Weeping, Millie picked up her fallen spirit-guide and bore him away, followed by otter and raven, who sadly cawed rattlesnake’s death to the world.

Millie had no idea of how long their hunt had taken. She only knew that the sky above was darkening and a cool wind blew from the west. Sniffing the air, otter gleefully informed her that they would have a heavy rain soon, and he would show her the slides and runs he loved the most, when winter rains improved things. Millie found herself shaking her head, remembering the cheerful havoc otter loved so much. “Aiie, not for me. I’m too old for such play.” Otter looked keenly disappointed and Millie added, “But I will watch and learn and again share your love of fish and sport.” She paused, looking down at the body of rattlesnake and sighed, before she continued on, coming finally to the lightning rock.

That was where she found Dalton Johnny and her heart stopped when she saw the slumped figure of her great-great-granduncle.

His back was to the boulder and his head sunk low on his chest. His white hair was pale against his dark and leathery skin. She saw no breath and closed her eyes as they began to shed tears she had hoped to shed in later days. Wearily, she lifted her head and approached to kneel beside him. She tenderly placed rattlesnake by his side and sat on her heels, the tears flowing freely.

“Niece, I am not yet dead.”

Millie’s head jerked up and she saw a faint smile on his face, his eyes now half-open and his breath so shallow she could barely see it. “Uncle, we killed deer-mouse. Rattlesnake bit him and swallowed him whole. But those that rode him killed rattlesnake.”

“Aiie, it was fated. Only rattlesnake could have done it. Your spirit-guides have saved us.”

“Coyote?”

“Back in his hole.” Dalton Johnny paused and licked his lips; they were very dry and it seemed to Millie that he had a fever. She held a hand to his head and could feel the heat his body poured forth. “Yes, I have the ague. I will be gone soon. The fourth trickster is trapped for now, but you must remember. You must teach. One of us must be here when he comes forth again.”

“What of his son?”

“The next time, his son will be here. It will be many, many years. Your children’s children will be as old as you are now before he will come to tell us who the new people will be. Only he can bury his father forever.”

Millie sat silently for many long moments. She finally nodded. “Annie’s box. I will need it, uncle.”

Dalton Johnny grinned, weakly, but grin he did. “You are right. And you will be as wise as she was. Your daughter’s daughter will be the Tsagaglalla of our people and we will chant your praise in the spirit world.”

“What should I do, now?”

The old man sighed and then gathered his strength. “Help me up. I have prepared my place and must go there before I die. When I am gone, take everything you need from my cabin and burn it. Hide the two trails. Keep watch over the valley. Tell your nieces and nephews, your cousins; tell even the whites you trust, of the old stories. Live long, Millie. That is what I need you to do most. Now, help me up.”

She did and found him to be very light, almost a shadow of himself. The fever burned in him and lifted him and she thought, as she helped the old man, the shaman of her people, that she could see what he had been as a young man. He had had impudent eyes. A weary smile. And deathless knowledge.

She wept for a long time, before she closed him in the rocks and as she finally left, she watched the cabin as it burned slowly and fitfully in the light drizzle that pattered down upon her in the narrow valley of the fourth trickster.