The Woeful Tale of Long Tail Rabbit and Long Tail Lynx
A Seneca Indian Tale
Continued from last week
While Rabbit Boy was scampering about and weeping over his lost tail, Old Fox called down.
“Hi,” he said, “want to get out?”
“True guess,” answered Little Lynx. “I’m in a terrible hole. Let down your tail and draw me out.”
“Not if any fox has brains,” answered Old Fox. “I saw that mean trick you played on Rabbit Boy. You are a sneaking traitor.”
“Oh, help me,” wailed Little Lynx. “I didn’t mean it.”
“Oh, no, you didn’t mean it!” answered Old Fox. “But I’ll help you just the same.”
“Oh, please do,” wept Little Lynx.
“I’ll let down a grapevine,” said Old Fox. “You can climb up on that.”
He fixed a vine and let it down in the hole. Little Lynx was happy and climbed up. But just as he got to the top, Old Fox let go of the vine and down dropped Little Lynx—bump!
Again and again Fox teased Lynx until the poor victim was all tired out. After awhile, Old Fox said, “What will you give me if I let you out?”
“Anything,” answered Little Lynx, gasping.
“All right, I’ll get you out, and you go far away from the woods on the hill and never more associate with decent people. You are a liar, a thief, and a quarrelsome nuisance. What’s more, you are so mean that all the meanness in the world isn’t half as mean as you are, fat face, owl-fighter, tail-biter, sneak, whiney voice, fool-in-a-hole.”
“Oh, get me out,” whined Little Lynx.
“All right, I will, and this time you have got to jump for the grapevine and climb all the way up. If you don’t get up, I will go away and let you die right where you are.”
“Oh, don’t let me die in a hole,” wailed Little Lynx.
Old Fox let down the grapevine in such a manner Little Lynx had to make a great spring to catch hold of the end of it. Little Lynx crouched on the far side of the hole and gave a mighty leap. As he did, Old Fox rolled down the big round stone and it hit Little Lynx’s tail—bump!
Little Lynx flew to the vine, feeling a terrible pain. He madly clawed his way to the top of the hole. He could go no farther, so tired was he. Besides, he had a terrible pain. He thought he’d go to sleep right there, but as he tried to coil his lovely tail about him, he felt only the movement of an absurd little stump.
He arched his back and looked in a startled way down the hole. There, under the big rock, was his precious tail, broken right off and wriggling as if it were alive.
Little Lynx now gave a great cry of despair and slunk away into the tall timbers. Long did he mourn. He can be heard to this day whining and weeping in a terrible fashion.
As for Rabbit Boy, of course he felt very bad about his misfortune. But when he saw how much better it was to have a bobbed tail, he was glad enough to hug Little Lynx—but he never could find him.
So Rabbit Boy capers about, as happy as can be, and nobody calls him bobbed tail, because he jumps round so gaily. But everybody calls Little Lynx by another name now, and most people call him Bobcat.
So that is how those two lost their tails, and that is why one is glad, and one is sad.
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