The Eagle Books

In the original Eagle Book series, a young boy, Rain that Dances, 

discovers an unhappy eagle. Mr. Eagle is tearful because many of 

the people in the community are developing a disease called type 2 

diabetes. Rain that Dances invites his friends Thunder Cloud, Little 

Hummingbird, and Simon, to hear what the eagle has to say about 

staying healthy. The great bird assures the children that people can 

help to prevent type 2 diabetes by eating nourishing foods, being 

active, and following the traditions of their ancestors.

Coyote and the Turtle’s Dream

In the original Eagle Books stories, Rain and his friends were about six 

years old. However, in this new story, Coyote and the Turtle’s Dream, 

they are entering the seventh grade. Once again, the eagle gives a 

warning to Rain, but this time it is about the disappearance of water 

on their reservation. Never forgetting the health messages taught to 

them by the eagle, the kids embark on a mystery/adventure to solve a 

riddle about ancient fossils that will restore the water’s flow.

Hummingbird’s Squash

In Hummingbird’s Squash, our young heroes continue their 

adventures under the watchful eye of Sky Heart, the eagle. In this 

story, Hummingbird pursues an ambitious plan to grow healthy foods 

that will help the community prevent type 2 diabetes. Little does she 

know that Coyote is leading her, Rain, Boomer, Simon, and her new 

“sister” Arianna, on a path of knowledge that reveals what it means to 

embrace all of one’s relatives and honor the wisdom of ancestors.
Created by

The Native Diabetes 

Wellness Program

Based on the original 

Eagle Books characters by 

Georgia Perez

Written by

Terry Lofton

Illustrated by

Patrick Rolo
The Trickster of Two Rabbit Mountain

Created by the Native Diabetes Wellness Program

Written by Terry Lofton

Illustrated by Patrick Rolo

Graphic Design by Airam Gessner, Kauffman & Associates, Inc.

Based on the original Eagle Books characters by Georgia Perez

U.S. DEPARTMENT OF HEALTH AND HUMAN SERVICES

Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration

Center for Mental Health Services

www.samhsa.gov

DEPARTMENT OF HEALTH AND HUMAN SERVICES

Centers for Disease Control and Prevention

Division of Diabetes Translation

Native Diabetes Wellness Program
Dedication

This book is dedicated to Lorelei DeCora (Winnebago Tribe of 

Nebraska) and Dr. Judy Goforth Parker (Chickasaw Nation) 

for their outstanding service and unceasing commitment to the 

improved health and well-being of Native peoples. 

The Native Diabetes Wellness Program (NDWP) has been 

blessed by their support for the Eagle Books. 

During her tenure on the Tribal Leader’s Diabetes Committee, 

Dr. Goforth Parker embraced the project from its inception, and 

since that time has championed usage of the books through Eagle 

Adventure, a type 2 diabetes prevention program for children 

sponsored by the Chickasaw Nation. This award-winning program 

is now being adopted by other tribes. 

Lorelei DeCora, a diabetes educator and activist who has 

promoted tribal self-sufficiency and the wisdom of Native health 

traditions, facilitated uptake of the Eagle Books by encouraging 

tribal resolutions of support for their continued funding and 

intensely promoting distribution and use of the books across 

Indian Country. 

To both of these dedicated and generous women we are deeply 

indebted. 

For more information about CDC’s Native Diabetes Wellness Program 

and the Eagle Books educational materials, please go to www.cdc.gov/

diabetes/projects/diabetes-wellness.htm. Additional information about 

diabetes and diabetes prevention can be found at the National Diabetes 

Education Program’s website, http://ndep.nih.gov/. Under “Find 

Publications for Me,” select the drop down for “Age” and find “Teens and 

Children.” Posted are tips for teens with diabetes, and tips for how kids 

can lower their risk for developing type 2 diabetes.


About Diabetes 

Diabetes is a disease in which blood glucose levels are above normal. 

Most of the food we eat is turned into glucose, or sugar, for our bodies to 

use for energy. The pancreas, an organ that lies near the stomach, makes 

a hormone called insulin to help glucose get into the cells of our bodies. 

When you have diabetes, your body either doesn’t make enough insulin 

or can’t use its own insulin as well as it should. This causes sugar to 

build up in your blood.

Type 1 diabetes, which was previously called insulin-dependent 

diabetes mellitus (IDDM) or juvenile-onset diabetes, may account for 

about 5% of all diagnosed cases of diabetes. The causes of type 1 diabetes 

appear to be much different than those for type 2 diabetes, though 

the exact mechanisms for developing both diseases are unknown. The 

appearance of type 1 diabetes is suspected to follow exposure to an 

“environmental trigger,” such as an unidentified virus, stimulating 

an immune attack against the beta cells of the pancreas (that produce 

insulin) in some genetically predisposed people. Researchers are making 

progress in identifying the exact genetics and “triggers” that predispose 

some individuals to develop type 1 diabetes, but prevention remains 

elusive.

Type 2 diabetes, which was previously called non-insulin-dependent 

diabetes mellitus (NIDDM) or adult-onset diabetes, may account for 

about 90% to 95% of all diagnosed cases of diabetes. A number of 

studies have shown that regular physical activity can significantly reduce 

the risk of developing type 2 diabetes. The Diabetes Prevention Program 

(DPP), a major federally funded study of 3,234 people at high risk for 

diabetes, showed that people can delay and possibly prevent the disease 

by losing a small amount of weight (5 to 7 percent of total body weight) 

through 30 minutes of physical activity 5 days a week and healthier 

eating.

For more information, visit the Centers for Disease Control and 

Prevention’s Diabetes Public Health Resource at http://www.cdc.gov/

diabetes/consumer/index.htm.
Preface

In 2005, the U. S. Centers for Disease Control and 

Prevention’s Native Diabetes Wellness Program 

introduced children in American Indian and Alaska 

Native communities to the Eagle Books. In these stories, 

written by Georgia Perez, an eagle brings important 

messages about prevention of type 2 diabetes to a young 

Indian boy and his friends. The eagle teaches that Native 

knowledge provides the wisdom and power that helps 

friends and family stay healthy. By eating the foods their 

ancestors did and being physically active, children learn 

that much can be done to prevent type 2 diabetes. 

These diabetes prevention messages were carried 

forward in the first two youth novels, Coyote and the 

Turtle’s Dream and Hummingbird’s Squash. In both 

stories, Rain that Dances, Boomer, Hummingbird, 

and Simon learn more about diabetes from their new 

friend, Arianna, who has type 1 diabetes. Sky Heart (the 

eagle) and Thistle (the rabbit) also guide them through 

Coyote’s tricks and challenges to learn how healthy 

communities are promoted through good nutrition and 

physical activity, honoring of Native culture, protection 

of the land, and positive social relationships. 

In this third novel of the trilogy, The Trickster of 

Two Rabbit Mountain, the diabetes prevention health 

messages continue in an exciting new setting. Rain and 

Boomer accompany Gerald, Rain’s dad, on a trip to 
the Taniba Springs Indian Reservation. Located in the 

southern highlands, the reservation’s confederated tribes 

are hosting a Native economic conference. They soon 

meet two African-American kids, Marcus and Hailey 

Jackson, whose dad is also in town for the conference. 

Almost as soon as you can say “Coyote,” the boys and 

their new friends embark on an exciting adventure where 

they encounter the mythic and elusive Little People. 

Troubled by an ominous helicopter that has been flying 

over their towns, the tiny folk ask for help in preventing 

their discovery in the deep forests of the Wetumka 

Mountains. Readers will meet Sigigi, a young man of the 

Little People, and “the Two Rabbit,” a comical storyteller 

with many names whose tales bring together trickster 

stories from Native America and West Africa. Sigigi and 

the Two Rabbit teach the young adventurers how small, 

seemingly defenseless individuals can use their wits to 

overcome bigger adversaries. They also show them that 

when many small voices join together, they can become a 

powerful chorus for change. 

Not to be left out of the excitement, Hummingbird, 

Simon, and Arianna help Rain, Boomer, and the Jackson 

kids (via the Internet) to pull a very big rabbit out of a 

hat. And Thistle and Coyote, with inspiration from Sky 

Heart, entreat a great trickster to unite with them in 

preventing type 2 diabetes. 
To help young readers enjoy the story, Patrick Rolo, 

our illustrator, once again brings to life the characters 

and settings in the novel. He provides a map of Taniba 

Springs to assist them in finding their way around the 

local geography. A glossary at the back of the book also 

provides a little extra help when an unfamiliar word 

shows up in the story. 

The Native Diabetes Wellness Program and Terry 

Lofton, the author, hope that you are entertained by The 

Trickster of Two Rabbit Mountain and learn more about 

living a healthy life in balance. Just say the magic words, 

“big ear and bob-tail,” and start reading!
Acknowledgements

The NDWP would like to acknowledge the following 

people and resources that have been so helpful in 

developing The Trickster of Two Rabbit Mountain. 

We once again express our gratitude to the Indian 

Health Service’s Tribal Leaders Diabetes Committee 

(TLDC) for their continuing support of the Eagle 

Books project. Almost a decade ago, the committee 

saw the potential of storytelling to reach children with 

the powerful message that type 2 diabetes is not their 

inevitable future. In particular, we want to recognize 

Buford Rolin, chairman of the Poarch Band of Creek 

Indians, Chair of the TLDC, and Vice Chair of the 

National Indian Health Board (NIHB), and former 

members of the TLDC, Dr. Judy Goforth Parker 

(Chickasaw Nation), administrator of the Chickasaw 

Nation Division of Health, and H. Sally Smith (Yup’ik 

Eskimo), secretary of the NIHB and its Alaska Area 

Representative. 

Many thanks also go to the Indian Health Service, 

Division of Diabetes Treatment and Prevention, for 

their continued partnership and friendship. The 

Tribal Advisory Committee for the Centers for Disease 

Control and Prevention (CDC) and the Agency for Toxic 

Substances and Disease Registry also provided much 

appreciated support. 

The NDWP also thanks Georgia Perez, the author 

of the original Eagle Books. Her work as a Community 
Health Representative for the Nambe Pueblo and 

her dream of an eagle who brings healing messages 

encouraged her to write Through the Eyes of the Eagle, 

Knees Lifted High, Plate Full of Color, and Tricky Treats. 

Georgia’s characters—Rain that Dances, Thunder 

Cloud (Boomer), Hummingbird, and Simon—are 

still inspiring us to write about good health and good 

friends. We applaud Terry Lofton, our author, for 

creating another adventurous story that revisits the 

original characters in the summer following their 

seventh grade year. Accompanied by their new African 

American friends, Hailey and Marcus, Ms. Lofton 

takes Rain and Boomer into a new setting far from 

their home reservation, where they encounter Brother 

Rabbit (a renowned trickster), the Little People, and a 

greedy villain. Patrick Rolo (Bad River Band of Ojibwe 

Indians), of course, receives our accolades for capturing 

the exciting scenes in wonderful color illustrations and 

chapter drawings. 

Reading and reviewing manuscripts is an important 

job. For their editorial commentary, we want to thank Dr. 

Lawrence Barker, Associate Director for Science, CDC’s 

Division of Diabetes Translation, and Melinda Frank 

(Navajo Nation), health scientist/epidemiologist with 

CDC’s Division of Diabetes Translation, NDWP. 

The NDWP also wants to thank our adult reviewers 

and the Native American and African American middle 

school students who read drafts of The Trickster of 

Two Rabbit Mountain and gave us valuable feedback. 
Our Native American child readers represent the Three 

Affiliated Tribes, Spokane Tribe of Indians, Mississippi 

Band of Choctaw Indians, Jicarilla Apache Tribe, San 

Carlos Apache Tribe, Navajo Nation, Osage Nation, and 

Cherokee Nation. Our African American readers included 

boys and girls from Atlanta, Georgia, and Catonsville, 

Maryland. We additionally appreciate Arianna Baros 

and her family for their reading of the draft and their 

continued participation in the development of the youth 

novels. 

We would also like to acknowledge the resources used 

to develop the characterization of Brother Rabbit and 

the culture of the Little People in the novel. Our author, 

Terry Lofton, found Julius Lester’s Tales of Uncle Remus: 

The Adventures of Brer Rabbit (New York: Dial Books 

for Young Readers, 1987) to be a treasure of inspiration 

for the personality and behaviors of Brother Rabbit in 

The Trickster of Two Rabbit Mountain. A modernized 

adaptation of the African American trickster stories 

retold by Joel Chandler Harris, Lester’s book received 

the Parent’s Choice book award in 1987 and was chosen a 

Coretta Scott King honor book in 1988. 

Another important resource for creating the 

unique bicultural “ancestry” of Brother Rabbit was 

the book, When Brer Rabbit Meets Coyote: AfricanNative American Literature, edited by Jonathan 

Brennen (Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 2003). 

This historical exploration of cultural exchange and 

development of distinct African-Native American 
traditions aided not only in establishing Brother Rabbit’s 

alter identity as the Two Rabbit, but also in creating the 

shared aspirations of our Native and African American 

child characters to prevent type 2 diabetes in their 

families and communities. 

In regard to the Little People of the imaginary 

Confederated Tribes of Taniba Springs, they do not 

represent the story tradition of any particular tribe. They 

are, rather, a composite of story elements from many 

tribes across the western hemisphere. The common and 

unique characteristics of Little People in the Americas 

identified in The Deetkatoo: Native American Stories 

about Little People, edited by folklorist John Bierhorst 

(New York: William Morrow and Company, 2003), were 

extremely helpful in developing the appearance, life ways, 

and behaviors of the Little People in this novel. 

Another great resource was The Secrets and Mysteries 

of the Cherokee Little People, written and illustrated 

by Lynn King Lossiah (Cherokee, North Carolina: 

Cherokee Publications, 1998). A member of the Eastern 

Band of Cherokee Indians, she includes in this small 

book the ancient stories recorded by James Mooney in 

the Myths and Sacred Formulas of the Cherokees and 

stories of events as recounted by the people of the Qualla 

Boundary. We hope that this novel inspires our readers 

to follow Lossiah’s wise advice about the Little People: 

“Be open to mystery and allow for phenomena of nature 

beyond your present experience.”

The NDWP also wants to acknowledge the valuable 
incorporation of the original Eagle Books series into the 

Diabetes Education in Tribal Schools (DETS) Health is 

Life in Balance curriculum. This alignment of the Eagle 

Books’ messages with the type 2 diabetes prevention 

lessons in DETS has helped to promote the uptake of 

the books in Native communities across the country. 

Continuing this important collaboration, we have crosswalked the health messages in the Eagle Books youth 

novels with selected lessons in the DETS grades 7 and 8 

curriculum.1

 This guidance is provided in the Eagle Books 

Youth Novels: Educators and Community Guide, a set 

of school and community activities that supplements the 

novels.2

 

And lastly, we want to express our thanks for the 

hard work and commitment of our partner, Kauffman 

& Associates, Inc., in the management of the novel’s 

production. Their creative collaboration with our author 

and illustrator has produced in The Trickster of Two 

Rabbit Mountain a book that concludes beautifully the 

Eagle Books youth novels trilogy. 

1 The DETS curriculum Web site can be found at http://www3.niddk.nih.gov/fund/

other/dets.

2 The Eagle Books Youth Novels: Educators and Community Guide can be found at 

CDC’s Eagle Books Web site: http://www.cdc.gov/diabetes/pubs/eagle/index.html.
Praise for The Trickster of Two 

Rabbit Mountain

“Articulate, factual, science-based. Well-paced, intriguing, interesting, 

and gripping. Sassy, creative, and inspirational. Graceful and respectful. 

Educational. The Trickster of Two Rabbit Mountain – a good read.”

- 

- 

- 

Rosemary Morgado Anslow, MA

New Mexico Diabetes Advisory Committee

“The Trickster of Two Rabbit Mountain is a wonderful story with 

fascinating characters, great adventures, and education in healthy living. 

The author captivates and draws you in with illustrative descriptions of 

characters and scenes. A good book for audiences of all ages. Humorous 

and enlightening, I truly enjoyed this book. I couldn’t put it down!” 

Nitanis Largo 

Ojibwe, Atikameksheng Anishinawbek 

Registered Practical Nurse

Ontario, Canada

“This book is well written, with splendid details of all the characters. I 

could see the story happening as I was reading it. As a Native American, 

I see my people battling diabetes, so I love that this story included 

diabetes awareness. A story for all walks of life to read and learn to live a 

healthy life. Napevomohtahe (feeling good and healthy). Aho.”

Ray Biglefthand

 Northern Cheyenne Tribe

 Lame Deer, MT
“The Trickster of Two Rabbit Mountain is an appealing read for adults 

and youth readers. Each chapter kept me interested in what was to 

happen next. Living and working in Indian communities I feel this book 

is a tool to encourage and promote health and healthier lifestyles. As 

Indian people we learn and teach by our stories. This novel story teaches 

about the importance of diabetes awareness.”

- 

- 

- 

Paula K. Garcia

Navajo/Acoma Pueblo

Albuquerque, NM

“The Trickster of Two Rabbit Mountain is a clever combination of 

adventurous storytelling mixed with health education messages about 

type 2 diabetes prevention and healthy eating. The power of storytelling 

is evident throughout the book. Using relationships and emotion to lend 

authenticity and context to the characters’ motivations and behaviors, 

the author hooks you into the story, creatively intertwining the wisdom 

of different cultures. The book illustrates that ‘We Have the Power’ to 

combat type 2 diabetes by making lifestyle changes in our communities. 

One comes away from the heartwarming ending with a new perspective 

on health.”

Melva Zerkoune, MS, RDN

Registered Dietitian/Wellness Coordinator

Primary Care Department 

Komatke Health Center, Gila River Health Care

Laveen, AZ

“Follow the characters on an intriguing journey as they learn the 

importance of teamwork, diversity, traditional foods, humility... and the 

power of enduring stories. All ages will enjoy this great novel.”

Chelsea Wesner

Choctaw Nation of Oklahoma

Program Planner

American Indian Institute, University of Oklahoma, Norman
“The Trickster of Two Rabbit Mountain is a wonderful story for readers 

of any age. It reminds us how important storytelling is in our Native 

culture. The Two Rabbit teaches that sharing our stories keeps our 

history and culture alive. The stories our elders share with us now 

still carry messages from which we can learn important lessons about 

staying healthy, working together, helping others, taking care of the 

environment, and understanding the impact of our actions. This novel, 

which reinforces the Eagle’s messages about preventing type 2 diabetes 

and shows us the traditional villages where the Little People still thrive, 

is a beautiful reminder of how our ancestors lived and how we can all 

live healthy lives today.”

- 

- 

Jill Fox, MSPH

 Chickasaw Nation

 Eagle Adventure Coordinator

 Ada, OK

“This was an interesting book with characters that definitely promote 

healthy living and healthy choices. I think it is a good read for both 

children as well as adults. Being African American, one can relate to 

many health challenges that Native Americans face, which are similar to 

those faced in African American communities. Diabetes is one of those 

challenges. I found the book to be good in that it subtly mentioned how 

African Americans and Native Americans have parallels in some aspects 

of life as well as health. The illustrations were good too.”

Timothy Kinnard, DDS, MPH., RDH

Dental Director

Oklahoma City Indian Clinic

Oklahoma City, OK
“The wisdom of Sky Heart, the eagle, reaches far beyond Thunder 

Rock, location of the previous tales of Rain that Dances, Boomer, 

Hummingbird, and the others. In this rousing adventure, we not only 

learn that Sky Heart’s lessons apply everywhere, but we also meet the 

mysterious Little People of the southern highlands and a trickster who 

can give Coyote a run for his (or other peoples’—it is Coyote after all) 

money. That’s a tale worth telling—and, if you don’t already know the 

importance of the stories, you will after reading The Trickster of Two 

Rabbit Mountain.” 

- 

- 

Dr. Lawrence Barker

 Associate Director for Science

 Division of Diabetes Translation

 Centers for Disease Control and Prevention

“The Trickster of Two Rabbit Mountain made me ask my mother about 

stuff from my tribe (Navajo), such as the little people from the past 

called ‘Anasazi.’ Living in the city and attending a non-tribal school is 

sometimes hard to learn about your culture. The book made me feel 

more connected with my traditions and helped open a whole new world 

of imagination for me. I am glad this book has names such as Rain that 

Dances and talks about tribes and reservations to help educate other 

kids. I play basketball and will try to eat healthier now because I don’t 

want to be sick with diabetes.” 

Twiylah Lakota Lupe

Navajo/San Carlos Apache

Albuquerque, NM
“My favorite part of the book was when the children go on an adventure 

and discover the Little People of the cave and their culture. They teach 

the children about keeping their bodies and lands healthy. They are 

taught to eat healthy, to exercise their bodies to stay strong, to hunt off 

the land, and to respect the environment. They learn that diabetes can 

affect them if they do not exercise or eat right. My parents tell me lots 

of stories like this book. Through stories and teachings we are taught 

to keep our culture alive. I really enjoyed the story because it was 

interesting and funny!”

- 

- 

- 

Alex Wells

Navajo/Jicarilla Apache 

Dulce, NM

“My favorite part of the story is when Rain was talking about diabetes. 

This part I can relate to because I watched my grandmother go through 

this disease, and now I am watching my dad going through it. I also 

thought the part about protecting the environment is important because 

this is where we live. If I ever have kids I would like for them to live in a 

clean world, where they can go fish in the waters, pick wild berries in the 

woods, and have their own gardens to grow healthy food.”

Aeyana Jace Kearns

Mississippi Band of Choctaw Indians 

 Kennewick, WA

“The book was great for teaching children how important it is to stay 

active and eat healthy in preventing diabetes. I really had fun reading 

the adventures in The Trickster of Two Rabbit Mountain and enjoyed 

the folktales in the book. I love how the book had some Cherokee 

elements in it, such as Brer Rabbit and the Little People. I have heard 

many stories of them before in our Cherokee stories. This book is really 

good.” 

Duane Wazhozha Palmer

Cherokee/Osage

Talequah, OK
Contents

1. Gone to Taniba Springs................................... 1

2. The People of the Cave .................................. 13

3. Real-life Leprechauns ...................................23

4. A Buffet of Introductions .............................. 31

5. Little Tricks and Big Schemes .......................45

6. A Powwow Trap.............................................55

7. Little Man Discovered...................................67

8. Questions and Answers ................................. 77

9. Thistle’s Dream .............................................87

10. The Adventure Begins ...................................97

11. The Way to Turtletown ............................... 109

12. Coyote Meets Chufezomo.............................121

13. Big Myrt’s Warning ..................................... 137

14. The Little People’s Council.......................... 145

15. Hospitality and Kindness ............................ 155
Contents

16. Lennie in the Net......................................... 165

17. The Laughing Place ..................................... 173

18. Wabbit Power.............................................. 189

19. Rabbit Comes and Eugene Goes .................205

20. Mr. Wang Tells a Story................................ 215

21. Max Crashes the Party ................................ 231

22. Marcus’s Briar Patch...................................243

23. The Partridges Chase a Hawk ..................... 251

24. Little People Justice .................................... 261

25. The Spectacular News Story........................275

26. The Power of Stories ...................................287

27. Brother Rabbit’s Gifts .................................293

28. Epilogue ..................................................... 306

29. Cast of Characters ...................................... 309

30. Glossary....................................................... 315

1

Chapter 1

...the boys could hear a low engine drone transform into a high clatter as a 

helicopter lowered its altitude and changed direction toward them. “Hey, RD. 

Gimme the glasses!” Boomer yelled. “He’s gonna come right over us. Take a 

picture!”

Gone to Taniba Springs

Niska put down her gathering baskets on the bank of 

the stream and slipped her two-year-old daughter off 

her back. Turning to her young son, she cautioned him 

not to follow her into the water, but to watch his sister. 

Then she removed her moccasins and tightened the 

short mantle around her shoulders. After hitching up her 

fiber skirt, she waded into the chest-high water along a 

v-shaped stone weir that funneled rushing water into a 
2

deeper pool. Her people had built the weir many years 

before, and it served them well. The weir guided fish 

into the pool where a cone-shaped basket was waiting to 

trap them. Niska hauled out the basket from the crystal 

clear water and was delighted to see that three fish 

were inside—two stonerollers about 4 inches long and 

a small rainbow trout. Niska was happy with her catch. 

She looked up to check on her children. Her son was 

giving his sister some berries from one of her baskets. 

She smiled and waved as she headed back to the shore 

with the basket over her head. She was thinking about 

the green crayfish she had collected that morning. The 

family would have a good dinner. 

Suddenly, her ears filled with a strange vibration. 

Niska froze and listened. The pulsing shaped itself into a 

distinctive whump, whump, whump. She glanced up and 

saw it coming over the trees. Involuntarily, she cried, 

“The whirling bird!” 

Caught in the open, Niska dropped the basket and 

stumbled through the water. She shouted to the children 

to run to the trees. When the roar of the whirling bird 

became deafening, Niska knew she going to be spotted. 

She drew in a deep breath and dove below the stream 

surface, holding onto a large boulder. 

When her lungs were about to burst, Niska raised 

her head and gasped for air. She saw the flying machine 

veering away from the stream. She waited until its 
3

engine became a low hum, then struggled to shore and 

broke for the trees. Pushing her hair from her eyes, she 

yelled, “Nikkami! Foosi!” 

Hiding in the bushes with his sister, the boy waited 

until their mother was under tree cover before he 

whistled their whereabouts. Niska ran to her children 

and grabbed up her daughter. She turned and raced 

toward the deer path that would take them home. A 

squirrel, spooked by Niska’s panic, jumped across her 

path from a low branch. He hit her shoulder before 

fleeing up a tree. The glancing blow knocked her off 

balance, and she fell heavily to the ground. The tiny 

woman, no more than 2 feet tall, quickly regained her 

feet. She picked up her crying daughter and ran after her 

son who was waiting up ahead. Niska’s only thought was 

that she must warn Turtletown! 

