly the Missouri River. There were then no white people in
that country. "I was about ten years old when I saw large boats bringing
white people over the Missouri River. I saw a great many of the