A village of Indians moved out of winter camp and pitched their tents in
a circle on high land overlooking a lake. A little way down the declivity
was a grave. Choke cherries had grown up, hiding the grave from view. But
as the ground had sunk somewhat, the grave was marked by a slight hollow.

One of the villagers going out to hunt took a short cut through the choke
cherry bushes. As he pushed them aside he saw the hollow grave, but
thought it was a washout made by the rains. But as he essayed to step
over it, to his great surprise he stumbled and fell. Made curious by his
mishap, he drew back and tried again; but again he fell. When he came
back to the village he told the old men what had happened to him. They
remembered then that a long time before there had been buried there a
medicine woman or conjurer. Doubtless it was her medicine that made him
stumble.
The story of the villager's adventure spread through the camp and made
many curious to see the grave. Among others were six little boys who
were, however, rather timid, for they were in great awe of the dead
medicine woman. But they had a little playmate named Brave, a mischievous
little rogue, whose hair was always unkempt and tossed about and who was
never quiet for a moment.
"Let us ask Brave to go with us," they said; and they went in a body to
see him.
"All right," said Brave; "I will go with you. But I have something to do
first. You go on around the hill that way, and I will hasten around this
way, and meet you a little later near the grave."
So the six little boys went on as bidden until they came to a place near
the grave. There they halted.
"Where is Brave?" they asked.
Now Brave, full of mischief, had thought to play a jest on his little
friends. As soon as they were well out of sight he had sped around the
hill to the shore of the lake and sticking his hands in the mud had
rubbed it over his face, plastered it in his hair, and soiled his hands
until he looked like a new risen corpse with the flesh rotting from his
bones. He then went and lay down in the grave and awaited the boys.
When the six little boys came they were more timid than ever when they
did not find Brave; but they feared to go back to the village without
seeing the grave, for fear the old men would call them cowards.
So they slowly approached the grave and one of them timidly called out:
"Please, grandmother, we won't disturb your grave. We only want to see
where you lie. Don't be angry."
At once a thin quavering voice, like an old woman's, called out:
"Han, han, takoja, hechetuya, hechetuya! Yes, yes, that's right, that's
right."
The boys were frightened out of their senses, believing the old woman had
come to life.
"Oh, grandmother," they gasped, "don't hurt us; please don't, we'll go."
Just then Brave raised his muddy face and hands up through the choke
cherry bushes. With the oozy mud dripping from his features he looked
like some very witch just raised from the grave. The boys screamed
outright. One fainted. The rest ran yelling up the hill to the village,
where each broke at once for his mother's teepee.
send to udoes and not redroad

As all the tents in a Dakota camping circle face the center, the boys as
they came tearing into camp were in plain view from the teepees. Hearing
the screaming, every woman in camp ran to her teepee door to see what had
happened. Just then little Brave, as badly scared as the rest, came
rushing in after them, his hair on end and covered with mud and crying
out, all forgetful of his appearance:
"It's me, it's me!"
The women yelped and bolted in terror from the village. Brave dashed into
his mother's teepee, scaring her out of her wits. Dropping pots and
kettles, she tumbled out of the tent to run screaming with the rest. Nor
would a single villager come near poor little Brave until he had gone
down to the lake and washed himself.