A car hauling an old Airstream trailer traveled along a 

two-lane highway through the Wetumka Mountains. In 

the car, an Indian boy awoke from a short nap. His eyes 

closed, he punched up his pillow, but it was no use. Rain 

that Dances couldn’t get comfortable. He gave up and sat 

forward on the seat. “Hey, Dad. When do we get there?” 

Gerald turned down the radio. “Another hour and 

we’ll be at the campground.” 

Boomer chucked his comic book on floor. Hiccupping, 

he said, “Good. I’m ready to stop riding. Why does 
4

reading in the car make me wanna throw up?”

Rain had his own complaint. Slapping his right ear, 

he groaned, “My ears are stuffed up. And now they’re 

popping.”

“We’ve been going up and down in elevation,” Gerald 

said. “We were at 2,000 feet above sea level and now we 

are going down into a valley.” Gerald handed back some 

gum. “Here. Chew on this. That’ll open up your ears.”

Rain popped a stick in his mouth and leaned back 

in his seat. He looked out the window. Intermittently, 

the thick pines that bordered the road would thin, and 

he could see the gray-green profile of the Wetumka 

Mountains in the far distance. Boy, this country sure 

doesn’t look like our rez, he thought. We’ve come a long 

way. 

Rain had been looking forward to the trip for a long 

time. In March, Gerald had received an invitation to 

the Annual Native Economic Summit being hosted 

this year on the Taniba Springs Indian Reservation. As 

the economic developer for the Medicine Cave Tribal 

community, he had been asked to share information 

about some of their business successes. 

Taniba Springs was known as having some of the best 

trout streams in the whole world. Rain was thrilled when 

Gerald asked if he would like to catch some big rainbows 

in those streams. It got even better when Gerald said 

he could invite Boomer, Rain’s oldest friend, to come 
5

along. Boomer was excited to hear that the summit was 

being held the same week as the Taniba Springs July 4th 

powwow. The boys could dance in the powwow’s junior 

competition. That would be fun, too.

Rain tried to concentrate on the scenery, but soon 

the trees and roadside rock formations became a blur as 

he began to daydream about fishing. The boy smiled as 

he imagined himself pulling in a big trout. As his mind 

wandered, he remembered that he had been fishing 

when the eagle had first spoken to him on that summer 

day when he was 6 years old. His smile grew wider. Rain 

liked to think about the eagle telling him about diabetes 

and how to prevent it. He replayed the memory of the 

great bird singing the game song about how kids should 

move their bodies. Laughing out loud, he recalled the 

eagle’s friend, the little rabbit who urged him and his 

friends, Boomer, Simon, and Hummingbird, to eat fruits 

and vegetables. 

Suddenly, Rain’s expression became more serious. 

Oh, yeah, he thought, right after that the coyote showed 

up. The trickster confused him. The coyote was always 

full of disruption and monkey business—like last fall 

when he’d instigated the discovery of the Great Turtle’s 

bones and the run-in with the fossil poachers. Then it 

was the trouble with the bullies at school, and the tricks 

on Hummingbird and the science teachers: exploding 

science experiments, giant squashes, a disappearing 
6

garden, and the strange tree with...

“Hey!” 

Rain shot his eyes open. Boomer was staring at him.

“What?”

“You’re being weird, man. You should see your face. 

What are you thinking about?”

“Our seventh grade year.” 

“Gee, I didn’t think it hurt that bad...”

Gerald interrupted, “Guys, I’m gonna stop for gas in 

this town. This is our last stop before we get to Taniba 

Springs.” He pulled into a station and went into the 

store to prepay for the gas. The boys got out and went 

over to a cold drink machine. They bought a couple 

of waters. Standing side by side, the boys, so different 

in temperament, were beginning to develop different 

physiques as well. Both boys had had a growth spurt in 

the last year—Rain shooting up lanky and a bit awkward, 

Boomer developing a stocky, but more muscular shape. 

As always, they complemented each other.

“Boom, do you think that was our eagle who was 

flying ahead of us yesterday when we left Thunder 

Rock?”

“Could be. I saw him right after we turned on the 

highway.” 

 “He was with us for about 10 miles—then he turned 

back.” Rain nodded. “I know it was him.”
7

Boomer took a swig of water. “Man, it would be cool 

to run into the coyote again. I wonder what he’s up to.”

“Maybe it’s better we don’t know. Man, he was 

tricking us last year!” 

“Yeah, he started a lot of trouble, but he helped us, 

too, RD.” (Boomer always called his best friend “RD.” 

He said he was too lazy to say “Rain that Dances” and 

thought “Rain” didn’t sound cool enough.) 

“I know he did, Boom. It’s just that he put us in a lot 

of tight spots. Some of his tricks helped us, and some 

forced us to figure things out. But he played a lot of 

tricks...just for fun!” 

The boys walked back to the car, discussing the coyote 

in the same way they would talk about a person. After 6 

years, they and their friends, Simon and Hummingbird, 

accepted the animals of stories just as they would 

any natural being or event. This year they had added 

Arianna, a girl with type 1 diabetes, to their little band. 

Like them, she had learned to avoid talking about the 

animals in front of adults. It just got too complicated.

Rain got in the front seat and rummaged around on 

the floor for the snack bag that his mom and Granma 

had made for their trip. He was disappointed that his 

mom couldn’t come on the trip, but she had to look after 

his twin brothers and Granma. He found a sealed baggie 

of apple slices in lemon juice and a piece of bean bread. 

Rain offered some to Boomer, but he waved off the 
8

snacks. He had started reading a brochure about Taniba 

Springs—out loud. “Listen to this, RD. It says, ‘Taniba 

Springs is governed by a confederation of small bands 

from five tribes that negotiated a reservation in the 

highlands after being removed from several other states 

in the 1830s.’ We’re not visiting one tribe—we’re visiting 

five. How about that?” 

Chomping on the last of the goodies, Rain balled 

up the empty bag and tossed it at his best buddy. 

Remarkably, the Boom reached up and caught it without 

looking up. Wiggling his eyebrows, he said, “Boomer 

have many magic moves.”

Gerald got back in the car and pulled out onto the 

highway. They drove without speaking for a few miles. 

Usually, it was Boomer who broke the silence, but this 

time it was Rain. (Boomer had made himself sick again 

by reading in the car.) “Hey, Dad. You were going to 

tell us about your friend and his kids who will be at the 

conference. Where are they from?” 

“His name is Don Jackson. I don’t know his kids’ 

names. They’re from Charlotte, North Carolina. We 

met at an economic conference a couple of years ago. 

Don’s a smart guy. He has a lot of ideas for promoting 

small businesses that are environmentally friendly. He’s 

mostly done consulting and volunteer work with AfricanAmerican communities. But he’s worked with some 

tribes, too.” Looking over at Rain, he added, “He likes 
9

fishing.” 

Suddenly, the trailer hitch started rattling and a 

vibration shimmied through the car. “Uh-oh. There 

it goes again. Dang! Why didn’t it act up before we 

stopped?” Looking for a place to stop, Gerald said, “Hey, 

we’re lucky. There’s a roadside overlook up ahead.” 

Gerald pulled over into the parking area. He got out of 

the car and dug around in the trunk until he located his 

toolbox. Tightening the bolts on the hitch wouldn’t take 

long. Rain grabbed the binoculars from under the seat 

and jumped out with Boomer to appreciate the view. The 

boys walked over to the low stone wall that bounded a 

drop-off into a deep ravine. They couldn’t see it, but they 

could hear the rush of water in the stream that flowed, 

hidden, through the willow thickets below. 

Boomer shaded his eyes with his hand. “Boy, it’s hot.” 

Squinting his eyes against the glare, Rain glanced up, 

noticing that the sky was light blue, almost white. “Yeah, 

it’s a lot more humid than at home.” 

Boomer pointed toward a black object that seemed 

to magically emerge out of the sun’s shimmering heat. 

“Look. What’s that?” Just as he asked the question, the 

boys could hear a low engine drone transform into a high 

clatter as a helicopter lowered its altitude and changed 

direction toward them.

“Hey, RD. Gimme the glasses! He’s gonna come right 

over us. Take a picture!”
10

Rain pulled out his cell phone and held it over his 

head, snapping shots. Boomer waved and raised the 

binoculars to his eyes. The pilot looked down and stared 

directly at them through black sun glasses. He did not 

wave back.
A grandmother said to the Speaker, “I’ve seen Sigigi with the talking box. It could 

be useful. It may tell us something.”

13

Chapter 2 

Small clusters of Little People were silhouetted against the brilliant sunlight 

that illuminated the cave’s interior.

The People of the Cave

Carrying her daughter on her back, Niska hurried 

along the deer trail. Nikkami followed closely behind 

his mother. When the trees thinned, she anxiously 

glanced upward, terrified that the whirling bird would be 

watching. But the sky was empty. Trying to calm herself, 

she whispered, “I would hear it now—it can’t sneak up on 

us.” They crested a small ridge and followed the winding 

path downward into a valley. The small boy knew this 

part of the trail well and ran on ahead. 
14

Now the forest grew so thick that the leaf cover arced 

over the trail, almost blocking the sun. In the green 

twilight, Niska spotted her son waiting for her. When she 

reached him, they darted off the path and into the laurel 

thicket that hid one of the entrances to Turtletown. 

With relief, Niska spied the circlet of stones that marked 

the opening to a small sinkhole. Nikkami smiled at her 

and disappeared down the opening. She followed. They 

moved confidently down a slope where water had worn 

natural steps into the limestone. Arriving at the bottom, 

they turned into a dark tunnel lit at intervals by torches. 

Up ahead, Niska saw two women approaching. She ran 

toward them. 

Dropping her gathering basket, the younger of the two 

women, Niska’s friend, Cholotka, hurried to meet her. 

“Niska! What’s happened? Nikkami, are you all right? ”

The boy nodded. “Yes, it was loud and flew around...”* 

Short of breath, Niska gasped, “I’ve been seen! The 

whirling bird. At the fish weir. Here, Cholotka, take my 

daughter. I have to warn everyone.” 

*The Speech of the Little People in this book is an English translation of a creole 

language. A creole is a language developed from the mixing of parent tongues. In this 

case, the Little People mixed together several Muscogean and Iroquoian languages. 

When the Little People followed their Tribes to the Wetumka Mountains 175 years ago 

during the Great Removal, they could not understand each other very well. The people 

began to share words so that they could communicate. The children soon adopted this 

way of speaking, and a new language was born. Now all the Little People can understand 

each other. The original languages are still spoken, but mostly by older people.
15

The older woman, the wife of the town’s Headman, 

caught up to them. “Did you say the fish weir? That 

is very near the town! Niska, how could you be so 

careless?” Shaking her head, she grumbled, “I’ll have to 

wake up my husband. He’ll have a short nap today.” 

Niska rushed ahead and flew down a level of steps 

before bursting through a small opening into the mouth 

of a giant cave. She stopped and cried out, “The whirling 

bird—the whirling bird!” Her warning echoed against 

the cave’s high, dome-like ceiling. Small clusters of Little 

People were silhouetted against the brilliant sunlight 

that illuminated the cave’s interior. They halted their 

various labors. Niska’s mother jumped up from her 

cooking fire. “What’s happened?” 

Nikkami ran to his grandmother. “We had to leave 

our food at the river, Grandma. Pulling at her skirt, he 

whined, “I’m hungry ...” 

“Shhh, Nikkami.” To quiet him until the midday 

meal was ready, she gave him a spoonful of berries and 

crushed nuts. Looking up, she motioned her daughter 

away from the small crowd that was beginning to gather. 

Niska sat down at her mother’s fire. She could hear 

the murmur of alarm that was now spreading across 

the cave. Shamefaced, she watched the Headman’s wife 

awaken him. She turned to her mother, “The man in the 

whirling bird saw me. My carelessness has threatened 

the town.” 
16

“Don’t blame yourself, Niska,” her mother replied. 

“He was bound to see someone. It was only a matter of 

time.” 

The Headman got up from the sleeping platform 

where he had been resting in the cool of the cave. 

He calmly looked about and the people grew quiet. 

He turned to a young man who quickly set down the 

blowgun darts he had been fletching. “Tell the members 

of the council to assemble at the Council House. Then 

alert the crier to call the people to their houses.” He 

rubbed his eyebrow and said, “I don’t know how many 

men are out hunting.” He beckoned his granddaughter 

and told her: “Go to the gardens and bring in the 

women.” As she turned away, he added softly, “And get 

the children from the river.” 

Osihishi, the Headman of Turtletown, picked up his 

cape and walked to the edge of the cave shelter. He threw 

the symbol of his office around his shoulders. He looked 

out at the town. In the summer, the forest canopy was so 

thick that the town’s thatched houses, ball grounds, and 

central square were obscured from the eyes of those who 

could see from above. In the winter, the clouds helped to 

hide them. Their small gardens, randomly scattered in 

tiny clearings where the sunlight penetrated, were also 

difficult to see. Here in the cave, however, the people 

and their activities were hidden. The cave concealed 

them in many ways, including the venting of smoke to 
17

its interior where it dispersed, undetectable, along small 

shafts to the open air. The Headman sighed. Such were 

the concerns of the Little People who lived in the time of 

whirling birds. 

Osihishi walked down a small pathway that served 

as an exit from the side of the cave. Nut trees had been 

planted along the path to obscure the presence of anyone 

walking there. He reached the tree cover of the town 

and turned toward the Council House. The chatter of 

returning women and children began to fill the pathways 

between the houses. The Headman chuckled when he 

heard some players complaining that they had to cut 

their chunkey game short. Ahh, he thought, these boys... 

Osihishi entered the darkness of the Council House. 

Most of the clan elders, spiritual leaders, and esteemed 

residents of Turtletown were already seated. But he 

waited until everyone was there before signaling for 

the council to open with a prayer. The Headman then 

spoke briefly to the Speaker who welcomed everyone 

and described the situation they had been summoned to 

consider: what were they going to do about the whirling 

bird? Today marked the third time in as many days that 

it had flown near or over Turtletown. And now someone 

had been seen. 

During the afternoon, the members discussed 

and debated the actions that the town could possibly 

take. First, they conferred about ways to engage the 
18

other Little People towns—how many towns had been 

harassed? Were certain towns being targeted? Had other 

Little People been seen? Runners had already brought 

news that the whirling bird had been sighted repeatedly 

near Turkeytown and Panthertown. The council decided 

to invite all the towns to a big meeting to discuss the 

situation. (They were sure their invitations would 

be accepted. All the town councils favored extensive 

argument and much speech-making in addressing any 

problem.) 

Next, they decided to send a scout to the Big People’s 

town at Taniba Springs. Perhaps he could find out what 

the man in the whirling bird wanted. 

Lastly, they debated what to do if the whirling bird 

could not be stopped. Some council members favored 

moving the town. Previous generations of Little People 

had at times vacated an area when the Big People were 

not respecting them. It had been done before—why 

not now? Others said that they preferred peaceful 

relationships with the Big People, but they would 

support using their magical powers against them, if 

necessary. 

The Headman interrupted. He said that before 

they took such drastic steps, they should seek the 

advice of the great trickster, the Two Rabbit. He lived 

on the mountain that bore his name—the mountain 

that guarded their valley. Among the animals and the 
19

Little People, it was well-known that the Two Rabbit 

had defeated magicians, made fools of great-toothed 

predators, and bested Big People by virtue of his wits. 

The council talked on these subjects until the sun 

began to fade. Everyone was tired. It was time for the 

crier to call the townsfolk together. They would have the 

last word on the council’s decisions and proposals. The 

leaders of the community filed out of the Council House 

and waited for the people to gather. 

Soon everyone had assembled. An excited murmur 

of expectation filled the air. The Speaker went before 

the people and held up his hand for quiet. In the clear 

and strong voice of a practiced orator, he recounted 

the council’s discussion in great detail. The large crowd 

remained politely attentive, even though some parents 

had to leave because their children had become restless. 

From their nodding, it was evident that the listeners 

liked what they were hearing. There was a general 

consensus that bringing the towns together and sending 

a scout to the Big People’s town were good ideas.

Then an elderly man stepped forward and asked a 

question. “Who will go to the Big People’s town, and how 

will he get the information we need?” 

One of the chunkey game players called out. “Sigigi 

should go! He knows the trails to the town. He’s been 

there many times.” 

A small group of young girls began to gab among 
20

themselves. “Sigigi can talk like Duffy. He knows the 

language the talking box speaks.” One of the girls 

giggled. “He gave me this little earring he found at the 

town.” She held up her hair. “See?” The girls admired it 

and looked about to see where this popular young fellow 

could be hiding. 

Overhearing them, a grandmother said to the 

Speaker, “I’ve seen him with the talking box. It could be 

useful. It may tell us something.” 

The Speaker looked out over the crowd. “Sigigi! Are 

you here?” 

The people began to crane their necks, trying to spot 

him in the throng. A hand went up from the middle of 

crowd. “I’m here!” Those around him stepped back and 

cleared a pathway. Sigigi made his way up to the Council 

House and stood respectfully. 

One of the elders smiled at the handsome youth of 20 

years standing before them. “Sigigi. Many here believe 

you would be a good scout. What would you do to find 

out why the whirling bird is flying over our towns?”

Sigigi was eager to go on an adventure, but he had 

to think about this. “Well, I, ah...I would go to places 

where I could hear people talking. And, ah, I could look 

at the papers that have pictures in them—there might be 

a clue there. Yes, someone might be talking about it on 

the radio—the talking box. But I can’t hear the radio very 

well right now because I need some of the power that 
21

makes it work. It runs out after a while...” 

“Do you have any other ideas?” 

“Well, maybe I could talk to someone on the phone. 

The person I called couldn’t see me.” When he got no 

response, Sigigi held his hand to his ear and said, “You 

know, a phone?”

The elder frowned at Sigigi and said sternly. “I played 

pranks in the houses of the Big People’s when I was a 

boy, too, Sigigi. I know what a telephone is.”

Trying not to sound too ill-mannered, Sigigi quietly 

replied, “Well, um, they stick the phones in their ears 

now or talk into their hands all the time—sending their 

voices through the air. Maybe I could borrow one...” 

The grandmother who spoke before said, “Duffy could 

talk on the phone. He’s one of the Big People. Not of our

Big People, of course, but ‘big’ all the same.” 

“Where is Duffy?” a council member asked.

The people looked around for the yellow-haired giant. 

Someone in the crowd yelled, “He isn’t here. He left 

when the Speaker started talking about sending someone 

to the Big People’s town.”

The Headman interceded. “We won’t send Duffy back 

if he doesn’t want to go. This is his home.” 

One of the women on the council stepped forward and 

placed her hand on Sigigi’s shoulder. “I think you will 

do very well, Sigigi. But if your effort fails, we have some 
22

other ways to deal with the situation. Just do your best 

and we will be proud of you.” 

Sigigi smiled shyly. “I will get ready for the journey 

tomorrow.”

Sigigi’s friends whooped their approval. The 

townspeople congratulated him and wished him luck. 

Sigigi looked around at their smiling faces. He was 

determined not to the let them down. Sigigi’s sister, 

Cholotka, ran up to him. “We’ll have to celebrate. 

Grandma will cook you something special tonight. And I 

will help pack your food for the trip.”

As they walked in the dusk to their family’s house, 

Cholotka grinned and asked her brother an interesting 

question. “Sigigi, who would you talk to on the phone?”

He laughed nervously and confided in his sister, “I 

don’t know. I don’t even know how to make it talk.” 
23

Chapter 3 

“Did Mr. Frimble see ’em, too?” Lennie asked. “Four-eyes? He can’t see his 

hand in front of his face. Besides he had his head in his laptop.”

Real-life Leprechauns

Max Bigelow looked down on the landing pad and small 

cluster of buildings that comprised Sky High Tours. 

Throttling back the engines, he began the helicopter’s 

descent. An excellent pilot, he expertly guided the 

chopper to the landing pad and gently touched down. He 

cut the engines, slowing the rotation of the propellers 

until they whooped-whooped to a stop. 

His passenger, Eugene Frimble, looked at Max 

and grinned. “That was a very productive excursion, 
24

Mr. Bigelow! I was able to obtain some excellent 

observations of the terrain.” 

Distracted and eager to get rid of Frimble, Max 

said curtly, “Oh, good. Ah, see Lennie about the trip 

tomorrow. I gotta go.” Nobody could accuse Max of 

“service with a smile.” Opening the cabin door on the 

pilot’s side, he jumped out and yelled for his mechanic. 

Lennie Blatch, a thin, sleepy-eyed fellow in greasestained overalls, appeared in the doorway of the barn 

that served as the helicopter hangar. 

“You want me, Max?”

Max pushed past Lennie as he hurried into the 

hangar. Tall and slightly stooped, he barked over his 

shoulder, “Take care of Frimble.” 

Figuring that Max was annoyed at something, Lennie 

said timidly, “The two fares for the Sunset Tour are 

here.” 

Max yelled back, “Cancel it!” Rushing into a small 

office that had previously been the barn’s tack room, he 

reached on top of an old bookcase and started pulling 

down a stack of rolled maps. 

Lennie followed his boss into the office. Plunking the 

maps on his desk, Max looked up. When he was irritated, 

his long face seemed to lengthen as his mouth pinched 

downward like an upside-down U. “I thought I told you 

to take care of Frimble. He wants to schedule another 

trip tomorrow. ” 
25

“Oh, I will, Max, right away.” Hesitating a little, 

Lennie added, “Um, the mail came. Looks like there’s a 

letter from the bank.” 

Max quickly glanced in the wire box that held an 

assortment of circulars and unopened junk mail. An 

official-looking business envelope sat on top. He reached 

for it reluctantly. Tearing open the flap, he pulled out 

the letter and read its brief communication. Frowning, 

he said, “Better not cancel those fares, Lennie. Just tell 

’em there’s gonna be a short delay.” He added the letter 

to the small tower of bills that rose from the middle of 

his desk. “There’s plenty of time,” he growled, “to see the 

dang sun go down.”

Max watched Lennie turn and head for the parking 

lot. He sat down heavily and stared at the late notice. 

He’d missed three payments on the loans he’d taken 

out on the two helicopters that made up his “fleet.” 

When he’d taken over Sky High Tours (and the loans), 

Max thought he could grow the business. But he 

was struggling. Although he was a good pilot and a 

stickler for mechanical safety, Max was limited in his 

understanding of business and marketing. Now the bank 

was threatening to foreclose on the helicopters.

Max glanced at the maps and smiled. Well, maybe the 

bankers were just a little too hasty. He ruffled through 

the maps and pulled out one. Spreading it out on the 

desktop, he traced his forefinger along a meandering 
26

blue line—the Oneota River. The finger stopped when 

it reached a tributary that branched off the Oneota 

near Black Rock Mountain. He whispered excitedly to 

himself: “That’s where I saw her!” 

Jumping up, Max followed Lennie outside. He passed 

by the cabin that housed the Sky High Tours reservation 

counter. Two customers were waiting on the small front 

porch under a “Helicopter Rides” banner that hung 

limply in the afternoon heat. He waved and forced a 

smile. Seeing Lennie under one of the choppers, he 

hurried over and squatted down on the side opposite to 

the cabin. 

Peering under the helicopter, he asked, “What’re you 

doing?”

“Taking a look at one of the skids. I checked out the 

air filter, too. I told ’em there’d be a delay like you said, 

Max. So, I thought I’d do a little maintenance. I’ll be 

finished in a second.” 

“When does Frimble want to go out tomorrow?”

“Two o’clock.”

Glancing around, Max addressed the top of Lennie’s 

head in a low, but excited voice: “Okay. That’s fine. 

Look, I...ah, saw something pretty strange today, 

Lennie. Frimble wanted to go way, way out, but we were 

still on reservation land—near Black Rock Mountain. 

Around where the Oneota branches, I saw this woman 

in a stream. She ran, Lennie, but I saw her. I had the 
27

binoculars. She was little—I mean really little. I’m not 

kidding you—a housecat could have taken her down!” 

Lennie suddenly pulled himself from under the 

helicopter and stared at Max. 

“Hey, don’t look at me like that...I’m not nuts!” 

Miffed, but not seriously, Max went on. “And that’s not 

all. She looked like old-timey Indians. I could see her 

face. She had a tattoo or some paint on her chin... and...

and...this cape around her shoulders. And get this! She 

had a couple of kids with her. I swear one was no bigger 

than a chipmunk!”

Lennie stood and turned away, wiping his hands on a 

rag. Max jumped up and grabbed his arm. “Do you know 

what this means? You know those papers at the grocery 

store check-out? They’d pay big for pictures of real-life 

leprechauns—not those little Irish guys in green suits! 

This could be bigger than Bigfoot! I could pay off the 

bank!” 

Lennie asked quietly, “Did Mr. Frimble see ’em, too?”

“Four-eyes? He can’t see his hand in front of his 

face. Besides he had his head in his laptop. I had the 

binoculars, not him.” 

Lennie shoved his hands in his overalls and looked 

apologetically at Max. “You aren’t from around here. So, 

you don’t know the stories that Indian folks tell. Stories 

about the Little People.” 
28

“You mean they know about ’em?”

“Well, sure. Hunters have seen the Little People. And 

there’s lots of stories about how they find kids that get 

lost in the woods.” Lennie paused. Max’s expression 

had changed. With some unease, Lennie added, “And 

my granddad said sometimes they’ll teach people about 

medicines.” 

Max’s face, indeed, had changed—into an odd mixture 

of happiness and anxiety. He started pacing back and 

forth, running his hand through his hair. Laughing, he 

cried, “So there’s a whole ‘lost tribe’ of them out there!” 

Glancing at his customers (who were rapidly losing 

patience), Max hurriedly made his point: “Lennie, don’t 

you see? We could ditch this two-bit helicopter business 

and really make it big!” 

When Lennie heard Max say “we,” a warning bell 

went off in his head. “Don’t get me wrong, Max. Not all 

the stories about the Little People have happy endings. 

They’ll get back at you if you mess with them.” 

“What do you mean ‘get back at you’?” 

“Well, if they’re not too riled up, it might just be a run 

of bad luck or...” 

