American Indian Trickster Tales (Myths and Legends) by Richard Erdoes Page B

alongside a stream.
    “Little Brother,” said Coyote, “I am truly sorry, because I have to kill you. You seem to be a nice fellow, but I need your meat. I and my family, we have to eat. Don’t take it personally.”
    “Whoa, wait a moment,” said Skunk, “don’t kill me. If you abstain from making a meal out of me, I’ll show you how you can get many animals much fatter than myself, which are excellent eating.”
    “How will you do that?” asked Coyote.
    “I know a place where the beavers are having a medicine dance. Beavers are fat and delicious. I will bring them to you one by one. Then we can knock them on the head and kill them. There will be more than enough for you and me and our families.”
    “How will you make them come, one by one?” asked Coyote.
    “That’s my business,” answered Skunk.
    “Well, all right, you seem like an honest fellow, I’ll take a chance on you.”
    Skunk went to the place where the beavers were having a medicine dance. They were all medicine men, skilled at doctoring. Skunk went up to the fattest beaver. “Uncle,” he said, “you are a famous healer. I have a brother waiting for me a little way off. He is very sick. He is too sick to come here. Please go with me and see what you can do for him. They tell me that you are the greatest medicine man of them all. Also I will give you many fine horses and other gifts.”
    The fat beaver was flattered. Also he was thinking of the gifts that he wanted badly. So he went along. Skunk led the beaver to where Coyote was lying, pretending to be sick.
    “Which is the spot that is hurting?” asked the beaver.
    Skunk turned Coyote over and lifted the tail, exposing the hole beneath it. “This is where it hurts,” Skunk explained.
    “Let me have a closer look,” said the beaver. He put his face right up to Coyote’s anus. A cloud of suffocating stench came out of it. “Your brother is indeed very sick,” said the beaver, coughing and sputtering. “I think the only thing to do is make a brand-new anus for your brother. The one he has now is very sick, as you can tell by the smell. It will take some time and will cost you many horses.”
    “Is that so?” said Skunk, and knocked the beaver over the head with a heavy war club, killing him instantly.
    “The plan is working all right,” said Coyote.
    “I’m going for some more beavers,” Skunk told him. Skunk went back to where the beavers were having their dance. Again he picked out the fattest one. “Uncle,” he said, “your relative couldn’t heal my sick brother. I gave him many horses and much buffalo-hump meat, but it was no use. I guess that relative of yours is not as good as you when it comes to healing.”
    “You spoke the truth, little nephew,” said the beaver. “Nobody is as good as myself. Lead me to your brother quickly so that I can doctor him.” This beaver was already dreaming of horses and hump meat.
    “Where does it hurt?” the beaver asked after they got to the place where Coyote was lying. Again Skunk turned Coyote over and lifted his tail. “It’s his anus,” he said. “It has been ailing for a long time. I’m afraid it can’t be cured.”
    “Nonsense,” said the beaver. “There’s not one anus in the whole world that I cannot cure, no matter how sick. Let me have a look.” He peeked closely under the tail and Coyote let out a stupendous fart, which almost choked that beaver to death. Sputtering and holding his nose, he told Skunk: “This is the sickest anus I’ve ever come across. You can tell by the awful smell. Also this nether-hole is all worn out from too much farting. I must make a new anus for your brother.”
    “I’m sure you are the right man to do this,” said Skunk, knocking him over the head and killing him.
    “We have a very good partnership, little brother,” said Coyote. “I’m sure glad I did not make an end of you.”
    “So am I,” said Skunk. “Well, I think I’ll go for some more beavers.
    In this way