But always the mists of autumn evenings
grew more chill, and the sun's strokes
grew shorter. Then man saw winter
moving near, and he became fearful and
unhappy. He was afraid for his children,
and for the grandfathers and grand-
mothers who carried in their heads the
sacred tales of the tribe. Many of
these, young and old, would die in the
long, ice-bitter months of winter.

Coyote, like the rest of the People,
had no need for fire. So he seldom
concerned himself with it, until one
spring day when he was passing a human
village. There the women were singing
a song of mourning for the babies and
the old ones who had died in the winter.
Their voices moaned like the west wind
through a buffalo skull, prickling the
hairs on Coyote's neck.

"Feel how the sun is now warm on our
backs," one of the men was saying.
"Feel how it warms the earth and makes
these stones hot to the touch. If only
we could have had a small piece of the
sun in our teepees during the winter."

Coyote, overhearing this, felt sorry
for the men and women. He also felt
that there was something he could do
to help them. He knew of a faraway
mountain-top where the three Fire
Beings lived. These Beings kept fire
to themselves, guarding it carefully
for fear that man might somehow acquire
it and become as strong as they. Coyote
saw that he could do a good turn for
man at the expense of these selfish
Fire Beings.

So Coyote went to the mountain of the
Fire Beings and crept to its top, to
watch the way that the Beings guarded
their fire. As he came near, the Beings
leaped to their feet and gazed
searchingly round their camp. Their
eyes glinted like bloodstones, and
their hands were clawed like the talons
of the great black vulture.

"What's that? What's that I hear?"
hissed one of the Beings.

"A thief, skulking in the bushes!"
screeched another.

The third looked more closely, and
saw Coyote. But he had gone to the
mountain-top on all fours, so the
Being thought she saw only an ordinary
coyote slinking among the trees.

"It is no one, it is nothing!" she
cried, and the other two looked where
she pointed and also saw only a grey
coyote. They sat down again by their
fire and paid Coyote no more attention.

So he watched all day and night as the
Fire Beings guarded their fire. He
saw how they fed it pine cones and dry
branches from the sycamore trees. He
saw how they stamped furiously on
runaway rivulets of flame that
sometimes nibbled outwards on edges of
dry grass. He saw also how, at night,
the Beings took turns to sit by the
fire. Two would sleep while one was on
guard; and at certain times the Being
by the fire would get up and go into
their teepee, and another would come
out to sit by the fire.

Coyote saw that the Beings were
always jealously watchful of their
fire except during one part of the day.
That was in the earliest morning, when
the first winds of dawn arose on the
mountains. Then the Being by the fire
would hurry, shivering, into the teepee
calling, "Sister, sister, go out and
watch the fire." But the next Being
would always be slow to go out for her
turn, her head spinning with sleep and
the thin dreams of dawn.

Coyote, seeing all this, went down
the mountain and spoke to some of his
friends among the People. He told them
of hairless man, fearing the cold and
death of winter. And he told them of
the Fire Beings, and the warmth and
brightness of the flame. They all
agreed that man should have fire, and
they all promised to help Coyote's
undertaking.

Then Coyote sped again to the mountain-
top. Again the Fire Beings leaped up
when he came close, and one cried out,
"What's that? A thief, a thief!"

But again the others looked closely,
and saw only a grey coyote hunting
among the bushes. So they sat down
again and paid him no more attention.

Coyote waited through the day, and
watched as night fell and two of the
Beings went off to the teepee to sleep.
He watched as they changed over at
certain times all the night long,
until at last the dawn winds rose.

Then the Being on guard called,
"Sister, sister, get up and watch the
fire."

And the Being whose turn it was
climbed slowly and sleepily from her
bed, saying, "Yes, yes, I am coming.
Do not shout so."

But before she could come out of the
teepee, Coyote lunged from the bushes,
snatched up a glowing portion of fire,
and sprang away down the mountainside.

Screaming, the Fire Beings flew after
him. Swift as Coyote ran, they caught
up with him, and one of them reached
out a clutching hand. Her fingers
touched only the tip of the tail,
but the touch was enough to turn the
hairs white, and coyote tail-tips are
white still. Coyote shouted, and
flung the fire away from him. But the
others of the People had gathered at
the mountain's foot, in case they were
needed. Squirrel saw the fire falling,
and caught it, putting it on her back
and fleeing away through the tree-tops.
The fire scorched her back so painfully
that her tail curled up and back, as
squirrels' tails still do today.

The Fire Beings then pursued Squirrel,
who threw the fire to Chipmunk.
Chattering with fear, Chipmunk stood
still as if rooted until the Beings
were almost upon her. Then, as she
turned to run, one Being clawed at
her, tearing down the length of her
back and leaving three stripes that
are to be seen on chipmunks' backs
even today.

Chipmunk threw the fire to Frog, and
the Beings turned towards him. One of
the Beings grasped his tail, but Frog
gave a mighty leap and tore himself
free, leaving his tail behind in the
Being's hand---which is why frogs have
had no tails ever since.

As the Beings came after him again,
Frog flung the fire on to Wood. And
Wood swallowed it.

The Fire Beings gathered round, but
they did not know how to get the fire
out of Wood. They promised it gifts,
sang to it and shouted at it. They
twisted it and struck it and tore it
with their knives. But Wood did not
give up the fire. In the end,
defeated, the Beings went back to
their mountain-top and left the People
alone.

But Coyote knew how to get fire out of
Wood. And he went to the village of
men and showed them how. He showed
them the trick of rubbing two dry
sticks together, and the trick of
spinning a sharpened stick in a hole
made in another piece of wood. So man
was from then on warm and safe through
the killing cold of winter.