“You don’t believe that hooey, do you, Lennie?”

“Well, I...But Max, they’re not like regular people. 

They got powers!”

“Hey, I know you got some relatives on this 
29

reservation and your wife’s Indian. But you can’t believe 

those little munchkins can hurt a grown man!” 

Lennie shook his head. “I don’t know about this, Max. 

Look, would you have believed that they existed at all if 

you hadn’t seen that little woman?” 

Max gave his mechanic an ugly look. “Yeah, you’re 

right. I wouldn’t have believed it. But I have seen ’em, 

Lennie. And I’m not forgetting that one little fact.” 

Max noticed that Lennie’s attention was suddenly 

directed somewhere behind him. He turned around. A 

red-faced Mr. Ralph Batherstone of Coatesville, Idaho, 

(who had apparently missed his Sunset Tour due to the 

setting of the sun) was also not forgetting one little fact: 

“Mr. Bigelow, you owe me fifty dollars! My wife and I 

want our deposit back!”

Max reached in his pants pocket for his wallet. But 

he didn’t bother to pull it out. He’d remembered that 

he paid the light bill with the money. Smiling his most 

ingratiating smile, Max asked, “Ah, Mr. Batherstone, you 

wouldn’t be interested in our Moon Tour, would you?”

31

Chapter 4

When they returned to the table, Hailey had to comment. “Boy, you guys sure 

eat healthy.”

A Buffet of Introductions

 Approaching Taniba Springs, Gerald and the boys drove 

for several miles past roadside signs inviting visitors to 

check out the Crystal Mountain Casino and other tourist 

attractions on the reservation. Most of them advertised 

water tubing and rafting, paintball games, children’s 

rides, craft shops, and restaurants. 

 Reading the billboards, Rain said, “Gee, Dad, Taniba 

Springs has a lot of tourist stuff. All we’ve got is some 
32

fishing and horseback riding.”

 “We’ve developed different kinds of businesses at 

home, Rain. Taniba Springs has invested in a tourist 

economy. Their casino brings in visitors from several 

states, and they have a lot of family activities, too. 

July 4th is one of the holidays that generates a lot of 

business.” 

“Hey!” Boomer cried, “did you see that Steak and 

Pancake House sign?”

 “Hold on, Boomer,” Gerald said. “We’re having 

dinner with the Jacksons. Right now, just watch for 

something that says Bear Cove Campground.” 

 When they drove around the next curve in the 

highway, a six-feet-tall cutout of a bear directed them to 

Bear Cove. Gerald turned at the bear and followed the 

unpaved road to the campground office. He checked in 

and followed the directions provided by the manager 

to campsite number 15. Pulling in, he maneuvered the 

trailer in front of a barbeque pit and picnic table and got 

out to unhitch the trailer. Rain and Boomer set up the 

trailer awning, while Gerald hooked up the electricity.

Before they went into town, Gerald insisted that the 

boys go for a quick shower and a change of clothes. 

When they returned, he gave them a quick inspection. 

Although the boys weren’t exactly “spiffy,” they were 

clean. Then they piled in the car and headed to the 

casino hotel. The traffic was heavy. Fearing that they 
33

would be held up, Gerald called Don Jackson and told 

him they were on their way. Most of congestion was 

at the turn-off to the powwow grounds. They soon 

discovered, however, that the two red lights on the main 

road through town were backing up cars, too. Rain and 

Boomer had plenty of time to check out the sights.

 Boomer cried, “Hey, there’s a water slide. And a 

freshwater aquarium! That looks like fun.”

Looking out the opposite side of the car, Rain said, “I 

wonder what the Mystery Spook House is? Look! Check 

out Wildlife Encounter!” 

 “The what? Where?” 

 “Never mind,” Rain said. “We passed it. Whoa! 

They’ve got a Big Brave Motel!” 

Boomer yelled, “Oh, no. Maybe they got Big Chief 

Burgers, too!” The boys always got a kick out of what 

they called “corny Indian stuff.” Looking in the rear-view 

mirror, Gerald said, “Don’t make too much fun, guys. 

Your favorite store owner in Thunder Rock has just gone 

into the motel business. Frank Big Weasel bought the old 

Sleepy Time Motel and is asking for a building permit 

to put up a new sign.” Gerald started laughing. “He’s 

changing the name to the Wigwam Motor Inn!”

“Oh, no!” the boys yelled in mock terror, “Thunder 

Rock’s being ‘wigwammed!’ AHHH!” 

Gerald thought it was time for a little chat about 
34

stereotypes with the boys, but it would have to wait. 

The traffic had finally let up, and he was able to make 

the turn into the parking lot of the casino and the fourstory hotel behind it. Getting out of the car, they headed 

toward the hotel entrance, making sure to avoid a bus 

unloading a seniors’ tour group. Entering the lobby, the 

boys followed Gerald to the Water Fall Restaurant. A 

tall, slightly balding African-American man was standing 

outside the popular buffet waving at them. Gerald 

hurried forward and shook Don Jackson’s hand. He 

quickly introduced Rain and Boomer. Don shook their 

hands, too.

“Come on,” Don said, “I got us a table. I bet you 

guys are hungry.” Threading their way through the 

crowded restaurant, he led them to a large round table 

where a girl and boy were holding menus. Gerald and 

Don sat down next to each other, and the boys took the 

remaining seats. Don introduced his daughter, Hailey, 

and son, Marcus. Hailey, sporting a critter tee-shirt and 

bouncy spiral curls, gave a friendly finger wave; Marcus, 

his round face accentuated by a buzz cut, broke into 

grin revealing a missing front tooth. Before the waiter 

appeared, their dad only had time to say that Hailey 

was going into the eighth grade in August, Marcus was 

6 years old, and their mom couldn’t come on the trip 

because she was taking a course to keep up her teaching 

certificate. 
35

Everybody said they’d go for the buffet. Gerald went 

looking for the seafood and fish (he had trout in mind), 

while Don shepherded Marcus through the buffet 

choices. Hailey joined Rain and Boomer. 

Starting up a conversation with Hailey, Rain said, 

“We didn’t get to introduce ourselves. I’m Rain, but 

some of my friends call me RD. And this is Boomer. We 

just finished the seventh grade, too.” 

“Dad said he thought we were about the same age. We 

live in Charlotte, North Carolina. Where are you guys 

from?”

“The Medicine Cave Indian Reservation. We go to 

Thunder Rock Middle School,” Boomer answered.

Moving down the salad line, the three kids picked up 

loads of various vegetables. Glancing at the boys, Hailey 

said, “I go to Cumberland Middle School. It’s getting 

overcrowded. So, I may get moved to another school.” 

Rain smiled and said, “I don’t guess we’ll ever get 

moved. We only have one middle school.”

“Is Medicine Cave a big reservation?”

“We have about 2,500 tribal members that live on the 

reservation. It’s pretty big; it covers about 500 square 

miles.” 

Gosh, Hailey thought, Charlotte has thousands more 

people than that. Feeling a little smug, she thought, I 

don’t guess much happens there. Curious, she asked, 
36

“What do kids do for excitement?” 

Boomer said, “Well, last year I had a burping 

contest with a coyote, and RD saved his grandma from 

a kidnapper and broke up a fossil poaching ring.” 

Embarrassed, Rain glared at Boomer.

Thinking that he was just fooling, Hailey didn’t reply, 

but she had noticed the look that Rain gave his friend. 

Following the boys to the soups and entrees, she also 

observed that they chose grilled chicken, baked potatoes, 

and a variety of colorful vegetable dishes. At the breads 

and desserts, they picked up whole wheat rolls and 

the fruit bowls. Joining their dads and Marcus at the 

checkout line, both Rain and Boomer asked for water 

and skim milk. Hailey was amazed. They sure don’t eat 

like most boys I know, she thought.

 When they returned to the table, Hailey had to 

comment. “Boy, you guys sure eat healthy.”

 Cutting off a chunk of chicken, Rain replied, “Yeah, 

we’re eating the ‘everyday’ food tonight. That way we can 

go for the ‘sometime’ snacks tomorrow. “

 “Yeah, we like treats as much as anybody else,” 

Boomer explained. “We just eat them some of the time—

not every day.” 

 Don overheard the conversation. To Gerald he said, 

“How did you get these boys to eat vegetables?”

 Savoring a piece of baked trout, Gerald said, “I didn’t 
37

do anything. They taught me. Rain and Boomer have 

been spreading the word about nutrition since they were 

about 6 years old.”

 “Wow. Did you hear that Marcus? My son only eats 

three things without protest—spaghetti, pea soup, and 

oatmeal. Anything else becomes a tussle.”

 Marcus kept his head down, eating the spaghetti 

on his plate with gusto. It was apparent that he was 

avoiding the carrots and lima beans on his plate. 

 Coaxing his son, Don said, “Come on, Marcus. Just 

try some of the beans.” 

Marcus looked up at his father. He started to pout, 

but resigned himself to the inevitable. He forked a 

couple of limas and stuffed them in his mouth. Chewing 

briefly, he swallowed and made a face. Then he went 

back to the spaghetti. 

When Gerald left the table to get more water, Rain 

said, “My mom is a community health representative for 

our Tribe. She educates everybody about type 2 diabetes 

prevention and helps people to control it if they have 

either type 1 or type 2 diabetes. Where we live a lot of 

people have type 2. Dad learned about healthy food from 

mom, too.” 

“I’d like to talk to your mom,” Don replied. “My 

doctor told me my blood sugar is higher than it should 

be. I’ve got to watch it. Sounds like I could get some tips 
38

from you guys.”

Just then, Gerald returned to the table...and he had 

someone with him. “Don, look who I found! Eugene 

Frimble!” 

The kids looked up to see a guy who could have been 

the star in every movie about a “nerd.” Eugene was the 

ultimate uncool guy with the biggest, most innocent 

smile you ever saw. 

Don wiped his mouth with a napkin and jumped up. 

“Eugene! I’ve been looking for you. Sit down and eat 

with us.” 

“Thanks!” Eugene gave the children a shy wave. 

“Hi, kids...” He set his tray on the table and took off 

his rumpled seersucker jacket, which he folded and 

laid carefully over the back of an empty chair. Tall and 

skinny, he slowly slid himself onto the seat, which was 

too low to accommodate his gangly legs. Hailey, with her 

recently developed fashion sensitivities, was probably 

the only one who had noticed that Eugene’s pants were 

way too short and his belt way too high. Reaching for the 

pepper with a spindly arm, he said, “I got here earlier 

this week. I figured you guys would show up sometime 

today since the conference starts tomorrow.”

Gerald provided a little background to the kids: 

“We told Eugene about the conference and how Taniba 

Springs was searching for new ideas to keep their local 

economy growing. Eugene’s been developing new kinds 
39

of activities for tourists that are very creative. It’s called 

eco-tourism. He’s really into environmental protection.”

“I’ve read your proposal and it’s impressive, Eugene,” 

Don said. “To be fair, I can’t say any more about it 

because I’m advising the Tribe about which proposal to 

choose. All I can say is that when Gerry and I met you 

at that conference last year, we knew your ideas were 

special.” 

Changing the subject, Gerald asked, “Have you been 

taking in the sights? I was wondering what the kids 

might enjoy doing while we’re in conference meetings.”

Eugene pushed up his big horn-rimmed glasses 

(they had a way of slipping down on his nose). “Well, I 

guess you could say I’ve been sight-seeing. I wanted to 

take a close-up look at the reservation and its forested 

areas.” He paused to spoon up some vegetable soup. 

“I’m looking for locations that would be good for taking 

people into the wilderness and giving them an authentic, 

meaningful experience.” Smiling broadly, he added, 

“Of course, all without leaving a footprint—you know, 

anything that would endanger wild animals or disrupt 

the ecology.” Eugene dug into a pile of trout and began 

to eat with relish. Swallowing a big bite, he smiled and 

pointed at the fish: “Brain food...lots of omega-3s, you 

know.” 

“How do you find locations like that?” Gerald asked.

“I hired a helicopter to fly me around.” When he said 
40

“helicopter,” Rain and Boomer began to listen more 

closely. Eugene took a sip of water and went on: “The 

pilot and I divided the reservation into four quarters. 

When we’re out, I note the locations by quarter that 

show the most possibilities. Believe me, it’s not all work. 

The rides are fun! I had a great time today.”

Rain was curious. “Were you over Highway 289 about 

2:30 today?”

Eugene was surprised. “Yes, I was.”

“We saw you!” Boomer cried. “RD took a picture.” 

Rain took out his cell phone and pulled up the photo. 

He handed it over to Eugene. 

“Yeah! That’s me. Have you guys ever had a ride in a 

helicopter?”

Gerald answered, “We haven’t, but we might try it.”

Marcus piped up for the first time. “Daddy, can I go 

on a helicopter ride?” 

“That depends on how much time we have,” Don 

replied. “We’re going fishing after the conference is 

over.”

Eugene reached in his back pocket and pulled out a 

business card. He handed it to Gerald. “I booked with 

Sky High Tours. They have a terrific safety record.” 

Gerald read it and passed it on to Rain. “Here, keep 

this, Rain, I’ll lose it.” Checking his watch, he said, “Well, 

I’m going to have to get the boys over to the powwow to 
41

register for the junior competition.” 

Hailey got excited. She had been seeing the powwow 

dancers in their colorful outfits all day. “Can we go, 

Daddy?”

“Sure, we can go. I don’t need to hang around this 

buffet. Just because you pay for all you can eat, there’s 

no obligation to keep eating. Right?” Getting up from the 

table, he said, “Gerry, you want some company?” 

“The more the merrier. How about you, Eugene?”

“Thanks, but not this evening. I’ve got to prepare 

for my last helicopter trip tomorrow. I’ll see you kids 

around.”

“It was nice to meet you, Mr. Frimble,” Hailey said. 

“Just call me Eugene,” he replied shyly. 

She nodded. “Okay, Eugene.” Her dad was right; 

Eugene was special. Hailey smiled to herself. He’s so 

uncool that he’s cool...in a strange way, of course. 

Don drove his SUV and Gerald followed in his car. 

Hailey asked Rain and Boomer to ride with them. She 

wanted to find out more about powwows, but she was 

also really curious why Boomer had made the joke about 

Rain saving his grandmother from a kidnapper. Was he 

just playing or was it for real? Hailey’s reporter instincts 

were aroused. She wrote a monthly family newspaper 

she called the Jackson Gazette. Hailey was really eager 
42

to share her trip to Taniba Springs with her family and 

friends. She loved her newspaper; it was a lot more fun 

than a diary. Who wants to write something that nobody 

reads? 

Pulling out the powwow program she’d picked up 

in the hotel lobby, Hailey said, “I’ve never been to a 

powwow before. I was reading this stuff about the 

different kinds of dancers. What kind of dancing do you 

do?” 

The boys replied that they were grass dancers. Rain 

offered to show her and Marcus their grass dance regalia. 

When traffic came to a halt on the main drag, Hailey was 

glad. It would give them more time to talk. 

Wondering what was causing the hold-up, Don looked 

up ahead and saw a pile-up at the main intersection in 

town. “Looks like we are stuck here a while. I’m gonna 

pull into that parking lot--no reason to burn gas. We’ll 

wait for the traffic to clear. I don’t think Gerry will mind 

waiting for us.” After he’d parked the SUV, Don took the 

opportunity to call home. 

While her father was chatting to her mom, Hailey 

nudged Boomer a little. “So a coyote burped at you, 

Boomer?” 

Hearing this interesting question, Marcus put down 

his “Car Games for Kids” book. Looking around the front 

passenger seat, he shouted. “Our dog burped in my face 

once!” 
43

Don pulled his smart phone from his ear. “Marcus! 

Your mother says lower your voice. You don’t need to 

shout.” 

Boomer waited until Don had resumed his 

conversation, then replied glumly, “Yeah. It was a 

contest. The coyote won.” 

Hailey laughed at Boomer’s funny. Then she looked 

at Rain and said with a challenging tone, “And you saved 

your grandmother from a kidnapper?” 

Irritated, Rain corrected Hailey. “It was my greatgrandmother.” Hailey’s sudden stare made Rain very 

self-conscious. “Look, I just don’t go around bragging 

about it.” Glancing at his oldest friend, he added, “And 

just in case you haven’t noticed, Boomer’s got a really big 

mouth.”

Hailey looked from boy to boy. Wide-eyed, she 

whispered, “Wow,” and slumped in her seat. Smiling to 

herself, she thought, I think I just got the lead story for 

the August edition of the Jackson Gazette...

45

Chapter 5 

“...Max said, “Have you ever heard of net gunning?” Lennie eyed Max 

suspiciously. “No, can’t say I have.”

Little Tricks and Big Schemes

Sigigi sat on a rock beside a mountain stream and took 

off his moccasins. He put his feet in the water and 

wiggled his toes. The smooth flow of tranquil water 

was refreshing. Stretching his arms upward, he looked 

westward through the trees toward the sun. It was very 

late in the afternoon, but he wasn’t in a hurry. He was 

already more than halfway to Taniba Springs. His plan 

was to reach the town after dusk. To be undetected, he 

would do his initial exploration of the town under the 

cover of darkness. The diminutive young man pulled 
46

from his sash the package of foods his grandmother had 

prepared for him. Unwrapping it, he saw she had packed 

beans boiled in their pods, sunflower seed crackers, 

and hickory nut bread. He smiled when he saw the nut 

bread—it was his sister’s specialty. She had pounded the 

remaining hickory nuts from last year’s stored harvest 

and mixed them with parched corn to make little dough 

patties. Wrapped and boiled in green corn husks, the 

bread was Sigigi’s favorite. She had also packed some 

dried fish as well. 

As he snacked, he thought more carefully about his 

mission. A lot of responsibility rested on his shoulders, 

and he wanted desperately to succeed. He decided that 

he would first visit some of the roadside restaurants and 

gas stations near the town. Their trash bins were always 

full of newspapers, and advertisements were usually 

posted in their windows. Maybe he could find some 

information there. 

Putting his moccasins back on, Sigigi stood up. 

Although small, he was as perfectly proportioned as any 

slim, well-muscled young man of “normal” size. He was, 

however, different in some ways. His eyes were very 

large and luminous—an effect created by black irises 

that appeared to float in white mother-of-pearl. (The 

eyes of Little People for this reason often disconcert Big 

People who see them up close.) Sigigi’s other noteworthy 

quality was his hair. Like all the Little People, his hair 
47

flowed down his back almost to the middle of his thighs. 

Although thick, it miraculously never seemed to tangle 

or get in his way. 

Absentmindedly tossing this long mane to one side, 

Sigigi reached for his radio and checked its reception. 

Although he was nearer to the town, the radio still 

crackled badly. Frowning, he said to himself, “I’ve got to 

find some new batteries.” The wrinkle in his forehead, 

however, was quickly erased. A Carolina Chickadee had 

begun singing. Looking up, he spotted her in a sycamore 

tree shading the stream. Sigigi smiled and said to the 

little bird, “Are you calling me? See-e-gi-gi! See-e-gi-gi!

Yes, I know. I’m going. No more dawdling.” 

Following the stream, Sigigi walked for several miles. 

He enjoyed the scent of blossoms growing along the 

stream that opened their petals when the heat of the 

day had passed. Soon, however, he left the stream and 

entered the tangled undergrowth along an obscure path 

that led over a series of ridges. Sigigi’s progress was very 

fast because Little People have powers that allow them to 

be in one place and then in another very quickly. (That is 

the reason you may see them out the corner of your eye, 

but as soon as you look, they are not there.) 

Before long, night had fallen and Sigigi could see 

the twinkling lights of Taniba Springs in the distance. 

He made his way to a road that led him to the highway 

that went through the town. Taking cover in the wooded 
48

area that bordered the smooth blacktop, he walked 

on. When he saw car headlights pulling into a motel 

with a bright red and yellow neon sign, he knew he had 

reached a place that might give him some clues about the 

helicopter.

Sigigi approached the motel complex from the back. 

A dumpster and cluster of recycling bins told him where 

to look. The deep shadows around the dumpster area 

made him feel safe. He ran quickly to the bins and began 

searching through mounds of discarded paper. There 

were plenty of newspapers and circulars. He pulled 

out a pile of newsprint and retreated into the woods. 

A security light provided enough illumination for him 

to see. Sigigi laid out the sheets and began to examine 

them. He glanced through pages and pages of powwow 

dancers, powwow queen contestants, announcements 

for July 4th fireworks displays, casino winners holding 

up their checks, and a thousand ads. The last page he 

turned featured a ribbon-cutting to open a new grocery 

store. But there were no pictures of a whirling bird. 

Sigigi sighed and pulled out the radio. He turned the 

volume button to “on,” but there wasn’t even a crackle—

no voices or music at all. He thought about checking out 

a campground—that is where people usually left or lost 

small electronic mechanisms like clocks, toys, or games 

that used batteries. Unfortunately, the best time for 

finding these items was the morning after the campers 

had pulled out. 
49

Sigigi decided to take a chance on going into the town. 

He could tell from the volume of traffic on the highway 

that some big event was taking place. From the pictures 

in the papers, he had a pretty good idea it was the 

summer celebration that the Big People held every year. 

He would have to use all his little tricks—there would 

be a lot of people and cars about. His first stop would be 

a park with a picnic area that was just inside the town 

limits. 

Sigigi set out for the park. He crossed to the other side 

of the highway and took his usual precaution of moving 

in shadows and areas with heavy foliage. When he 

spotted the concrete picnic tables, he thought they would 

yield their usual valued items. But he was disappointed. 

Despite the dark, too many Big People were still in the 

park. 

Suddenly the boom of drums reminded him that he 

had another opportunity—the powwow grounds! He 

followed a wide circular route through a wooded area 

near the powwow arena. When he had almost reached 

the tall trees that rose behind the emcee stage, he 

entered the maze of tubular supports that undergirded 

the bleachers where an enthusiastic audience was seated. 

Sigigi did not count on finding a dropped gadget under 

the bleachers. He would have to snitch the batteries from 

a device. This would require some of the skills he learned 

from playing pranks—but pranks were a Little People 
50

specialty.

High above on the top bleachers, Rain, Boomer, 

Hailey and Marcus sat together watching the dancing 

in the arena. Their dads were seated below on the same 

deck. When Don turned and looked up to check on his 

kids, Marcus yelled, “Hey, Daddy! We’re up here!” 

Hailey clapped her hands over her ears and gave 

an excellent impression of her mother’s “Oh, please, 

Marcus!” 

Boomer surprised the little boy by giving him a high 

five. Known far and wide for his deafening voice (after 

all, his real name was Thunder Cloud), Boomer knew a 

kindred spirit when he heard one. “That’s some great 

yelling, Marcus. Something tells me we’re going to be 

good friends.”

Hailey nudged Rain and said, “So when are we going 

to see your powwow outfits?” 

“Right now if you want to. Come on, guys.” 

The kids filed down the bleachers and waited at the 

exit while Rain got the car keys from Gerald. When 

Hailey heard the emcee announce the Ladies Shawl 

Dance, she stood on her toes for a better view. A dozen 

women dressed in long fringed shawls were positioning 

themselves around the arena. Hailey couldn’t help but 

let out a little “Ohhhh...” 

“Don’t worry, Hailey,” Boomer said. “You won’t miss 
51

anything. There’ll be shawl dancing tomorrow, too.” 

 “It’s just that they’re so beautiful. They look like a 

rainbow.”

Lennie Blatch, seated on the other side of the arena, 

would have agreed with Hailey. He thought his wife 

never looked so beautiful as when she was dressed in 

her regalia. Lennie leaned toward Max and said, “That’s 

Gussie in the blue dress and yellow shawl.” 

“Uh-huh. So when do the fireworks start?” Max asked. 

He couldn’t have cared less about the powwow, but he 

liked fireworks.

Glancing at his program, Lennie said, “They’re gonna 

have fireworks every night of the powwow, but they don’t 

start until everything else is over.”

“Too bad.”

When the drum started, the women began to whirl 

their shawls and dance on their toes in a way that was 

both dainty and energetic. Lennie didn’t see anyone else 

but Gussie. In his eyes she was a blue and yellow flame 

that put fireworks to shame. He hoped that the judges 

thought she was as good as he did. Thinking out loud, 

Lennie said, “Gussie’s a prize winner. First place is five 

hundred dollars this year.”

Max’s face suddenly brightened. “That’s a nice little 

purse. If she wins, we could sure use that money.” 
52

Leaning toward Lennie’s ear, Max said, “Have you ever 

heard of net gunning?”

Lennie eyed Max suspiciously. “No, can’t say I have.”

“Well, here’s how it works,” Max said slyly. “When 

I was working for the Montana Department of Wildlife 

Management, we’d capture elk by shooting a net 

over them from a helicopter. It was all humane and 

everything. I’d fly the helicopter and this other guy 

would launch the net from the air. I’d land and he’d hop 

out and secure the net around the elk. Then off we’d go—

with the goods in the basket!” Max looked expectantly at 

Lennie. When he didn’t respond, Max said hotly: “Don’t 

you get it? That’s how we can capture the Little People!” 

The drum accompanying the dancers sang their 

final chorus, and the women halted their performance 

precisely on the last beat. With hands on hips, the 

women stood erect and motionless in the sudden silence. 

Max looked around, afraid that he’d been heard. 

When he realized no one had been listening, he 

whispered, “I’m counting on you, Lennie. I can’t do this 

by myself. Besides you’ll have to build the net gun. We 

can’t afford to buy one.”

Lennie kept his eyes on Gussie who, like the other 

contestants, was waiting patiently for the judges’ 

decision. Several moments went by. Finally a judge 

delivered an envelope to the emcee and he announced 

the winners. Gussie had won second place! Max clapped 
53

and whistled loudly. “How much did she win?”

“Three hundred dollars.” 

Max grinned and slapped him on the shoulder. “Hey, 

we’re on our way, partner!”

Lennie sighed and looked down. Max had just sucked 

all the joy out of Gussie’s success.

