The Buffalo's Hump and the brown birds.

The great day was coming, the race to the new fields.

For a long time, the tribe of buffalo had been uneasy.

The thunder spirit had withheld the rain from the prairie lands,

and the grass was withered and dead.

The buffalo needed grass to eat, and now they stamped and snorted when they smelled the rain to the west. This meant new grass.

The old buffalo chief held back his tribesman, saying, Stay here, for the rain will come.

Over there in the west are the other herds who have long waited for rain.

But the young buffalo chief would not agree.

He harangued his fellows and roused them to frenzy.

Come, let us go where the grass is green.

Old Buffalo and young buffalo faced each other with lowered horns,

their eyes rolling white with anger.

We will not go, said old Buffalo.

We will go, said young Buffalo.

Then we shall wrestle.

And if you throw me, then we shall go, said old Buffalo.

If I throw you, we shall stay.

Then began the wrestling match.

Pressing sharp horns against each other, the two chiefs pushed and twisted, their breath coming fast and faster, their voices bellowing with defiance.

Suddenly, young Buffalo's brother friend edged out from the herd and gored old buffalo from the opposite side.

Old Buffalo turned quickly upon his new adversary and roared at him.

...