With half-crouching, half-running strides, he fell upon Inyan
with outspread hands.

"Grandfather! pity me. I am hungry. I am starving. Give me
food. Great-grandfather, give me meat to eat!" he cried. All the
while he stroked and caressed the face of the great stone god.

The all-powerful Great Spirit, who makes the trees and grass,
can hear the voice of those who pray in many varied ways. The
hearing of Inyan, the large hard stone, was the one most sought
after. He was the great-grandfather, for he had sat upon the
hillside many, many seasons. He had seen the prairie put on a
snow-white blanket and then change it for a bright green robe more
than a thousand times.

Still unaffected by the myriad moons he rested on the
everlasting hill, listening to the prayers of Indian warriors.
Before the finding of the magic arrow he had sat there.

Now, as Iktomi prayed and wept before the great-grandfather,
the sky in the west was red like a glowing face. The sunset poured
a soft mellow light upon the huge gray stone and the solitary
figure beside it. It was the smile of the Great Spirit upon the
grandfather and the wayward child.

The prayer was heard. Iktomi knew it. "Now, grandfather,
accept my offering; 'tis all I have," said Iktomi as he spread
his half-worn blanket upon Inyan's cold shoulders. Then Iktomi,
happy with the smile of the sunset sky, followed a footpath leading
toward a thicketed ravine. He had not gone many paces into the