55

Chapter 6 

Sigigi had little choice but to break for the parking lot—with the 

dog at his heels 

A Powwow Trap

Sigigi stepped carefully around the struts that supported 

the terraced bleachers. Moving quickly, he made his way 

to the front benches. His intent was to position himself 

so he could instantly spot someone laying down an 

electronic device. He would grab it, slip out the batteries, 

and replace it next to its owner. He was familiar with 

the kinds of things that contained batteries. He could 

figure out what some of them were for—like a radio, 

portable CD player, flashlight, or mp3 player, but there 
56

were others (like a power charger or calculator) whose 

purpose was unclear. 

Being about 2 feet tall, Sigigi found it relatively easy 

to maneuver in the cramped space under the lower 

benches. He did not worry about being heard—the 

amplified music from the powwow covered any noise he 

might make. Thus concealed, Sigigi settled down and 

waited, but the waiting was no hardship. He enjoyed 

listening to the drums and singing (although it was a 

bit loud to his ears), and he could see the swirl of the 

dancers’ fantastic colors. His visual attention, however, 

was trained mainly on the benches. 

Engrossed in scanning for a “battery opportunity,” he 

was startled when something hit his head and slid off his 

shoulder onto the ground. Looking down, he spied the 

culprit—a bag of chocolate chip cookies. He picked it up. 

A few years ago, when he was a teenager, Sigigi would 

have eaten the cookies—but not now. With a disgusted 

look on his face, he smashed the glossy plastic package 

between in his hands until the contents were pulverized. 

Then he tossed the bag aside. 

Suddenly, Sigigi saw a hand lay down an object that 

he knew contained batteries. He moved quickly and 

thrust his hand toward it, but stopped when the person 

also set down a soft drink cup. He waited a few moments 

and then deftly snitched the power charger. He quickly 

removed the AA batteries (there were four) and slipped 
57

the charger back on the bench. He let out his breath. 

Success! 

Having done his mischief, Sigigi shifted down the row 

of shoes, waiting for another opportunity. Suddenly he 

heard a dreaded sound—a low growl. Remaining very 

still, he rolled his eyes upward and saw a wet black nose. 

Sigigi’s heart jumped. He was underneath a girl holding 

a white terrier. The dog was sniffing and peering down 

from the girl’s lap. Sigigi immediately retreated into the 

shadows. But not before the dog leapt under the bench, 

tearing her loosely held leash from the girl’s hands. 

Sigigi ran as fast he could through the obstacle course 

of crisscrossed metal bars that supported the bleacher’s 

framework. 

Once he was in the open, he saw that he was blocked 

by a group of Big People unloading a truck. He had little 

choice but to break for the parking lot—with the dog 

right at his heels! Dashing between the rows of vehicles, 

he got enough distance between himself and the dog to 

make a successful leap to the roof of a car. He flattened 

himself against the warm metal, but the terrier knew he 

was there. She circled Sigigi, barking and leaping. 

Peeping under his arm, he saw with great relief that 

the dog’s owner was headed across the tarmac toward 

the sound of her yapping pet. Breaking into a run when 

she spotted her dog, the girl yelled, “Fluffy! Fluffy! Come 

back here!” 
58

His heart thumping, Sigigi muttered, “Yes. Go away, 

Fluffy.”

Chasing the dog’s leash around the car, she finally 

grabbed it and pulled the dog’s harness up short. Picking 

up her disobedient pooch, the girl scolded her “baby” 

with a “Bad dog!” and hurried back to the powwow 

arena. 

Sigigi smiled to himself. Dogs could be bad news for 

Little People. Escaping one was always a coup, and he 

was proud of himself. Wait until Cholotka hears about 

this! Looking about, he made a quick assessment of his 

situation. He saw that he could make it to the woods 

by moving under the cars. There was plenty of deep 

shadow, even though a light pole illuminated his present 

location. Sigigi relaxed. His next move was to find a quiet 

spot in the woods where he could replace the batteries 

and check out the local news.

Unfortunately, Sigigi’s relaxation was premature. 

At the end of the aisle of cars where he was hiding, a 

small group of Big People was approaching. He watched 

warily—hoping they would pass by quickly.

 “Yeah, so, I put out my newspaper once a month,” 

Hailey said. “I give it out to my parents, grandparents, 

and cousins mostly.” 

Since they had agreed to be the lead story in the 

Jackson Gazette, Rain and Boomer had been curious 
59

about who read her paper. Rain also wanted to know 

what she expected of them. “Do you interview us or take 

our picture or something?” he asked.

Nodding enthusiastically, Hailey said, “Yes! Exactly.” 

“We learned how to do family interviews last year at 

school,” Boomer said. “We had to get our folks to tell us 

a story we never heard before.”

“Oh, that’s an idea! I’ll have to try that.”

Marcus ran up to Hailey. He had been jumping 

around waving a light stick his dad had bought at the 

powwow. “Tell them how I draw pictures for the paper! 

Nobody ever saw those before.” Then he ran on ahead, 

making a light show over his head.

“The Jackson Gazette sounds pretty cool,” Rain said. 

Boomer nodded. “Yeah, I think so, too.”

Hailey stopped to show the boys a photo she had 

taken of a tipi that had been set up among the vendor 

stalls. “I thought I would include some pictures of the 

powwow, too. Do people on your reservation live in tipis 

like this one?” she asked.

Boomer looked at the photo and said with a straight 

face, “I live in an apartment. RD lives in a tipi.” 

Rain laughed. “I do not! Our Tribe never lived in tipis. 

Tribes that moved around a lot lived in tents. My family 

lives in a house.” Pointing up ahead, he said, “There’s the 

car.”
60

Realizing that a child and three half-grown Big 

People would pass very close to him, Sigigi slid down 

the opposite side of the car and crouched behind the left 

front wheel. He started to scoot under a neighboring 

truck, but hesitated when car headlights suddenly 

flooded his hiding place. Thankfully, the driver pulling 

into a nearby parking slot shut off his lights quickly. 

Straining all his senses, Sigigi heard the jingle of keys. 

He knew what the sound meant. Looking under the car, 

he saw legs. They were stopping! 

Rain opened the trunk. He and Boomer pulled out 

their suit bags and unzipped them. Boomer removed his 

blue cape and apron, fringed in white. Holding it up, he 

said, “I put on some of the fringe. It’s made of yarn and 

ribbon. But my mom sewed everything and made the 

beadwork.” 

Rain took out the pants that were part of his regalia. 

He showed the Jacksons how the long, multicolored yarn 

attached at the knees moved back and forth. “The grass 

dancers,” he explained, “are supposed to look like grass 

waving in a wind.” 

“My girlfriends would love these colors. Your 

costumes are so gorgeous.”

“Thanks. A lot of work goes into making them,” Rain 

replied. “But we call the outfits regalia—not costumes. 

They aren’t like clothes you dress up in when you 

pretending to be somebody in a play or something.” 
61

Admiring the beadwork, Hailey said, “That makes 

sense. Regalia sounds better anyway.”

When he was putting his cape back in the bag, 

Boomer dislodged something and it rolled under the car. 

“What was that?”

Rain said, “Sounds like an ankle bell. I’ll get it.” 

As Rain crawled under the car, Sigigi lifted himself 

up on the front bumper. Now began a strange game of 

musical chairs that would test all of Sigigi’s agility to 

avoid discovery. 

Boomer walked around to the left back door and 

opened it. To Hailey and Marcus, he said, “Come over 

here and I’ll show you the headgear we wear.” They 

followed him. Boomer reached for the box that contained 

his porcupine roach, but it was closer to the other side 

of the back seat. He said, “Wait a minute,” and started 

walking around to the opposite door. 

Sigigi had to respond fast. He slipped down beside the 

right front tire and peeked under the car. Rain wasn’t 

looking in his direction. He sprinted down the right side 

of the car toward the open trunk and jumped in. The 

sleeping bags bunched in one corner offered the most 

concealment. He burrowed under the bags and remained 

still. 

Boomer opened the right back door and slid the top 

off the box. He took out the roach. Walking back around 

to Marcus, he asked, “Want to try this on?”
62

“Yeah!” 

Boomer placed the roach on the little boy’s head and 

tied it under his chin. Wagging the upright porcupine 

and deer hair back and forth, Marcus cried, “This feels 

cool!” 

Rain emerged from under the car and jingled the 

bell he had retrieved. “You need to sew this back on an 

ankle strap, Boomer.” Looking at Marcus, he cried, “Hey! 

Check it out! You should take a picture for the Jackson 

Gazette, Hailey.”

Hailey snapped the picture, and Boomer put the roach 

back in its box. The boys repacked their regalia and 

laid the suit bags back on top of the sleeping bags. Rain 

slammed the trunk and locked it. Pocketing the keys, he 

said, “We better hurry back. My dad said he didn’t want 

to stay too late tonight.” 

Inside the trunk, Sigigi listened until he could no 

longer hear voices. Then he pushed aside one of the 

sleeping bags and took a deep breath. He wondered what 

the Turtletown council members would think if they 

could see him now. With nothing better to do, Sigigi 

reached in his sash and pulled out the radio. Maybe he 

could get some local news. Feeling around in the dark, 

he loaded in the new batteries. He had to fiddle around 

a bit until he got the positive and negative ends aligned 

correctly. Once he got the radio on, he turned the dial 

until he recognized the voice of Leon Firemaker, a DJ 
63

on the local reservation station. On Friday nights he 

hosted a golden oldies country show. Trapped, Sigigi lay 

in the dark and listened to Hank Williams wail “I’m So 

Lonesome I Could Cry.”

Sigigi had leapt up into a crouch, ready to spring! Arms arched to the side and 

head jutting forward, the little man’s aggressive stance had the expected effect. 

67

Chapter 7 

...the boys picked out a good place for their small tent and gathered up some 

sticks and wood to get the fire started. 

Little Man Discovered

Calling it a night, Gerald and Don left the powwow 

before the fireworks started. When Marcus whined, Don 

told him he could watch the light show from the hotel; 

besides, there would be more displays during the week. 

On cue, Rain, Boomer and Hailey crowded around the 

two dads and pleaded their case for being allowed to 

go to the Fun Park in the morning. Rain and Boomer 

wanted to see water run uphill at the Mystery Spook 

House, and Hailey put in a good word for the aquarium. 

When Don said he didn’t want them running around 

too much, Hailey pulled out her current argument for 
68

everything: “Please, Dad! I’m almost thirteen!”

“We’ll work out the fun stuff—after breakfast.” Gerald 

said. “The important thing is that we know where you 

are and you call to check in.”

“And that you show up for lunch in the hotel lobby. 

Right?” Don added.

The kids agreed earnestly: “Yep.” “Right!” “No 

problem, Dad.”

The boys waved goodnight to the Jacksons, and 

Gerald headed back to the campground. He was smiling. 

“I’m glad you guys are getting to know each other.” 

“Yeah,” Rain said, “They’re cool. Hailey even has her 

own newspaper.”

Boomer nodded. “Marcus is a good kid. Good and

loud. Kinda reminds me of myself at that age.” 

“Boomer was trying real hard to be nice. Weren’t you, 

Boom?” Rain teased. 

“Huh?”

Grinning at Boomer, Rain said, “You remember 

Adrian Butler, Dad? He was a black student in our fifth 

grade class?” 

“Uh-huh. I remember his father. He worked at the 

college.”

“Well, Boomer asked if Hailey knew him!”

Boomer gave Rain a play punch on his arm. “Hey! 
69

Shut up. I was only trying to be friendly!”

But Rain wouldn’t let up. “And Hailey said, ‘Just 

because I’m black, do you think I know all the black kids 

in the whole world?’”

“Okay, okay, it was stupid! So what?” Then Boomer 

started laughing. “Guess what Hailey said? She asked 

us if we lived in tipis!” Getting even more tickled, he 

howled, “I told her that RD did!” 

Gerald chuckled. “Well, I’m glad you’re laughing at 

the silly stuff. But sometimes people really don’t know a 

lot about each other. Not many African-Americans live 

near our reservation, and a lot of kids have never even 

met an American Indian.” Gerald reminded himself to 

have that talk with the boys about stereotypes. They 

needed to know more about how groups of people can 

get stuck with oversimplified or false images that don’t 

represent who they really are.

Pulling into the campground, Gerald followed the 

gravel road around to their site. Rain wanted to know 

if they could set up the tent instead of sleeping in the 

trailer. Gerald agreed and said they could build a fire, 

too. 

Getting out of the car, Gerald unlocked the trailer and 

got a towel. He told the boys he would be back after a 

while. He was going for a shower and thought he would 

stop off at the camp office later to have a cup of coffee 

with the ranger. 
70

After his dad left, Rain got the lantern from the 

trailer. He opened the fuel valve, lit the mantle with a 

match, and set it on the picnic table. Now the boys had 

enough light to pick out a good place for their small tent 

and to find some sticks for the fire. 

Boomer went over to the car to get the tent bag. He 

popped the trunk. Reaching in to pull out the tent, he 

spotted something odd. A small moccasin was wedged in 

between a sack of Rain’s clothes and the sleeping bags. 

At first he thought it might belong to one of RD’s little 

brothers, but the moccasin style was unfamiliar—not 

their Tribe’s design. When he bent down to pick it up, he 

thought he heard something—a tiny crackle from one of 

the plastic suit bags. Boomer stepped back and motioned 

for Rain to come over. He whispered, “RD, I think there’s 

a kid in the trunk.”

Rain mouthed, “What?”

“I heard a noise.” 

Boomer pointed to the moccasin and Rain frowned. 

He didn’t recognize it. 

In a very low voice, Rain said, “I’ll pull out my suit 

bag real quick and you grab him if he tries to run. But 

not too hard—he’s probably scared enough already.” 

Boomer nodded.

The boys positioned themselves in front of the trunk. 

Rain said, “Go!” and jerked out the suit bag. Boomer 

thrust himself forward to seize the stowaway, but halted 
71

in mid-grab. Sigigi had leapt up into a crouch, ready 

to spring! Arms arched to the side and head jutting 

forward, the little man’s aggressive stance had the 

expected effect. The boys, their eyes wide and mouths 

open, stumbled backwards. 

Strangely, no one moved. Paralyzed in the moment, 

they stared at each other. The only sound was Sigigi’s 

ragged breathing.

Boomer, of course, could never tolerate silence for 

very long. Out of the corner of his mouth, he said softly, 

“He’s a weird-looking kid, RD.”

Rain instantly recognized that this was no child. In 

some part of his consciousness (the part that dreamed 

of eagles and followed coyotes), Rain knew that he 

and Boomer were encountering a being that should be 

regarded in a special way. The eagle’s voice came into his 

mind: Be humble, Rain that Dances. 

Without thinking, Rain squatted down until his 

eyes were on the same level as Sigigi’s. He instinctively 

understood that standing over the little man could be 

threatening. Boomer lowered himself, too. Other kids 

may have been freaked out by Sigigi, but these boys had 

come to accept mysteries that could be experienced, if 

not explained. In his guileless way, Boomer said, “Hey, 

it’s okay, man. We aren’t gonna do nothin’.” 

Sensing that the boys meant him no harm, Sigigi 

blinked. He sank back on top of the sleeping bags. He 
72

picked up the moccasin that had come off his foot and 

slipped it back on. Glancing from one boy to the other, 

he said in Duffy’s language, “I come... from Turtletown.”

Rain thought, Turtletown? “How did you get in the 

trunk?” he asked.

“A dog chase me.”

Rain noticed something strange. Even though the 

little man was so small, his voice had a deep pitch...and 

in the darkness of the trunk his eyes were very bright. 

Many questions flashed through Rain’s mind. How long 

had he been in the trunk? Where was Turtletown? Who 

was he? What was he?

“Are you in trouble or something?” Boomer said. As 

usual, Boomer spoke without thinking too much, but his 

question didn’t seem to offend. 

“Yes, trouble. Tell no one you see me. Tell no one!”

“Okay,” Rain said calmly. “We won’t tell anybody. My 

dad will be back after a while. Is it okay if he sees you?”

“No. I talk to you.”

Rain nodded a little nervously at the little man. 

“Okay. So...we’re going to put up our tent. Just be cool. 

You want some water?”

“Yes, water.” The trunk had been stuffy and hot. Sigigi 

was parched. 

When Boomer brought a bottle of water, he said, 

“My name is Boomer, like in Thunder? My real name is 
73

Thunder Cloud. And this is Rain that Dances. Most of his 

friends call him Rain or RD. Ah, we just got here today. 

We’re from the Medicine Cave Indian Reservation. This 

is the first time we’ve been to Taniba Springs.”

Sigigi accepted the water and drank thirstily. Putting 

down the bottle, he said, “I am Sigigi.” 

Rain smiled and said, “Sigigi. Did I say it right?”

“Okay.” Sigigi did not smile, but he was feeling more 

comfortable. He sat on the back bumper of the car and 

watched the boys assembling the tent. Looking around, 

he said, “The girl and boy?”

Rain stopped. “You saw them?”

“Yes.” 

“They’re not here. They’re staying somewhere else.”

Boomer whispered, “He must have got in the trunk 

when we pulled out our regalia.”

All of a sudden the sky erupted with a deafening 

screeeeeee...pow! The boys jumped and looked up. 

Boom, boom, boom!! Even though the trees at the 

campground were thick, they could see colorful blasts 

and showers of sparks lighting up the sky. 

Over the noise, Boomer yelled, “It’s the fireworks!”

Sigigi was looking up, too. He finally allowed himself 

a smile. He’d seen this before. “The fire in the sky,” he 

said. “We see from Turtletown.”
74

“Where is Turtletown?” Rain asked. 

Sigigi pointed to the east. “A Little People town.”

The boys glanced at each other. They both knew 

that the little man had told them something important. 

Boomer wasn’t quite sure what it was, so he just 

announced, “Well, the tent’s up.” 

They piled the sleeping bags and some old quilts into 

the tent, and Rain got another cooler from the trailer. 

Then they watched the rest of the fireworks display—the 

pinwheels in the grand finale were spectacular. 

In the silence after the last boom, Rain said, “Sigigi, 

you can stay with us tonight, if you want to.” 

Sigigi was hoping they would invite him. It would be 

safe here. He was beginning to think that the dog chasing 

him was the best thing that could have happened. Maybe 

these boys could help him find out about the whirling 

bird!

Rain turned down the lantern, and Boomer got a 

flashlight from the car. “Do you want to make a fire? 

Boomer asked.

“No. Not tonight.” Rain was thinking correctly that 

sitting around a fire was not what they would be doing 

tonight. 

“Sounds like he’s in trouble,” Boomer whispered, “and 

we aren’t supposed to tell anybody. Does that sound 

familiar?” 
75

Rain sighed. He remembered well how he and 

Boomer had promised their friend, Jimmy, that they 

wouldn’t tell anyone that fossil poachers were after 

him. Rain still regretted the decision that had led to his 

Granma being kidnapped. “Yeah,” he whispered back, “it 

seems like we’re always being asked to keep secrets.” 

77

Chapter 8 

“We not like for Big People make trouble with us. Or take things from forest—

we can punish.” “Uh...like how?” Boomer asked. 

Questions and Answers 

Rain closed the car trunk. It was getting late and the 

moon had risen. Although the lantern was turned down 

very low, Gerald wouldn’t be stumbling about in the dark 

when he returned. The moonlight was bright enough to 

cast shadows. 

Boomer and Sigigi were already in the tent. When 

Boomer flipped on the flashlight, Rain could clearly see 

their dark silhouettes against the green nylon of the tent. 

They would have to switch it off before Dad came back. 

Rain threw back the tent flap and crawled in on 
78

his hands and knees. He made a seat from a quilt and 

bunched up a sleeping bag for a back rest. Wiggling into 

his nest, he found it remarkably comfortable. Boomer 

and Sigigi were already situated. Rain reached into 

the cooler and got out a couple of bottles of water. He 

opened one and gave it to Boomer. “I saw a recycling bin 

when we drove into the campground. We can toss these 

plastic bottles in there when we leave.” Looking at Sigigi, 

Rain added, “We’ve got more water and there’s snacks. 

Are you hungry?” 

Sigigi had eaten some of his dried meat when he was 

trapped in the car. He had no appetite then, but he did 

now. “Yes, hungry,” he replied. 

“Here, take one of these home-made granola bars my 

mom made. She says they’ll give you a lot of energy.” 

Sigigi accepted the granola bar from Rain. He bit into 

it and chewed slowly. Then he took another bite. He 

smacked his lips and nodded: “This good. Top ten.” 

“Mom makes them from grain, nuts, and dried fruit.” 

Sigigi reached for his bag and pulled out some of his 

hickory nut bread wrapped in corn husks. He gave a 

packet to each boy. 

“Hey, cool,” Boomer said unwrapping the husk. “I 

ate a lot at dinner, but this smells good.” He took a bite. 

“Hmm, I can taste nuts.” 

Swallowing a chunk of the nut bread, Rain said, “It 
79

reminds me of a dumpling. I like it.” Rain was still really 

full from dinner. He rewrapped his bread and tucked 

it in a baggie with the remaining granola bars. Very 

politely, he asked, “Sigigi, you said you came from a 

Little People town. Are the Little People a tribe?

Sigigi was very interested in getting to know these 

boys better. He welcomed Rain’s questions and hoped he 

could make them understand his situation. Answering 

thoughtfully, he said, “No, Little People are from many.” 

When the boys looked puzzled, Sigigi explained: “Little 

People follow Big People here. Many tribe. All people 

move. Sad time. Long ago.”

“I read about that today!” Boomer exclaimed. “There’s 

like five tribes that were forced into leaving their 

homelands during the Great Removal. They stopped 

here on the way to Oklahoma and got some land.” Better 

appreciating what Sigigi was telling them, he said, “So, 

you guys came with them.” 

 Sigigi responded that the old people of Turtletown 

told many stories about that terrible time, and how his 

Little People helped the Big People along the way. 

As he listened, Rain was being drawn to Sigigi. It 

wasn’t just curiosity; he really wanted to understand 

about the Little People. “What language do you speak in 

your town?” 

“Little People speak words from many towns.”

Rain didn’t quite understand what Sigigi meant. So he 
80

asked another question: “What does ‘Sigigi’ mean?”

Sigigi pointed to the trees. “Like bug—Si-gi-gi-gi-gi. 

I sing bad. So Little People say sing only one time—

in summer. No more.” Sigigi laughed. “I never make 

Billboard chart.” 

“I got it!” Rain said excitedly. “Sigigi means ‘cicada.’”

But Boomer was more interested in something else 

that Sigigi had said. “How do you know about Billboard 

charts?”

Sigigi reached into his bag and pulled out the radio. 

Holding it up, he said, “I learn speak from this.” He 

laughed. “My sister, Cholotka, call it ‘talking box.’ Her 

name mean ‘cricket.’ She can sing.” 

“Where did you get the radio?” Boomer asked.

“Find here.” Indicating the campground. “Camp 

people come. They not Taniba Springs Big People. Lose 

all things. Shirt, hat, food, dog. I find teeth one man 

leave.”

Rain laughed. The Little People, he thought, had a 

good sense of humor. He was really beginning to like 

this guy. “You learned English just from listening to the 

radio?” 

 “No, not all. Duffy help me. When he little—lost in 

woods. Little People find Duffy. He stay Turtletown. Not 

go home. He big now. Very big. We talk together.” 

The mystery of Sigigi’s ability to speak English solved, 
81

Rain asked another question. “Is there just Turtletown or 

more towns?”

“Six more town. Panthertown, Turkeytown, 

Corntown, Buzzardtown, Wolftown, and Skunktown. All 

town play ball game together, run foot race, have many 

dance.” 

Boomer giggled. “Does Skunktown stink?”

“Yes! Long time ago our Big People keep get too close. 

So skunk come and make big stink. Big People stay away. 

Some say still smell skunk.” Sigigi tried to describe the 

joke the best way he could: “Some say it a ‘blast from the 

past.’” 

Rain let out a “Ha! Ha!” that drowned out Boomer’s 

legendary vocal cords. 

Sigigi smiled, but he didn’t realize how funny his 

“radio talk” was. Continuing, he said, “Our town like long 

time before—we do everything like Big People long time 

ago. We live in old way. We grow corn, have blowgun for 

hunt. We fish. Life is good.” 

Sigigi went on, trying to help the boys understand 

more about the relationship between Big People and 

Little People. “We help Big People sometime. We find 

lost little ones. Feed lost Big People. Give medicines. 

Sometime do work for them.” 

“Hey! My auntie told me a story like that,” Boomer 

said. “She said there were some spirits that helped some 
82

old folks by drying all their corn for the winter. In just 

one night. But they threw rocks at people who watched 

them and played tricks on them, too.” Frowning, he said, 

“Are you a spirit, Sigigi? You don’t look like one.”

Boomer never got his answer. Rain raised his finger 

to his lips. He could hear footsteps crunching on the 

campground’s gravel road. “I think Dad’s coming. Switch 

off the flashlight.”

Gerald came walking up the short pathway from the 

road to the campsite. He noticed that the boys hadn’t 

built a fire, and the tent was dark. They were probably 

too tired, he thought. He strolled over to the tent and 

leaned down to the open door flap. “Rain, you guys 

okay?” 

Rain answered, “Yeah, Dad,” in his best sleepy voice.

“Okay, good night.” 

The boys remained silent until they heard the trailer 

door open and close. Boomer picked up where he left 

off, but he decided not to repeat the “spirit” question. 

He didn’t know what a spirit was supposed to look like 

anyway. In a low voice, he said, “Do Little People play 

tricks?”

Sigigi answered truthfully. “Some throw rock. But all 

play trick.” 

Rain’s trickster antennae went up. Could Sigigi be a 

trickster? If he is, he thought, I hope he doesn’t know the 
83

coyote. 

Boomer persisted. “What kind of tricks?” 

Sigigi grinned. “One time we go in house and move 

everything. Make noise. Big People act funny.” Sigigi 

had to think of other kinds of tricks. He wasn’t a big 

prankster himself. “Ah, we make so you see us and then 

not see, and we tie horse tail together.” A little more 

darkly, he added, “We not like for Big People make 

trouble with us. Or take things from forest.” He paused 

and said, “We can punish.”

“Uh...like how?” Boomer asked.

Sigigi didn’t answer. Anger suddenly flashed across 

his face. “Some Big People make trouble now! Come to 

towns—in whirling bird. Whirling bird all over!” 

Rain was puzzled. “Whirling birds?” Then it hit him: 

“Oh! Whirly Birds! That’s what they call...”

“Helicopters!” Boomer yelled. “Yeah, like this: chopchop-chop-chop!”

“Yes!” Sigigi nodded eagerly. “You see it?” 

“We saw it today!”

Sigigi leaned forward, very alert. “What they want?” 

he asked anxiously. “Town send me find out.” He glanced 

at the radio and made a face. “Radio say nothing.” 

Discouraged, he thought, what would these boys know 

about the helicopter even if they did see it? They had 

been in Taniba Springs less than a day. Suddenly, he 
84

didn’t feel much like answering any more questions. 

Sigigi sighed and said, “That brings me to the end of my 

program. My name is Sigigi.”

The boys glanced at each other and both yelled at the 

same time. Forgetting where he was, Boomer jumped up, 

bumping his head on the top of the tent. Rain clapped 

his hands on his head and shouted, “Sigigi! We know 

why the helicopter is flying around your towns!” 

Almost immediately, the trailer door flung open. 

Gerald stuck his head out and did the “dad thing.” “Rain! 

Cut out the clowning. It’s late. Go to sleep. Now!” 

Rain pulled in his head like a turtle. “Geez. I forgot 

Dad was back...”

Sigigi waited for the trailer door to close. Impatiently, 

he whispered, “Tell me. Why whirling bird come?” 

Remembering what Eugene Frimble had said about 

his proposal, Rain explained (quietly), “Well, there’s this 

guy trying to sell Taniba Springs on developing a part of 

the forest as a tourist attraction. I mean it’s all...ah, what 

did he say? You know, people can enjoy the wilderness 

experience—and it won’t pollute or run off the animals. 

No footprint is what he...” Rain stopped. What was he 

saying? That stuff wasn’t what Sigigi was worried about. 

Backing up, he said, “The man in the helicopter wants to 

bring the camp people into the forest. If, that is, he can 

convince the Big People that it would be a good idea.” 

Sigigi’s face froze. “You mean, he bring camp people 
85

to our town?” His voice trailed off. The very picture of 

misery, Sigigi whispered, “Let’s take a break.” 

Looking at Boomer, Rain said, “This is terrible. 

Eugene has no idea that his plan would disturb 

everything! The towns could be discovered.” 

Boomer was thinking about another problem. “Sigigi, 

you said Little People could punish Big People who cause 

trouble. What did you mean?” 

Sigigi put his head in his hands. “If Big People bother 

us or say they see us, we can make them go crazy...or 

die.”

87

Chapter 9 

“I think I know where they have gone,” Thistle said. Sky Heart and Coyote 

waited for her to continue. “They are in the highlands where I once lived. I 

recognized a waterfall and a place that is now called Two Rabbit Mountain.” 

Thistle’s Dream

Thistle always took a snooze before her breakfast feed 

at dawn. After heavy browsing, a little rest helped her 

to digest. But this summer morning, she twitched and 

jerked in her sleep. Something was bothering the little 

rabbit. Finally, the fretful fidgeting awakened her. 

Fluttering open her eyes, Thistle sat up and looked 

about. She was safe in her hiding place, a clump of tall 

grass. She poked her head though the blades, heavy with 

seed heads, and looked up. The stars over Red Water 
88

Mountain were still blinking. Dawn was at least an hour 

away. 

Thistle took a deep breath and closed her eyes. She let 

her mind drift to recover the dream that had disturbed 

her. A visual image took shape—a green vastness from 

which low mountains, deep rivers, lakes, and water falls 

slowly emerged. She could hear morning rain tapping 

gently on a canopy of laurel thicket above her head, and 

she could smell the leafy, earthy aroma of woodland. 

Thistle shook herself and opened her eyes. Ah, yes, 

the homeland. Ordinarily, these memories would have 

prompted a little sigh and a smile. But instead of nestling 

back down into sleep, Thistle was alert—even agitated—

because from the snug security of that fragrant thicket, 

she had seen Rain that Dances running after a very small 

man.

Thistle and her family were part of the ancient 

trickster stories that had crossed the Great River with 

the tribes during the Trail of Tears. She had lived in 

the lands of many nations in the West, but had settled 

in more recent times on the Medicine Cave Indian 

Reservation. She had taken a special liking to the 

children who lived there. In this generation, Rain and 

his friends meant a great deal to her. She would use 

whatever powers she had to protect them and keep them 

healthy. 

Thistle was related to the Great Rabbit of the 
89

southeastern nations, the mischievous trickster, whose 

tales were told from the southern highlands to the coasts 

of the Atlantic Ocean and the Gulf of Mexico. Although 

she did not have the abilities of her famous relative, 

Thistle knew how to play tricks and she could summon 

certain magical skills when necessary. She was also 

familiar with the powers of other spirits and beings that 

lived in her ancestral land and the lands of other tribes. 

In her dream, she had seen one of these beings—a man 

of the Little People. 

Thistle hopped from her temporary shelter toward a 

nearby clump of dandelions. Nibbling would help her 

think. Snipping off a yellow flower head that had drawn 

its florets together in the darkness, Thistle chewed 

slowly. She was remembering that there were many 

kinds of Little People. Thistle frowned and started “nose 

blinking.” Like all rabbits, she wiggled her nose up and 

down when she was trying to identify a scent. In this 

case, she was trying to identify the story tradition of 

the little man in the dream. Some Little People were 

kind and helpful, and some could be very wicked. It 

was important to know who Rain was following. Very 

important. 

When she needed help, Thistle always sought the 

advice of Sky Heart, the eagle, and Coyote. She knew 

that Sky Heart made a flight over the reservation each 

morning; she would make sure that he saw her. The 
90

great bird had a special bond with Rain that Dances and 

would offer his help. He would fetch Coyote, too. 

Sky Heart circled over the pasture where Thistle had 

arranged for the meeting with Coyote. Diving downward, 

he slowed his speed by spreading his wings and tail as 

he approached the clump of scrub brush where the little 

cottontail nestled. His strong legs, acting as air brakes, 

hit the ground, alerting Thistle that he had arrived. 

She popped her head out of the scrub. “Is he coming?”

“Yes, as soon as he finishes his breakfast,” the eagle 

answered.

“Where is he dining this morning?”

“At the dumpster out back of the Trading Post Café.”

“That’s an omnivore for you.” Thistle sniffed. A strict 

vegetarian, the rabbit had little use for meat.

“Don’t make fun, Thistle. He’s a survivor. In a pinch, 

Coyote can live on anything.” While they were waiting, 

Sky Heart decided to take a bath in a nearby puddle 

that had not evaporated after a recent rain. He waded 

in stiff-legged until he was chest high in water. Then, 

he splashed about, shaking his body and fluttering his 

wings until he was thoroughly soaked. His bath done, he 

hopped out gracefully and began to preen.

Thistle followed his example. She cleaned herself 

by licking both paws and simultaneously swiping them 
91

over her head. She gave her long ears a bath, too, by 

pushing each one down to her mouth for a good scrub. 

A compulsive groomer, the rabbit wasn’t finished 

until she had dug inside her ears with a back paw to 

remove every bit of grass, earwax, and parasites. This 

operation was easy for Thistle since her ears were floppy. 

Although her ears would occasionally stand up straight 

when she pulled a trick, they would soon go lop-eared 

again—a sure sign of her domesticated attachment to the 

reservation children.

Coyote slouched over a rise in the pasture. He 

stopped and watched the bathers silently. Although 

their obsessive splashing and pawing got on his 

nerves, he decided to join their morning wash-up. In 

feeble imitation of Thistle, he licked some scrambled 

egg off his muzzle. Maybe he could do with a bit of 

parasite removal, too. Shuffling into the company of 

his comrades, he squatted on his haunches and began a 

comfortable chuk, chuk, chuk.

 “Hey, stop that! You’re scratching your nasty all over 

me!” Thistle yelled.

“Cheer up,” Coyote said, ignoring her temper. “You’re 

just cleaning yourself so predators won’t smell you. Now 

you’ll stink like me.” The trickster chuckled and added: 

“The perfect disguise.” 

“Great. Now I’ll have to start all over,” she grumbled.
92

Sky Heart hopped next to the rabbit and spread out 

his wings in the sun to dry. “So, we are here, Thistle. 

What is going on?”

“It’s about Rain that Dances. I’m worried.”

The mention of Rain’s name got the eagle’s attention 

immediately. “What’s the problem?”

“I’m not sure if there is a problem. I had a dream. In 

the dream, Rain was chasing a small man. He could be 

one of the Little People.”

Now Thistle had Coyote’s attention, too. He stopped 

nipping at a flea on his back. Trying not to appear too 

curious, he asked in a casual tone, “Where is Rain that 

Dances?”

Sky Heart answered. “I saw him leave the reservation 

with his father and Boomer day before yesterday. They 

were pulling a shiny trailer on the highway going east.” 

“I think I know where they have gone,” Thistle said. 

Sky Heart and Coyote waited for her to continue. “They 

are in the highlands where I once lived. I recognized 

a waterfall and a place that is now called Two Rabbit 

Mountain.” 

Coyote gave Thistle a sharp look, but said nothing.

“How well could you see the little man he was 

following?” Sky Heart asked. 

“Not very well. That’s the problem. There are different 

kinds of Little People in my homeland. Some will play 
93

bad tricks on people. The man Rain was following may 

have been one of the Little People who are helpers, but 

even they must be treated with respect.” 

“Rain does not live there,” Sky Heart said. “He 

probably does not know the stories about Little People in 

that land.” 

“No, that is why I am worried. Sometimes even the 

helpful Little People can fascinate a child, and he or she 

will follow them...until they lose themselves.”

Sky Heart said, “I do not think the dream can be 

ignored, Thistle. Do you have any ideas?”

“I’m not sure what to do.”

Coyote spoke up. “You said that you recognized a 

place called Two Rabbit Mountain. Does this place refer 

to the Two Rabbit?” She nodded. “Do you know him, 

Thistle?”

“Oh, yes. He lives on the mountain. I have gone home 

to see relatives from time to time. On one of those visits, 

we went to see him. He had moved to the mountain 

after leaving the plantation settlements where he used 

to live. I don’t think he lives there all the time though.” 

To clarify her relationship to the Two Rabbit, she added: 

“He is a relative of my grandfather, the Great Rabbit.” 

Like all tricksters, Coyote had heard of the Two 

Rabbit. He was impressed that their little cottontail was 

related to him.

Sky Heart had heard of the Two Rabbit, too. “He has 
94

knowledge of story traditions from other lands, does he 

not, Thistle?”

“Yes, he is called the Two Rabbit because he has 

many of the Indian stories of my grandfather, the Great 

Rabbit, and of Zomo, a hare from Africa.” 

“His stories are widely known,” Coyote acknowledged. 

“The ‘cunning ones’ not just here but all over the world 

know him.” Coyote’s unspoken thought was that the 

stories of the Two Rabbit may be even more widely 

known than his own. Of course, his vanity did not allow 

him to say this out loud. 

Breaking into the trickster’s thoughts, Thistle said, 

“My Muscogean-speaking relatives call him Chufezomo. 

Chufe or chokfi means ‘rabbit.’ They combined it with 

the name of Zomo. That is how he came to be called the 

Two Rabbit.”

Coyote glanced at Thistle. “I think Chufezomo is your 

answer. He will know if Rain is in danger.” He stood 

up and shook off the debris he had dislodged with his 

scratching. “And I’ll take you to see him if you want 

to go. He will know how to advise us about the Little 

People.” 

“Take me? But it is such a long way!”

“Not for me it isn’t!” Coyote corrected her.

“No, no, of course not,” Thistle said quickly. “You can 

move very fast. I should know. You’ve given me a few 
95

rides before.” 

Sky Heart wondered why Coyote was being so nice. 

What he didn’t know was that the trickster had his own 

motives for taking the trip. Coyote had decided that it 

was time for him to meet the Two Rabbit. 

In anticipation of the adventure, Coyote felt rather 

generous. “Will you come, Sky Heart?”

The eagle felt torn. He had watched over Rain since 

he had brought the health messages to him at the old 

tree stump in the meadow. That was almost 7 years 

ago. In that time he had worked to guide the boy and 

his friends through Coyote’s challenges—sometimes in 

Rain’s dreams and sometimes by leading them to places 

where Coyote’s work would be revealed. He was always 

there, flying above, when Rain looked to him for courage 

and comfort. 

 Sky Heart replied thoughtfully: “No, my place is here. 

This is the first time that Rain has left us. I think it is a 

good thing that you go—make sure that he and Boomer 

are safe. He is getting older and will be going places 

and doing things on his own. My teachings are in his 

mind and heart. I trust that this learning will guide his 

actions.” 

“Kicking the little fledgling out of the nest so soon, 

Eagle?” Coyote teased. 

“No, no, Coyote. I will give guidance to this special 

boy for many years to come. As he grows, so will the 
96

challenges that you present to him.” 

Coyote nodded to the eagle in recognition of this 

understanding. Quickly changing the subject, he asked 

Thistle, “How far is this place we are going?” 

“On foot? Maybe 2 months.”

“With me driving, it should take a day,” Coyote 

bragged. “If we stop to sightsee along the way, that is.”

“We should leave today.” 

“Then I’d better fill the gas tank. You interrupted 

my breakfast. I’ll meet you at the dumpster behind the 

trading post in an hour.” Coyote trotted off, feeling 

proud of his newly groomed fur. 

Thistle wrinkled her nose. “Yeah, right. The gas tank.”

Sky Heart laughed and said, “Too bad you can’t install 

a muffler on him.”

Thistle rolled her eyes. “I’m sure Chufezomo will hear 

us coming.”
97

Chapter 10 

While the trolley headed out to the Bear Cove Campground, Hailey scanned 

the contents of the proposal folders.

The Adventure Begins

The next morning, Sigigi and the boys were up early. 

After going over their options, Rain and Boomer decided 

that their best bet was Hailey. They explained to Sigigi 

that Hailey’s father had more details about Eugene’s 

plan to develop tourism in the forest. They would go 

into town and talk to her about helping them. Maybe 

she could show them a copy of Eugene’s proposal. Well, 

maybe. Then they would come back to the campground 

and tell Sigigi everything they found out. 
98

Sigigi agreed. He would wait until that evening. If 

they weren’t back by then, or if they came back emptyhanded, he would head back to Turtletown. The Little 

People would figure out a way to stop Eugene on their 

own.

The boys rode into town with Gerald and met the 

Jacksons at the Toast of the Town Café across from the 

hotel. During breakfast, Don gave Hailey and Marcus 

permission to go into town on the tourist trolley. They 

were looking forward to a ride on its upper deck. Hailey 

said their plan was to go to the Mystery Spook House 

first, then they would stop at Adventure Caverns for the 

log flume ride. 

Gerald assumed that the boys would go with Marcus 

and Hailey. He looked at his watch and said, “The 

plenary session starts in 20 minutes.” 

“Yep. Let’s pay up,” Don said. “Now remember, 

Hailey. Be back at the hotel lobby by one o’clock. Okay?”

Hailey said, “I will, Daddy.” 

Don and Gerald picked up the checks and headed 

over to the cash register. Boomer turned his head 

and watched them walk away. When they were out of 

earshot, he said, “Okay, RD.” 

Drinking the last of his water, Rain set down the 

glass. “Ah...Hailey, Boomer and I have something to ask 

you.” 
99

Hailey thought Boomer’s behavior was a little strange. 

She looked at Rain. “What?”

“Hailey, forget Adventure Caverns. How would you 

like to have a real adventure? Marcus, too.” 

Hailey was intrigued. Rain was the boy who broke 

up a fossil poaching ring. When he said “adventure” he 

probably wasn’t kidding. Very quietly, she said, “Go on.”

“Hold on a minute, RD.” Boomer interrupted. Your 

dad’s giving us the ‘hurry up’ sign. We better go.” The 

kids got up and headed out to the street. Boomer pointed 

toward the trolley stop, and the kids headed in that 

direction. 

As they walked up the street, Rain picked up where he 

left off. “Hailey, you may have a hard time believing what 

I’m going to tell you. I just want you to listen. Okay?” 

When she nodded, Rain gave a summary of everything 

that had happened after they opened the trunk last night 

and discovered Sigigi. 

Hailey was as skeptical as Rain expected her to be. 

“You’re sure he’s not just a really little guy?”

“We’ll take you to meet Sigigi. You can decide for 

yourself. He already knows about you.” 

“About me? Really?”

“Yes, really. I’m telling you the truth, Hailey. Sigigi 

needs your help. The Little Peoples’ lives could be 

destroyed if that business committee picks Eugene’s 
100

proposal.” 

Feeling pressured, Hailey pulled back from Rain. 

Suspiciously, she asked, “What do you want me to do?”

“Go back to the hotel and get Eugene’s proposal,” 

Rain replied. “We need to know as much as possible 

about what he’s planning.” 

Boomer turned around and walked back toward Rain 

and Hailey. “Did you ask her if she could get the time 

when Eugene makes his presentation?”

Keeping his eyes on Hailey, Rain answered, “Not yet. I 

don’t know if she’s gonna help us.” 

Hailey took a deep breath. “Oh, Rain, this is terrible. 

I’ll get in sooo much trouble if Daddy finds out.” 

Rain softened. “Hey, it’s okay if you don’t feel right 

about it. We’ll figure it out somehow.”

Chewing on her lip, Hailey looked at the boys. “No, 

I want to help. Like you said, it’s an adventure. But we 

can’t take anything with us. Just copies.” Hailey looked 

around and cried, “Hey, where’s Marcus? I promised 

Daddy I wouldn’t let him out of my sight!”

“Standing over there at the trolley stop,” Boomer said. 

“I’ll get him.” 

The kids turned and headed back to the hotel. When 

they entered the lobby, Hailey whispered, “I think we 

better park Marcus at Kid’s Alley. The less he knows the 

better.”
101

Boomer volunteered to take Marcus to the children’s 

play center. He would watch him while they got the 

papers. Rain and Hailey took the elevator up to the 

third floor. Standing in front of Room 324, she swiped 

the card key in the door lock. Entering the room, she 

said, “Marcus and I have this room and my father is 

in the next room. That’s where all his stuff is.” Hailey 

opened the adjoining door and walked over to a desk. 

She opened one of the desk drawers and took out a set of 

three folders. 

“I saw Dad reading over these last night.” Shuffling 

through the folders, she pulled out one. “This looks like 

the proposals.” Handing it off to Rain, she opened the 

other folders to see if they contained anything important. 

Rain flipped through the proposal folder quickly. “I 

see Eugene’s.” 

“Not much in this one. Just some materials from the 

economic development committee, but the schedule is 

here.” Opening the third folder, she said, “This one looks 

like Dad’s notes.”

“We’ll make a copy of everything. Come on. Let’s go 

down to the business center. I wonder how much it will 

cost.”

“Don’t worry. I know how to copy double-sided. It’s 

a good thing these proposals have been copied before. 

Daddy would notice that they’d been taken apart and restapled.”
102

“Good idea about the double-sided thing. I’ll use my 

ticket money. I guess I’ll just have to pass up the Fun 

Park.”

Rain and Hailey went down to the business center 

and copied the folders—even the proposals that weren’t 

Eugene’s. They had it done in 15 minutes. Rain stapled 

the copies together, while Hailey went back upstairs and 

replaced everything in the desk. Then she joined Rain in 

the lobby, and they picked up Boomer and Marcus. 

“Okay, where now?” Hailey asked.

“We’ll take the trolley out to the campground.” Rain 

replied. “You can help us make sense of all this stuff. 

Come on, let’s go.”

The adventurers hurried down the street to the trolley 

stop. Marcus had been disappointed that he hadn’t 

been able to ride the first time. When the double-decker 

trolley came, he yelled, “I want to ride on top!” The kids 

climbed up the little stairway and Hailey led them to 

the last seats at the rear. She wanted to go through the 

papers and didn’t want tourists climbing over her. While 

the trolley headed out to the Bear Cove Campground, 

Hailey scanned the contents of the proposal folders. She 

found out that Eugene’s presentation was scheduled for 

two o’clock tomorrow. She also quickly read through her 

dad’s notes on Eugene’s proposal and a few others. 

Boomer interrupted her reading. “Come on, Hailey. 

We’re here. The campground is the last stop.” 
103

Closing her dad’s folder of notes, she said, “Boy, 

Daddy likes what Eugene wants to do. I don’t understand 

all the money stuff, but he’s scored his plan really high.” 

Hailey grabbed up all the papers and they hurried 

down the steps. Rain waved at the driver, signaling that 

they were all off. She waved back and turned the trolley 

around. The double-decker headed back to town. The 

kids started down the gravel road. They were grateful for 

the cool under the trees that bordered the road. The top 

deck of the trolley had been hot in the midmorning sun. 

Before long, Boomer pointed to a shady campsite with an 

Airstream trailer and small tent. “That’s our camp.” 

Rain said, “Wait here.” He walked on ahead and 

looked inside the tent. No one was there. He called out 

softly, “Sigigi...” When there was no answer, he turned 

and shrugged at Boomer. Then they heard a cicada call 

from a nearby clump of bushes: “Sigigigigiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii” 

Rain gave the kids a thumb’s up and a big smile. Then 

he walked quickly to the trailer and unlocked it. He 

motioned for the others to come. When they were inside, 

he stood by the open door and looked at the bushes 

where Sigigi was hidden. The young man of the Little 

People quickly emerged and stepped up into the trailer. 

Rain looked around to make sure no one had seen them 

and went inside. He closed the door. 

Hailey and Marcus were standing by the Airstream’s 

little dinette table. They were staring wide-eyed at Sigigi.
104

Sigigi smiled and said, “Welcome to our program.”

Hailey was confused. She looked at Rain and said, 

“What does that ...” She didn’t finish her sentence. 

Stuttering, she tried to introduce herself and Marcus. 

“I’m Hailey...and, ah, this is my little brother. Ah...um... 

Gee, you’re...really real.”

The little brother had to introduce himself. “I’m 

Marcus Jackson.” Beaming at Sigigi, he suddenly 

shouted, “You’re littler than me!” 

“That because you from the Big People,” Sigigi 

answered.

“I am?” Marcus liked the sound of that. He grinned up 

at his sister: “I told you I was big.” 

Boomer said, “Well, let’s sit down. I don’t know about 

you guys, but I’m thirsty.” He invited Hailey and Marcus 

to take the bench behind the dinette table, and Rain 

pulled out a couple of collapsible camp stools. Sigigi 

seated himself on a wooden bar stool beside the small 

refrigerator. He rested his heels on an upper strut and 

folded his arms comfortably. Boomer took out a quart 

bottle of water and filled paper cups for everybody. 

Marcus drank his in one gulp and asked for more. 

Looking up at the little man on his perch, Rain said, 

“Well, Sigigi. We’ve brought a lot of information. Hailey 

got it for us. She knows the most about it.”

Hailey was still staring at Sigigi. “I don’t want to be 
105

rude or anything. But I have never seen hair as long as 

yours. And it’s so shiny! Your hair is just gorgeous.”

Unable to resist being a six-year-old boy, Marcus 

mocked his older sister in a high fluty voice: “Ohhh, your 

hair is sooooo shiny!”

Sigigi grinned. Then he laughed. It was the first time 

that he had laughed since he left Turtletown. “Hailey, 

you ‘top of the chart.’” Enjoying the joking, he pulled up 

a long lock of his hair, examined it, and said, “Gorgeous.”

Rain and Boomer really got tickled. They didn’t know 

who was funnier—Marcus, Sigigi or Hailey.

Hailey put her hands over her face. “I’m so 

embarrassed. I can’t believe I said that!” But Hailey 

was starting to relax. She smiled in spite of herself. 

Taking a deep breath, she said, “Okay, okay. I’m getting 

serious now. This is what I have found out so far. Eugene 

Frimble presents his proposal at two o’clock tomorrow 

afternoon, and my dad thinks his ideas are better than 

most of the other proposals. But there are two others 

that he says are very good. I haven’t looked at them yet.” 

Pulling out Eugene’s proposal, she said, “I couldn’t read 

all this, but there’s a summary sheet that has a list of 

the kinds of locations he is looking for. That might be 

important.” 

Boomer whispered to Rain, “Does she remind you of 

anybody?”

Rain thought about Hummingbird, the girl who was 
106

his special friend. Wouldn’t she love to be here right 

now? This was her kind of journey. “Yeah,” he whispered 

back to Boomer, “Hailey’s smart like Bird.” 

Too engrossed to hear them, Hailey started reading: 

“The sites have to be near water (more than one source), 

not too isolated, moderate elevation, quick replacement 

vegetation, natural meadow, variety of geological 

features, stable ecosystem, and....” 

“Hailey,” Sigigi interrupted. “We have to take to 

Turtletown.” 

“You mean you want all this stuff? Sure, you’ll need a 

couple of fold...”

Sigigi shook his head. “No, I want you, Marcus, Rain, 

Boomer to come. Tell our elders about Eugene. Today. 

Now.”

“But we have to be back at the hotel to meet our dad 

for lunch.”

Sigigi hopped off the stool. He tightened his sash and 

retied the straps around his leggings. Taking charge, he 

addressed the boys by their names for the first time. 

“Rain, you got bag for paper?” 

“Ah, sure. Yeah, we don’t want that stuff blowing 

around.” Rain started flipping open cabinets hunting for 

a shopping bag.

“Boomer, you got more granola bar?”

“Yeah, we got plenty. Should we bring some water, 
107

too?” 

“No, I know where good water.” Sigigi looked down 

at Boomer’s shoes and nodded. Then he checked out 

everybody’s footgear. He was a bit puzzled by Hailey’s 

pink and black high tops until he saw they were secured 

by hidden Velcro. Finally he said, “All good shoes for 

walking. We okay.” 

“I’m serious,” Hailey protested. “I’m going to get in 

big trouble if we aren’t back in a couple of hours.”

Sigigi smiled kindly, but mysteriously. “Don’t worry.” 

Repeating a phrase of his favorite DJ, he said, “‘We’ve 

got blue skies and green lights this morning.’ You get 

back. You trust me?”

Hailey said to herself, Girl, this is an adventure! Stop 

worrying! She sighed and gave in. “Okay. Yes. Let’s go. 

But promise you’ll get Marcus back in one piece!” 

Such were Sigigi’s powers that Hailey never knew that 

she was being “fascinated.” Just as Thistle said, some 

Little People could charm children into following them 

anywhere. 

109

Chapter 11 

As they traveled, Sigigi steered them safely—free of bumps and scrapes and 

the itch of poison ivy. He also taught them about the forest.

The Way to Turtletown 

The small party set off from the campground with Sigigi 

in the lead. He was followed by Marcus, Hailey, and 

Boomer. Rain brought up the rear. Sigigi followed the 

same route back to Turtletown by which he had come. At 

first, however, he chose some alternate paths that were 

less challenging than the ones he usually traveled. They 

saw hikers at a distance on these more established trails, 

but once they had left the reservation, Sigigi led them 

on a trail only known to the Little People. As the terrain 

grew more rugged, Rain assumed correctly that they had 

crossed into the Wetumka National Forest. 
110

The trail, framed by the dark green gloss of laurel 

thickets, roller-coastered up and then down, punctuated 

with sudden dips and ascents. Fallen trees and rocky 

ledges slippery with green moss presented the most 

challenge. They required some careful footwork. 

Occasionally, the travelers could also hear, but not see, 

the rush of streams that deeply etched the mountains. 

Thankfully, tall beech and maple trees stood sentry, 

guarding against an accidental fall into the canyons 

below. 

As they traveled, Sigigi steered them safely—free 

of bumps and scrapes and the itch of poison ivy. He 

also taught them about the forest. He pointed out the 

yammering white-breasted nuthatch and stopped them 

to listen to the rolling song of the Carolina wren in 

the rhododendron ravines. Pushing aside foliage, he 

revealed the stems of ghostly white Indian Pipe and the 

delicate flower of a late-blooming Purple Trillium. On 

a heavily shaded part of the trail, Sigigi stooped to pick 

several heart-shaped leaves from a dark green clump of 

Wild Ginger on the forest floor. He crushed them with 

his fingers and held the moist pulp to their noses. A 

pungent aroma filled the air. 

 “Wow! That’s strong.” Boomer said. 

Rain couldn’t place the smell. “It smells like...I don’t 

know...it reminds me of something.”

 “Oh, I know. Ginger. It smells like ginger!” Hailey 
111

cried.

Marcus mimicked Sigigi, picking several leaves and 

mashing them between his hands. Sniffing, he said, “It 

smells like Granddaddy’s perfume.”

Hailey sighed and corrected her brother. 

“Granddaddy wears cologne, Marcus—not perfume.” 

Looking up ahead, Sigigi said, “We go over that way.” 

He led them along a sunnier part of the trail that finally 

emerged out of the forest onto a large flat rock. Sigigi 

walked out onto a natural overlook and waved them 

toward him. The kids were speechless as they stepped 

out onto the precipice. 

Rain was in awe. The last time he had felt such 

wonder was on his own reservation—looking out over 

the white-hot, dry bed of an ancient sea surrounded by 

the gilded, craggy canyons of Shell Ridge. But here, the 

vast forest was like a living sea—deep and green. Even 

the mountains themselves, fading into a misty horizon, 

transformed into blue undulating waves that seemed 

more ocean than land. 

Hailey gasped, “Oh, it’s beautiful. I didn’t know we 

were up so high!” 

Boomer was equally impressed. “Man, I didn’t know 

there could be that many trees...”

Reluctantly pulling his eyes away from the panorama, 

Rain asked, “Where are we?”
112

Sigigi pointed to the southwest. “See mountain with 

scar on side? Taniba Springs below.” 

Rain was confused. “We’ve come that far? That’s 

miles away. We haven’t been gone that long, Sigigi.” 

“Yeah,” Boomer said, “it’s only been about 15 minutes 

since we left. Right?”

Sigigi politely ignored them. “Come, everybody sit. 

Talk about what we say at Turtletown.” Sigigi gestured 

with his chin to a shaded alcove behind the outlook. A 

shallow depression in its stony floor collected water that 

trickled down from a spring above. Sigigi said, “Water 

here is cold. We have snack.” Looking up at the rocky 

wall that formed the back of the alcove, Sigigi said with a 

straight face: “Another block of non-stop rock.” 

Trying not to laugh, Hailey said, “Sigigi, you talk so 

funny sometimes. You sound like a DJ.”

Sigigi smiled. He had figured out that the kids thought 

his “radio talk” was funny. He pulled out the radio from 

his sash. Pointing to it, he whispered, “I listen.”

Nodding, Hailey said, “Ohhh...a radio. I get it.” 

Boomer sat down and opened the plastic bag with the 

proposal papers. Hailey pulled out the two proposals 

that her father noted were very good and gave them to 

Rain and Boomer. The boys began to read. They weren’t 

sure what they were looking for, and they certainly didn’t 

understand the technical language and financial charts. 
113

But after skimming through the two proposals, they 

said they could be reasonably sure that the plans only 

included an overhaul of the Tribe’s businesses in town. 

Looking through Eugene’s proposal more carefully, 

Hailey discovered that his plan included some 

updating of the town’s economy, too. However, she 

did find a paragraph that stated clearly that Eugene’s 

recommendations for developing eco-tourism potentially 

included all of the reservation lands up to the border of 

the Wetumka National Forest. Hailey asked Sigigi how 

many of the Little People’s towns were located on the 

reservation. 

“Maybe three,” he answered. “Turtletown, 

Skunktown, Panthertown. Others far away.”

Hailey, sighed. “Well, in that case, I guess Eugene’s 

plan has to be stopped.” Sigigi and the boys agreed.

 “Maybe we could get the committee interested in one 

of these others,” Rain said hopefully. 

Boomer was still reading his proposal. Suddenly, he 

looked up. “Well, I got bad news. There’s a letter here 

that says that the guy who sent this in won’t be able to 

make a presentation. He can’t be here this week. I guess 

we can forget this one.” 

“Which one was that?” Hailey asked.

Looking at the signature on the letter, Boomer said, 

“The one from Thomas Wang.”
114

 Marcus interrupted, saying that he was hungry. Sigigi 

looked through his bag and pulled out the sunflower 

seed crackers and his last package of hickory nut bread. 

Marcus accepted a couple of crackers, but said he’d 

rather have some potato chips or a candy bar. 

Sigigi shook his head. He said that he no longer ate 

the food that the Big People ate at the campgrounds. 

Rain reached for the snacks that Boomer had packed. 

“But, Sigigi, you liked my mom’s granola bar that we 

gave you.” 

“Yes. Give Marcus granola bar. That like food we eat 

at Turtletown. Food at campground make Little People 

sick.” 

Rain handed one of the granola bars to Marcus. 

Almost immediately he asked, “What kind of sickness, 

Sigigi?” 

Sigigi said it was a long story. He explained that 

more Little People used to go to the Big People’s town, 

but now only a few ventured there. “Young men used 

to go. I like to go. We like find things. Like skin you see 

through...” 

“What’s that?” Boomer said frowning. 

“Oh, you mean plastic!” Rain said. 

“Yes, make easy catch fish on hook. Make fish bite.” 

Sigigi explained. “We bring stuff back to Turtletown. 

Glass, paper, bottle cap. We make things. Elders not like. 
115

But that make more fun.” 

“My dad says when you tell kids not to do something, 

they want to do it more,” Hailey said.

“Yes, true. Then we find sweet food, sweet grease 

food. Soon, many friend go to Big People camp just find 

this food.” Sigigi went on to describe how many young 

men wanted to do nothing but go to Taniba Springs and 

make raids on the campgrounds for bags of snacks and 

soda. “Soon, Little People food no good. Just want new 

food. No play ball, no hunt, no dance—do nothing. Just 

go find sweet grease food. But I never like that much. 

My friend, Oostaway, get sick; then many. Face lose fat, 

arm like stick. They make water all time. One healer see 

bee, ant and wasp come around water. She say honey in 

it. She call sickness, ‘Sting by Bee.’ Oostaway die. Then 

many die. All sad. Elders say ‘no’ to new food. Now we 

never eat.” 

Rain had known that Sigigi was talking about type 

2 diabetes as soon as he described how the young men 

started losing weight. But he waited until Sigigi finished 

talking before he spoke. Rain stood up and walked to 

where the small young man was sitting. “Sigigi, um...

Boomer and I know what the sickness is.” 

Sigigi was startled. Did these boys know everything? 

Rain continued. “The sickness is called type 2 

diabetes. It usually comes from eating unhealthy food 

and not moving your body. Big People get it, too.” 
116

 Hailey was alarmed. “My father has prediabetes. 

Does that mean he is going to get it and die like Sigigi’s 

friends?”

“No, no. Hailey,” Boomer said quickly. “It doesn’t 

mean that at all. People with prediabetes have a very 

good chance of preventing type 2 diabetes if they eat 

nutritious food and get active—like walking, swimming, 

or playing sports.” Boomer grinned. “You know, work off 

the old spare tire.” 

“Elders teach you about this diabetes?” Sigigi asked.

“I guess you could say we learned about diabetes from 

very wise elders—the ones that stories are told about.” 

Glancing at Hailey, he added, “But they weren’t people.” 

Hoping that she could understand (he had no doubt 

that Sigigi would), Rain explained as best he could: 

“The eagle told me about how to help prevent type 2 

diabetes when I was 6 years old. I brought Boomer and 

my other friends, Hummingbird and Simon, to meet 

him. He taught us about following the traditions of our 

ancestors—how they were always active, working and 

playing, and how they ate foods that weren’t....well, to 

use Sigigi’s words—full of ‘sweet grease.’ Hailey, you said 

you never met boys that eat like we do. Well, the eagle is 

the reason.”

“There was also a rabbit who taught us about fruits 

and vegetables. And a coyote tried to trick us into eating 

cookies. We learned what not to eat from him,” Boomer 
117

added. 

 “Wait a minute, please. Animals talked to you?” 

Hailey had a “give me a break” expression on her face. 

To Boomer she wisecracked, “I guess that was the coyote 

you burped at?”

 “I know it may be hard to believe,” Rain replied 

quietly. He peeked at Sigigi to see his reaction to Hailey’s 

skepticism. Suddenly, the outline of the little man’s 

body seemed to merge into the striations of rocky layers 

that glistened with spring water flowing down the cliff 

face. All that Rain could see were the young man’s 

eyes. Then, just as abruptly, Sigigi moved and his form 

rematerialized. Rain quickly shifted his gaze—wondering 

what magic of light had created the illusion. But why 

should it be an illusion? he thought.

Hailey saw that Rain was having a difficult moment—

and she wasn’t doing too well herself. “I’m sorry, guys. 

I’m just new to all this stuff. It sounds like you learned a 

lot—from the eagle. What you said makes me feel better 

about my dad, Boomer.” 

“Rain, Boomer,” Sigigi said. “You tell Little People 

what eagle say about diabetes.” He laughed a little: “This 

stuff new to me, too. I’m a first-time caller.” 

“Yes, we’ll tell them everything the eagle told us,” 

Rain said, smiling. He was always happy when he could 

share the wisdom of the great bird.

“Sigigi,” Boomer said excitedly, “we’ll tell the elders 
118

they were right to stop the guys from eating junk food!” 

 Sigigi chuckled and said, “Good idea.” It never hurt 

to tell the council they’d made a good decision. Standing 

up, he pointed to the northeast. “See there? Next to three 

cloud in sky. That Two Rabbit Mountain.”

“Yeah! I can see two rabbit ears on it!” Marcus yelled. 

“Where?” Hailey said, straining her eyes. When she 

heard her little brother giggle, she huffed, “Oh, Marcus, 

you’re just being silly.”

“That’s where we go. Turtletown there,” Sigigi said.

Just as Sigigi identified the location of Turtletown, 

a strange dust cloud appeared. Everyone watched as it 

moved rapidly up the side of the mountain, like a stream 

flowing uphill. 

Marcus piped, “What’s that?” 

Sigigi walked further out onto the overlook. He stared 

for several moments. Mystified, he turned to the kids 

and said, “No clue. Never see this thing before.”
Chufe launched into “Old Joe Clark” and Coyote and Thistle locked arms in 

a do-se-do. The rabbit paddled his feet in time with the music and the dance 

partners sashayed and promenaded. 

121

Chapter 12

“...the Rabbit declared, “Coyote, I’m mighty, mighty glad to know you!” 

Coyote Meets Chufezomo 

Thistle coughed and cried, “Coyote, slow down! 

Stop! I can’t breathe!” The little rabbit buried her head 

in the back of the trickster’s neck, trying to avoid the 

choking dust that enveloped them. Coyote heard her. He 

gradually motored down and came to a stop. Shaking 

his head, he cleared the road dirt from his nose and 

sneezed. Thistle squinted through the debris that floated 

down behind them. It looked like a tornado had blazed a 

coyote-wide track up the side of the mountain. 

 “Are we here?” Coyote coughed.
122

“Yes, and I’m sure everybody knows it.” 

Thistle slid off Coyote’s back. Her legs were stiff and 

she needed to stretch. Since they left Thunder Rock 

yesterday, they had only made a few stops. Most of the 

trip had been a blur. Coyote had slowed only once—

when she asked to see the bridge that crossed the Great 

River. They had arrived at the bridge just as night 

eased into the gray of dawn. At her insistence, Coyote 

reduced his speed once his paws hit the lofty arched 

span. Miraculously, the context of their location came 

into sharp focus. To Thistle’s delight, the bridge and city 

across the river still wore their nighttime twinkles. Even 

the river flickered and glowed as barges plowed their 

way through the black water below. The Great River 

was more spectacular than anything she could have 

imagined. 

Reducing speed had its consequences. The driver of 

a car crossing the bridge suddenly saw something in 

the corner of his eye—a rabbit riding on a coyote’s back. 

When the startled motorist turned his head to see what 

he thought he saw—they vanished. Coyote and Thistle 

laughed. It was always a good trick! 

Now that they had reached their destination, the 

only trick Coyote was interested in was a power nap. He 

plopped down on his haunches and yawned. “So what do 

we do now?” he asked. 

“We listen.”
123

“For what?”

“Chufezomo always plays his fiddle in the morning. 

We’ll follow the tune.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Coyote said, curling up in some 

pine needles. Thistle followed his example. Conserving 

energy was always a good strategy. She slipped into 

a lovely doze that unfortunately was interrupted by 

something sticky and wet. 

“Stop! Yuk! What are you doing?”

Coyote was standing over her. “I’m licking your face,” 

he said. “Wake up. Don’t you hear it?”

Thistle shook herself and sat up. “Yes, yes. It’s the 

fiddle!” Listening more carefully, she started softly 

singing, “The breeze is sighing, the night bird’s crying...” 

Elated, she cried, “He’s playing ‘Red Wing!’”

“It’s coming from that ridge over there. Hop on.” With 

Thistle clutching the scruff of his neck, Coyote bounded 

over a low rise and up a steep slope toward the fiddle 

music. When he reached the top, he stopped and Thistle 

dismounted. Through a stand of trees she could see a 

little glade dappled with sunshine. 

Thistle placed her paw on Coyote’s back. “Wait 

here, Coyote.” Hopping forward slowly, she called out, 

“Helloooo? Chufe...Chufezomo...”

The music stopped. Thistle parted a clump of ox-eye 

daisies and peered through the flowers. A grayish-brown 
124

male rabbit was staring intently toward the daisies. He 

was much taller and thicker through the chest than most 

members of his species—the eastern cottontail. His front 

legs, drawn close to his body, were holding a fiddle in 

one paw and a bow in the other. Thistle watched as he 

reared up slowly on his back legs and cautiously leaned 

forward. Thistle poked her head into the clearing and 

said his name again, “Chufezomo?” 

The old buck began twitching the spray of white 

whiskers on his muzzle excitedly. His mouth opened, 

revealing two large incisors that were the heart of the 

most jubilant grin Thistle had ever seen.

“Thistle?”

“Yes, it’s me, Uncle.”

“Oh, my sweet little rab,” he cried. “You come to see 

me!” He hopped to his niece and nuzzled her nose in 

greeting. She responded affectionately by giving one of 

his ears a little grooming. 

Standing back to look at her, the old rabbit said, “My, 

my, ain’t you the prettiest little bunny! A little dusty, 

honey, but pretty.”

Wiping a paw across her face, she smiled shyly. “Oh, 

sorry, I’ve been on the road for 2 days.” Glancing over 

her shoulder, she added, “Ah, I’ve brought someone with 

me who wants to meet you.” 

The large protuberant eyes on the side of the rabbit’s 
125

head gleamed with intelligence. “Oh? And who might 

that be?”

Thistle turned and called, “Coyote, come and meet my 

uncle.” The trickster padded quietly into the clearing and 

sat down. 

The old rabbit was immediately on his guard. He 

leaned down to Thistle and whispered, “Uh, what’s his 

name?”

“It’s the Coyote, Uncle,” Thistle whispered back. 

Chufezomo, the Two Rabbit, approached Coyote 

warily. One trickster was predator and the other was 

prey. But opposition was the way of being for those of 

their kind—each had been the victor and victim, the 

creator and destroyer, and the deceiver as well as truthteller. Each was proud, but also fearful of the powers 

of the other. When great tricksters encountered one 

another, the outcome could be unpredictable. 

As the host, Chufezomo spoke first. “Welcome to my 

ol’ Laughin’ Place, Coyote. I heard ’bout you.”

Looking around, Coyote replied, “You come to laugh 

here? What a good idea.” Remembering to be pleasant, 

he added with a toothy smile: “I have heard of you, too. 

It is well known that you make many laugh.” 

Chufezomo lowered his head in thanks for the 

compliment. However, he skipped the other niceties of 

hospitality and asked a critical question: “Coyote, how 
126

many rabbits been your meat?”

Coyote was somewhat taken aback. “Why, I...ah. 

Well, let’s see.” Coyote was in a tough spot. If he told 

Chufe that he didn’t eat rabbits, it would be an obvious 

lie. He would have to provide a response that limited 

the damage, but was truthful. Fortunately, Coyote’s 

craftiness was never in short supply. Smiling, he replied, 

“Ah, let’s just say that I never ate a rabbit who I knew 

personally.”

The old rabbit laughed out loud. “Ha, ha, hee, heeee! 

Well, well, I can see how eating a friend might stick in 

your craw. Yes, sir, that’d make for a sour stomach.” 

Nevertheless, he wanted a little more assurance of 

Coyote’s good will. Turning to Thistle, he said, “Will you 

vouch for this fella?”

“Oh, yes, Uncle. Ever since I’ve known him, he’s never 

stalked me. But,” she said, wagging a paw at her scruffy 

companion, “you did devour your wife once, Coyote—

and you knew her.” 

Coyote was aghast at Thistle’s betrayal of certain 

unsavory episodes in his domestic life. “But that’s 

different!” he protested. “And don’t forget—I brought her 

back to life!” 

Chufezomo smiled and said, “Well, now, that’s a trick 

I admire. You can’t do better than that.” Suddenly, he 

reached out and grabbed Coyote’s paw. Pumping his 

front leg up and down until his head bobbled like a cork, 
127

the rabbit declared, “Coyote, I’m mighty, mighty glad to 

know you!” He hoped that was personal enough.

With introductions over, Chufezomo invited Thistle 

and Coyote to sit down with him. Thistle said that she 

had been telling Coyote about their trickster family. “I 

told him that you are called the Two Rabbit because your 

stories come from two different worlds—the world of the 

Great Rabbit and the world of Zomo.”

 “You got it right, little rab. That ol’ Zomo the Hare—

he’s not from here. He live in the lands of Africa...far 

and far away. His stories come with the people stole 

from their homes and made to work the cotton fields and 

sugar plantations.”

This is what Coyote had come to learn about. 

Excitedly, he asked, “What kind of stories did they bring 

about Zomo?”

 “Some African people called him Kalulu or Sungura, 

but the stories are mostly the same. Zomo was a tricky 

little fella—he use his wits to get what he want. One time, 

he make fools of the leopard, the big fish, and wild cow 

so bad that the Sky give him wisdom to go along with his 

courage.” Chufezomo looked at Coyote and chuckled. “I 

don’t think he ever run into any coyotes, but I bet he’d 

outsmart them, too.” 

Coyote let the teasing pass. “How did Zomo meet the 

Great Rabbit of this land?”

“Well, from what I recollect some black folks run off 
128

from the plantations and join up with the Indians, and 

some Indians was captured and made slaves, too. The 

Indian folks hear the rabbit stories the African folks are 

tellin’, and the Africans hear the Indians’ stories about 

their old rascal rabbit, and before you know it, the stories 

all stirred up together—and I was born!” Reflecting on 

the wholeness of his own being, Chufezomo chuckled 

and said, “I guess I am the smartest, peskiest, funniest, 

and sneakiest critter that ever was.” 

“You left out most foolish, Uncle,” Thistle said, gently 

correcting her famous relative. 

Chufezomo laughed out loud. “Oh, ain’t that the truth! 

When my tricks blow up in my face—it sure make folks 

happy...” 

Coyote smiled. He’d been the butt of many jokes—

mostly as a result of his own folly. “I guess we’ve both 

done our part to help people. Laughing is a good thing.” 

Thistle agreed. “Oh, yes. Laughing heals.”

Chufe nodded his head. “That it do. That it do. In 

my way of thinkin’, if folks can laugh, they can think, 

too. Them ol’ hare stories from Africa was all about how 

little critters can use their heads to make sure the big 

critters don’t eat ’em up.” Looking knowingly at Coyote 

and Thistle, the rabbit grinned. “Bein’ clever is right 

useful since the bears and wolves don’t seem to be going 

nowhere...” Then giving Coyote an impish look, he said, 

“But the hare ain’t all, Coyote. I got more...” 
129

“More of what?”

“More stories.” Coyly, he added, “I got spider stories 

from Africa, too.” 

“The spider?”

“Uh-huh. I got Ananzi the Spider-Boy. Oh, he’s a 

tricky one. He’s an eight-legged shape-shiftin’ rascal. His 

stories got added in my stew, too.” 

“The storytellers must have been busy,” Coyote said 

wryly. 

The rabbit smiled and sighed wistfully. “Oh, yes. Sooo

many stories was told.” Leaning back and looking at 

Coyote more directly, he said, “Then big changes come. 

Some was happy and some was downright woeful. A sad 

time was when most of the Indian folks was all moved 

out West—except for a few places like this. That’s when 

Thistle’s family left, too.” He shook his head sadly. “I 

sure did miss ’em.” 

 Continuing, his face suddenly brightened. “But the 

changes wasn’t all bad, Coyote. No sirree! The black folks 

got free and they left the plantations behind ’em. That 

was a happier time. After that I left the ol’ settlements 

and started stayin’ up here a lot of the time. I still go 

round visitin’ though. For some reason, I just can’t stay 

away from Mr. Man’s garden.” Then the rabbit looked 

down and went silent.

Thistle sensed that something was bothering Chufe. 
130

She prompted him to go on talking. “Uncle, tell Coyote 

about how your stories were told in books.” 

 He looked up. “Oh, yeah. I heard they got told all 

over the world. Them days I was feelin’ real good. I kept 

playin’ my tricks on the fox and bear, and I was really 

givin’ the hawk and buzzard a hard time. But then, 

something happened and I started feelin’ a little puny.” 

Frowning, he explained, “I didn’t hear my stories bein’ 

told no more. I declare, Thistle, the rheumatiz in my hips 

got so bad, I could barely hop. I even stopped playin’ my 

fiddle for a while there. I figured that folks had forgot 

me. And you know what happens to us when the stories 

ain’t told.” 

“We get old and die in the people’s memories.” Coyote 

said bluntly. “The people forget the stories of their 

ancestors and lose who they are.”

The rabbit was surprised at Coyote’s brusque 

assessment, but he had to agree. “You got that right, 

Coyote. You can be a straight talker for a tricky fella. 

Why do you think my stories fell off that way?”

Coyote took this question very seriously. He began to 

scratch where there was no itch. It helped him to think. 

Then he rolled over on his back and thought some more. 

Coyote was pondering how Chufezomo drew much of 

his power from that place where his two worlds came 

together. He had the knowledge of his African and 

Native American origins, but also an additional and very 
131

special kind of knowing that came from the place where 

the two worlds crossed over. He was more than the sum 

of his parts. In other words, a part of Chufezomo was a 

new being—different from either of his parents. 

Coyote had to admit he had been surprised at just 

how complex Chufe really was. He had rabbit and spider 

knowledge! What’s more, people from many places and 

lands were telling his stories. Suddenly, Coyote pawed 

at his ear. Hmm, he thought, maybe the source of his 

power is a strength and a weakness. Where things come 

together can also be the place where things come apart. 

This, of course, was Trickster 101. 

Coyote got up and trotted over to the old rabbit. He 

lay down on his stomach beside him. Clearing his throat, 

he began slowly: “Stories have to be told in the right way 

and at the right time. If the storytellers don’t understand 

the story, or if they tell the story with the wrong purpose 

and in a way that changes its meaning, something will 

go amiss. Listeners must hear the story the right way, 

too—so it can be a part of their own learning. I think 

that some of your stories may have been told or heard in 

the wrong way, and this caused trouble. That is what I 

think.” 

“But you seem to be feeling all right now, Uncle,” 

Thistle said. “Your whiskers are awfully gray, but your 

eyes are just as bright as I remember them.” 

“Oh, I been doing a whole lot better lately. 
132

Sometimes, I can hear storytellers tellin’ the stories—just 

like I remember them, and there’s children listening. 

I’m fiddling and coming up to my Laughin’ Place right 

regular now.” Looking over at his fellow trickster, 

Chufezomo said, “There’s a whole lotta sense in what 

you said, Coyote. I shoulda figured it out myself. Maybe 

I’ll get young again now that more stories are being told 

with the right meanin’.” Somewhat embarrassed, the 

rabbit said, “I’m forgettin’ my manners, Thistle. I been 

doin’ nothin’ but talkin’ ’bout myself. You might like to 

nibble a bit.” 

“I am a little hungry,” she admitted. “The daisies look 

tasty.”

While Thistle foraged nearby, Coyote and Chufezomo 

got a drink from a small pool of rain water. Chufe told 

a joke he’d heard from a skunk, and soon they were 

trading gags and their favorite pranks. The sound of 

their belly laughs made Thistle happy. Occasionally, 

their voices lowered and she knew they were discussing 

more weighty matters about their creative powers. They 

were obviously enjoying each other’s company, but she 

mustn’t forget why they had come. She had to ask Chufe 

about the Little People.

The sudden squeal of Chufezomo’s bow pulled across 

his fiddle made Thistle look up. “How about a little 

dance, Thistle?” Coyote yelled.

“Yes, if Uncle will dance, too.”
133

Chufe launched into “Old Joe Clark” and Coyote and 

Thistle locked arms in a do-se-do. The rabbit paddled 

his feet in time with the music and the dance partners 

sashayed and promenaded. Coyote, as usual, got a bit 

over-animated. He soon boogied off on his own, leaving 

Thistle to frolic solo. Soon he was twirling in a “fancy 

dancing” fever. 

Fearing he would miss out on the fun, Chufe thrust 

the fiddle at Coyote and joined Thistle in a lively stomp. 

Coyote accepted the challenge. He pushed the “wood that 

sings” under his chin and started sawing away. Reaching 

for his power, he smoothly shifted his inept squalling 

into the “Hohokam Polka,” followed by a Nakota version 

of “Turkey in the Straw.” The two rabbits shuffled to a 

stop and applauded Coyote. 

Gasping for breath, Thistle said, “I didn’t know you 

could play.” 

“I can’t play. I cheated. How about another round?” 

“No, Coyote. We must leave for home soon. We have 

to talk about why we came.” Thistle turned to her uncle 

and said, “Coyote and I have come to ask you for your 

help and advice.” 

“Well, let me sit down first.” He was winded, but it 

was obvious that he was excited about being asked for 

his guidance. “How can I help my favorite relative?”

Thistle told Chufezomo about her dream of Rain that 

Dances chasing the little man. She said she was afraid 
134

for the boy because some Little People could cast spells.

Chufezomo immediately assured Thistle that the 

Little People in the towns near Taniba Springs did not 

harm children. “I know them well, Thistle. One of their 

settlements, Turtletown, is near here.” 

“His friend, Boomer, is with him, too.” Coyote said. 

“I’ll watch out for them both. Now, don’t you worry, 

honey. They sound mighty special to you.”

“They are, Uncle.” Thistle went on to describe how 

she and Sky Heart, the eagle, had been trying to help 

Rain, his friends, and their community to eat healthy, be 

active, and live long lives. 

Suddenly very interested, Chufe asked, “You been 

helpin’ them to eat what?”

“Food from the garden, of course!” She explained 

that Rain’s welfare and that of his friend, Boomer, was 

very important. The eagle had given them and their 

friends, Simon and Hummingbird, knowledge that 

would help their community to prevent a disease called 

type 2 diabetes. Describing Coyote’s special role, she 

said, “You wouldn’t believe the tricks Coyote has pulled 

on Rain and his friends. Sky Heart and I usually have 

to help them through the ‘trouble’ that he’s started.” 

Eager to impress her uncle with their accomplishments, 

she described how the kids had learned so much from 

Coyote’s tricks—like the meaning of water and its power, 

the gifts of fruits and vegetables that their ancestors had 
135

given to them, and why being respectful of relatives is 

so important to the health and harmony of the whole 

community. 

Coyote basked in Thistle’s praise. “Now they tell 

new stories that come from my mischief. New stories 

will help us stay young and the traditions of the people 

strong.” 

Concerned about how Chufezomo had aged, Thistle 

said, “New stories would help you to stay young, too, 

Uncle.” 

The old rabbit turned away and hopped to the rim of 

his Laughing Place. He looked out over the valley below 

Two Rabbit Mountain. Hmm, maybe I’ve been up here 

too long, he mused. Maybe I could help some young folks 

to be healthy, too. After all, who knows more about fruits 

and vegetables than I do? His face lit up. Yes, I could be 

like Sky Heart, Thistle, and Coyote! Turning back to his 

niece, he said, “Before you and Coyote head back home, 

tell me more ‘bout them healthy stories, honey.” 

137

Chapter 13 

Myrtle suddenly heard the voice of her granny in her head: “The Little 

People...have great powers and must be respected.” 

Big Myrt’s Warning 

Lennie drove along Highway 667 to his sister-in-law’s 

farm. He usually enjoyed the short drive, but today he 

was too distracted to appreciate anything. Lennie was 

worried. Were the old warnings about the Little People 

true? Or was Max right—he was just a superstitious 

fool? Lennie’s uncertainty was rooted in the fact that his 

family came from two different backgrounds. Some were 

enrolled members of the Taniba Springs Tribes, but the 
138

rest were non-Native. Unlike Chufezomo, he often felt 

lost between his ancestries. He just didn’t know enough. 

When Gussie asked him to drive out to Myrtle’s to 

get some beans from her garden, he had quickly obliged. 

Myrtle Owl would be just the person to confide in about 

Max’s scheme to capture one of the Little People. If 

anybody could help him, it would be Big Myrt. 

A woman in baggy overalls and dirt-caked boots stood 

in the doorway of an old shed, watching Lennie park 

the car. To even the most casual observer it would be 

obvious why she was called Big Myrt. Lennie’s sisterin-law was almost six feet tall. More concerned with 

practicality than fashion, the overalls suited her just 

fine. The truth was she hadn’t cared much about the 

way she looked ever since her husband, Wesley, had 

died 3 years ago. But even though she lived alone, no 

one would have described her as lonely. Myrtle found 

meaning and satisfaction in her grandkids, her garden, 

and the roadside stand she called “Big Myrt’s Fruits and 

Vegetables.” 

She had been waiting for Lennie. Reaching up, she 

grabbed an old battered tin pan that hung from a nail on 

the shed wall. He can pick his own beans, she thought. 

Myrtle Owl was not particularly fond of her brother-inlaw, even though she had nothing against him. She just 

believed that her sister could have done better. In her 

book, he was too unsure of himself and had little notion 
139

of making a better life with Gussie. She knew that her 

sister saw positive things in Lennie, but for the life of her 

she couldn’t figure out what they were. 

Heading toward the bean patch, Myrtle motioned 

for Lennie to join her. He waved back and trotted down 

the well-worn path that bordered her prize-winning 

garden. He was always impressed by the size and 

beauty of Myrtle’s enterprise. She was a firm believer 

in companion planting and always arranged vegetables 

so that they complemented each other’s needs. The 

companions (corn, squash, and pole beans) were joined 

by rows of cucumbers, tomatoes, and peppers. In 

between the rows she grew marigolds, dwarf zinnias, 

nasturtiums, and dill and fennel—flowers and herbs that 

drove off pests, but attracted friendly insects, too. Truly, 

the garden was a banquet of red, yellow, and orange set 

on a table of green.

Myrtle was waiting for Lennie under one of the peach 

trees that shaded the trail leading to her patch of limas 

and bush beans. “Hey, Myrt!” Lennie called out. “Looks 

like your garden appreciated that spell of rain we got.” 

Myrtle wasn’t one for small talk. Handing Lennie 

the pan, she said, “Pick all you want, Lennie. And go on 

down to the strawberry patch if you want. Get Gussie a 

watermelon, too. I planted the little ones this year.”

“Thanks, Myrt. I will. Um, look, I know you’re busy, 

but there’s something I want to ask you. You know, 
140

something you’d know about...ah, well. See, the guy I 

work for? Max? Well, he, ah....” 

Myrtle waited. She had a lot of patience. But when 

Lennie kept stumbling around, she began to get 

annoyed. “What do you want to ask me, Lennie? Just say 

it.”

“Okay, I will.” Standing up a little straighter, he said, 

“Myrt, what happens to folks who mess with the Little 

People?”

Myrtle glanced warily at Lennie. “Why are you asking 

me?”

“Gussie told me that you had seen ’em.” 

Shocked, she cried, “Gussie? I never told her that!”

“Oh, no. You didn’t. It was Wesley,” Lennie explained. 

“He told Gussie that he thought you’d had a run-in with 

’em.” 

Without saying another word, Myrtle turned abruptly 

and stomped toward the house. Her mind was racing. 

What did Wesley know and when did he find out? 

Suddenly that summer day, 7 years before, flooded 

back into her memory. She had been in the kitchen, 

and Wesley was up on the hill behind the house with 

that backhoe. Its engine had stubbornly growled away 

all morning. Wesley was determined to divert the 

water from a spring that upwelled from the limestone 

foundation of the hill. The spring fed a small stream that 
141

flowed into the forest, away from the pipe he had laid 

down to feed water to their gardens. 

Myrtle had just finished rinsing a pile of squash when 

she heard a noise on the front porch. Libby had sprung 

up and run to the screen door, barking. Thinking it was 

squirrels raiding her flower pots, Myrtle peered out the 

kitchen window that opened onto the porch. What she 

saw made her heart jump. An old man, no bigger than 

two feet tall, stood on the front steps. Dressed in a long 

shirt with a red sash, he was fearfully looking about, 

obviously unsettled by the growling dog. 

Myrtle suddenly heard the voice of her granny in her 

head: “The Little People have long hair almost down 

to their feet. They speak in an old way that only a few 

people can understand anymore. If you ever see one, 

Myrtle, you mustn’t tell. They have great powers and 

must be respected.” 

Shaken, Myrtle stumbled back from the window and 

knocked over the pail of blackberries she had gathered 

that morning. The clang of the pail hitting the floor made 

the old man turn toward the window. He saw Myrtle 

staring at him. Ignoring his fear of the dog, he rushed 

at the window so fast that his long gray hair streamed 

out behind him in misty tendrils. He seemed to have no 

bodily shape until his face was thrust against the bottom 

of the window screen. Angrily, he began to yell at Myrtle, 

pointing toward the sound of the backhoe. 
142

Suddenly, he stopped yelling. His wrinkled face 

contorting in distress, the little man grabbed the window 

sill and began to speak rapidly. Myrtle recognized 

that he was trying desperately to communicate with 

her. She strained to understand him, drawing on 

every word of Native language she knew. Suddenly, 

one understandable word bobbed by in the flood of 

incomprehension. She snatched it—and spoke the word 

for water. The old man nodded excitedly and pointed 

again toward the hill. Then he jumped off the porch and 

ran away. 

Myrtle knew exactly what she had to do. She banged 

through the screen door and ran through the chicken 

yard toward the hill. Rounding the corner of the hen 

houses, she came to a sudden halt. There in the shadows 

on the edge of the woods was the little old man. A boy 

stood beside him. She and the boy held each other’s gaze 

for a few fleeting seconds. But it was an experience she 

could never forget. Then, in an instant, the sun broke 

through a tier of clouds and scattered the shadows. The 

Little People vanished in the sun’s golden glare. 

Myrtle raced to stop the digging. Wesley saw her 

coming and shut down the backhoe before she reached 

him. He knew something was wrong. She remembered 

how he looked at her when she pleaded with him not to 

reroute the spring. Myrtle was convinced that something 

bad would happen if the water no longer followed its 
143

natural course into the forest. Wesley later told her he’d 

never seen her in a panic before—it just wasn’t in her 

nature. He dumped the project that day, never asking 

why. But obviously, she thought, he’d figured out the 

reason—and had told her sister. (Myrtle didn’t know it, 

but Wesley had discovered some Little People literature 

from the Tribal museum that she had later hidden at the 

bottom of a box in the shed. It wasn’t hard for him to put 

two and two together.) 

Lennie ran after Myrtle. “Myrt! Please stop. Talk to 

me.” But she wouldn’t stop. She was angry at Wesley and 

Gussie—and Lennie, too. She had almost made it to her 

front porch when Lennie caught up with her. “You’ve got 

to help me, Myrt. Max Bigelow, my boss, has seen the 

Little People. He wants me to help him capture them!”

Myrtle turned around so quickly that Lennie almost 

ran into her. Her anger had been replaced by shock. 

Appalled that he would even say such a thing, she cried, 

“I can’t believe my sister married you, Lennie!” 

“I’m not saying I’d do it, Myrt. I just want to know 

what would happen if Max did try to take one of them.”

Myrtle was totally frustrated. “Lennie, the question 

you should be asking is what will happen to the Little 

People you steal away from their home—not what would 

happen to Max.” 

“Yeah. I guess. It’s just that I always heard you 

weren’t supposed to tell if you saw them. I was just 

wondering why...”
144

The big woman took a deep breath and tried 

again. “Look, Lennie, I don’t have all the answers. My 

grandmother said the Little People are spirits who 

will punish people who tell others they’ve seen them—

because it makes people curious. She said they’ll go 

snooping around in the forest looking for the Little 

People and disturbing things that they shouldn’t.” She 

put her hand out to Lennie and placed it on his arm. 

“The Little People will share with us the knowledge 

they want us to know. They will even use their power to 

help people who call upon them. But they don’t want us 

interfering with them—or the places where they live.” 

Myrtle took the pan from Lennie’s hand. “Come on 

up to the house and I’ll give you some beans.” Lennie 

dutifully followed Myrt. She trudged up the porch steps 

and pulled open the screen door to the kitchen. He 

waited on the porch. A few moments later, she emerged 

with a sack of limas and two quarts of strawberries. 

“Take these. They’re good this year.” 

“Thanks, Myrt. We’ll cook up these beans tonight.” 

Big Myrt gave her brother-in-law a dead level look. “If 

you have any sense at all, you won’t have anything to do 

with Max. Leave it alone, Lennie—before it’s too late.” 

Then she went inside the house, pulling the door shut—

much louder than she had intended. 
145

Chapter 14 

Finally, they arrived at a large public square and the stomp ground where the 

Little People danced. Near the square was a large, round Council House with 

a thatched conical roof. 

The Little People’s Council 

 Sigigi paused by the trail, waiting for the kids to catch 

up. When they had gathered around him, he said, “We 

are here. At Turtletown.” 

Rain tried to spot the town through the trees. But all 

he could see was thick deciduous forest. Frowning, he 

said, “Where?”

Sigigi smiled and whispered, “Follow me.” He stepped 

up into a large hollow in the side of an ancient oak—and 

disappeared. Rain did as Sigigi instructed and he, too, 
146

was swallowed up by the tree. 

His voice echoing from the interior of the oak, Rain 

called out, “There’s some steps in here, Boom. Bring 

Hailey and Marcus on down.” Boomer held out his hand 

and assisted Hailey into the hollow; then he gave Marcus 

a boost. Hefting himself through the hole, Boomer 

found his footing on a spiral of large roots that formed 

a stairway. There was just enough light to see in the 

dimness. Making a last turn on the twisting roots, he saw 

sunshine. He heard Rain say, “We’re almost there!”

Sigigi was waiting for them as the kids emerged one 

by one. They were standing on the edge of a number 

of small gardens that were scattered in patches where 

the trees grew more thinly. In one of the gardens, two 

women and a little boy were picking a dwarf variety of 

squash and corn. They stopped their harvesting and 

waved at Sigigi. 

Sigigi waved back and said, “Come meet my sister.”

Sigigi led them to a path beside the garden where they 

were soon joined by his sister, her friend, Niska, and 

Niska’s son. Sigigi introduced everyone by name, calling 

his sister by her translated name, “Cricket.” When she 

frowned and objected to something he had said, Sigigi 

grinned and explained: “She say her name Cholotka, not 

Cricket. She ask is that how her name sound on talking 

box? I say ‘yes.’” The kids laughed, and Cricket giggled, 

too. As they walked quickly toward the town, Sigigi 
147

gave Cricket and Niska a rapid-fire description of his 

adventures since the day before. 

Boomer murmured to Hailey, “Gee, I didn’t know he 

could talk so fast.” 

Rolling her eyes, Hailey replied, “That’s because he’s 

talking in his own language, Boomer.” 

However, they soon lost interest in the speed of 

Sigigi’s speech as Turtletown came into view. Passing 

through more gardens as well as orchards of nut trees 

and tended blackberry thickets, they emerged into an 

area of square-shaped and round thatched houses, 

granaries, pottery kilns, and sweathouses—all hidden 

from above by a protective canopy of trees. Little People 

were everywhere! They began to call to each other 

that Sigigi was back, and he had brought children of 

the Big People with him. Spilling out of their houses 

and running in from the fields, men, women, and 

children abandoned their work and play. Soon, a large, 

lively crowd began to form behind Sigigi and his little 

band. Several of his friends ran up to greet him—full 

of questions about what he had found out in Taniba 

Springs. When Sigigi told them that these children had 

information about the whirling birds that could help 

them, they graciously nodded and smiled at their young 

visitors. 

Continuing into Turtletown, Sigigi pointed out the 

town’s ball fields and courts. There was a ball ground 
148

where they held contests with teams from other towns, 

a chunkey game yard, and a court with a tall pole. Some 

kids were playing around the pole. 

“Are those goal posts?” Hailey asked, looking at the 

large ball ground.

“Yeah,” Rain replied. “They must play a stickball game 

like our Tribe plays.” 

 “It’s like lacrosse,” Boomer added. “You know, you 

throw the ball with a big stick that has a net on one 

end?” 

Marcus stopped and watched the boys and girls trying 

to lob a ball at a fish that perched atop the tall pole. 

“Hey, that looks like fun!”

Finally, they arrived at a large public square and the 

stomp ground where the Little People danced. Near 

the square was a large, round Council House with a 

beautifully thatched conical roof. Colorful banners 

fluttered from tall poles erected in front of the doorway. 

Beyond the square were more houses and the mouth of a 

gigantic cave. 

Sigigi halted and the crowd that had been following 

them grew quiet. The kids watched as a procession of 

Little People, led by an elderly man wearing a crown of 

feathers, emerged from the cave and the houses near its 

mouth. The kids, especially Hailey, were impressed by 

their splendid garments decorated with vibrantly colored 

feathers, iridescent mother-of-pearl, and multi-hued fur. 
149

Sigigi whispered to them that they were members of the 

town council. 

As the elders slowly made their way toward the 

Council House, they were accompanied by the thump 

of a low-volume drum. The townsfolk started to sing. 

Their voices, which rose and fell melodiously, were highpitched and clear. They sounded the way a mountain 

stream looks and feels—silvery and cool. When all the 

elders had arrived at the doorway of the Council House, 

the singing stopped. The man wearing the feathered 

crown held up a staff and spoke briefly. The drummer 

boomed out four beats in conclusion, and the people 

began returning to their usual activities. 

The man motioned to Sigigi to come forward. He 

spoke a few words to the young man. Then he and the 

other elders filed into the round structure. 

Sigigi returned to his young friends and gathered 

them around him. “What did he say, Sigigi? Rain asked.

 “He is Osihishi, the Headman of our town. He say 

for you to tell about helicopter to the elders. He say for 

town to ‘stay tuned’ for whole story later.” Looking at 

their concerned faces, he added: “Each of you talk some. 

Then, I talk for you. Don’t worry.”

“Yes, but how are we supposed to act? What if we do 

something wrong?” Hailey said. 

Sigigi chuckled a little. “You be fine. Little People like 

kids.”
150

Taking Marcus’s hand, the young man of the Little 

People led them through the small entrance into the 

Council House. Rain had to bend way over so his head 

wouldn’t hit the wooden beam at the top of the opening. 

Inside, the Council House’s high ceiling created an open, 

airy feeling, and the smoke hole at the top allowed rays 

of bright sunshine to softly illuminate the interior. He 

could see elders sitting on benches against the exterior 

wall, facing a small fire that burned at the center of the 

room. Following Sigigi’s direction, he sat down on the 

bench next to the doorway. The other kids sat down 

beside him. The bench was small and very low, causing 

Rain’s knees to almost touch his chin. Boomer and 

Hailey had to scrunch up their legs, too. A woman with 

white hair sat on the bench next to them. She leaned 

forward a little and smiled at the children of the Big 

People. 

Marcus whispered to his sister, “She looks nice.”

Sigigi stepped into the light at the center of the 

Council House and began to give an account of 

everything he had experienced since the day before. 

He quickly went through the story up to the point 

where the dog chased him, and he saw for the first time 

the four young people who he had brought with him 

today. He introduced the kids. Then he described how 

he had hidden in the trunk of the car, and the boys 

had discovered him. Glancing at Rain and Boomer, he 

told the council how they had spent much of the night 
151

talking. Turning in a circle so that he could address all 

the council members, Sigigi jubilantly gave them the 

good news: “They know why the whirling bird has been 

flying over our towns!” 

The council members burst out with exclamations. 

“Ho! Ho! Yes! We knew Sigigi would be the one to 

find out!” A chubby little elder, who was even shorter 

than most of the Little People, struggled to his feet. 

Breathlessly, he cried, “Please, Sigigi, don’t make us wait 

much longer. Tell us!” 

Switching to English, Sigigi called up the boys. “Tell 

what you know.” Rain pulled up the photo he had made 

of the helicopter on his cell phone the afternoon before. 

He gave it to Sigigi who walked around the circle, 

showing it to each council member. The boys then told 

how they had come to know about Eugene Frimble and 

his plans for developing tourism in the forest. When 

Sigigi translated, the council members cried out in 

alarm. “Bring Big People to where we live? This must be 

stopped! We must do something about this man!” 

Boomer came to Eugene’s defense. He said, “Sigigi, 

tell them that Eugene is a good man. He tries to teach 

people about the forest without harming it. He just 

doesn’t know that the Little People live here.” Sigigi did 

as Boomer asked. Then, he added that there were other 

plans that the Big People in Taniba Springs could adopt. 

Eugene’s plan was not the only one. He turned and 
152

motioned for Hailey to come forward. 

Lugging the bag of proposal materials, Hailey joined 

the boys. Sigigi gave her an assuring smile. She nodded, 

but was nervous. Starting off hesitantly, Hailey said, 

“Um, my father is helping the people at Taniba Springs 

to choose a plan that will help them develop new jobs. 

This bag here is full of ideas from other people about 

how to do that. My dad says there are two other plans 

besides Eugene’s that are very good. These plans help 

to develop jobs only in town.” Sigigi translated. When 

he finished, Hailey added, “I’m sorry, but my dad likes 

Eugene’s plan. He doesn’t know about the Little People, 

either.” Feeling more confident, she went on: “Maybe, 

somehow, we could get the business committee to vote 

for one of the other plans, instead of Eugene’s.”

Rain conveyed the urgency of the situation. “The 

proposal presentations will be made tomorrow. We’ll 

have to figure out what to do pretty fast.” 

A murmur went up among the elders. A man wearing 

a short cape of iridescent feathers and insect wings spoke 

in a strong voice: “Perhaps Eugene is no threat. Maybe 

none of the Big People in Taniba Springs would vote for 

his plan. After all, they know we live here in the forest.”

Another council member disputed this belief. “But, 

can we trust that enough of them will remember us? 

There are some people today who don’t know our stories 

very well—and some do not always recognize that it is 
153

Little People who play tricks on them.”

“No, we cannot take a chance,” Osihishi the Headman 

said. “Eugene must be stopped.” 

The white-haired woman spoke up. “I agree. But 

he should not be harmed. I believe that Eugene is an 

intelligent man. He may also be a good man because he 

tries to teach people about the forest—like we do. But he 

doesn’t have enough wisdom to understand all that he 

will disturb.” 

“Yes, being smart is not enough,” the chubby elder 

said. 

The woman continued. “I think we should make 

Eugene follow one of us into the forest. Then he cannot 

give the speech about his plan.” The members nodded. 

Then she made a statement that would later cause a hot 

debate. “We select very carefully the Big People to whom 

we give our knowledge. I think this man may be very 

special. Perhaps we can use the time he is in the forest to 

give him some of our wisdom.” 

The council members looked very surprised. “Should 

we give knowledge to one who is not one of our Big 

People?” Everyone started talking at once.

The Headman held up his hand. “Yes, that is an 

important question. We have much to consider.” To cool 

down the discussion a bit, he said, “One of the children 

of the Big People has not spoken. Does he have anything 

to say?” 
154

Sigigi took Marcus by the hand and led him forward. 

He suggested that the boy say something nice like “I’m 

glad to be here.” Marcus was not a shy kid and he said 

what was on his mind. “I want to play with those kids 

throwing the ball at the pole!”

Sigigi translated and the council burst into laughter. 

Then Marcus leaned down and said something else. 

Sigigi grinned and translated again. “He says he is 

hungry, too!”

The elders laughed once more. Chuckling, Osihishi 

said, “We are all hungry. Let’s thank these young 

people with some good food. We will come back later to 

continue our discussion.”
155

Chapter 15

Duffy waved and hurried over. The kids just stared. Rain murmured, “You 

said he was tall, Sigigi, but...”

Hospitality and Kindness 

The elders pulled their cloaks around their shoulders 

and began to file out of the Council House. As they 

went, each of them thanked the kids for coming to help 

them. The woman with the white hair stopped in front 

of Hailey and spoke to her briefly. Then she patted the 

young girl on the arm and followed her fellow council 

members outside. Sigigi said, “Our Beloved Woman say 

you speak well.” 

Hailey blushed. “She did? Oh, man, I was a wreck.”

“Is she someone who everybody loves?” Boomer 
156

asked. 

“Something like that. Her name is Sumpuhke. She is 

very brave and wise. Little People trust her and love her. 

She say not punish Eugene. Come. Meet Duffy. We get 

some food.”

Emerging into the sunshine, Sigigi glanced around, 

looking for his friend. Duffy was working nearby. He 

had been waiting for the council to take a break and 

was using the time to stow baskets of dried corn into an 

elevated storage bin.

Sigigi cried, “Duffy! Come see my friends!”

Duffy waved and hurried over. The kids just stared. 

Rain murmured, “You said he was tall, Sigigi, but...” 

What Sigigi hadn’t said was that Duffy was a titan by 

anyone’s standard—or that he had the biggest blue eyes 

anybody ever saw. 

Wading through a crowd of young people and 

children that had gathered to gawk at their visitors, the 

blonde giant yelled, “Way to go! You did it!” Duffy knelt 

down on one knee and executed a perfect fist bump with 

Sigigi. He was dressed in breech cloth and leggings like 

the men of Turtletown, but unlike them, he didn’t have 

long hair. Most of Duffy’s hair was plucked out, except 

for a circle of braided yellow hair at the back of his head. 

Sigigi introduced everybody.

Duffy greeted them and shook their hands. “I hear 

you guys know why the helicopter has been flying over 
157

the towns. It’s been freaking out everybody. You wanna 

come up to the cave? We can get some lunch.”

“You got any spaghetti?” Marcus asked. 

Duffy laughed. “Uh, no. Not today.”

Rain noticed that Sigigi was watching an elderly 

man struggling with a section of his porch roof that had 

collapsed. He was one of the council members. Turning 

to Duffy, Sigigi spoke quickly and hurried across the 

square. 

“Is Sigigi leaving?” asked Marcus.

“No, he said go on up to the cave. He’ll be back. He’s 

‘doing a kindness.’” 

“Sigigi told us about you, Duffy,” said Boomer. “How 

long have you lived here?”

“Since I was 9 years old. The Little People found me 

in the woods. I am 18 now.”

“Did they keep you here?” Hailey asked.

“No, I didn’t want to go back. I ran away from my 

family. My father died and my mother remarried. Her 

new husband didn’t want me around.”

“Oh. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.”

“That’s okay. This is my home now. I have a place 

here. I can help because I’m so big. Last year when there 

were big storms, I went around to all the towns and 

helped clean up. I can lift tree branches and clear rock 

slides. The Little People have helped the Big People lots 
158

of times. It’s only fair.” 

Rain had been thinking about something Duffy 

said earlier. “What did you mean by Sigigi ‘doing a 

kindness’?”

“Come on. I’ll show you around the cave. We’ll get 

some food first, and then I’ll tell you.” 

When they entered the cave, the kids were astounded 

by how big it was—and delightfully cool. Everyone called 

out a welcome to their visitors. Many women stood up 

and cheerfully invited them to eat from their clay pots. 

With all the cooking, Rain wondered why the cave was 

not smoky. He would have to ask Duffy about that. 

Duffy went to a corner of the cave where he kept his 

belongings. He retrieved some of his larger bowls and 

spoons that would be a better fit for the kids than those 

used by the Little People. He handed them out to his 

guests and helped them to fill their bowls from the fires 

of the best cooks. Accepting small amounts from each 

cook, the kids soon had full bowls. Lunch that day was 

an assortment of grilled fish, corn soup, green beans, 

corn bread, and pudding made from dried pumpkin. 

After they sat down with their meal, Duffy answered 

Rain’s question.

“Well, Sigigi can tell you more about ‘doing a 

kindness.’ But I know the story pretty well. It goes way 

back—to when many groups of Little People followed 

their tribes here. They had as many different ways of 
159

doing things as the Big People. Some of the tribes that 

came here had even fought each other in the past. This 

caused quarreling among the different towns. But the 

elders put an end to it. They said that the Little People 

had to make harmony among themselves. One way to 

do that was to perform a kindness for someone each 

day—especially someone who has different beliefs from 

yourself.” 

Rain was listening very carefully. “What do you mean 

by different beliefs?”

“You saw the man who Sigigi went to help? That is 

Chukmena. He doesn’t like the Little People to go to the 

Big People’s towns. He thinks it does them harm. He 

really doesn’t like Sigigi learning English from me or 

listening to the radio. But Sigigi respects him and tries to 

understand the way he thinks. Sigigi would do anything 

to help him.” Duffy paused to eat some fish and a chunk 

of cornbread. 

“Anyway, ‘doing a kindness’ helped to stop the trouble 

among the Little People. Since then the towns have 

intermarried, and the language they speak shares words 

from their different languages. They have come together 

like the Tribes in Taniba Springs.” 

Boomer looked up from his bowl of corn soup. “Here 

comes Sigigi.” The young man made his way to where 

they were sitting. He spoke to Duffy and then went to 

dish up some soup for himself.
160

Duffy got up. “He says Chukmena has invited us to 

come eat a special treat made from wild grapes.”

This is what Marcus wanted to hear. “Oh, boy. 

Dessert!” 

“Sounds like something my Granma makes,” Rain 

said. 

Sigigi rejoined them. “Come on. I take soup with me. 

Chukmena and his wife, Toloowa, want to hear about 

diabetes. His wife is healer that say young men get ‘sting 

by bee.’ Come Duffy. The bee sting Big People, too.” 

They all trouped out of the cave and followed the path 

to Chukmena’s summer house. The council member 

welcomed them and they sat down under the newly 

mended porch roof. Hailey and the boys ducked carefully 

under the thatched covering—they didn’t want to 

damage the new repairs. Chukmena and Toloowa served 

up the grapes that had been boiled until they had formed 

their own syrup. Their tartness had been cut very lightly 

with a small amount of honey. Sprinkled with a variety 

of crushed nuts, the grapes were delicious. 

Sigigi said, “Rain and Boomer can tell us about the 

sickness that came upon our young men. Rain says that 

the eagle gave them this knowledge.” 

Rain had talked about type 2 diabetes many times, 

but today he was a bit nervous. He wanted to make a 

good impression. Choosing his words carefully, he said, 

“The eagle told us to respect the healthy ways of our 
161

ancestors. We should be very active—always moving our 

bodies. He brought a rabbit to teach us that we should 

eat nutritious vegetables and fruits. When we don’t 

follow these healthy ways, like eating too much of the 

sweet, greasy foods at the campground, the body may 

get out of balance. This imbalance caused the young 

men that Sigigi told us about to become thin. It also 

caused the sweetness in their urine, um...water, that 

made the bees swarm around it.” Rain tried to explain 

about glucose and insulin, but Sigigi had difficulty 

translating these terms. Duffy didn’t have the words in 

his vocabulary, either. But they did their best. 

Finally, Sigigi said, “You were right, Chukmena, to 

make us stop eating the food at the campground. And, 

you were wise, Toloowa, to believe it had something to 

do with the bees finding sweetness in the water.” 

Chukmena was impressed by the eagle’s wisdom. He 

certainly understood the concept of imbalance in the 

body. He thought that it was probably not by accident 

that Sigigi had the great fortune to find these two boys. 

“I am glad to hear this. We will continue to advise our 

young people to only eat the food that we hunt and grow 

here.” 

Toloowa had been most attentive to what Rain had 

told them. To Sigigi, she said, “Tell this young man I 

have many questions to ask about diabetes. I want to 

learn more about this glucose and how the unused sugar 
162

affects the body. Why did the young men make water so 

much, and why did their bodies starve?” Sigigi translated 

her words.

“You must be a very good doctor,” Rain said. “Um...

those are good questions. I’ll ask my mother to explain 

more about it to me. She works with people who have 

diabetes.” Rain didn’t know how he could get the 

information to Toloowa, but her smile assured him that 

she liked his answer. 

Changing the subject, Chukmena said to Rain, “You 

said we have to figure out a way to get the people in 

Taniba Springs to choose a plan that makes work in the 

town—not in the forest. Who can tell me more about the 

other plans?”

After Sigigi translated, Rain replied, “Well, actually, 

there is only one plan left. The man who wrote one of 

them is named Thomas Wang. But he can’t come to 

present it.” 

Hailey spoke up. “Without a presentation, Mr. Wang’s 

plan probably doesn’t have a chance. But I am worried 

that the business committee likes Eugene’s plan so much 

that—even if he doesn’t present it—they will choose his 

plan anyway.” 

Chukmena took a bite of his grapes and chewed 

slowly. Then he asked Hailey, “Can someone else speak 

for this Thomas Wang?” 

Hailey looked at Rain and Boomer. “I don’t think so—
163

do you?” The boys agreed that it was unlikely. 

“Do the people in Taniba Springs know him?” 

Hailey conferred with Rain and Boomer again, then 

answered, “He lives very far away. I doubt it.” 

Chukmena smiled mysteriously. He leaned over to 

Sigigi and spoke very quietly.

Sigigi looked at the elder with surprise. “Of course, 

why didn’t I think it? The Two Rabbit!”

165

Chapter 16

The home-made gun fired and the net splayed out, falling upon the 

unsuspecting sawhorse... 

Lennie in the Net 

Lennie looked at the clock. It was getting late. He had 

assembled a recognizable net gun from forty dollars’ 

worth of PVC pipe, couplers and joiners, wood screws, 

and various other small parts that Max had bought at 

the hardware store. The online instructions were pretty 

simple, but he wasn’t sure it would work until he tested 

it. Lennie had been anxiously keeping an eye on Max 

through the glass partition that separated his “office” 

from the rest of the old barn that served as a hangar 

and mechanics shop. His boss had been hunched over 

the phone all morning. What was he doing in there? 
166

Lennie glanced at the smaller of their two helicopters. 

He wanted to get the net gun assembled as quickly as 

he could. He had to get moving on some scheduled 

maintenance for the four-seater before it could fly 

another tour. Max was a real stickler about safety. He’d 

never failed an FAA inspection. 

Lennie finished attaching the weights on a large circle 

of netting, then bent his head to study the instructions 

for inserting the CO2 cartridge in the net gun. Because of 

his training in the military, Lennie was a certified aircraft 

mechanic, and he could build and repair anything. But 

he had no ambition to move on to a better paying job. He 

didn’t want to leave home. Unfortunately, Max was the 

only guy with a need for an aircraft mechanic at Taniba 

Springs. What if he wouldn’t help Max capture one of the 

Little People? Would he get fired? Lennie wiped some 

sweat off his forehead. All he could hear was Myrtle’s 

warning: “Leave it alone, Lennie—before it’s too late.”

Lennie picked up some scraps from the net gun 

materials and pulled out the large drawer where he 

kept his personal things. He collected all kinds of oddand-ends—bits of metal, plastic, nuts and bolts—just 

any object that might be used to construct one of his 

“tinkers.” That is what Lennie called the small sculptures 

he made—most of them no more than four inches tall. 

A cardboard box in the drawer held several of his recent 

creations: a water bird with a bobbing head, a futuristic-
167

looking motorcycle, and a running dog with a coneshaped hat on his head. Lennie didn’t know it, but any 

folk museum would have felt privileged to display his 

sculptures. He was that good. Lennie sometimes thought 

that the tinkers he made for Gussie were why she 

married him. Instead of flowers and candy, he gave her 

tinkers. She had loved his bears playing stickball and the 

dancing dragonfly. Lennie smiled at the dog in the party 

hat. Gussie would like that one. 

Lennie heard Max slam down the phone. He quickly 

shut the drawer. Glancing up, he thought, Uh-oh, he’s in 

a bad mood. Better try to keep him happy. 

Max came storming out of the office. “Nobody gets it! 

I’ve found Munchkinville and they don’t get it! I called 

all these stupid @%!!8?* and they ain’t interested!” He 

thumped a notepad in Lennie’s face that listed the phone 

numbers for every news outlet he could find on the Web. 

“Nobody at a newspaper would talk to me. And TV was 

just ‘call your local affiliate, sir.’” Disgusted, he slumped 

in an old office chair and growled, “What a bunch of 

clowns...”

“Yeah, clowns,” Lennie said, pretending to be 

disappointed.

Still whining, Max said, “Look at this list, Lennie. I 

called all these supermarket tabloids. Only five would 

talk to me.” 

Lennie kept his eyes on the net gun’s CO2 cartridge. 
168

“Which ones were those?”

Max flipped up a page and squinted at his notes. 

“Ah... National Chatter, Tattle-Tale, Dish&News, 

Cosmos Celebrity, and Weekly Planet. They said they’d 

get back to me if I sent video.” Max got up and began to 

pace. “Man, what’s the matter with these guys? Weekly 

Planet ran a front page story last month called ‘I Had 

a Date with Bigfoot!’ I read it online! And the Pioneer 

Channel did a whole special on mermaids and centaurs. 

But, nooooo...they’re not interested in Little People!” 

“They probably get a lot of cranks, Max. You know, 

calling about UFOs and stuff.” 

“Yeah, well, I ain’t no crank. I’m not talking Bat Boy 

and Elvis. We’re gonna show ’em, Lennie. We’ll get our 

hands on the big money. You and Gussie will be living 

high on the hog. And I can pay off the debt on these dang 

helicopters!” Max suddenly stopped pacing. He was 

staring at the net gun. “Hey, that’s looking good. When 

can we try it out?”

Lennie clicked the trigger several times and picked up 

the cartridge. Looking up, he said, “Right now.”

Max headed toward the open barn door. “Come on. 

Let’s play Spiderman.” He put up the “Closed” sign and 

went around to the side of the barn that faced away from 

the road. Lennie followed, looking for a suitable target. 

He spotted the old sawhorse sagging against the water 

pipe and hose used to wash down the helicopters. 
169

Lennie loaded in the CO2 cartridge and pointed the 

net gun. He hollered, “Here goes!” and pulled the trigger. 

The homemade gun fired and the net splayed out, falling 

upon the unsuspecting sawhorse like a hungry octopus. 

Max whooped. 

Lennie just stood staring at the sawhorse. He was 

imagining the net falling over him. 

“Hey! What’s wrong with you? Max yelled. “It worked 

great!”

Lennie’s face was glum. “Max? What are you gonna 

do with the Little People? Are you bringing them back 

here?”

“You mean, what are we gonna do. We won’t come 

back here. We’ll take ’em out to this shack way out on 

Reservation Road. I took some crates out there we can 

use for cages. I don’t want anybody poking around when 

we’re unloading them. Then, we’ll put ’em on the truck 

and come back here.” 

The word “cages” made Lennie cringe. Mustering all 

his nerve, he said, “I don’t know. I don’t think I can do 

this, Max. Can’t you get somebody else?”

“Hey...we’re not kidnapping people. We aren’t gonna 

get arrested. This is like trapping a fairy tale. We’re just 

gonna prove the Little People are real.” 

“It’s not getting arrested that I’m worried about—it’s 

what the Little People will do to us!” 
170

“Man, you and these stupid superstitions. Look, all we 

gotta do is make a video like they said. Then we can let 

’em go.” 

Lennie’s expression lightened a little. “For real?”

Seeing that Lennie was wavering, but still not 

completely convinced, Max threw his bomb. “You know, 

Lennie, if I have to find somebody else to be my partner, 

you just might have to look for another job.” 

The bullying got Max the leverage he wanted. Losing 

his job was Lennie’s worst fear. He convinced himself to 

believe Max’s lies. “Okay, okay, Max. I’m in if we let ’em 

go. You promise?”

“Sure. You can trust me....”

 The rest of afternoon they spent testing the net gun. 

Max even took up one of the helicopters and had Lennie 

practice on the sawhorse at different altitudes. He 

wanted to make sure that Lennie could catch their prey. 

In the barn, Lennie also practiced firing the net gun at 

Max, tying him up in the net, rolling him in a tarp, and 

fixing it to the helicopter. The only mishap was when 

one of the net weights hit Max on the forehead. It left a 

bump—but it didn’t knock any sense into him. For the 

last test, Max put some rocks in the net and practiced 

lifting and flying with it. By late afternoon, they had the 

drill down pat. 

Lennie wasn’t surprised when their activities attracted 

attention. A car had turned off the main road and 
171

was pulling up in front of the barn. He recognized the 

driver—Agnes Bird, a sociable old gal who occasionally 

nudged “friendly” over into “nosy.” Lennie waved a 

greeting. “How are you, Agnes?” 

“Just fine. What are y’all doin’?”

Max winked at Lennie. “Ah, I’m thinking of 

contracting with the feds—you know, moving nuisance 

animals like bears or deer back into the national park.” 

“Oh, yeah? I didn’t know you could catch ’em from a 

helicopter. Makes sense though. I heard bears have been 

bad this year—breakin’ into cabins, tearing up cars...” 

“Yeah, bears are pesky that way,” Max smirked. 

“Always prying into things.”

“Uh-huh. Well, it looks like you fellas got it under 

control.” She turned the car around and headed back 

into town. 

Lennie sighed. “This is gonna be all over the rez by 

suppertime.”

Max watched her go. “Big deal.” 

“When are we going to do this, Max?” Lennie asked 

tensely. 

Patting the homemade net gun, the pilot laughed 

and said, “‘Operation Leprechaun’ takes off day after 

tomorrow.”

173

Chapter 17 

“Hee! Hee! I don’t have to introduce myself to you. You already know me...

‘cause I’m the rabbit in that story!”

The Laughing Place 

With the council’s blessing, Sigigi and the kids were 

on their way to seek the help of the Two Rabbit. As 

they started up the mountain that bore the trickster’s 

name, Sigigi made a strange discovery. A deep groove 

suddenly appeared in the center of the trail. Examining 

it carefully, Sigigi said, “This must be where dust come 

from we see before.” Unable to identify its source, Sigigi 

merely avoided the places where the trail had been 

churned to powder. As they climbed higher, Sigigi would 

occasionally stop and listen before going on. Finally, he 

turned to his young followers and asked, “Do you hear?”
174

The kids strained their ears. It was Marcus who heard 

it first. “Somebody’s laughing.”

Sigigi smiled and said, “Yes. This way.” 

Boomer whispered to Rain, “Do you think it’s the Two 

Rabbit?” 

Rain just shrugged his shoulders; he didn’t know 

what he sounded like. As they followed Sigigi, the “heehee’s” and “haw-haws” got louder until they arrived at an 

overhang that jutted out over the valley below. Suddenly, 

the laughter stopped. 

Sigigi said, “Wait here.” He found his footing on a 

slope that provided an approach to the source of the 

merriment. Scrambling halfway up, he paused and 

made the whirring call of the cicada. The kids looked up, 

waiting. In the silence, all they could hear was a slow 

trickle of water that seeped from the rock formation 

above. A bush rustled. Hailey drew in her breath and 

whispered, “Look!”

Above them, two long rabbit ears, illuminated by 

the late morning sun, were slowly rising from behind a 

clump of ox-eye daisies. Thin-skinned and tracked with 

delicate veins, the ears blazed like a pair of pink glow 

sticks. The head, to which this neon vision was attached, 

suddenly thrust through the flowers and yelled, “Well, 

Howdy-do! Is that you, Sigigi?” 

“Yes! It’s me.”
175

“What brings you to my Laughin’ Place?”

“I bring these young ones. We come to ask for help.”

The Two Rabbit looked down upon his four young 

visitors. He immediately knew who the two boys were—

Rain that Dances and Boomer. Thistle had described 

them well. So, he thought, it was Sigigi who Rain had 

been chasing in her dream. He would have to find out 

more about that. But who, he wondered, are the girl and 

little boy?

The rabbit focused his large brown eyes forward at 

Marcus. Coyote and Thistle had urged him to tell new 

stories to children—stories about garden foods that 

would help them to be healthy. Like all the animals of 

stories, he knew that young children heard their voices 

more clearly than older ones or grown-ups. The Two 

Rabbit smiled his long-toothed smile. The little boy 

looked like his best opportunity. Excitedly, he called out 

to Sigigi, “Bring that little ’un up to see me” and bounded 

back into the bushes. 

 Sigigi made his way back down the slope. He told the 

kids that the Two Rabbit wanted to meet Marcus. The 

little boy looked to his sister for assurance. “It’s okay, 

Marcus. Sigigi will be with you,” Hailey said. 

 “Yes, you go first, Marcus,” Sigigi said. “Then Hailey, 

Rain, Boomer come up.” 

 Marcus climbed up the slope behind Sigigi. He was a 

little scared, but mostly excited. When they reached the 
176

overhang, he didn’t see the Two Rabbit at first. Then he 

heard a high-pitched voice that sounded old and young 

at the same time. 

“Welcome to my Laughin’ Place. What might your 

name be, young fella?” The rabbit was sitting on a stump 

with one knee crossed over the other. He’d been rosining 

his fiddle bow. 

“My name is Marcus.”

The rabbit laid down the bow. “Well, I’m mighty 

happy to meet you, Marcus. Come over here and set 

down. Tell me now, do you like stories and fiddle 

music?”

“Uh-huh.” 

“That’s good. ’Cause I’m gonna play you a tune 

sometime. Now tell me, you ever heard any rabbit 

stories?

Marcus’s face brightened. “We saw a puppet show 

about a rabbit and a turtle that were in a race. And 

there’s this book in my room at school that Mrs. Davis 

read to us. It’s got a story about a rabbit who asked a 

cow for some milk and she wouldn’t let him have any. So 

he tricked her into running at a tree and her horns got 

stuck. Then he got his children—all these little rabbits—

to bring buckets and they milked the cow and they got all 

they wanted.” 

The rabbit slapped his knee and laughed. “Hee! Hee! I 
177

don’t have to introduce myself to you. You already know 

me!”

Marcus widened his eyes. “I do?”

“I know you do—’cause I’m the rabbit in that story!”

Marcus was puzzled. The animals in the book were 

cartoons. How could this rabbit be that rabbit? Pushing 

that thought aside, he said, “How come you can talk? I 

didn’t know rabbits could really talk.” 

The Two Rabbit reached down in the grass for his 

corn cob pipe. He’d given up smoking years before, but 

he liked to chew on the old pipe when he told a story. “I 

can talk ’cause I got stories to tell. How’d you like to hear 

some of ’em?” 

Marcus was hooked. “Yeah!” He sat down on the 

ground in front of the rabbit. Then he remembered. “Oh, 

I can’t stay long. My sister said our dad wants us back at 

the hotel in time for lunch.”

The rabbit dismissed Marcus’s worry with the wave 

of his paw. “Don’t you fret. You’ll be eatin’ a sammich 

with your daddy before you can say ‘Impty-Umpty.’” 

The trickster’s eyes began to twinkle. “Time is a real 

interestin’ thing, Marcus. There’s all kinds of time. 

Why there’s sometime, anytime, daytime, nighttime, 

downtime, halftime, and the same time. Then there’s 

supper time, bed time, summer time, winter time, 

meantime, overtime, and ah, let’s see, which ones did I 

leave out?” 
178

“You didn’t say play time.”

The rabbit slapped his knee again and shook his 

head in disbelief. “Why, how could I forget play time? I 

declare! I must be losing my wits.” The trickster hadn’t 

entertained a child in a long time, and he was enjoying 

himself enormously. “Oh, indeedy, there’s all kinds of 

time...but there’s nothin’ like story time. Story time is 

real special—mostly ’cause it ain’t got no time at all!” 

Getting ready to commence his first tale, the rabbit 

thought to ask, “Oh, by the way, you got any brothers, 

Marcus?”

“No, just my sister, Hailey.”

“Well, then. I can be the brother you ain’t got. Why 

don’t you call me...Brother Rabbit?”

“I thought your name was the Two Rabbit.” 

“Oh, it is, and for good reason,” the rabbit said. “But I 

got lots and lots of names.” Looking around as if it were 

a big secret, he whispered, “You wanna hear my favorite 

name?” 

Marcus nodded. “What is it?”

“Ol’ Hoppum-Skippum Run and Jumpum.” 

The boy laughed. “That’s funny!” Then he asked shyly, 

“Will you call me Brother Marcus?”

“Why, I surely will! When you come passing by, I’ll 

tip my hat and say, ‘How you doin’ this mornin’, Brother 

Marcus?’ And you’ll say, ‘Mighty fine, Brother Rabbit, 
179

and you?’” 

Marcus jumped up and pretended to tip a hat at the 

rabbit. “Like this?”

 The rabbit was pleased. “You’re a smart boy. After 

you hear my stories, you’ll be even smarter. Now, let’s 

see. How ’bout we get started with ‘Brother Rabbit Falls 

Down the Well,’ and then maybe ‘The Rabbit and the 

Hawk.’ Oh, I almost forgot—I got to tell a story ’bout one 

of my garden raids, too.” Looking over his shoulder, the 

rabbit called out to Sigigi, “You ain’t noddin’ off over 

there?”

 Sigigi was sitting on the ground, leaning up against 

a stump. He’d been repairing a tear in a moccasin. He 

looked up. “No, I listen. I like stories.” Flattering the 

rabbit a little, he added, “Ones you tell top of playlist.” 

 Brother Rabbit began by telling about the time that 

he’d fallen in a well with two buckets. When Brother 

Fox discovered him, he told the fox that he was fishing 

in the well and had caught a big mess of fish. Brother 

Fox wanted some fish, too. The rabbit said he got in 

the bucket at the bottom of the well, and told the fox to 

get in the bucket at the top of the well. The fox’s weight 

pushed his bucket down, and pulled the rabbit’s bucket 

up. As they passed each other in the well, Brother Rabbit 

said he hollered, ‘Fill your belly with fish, Brother Fox!’ 

Finishing the story, he hooted, “When I got to the top, I 

just jumped out and ran off!”
180

 “How did Brother Fox get out of the well?” Marcus 

wanted to know.

 “Oh, that wasn’t my problem. But, he was back 

chasin’ me the next day. Maybe he pulled the same trick 

on somebody else. But that ain’t hard.” Cocking an eye 

at Marcus, the rabbit chuckled wisely. “Plenty of folks 

will jump in the bucket and get pulled down by their own 

hunger and greed.” 

Without even clearing his throat, Brother Rabbit 

hopped right into the next story. “Now this next one 

is about the time the hawk caught me. See, he had his 

claws in the back of my neck, but he was even greedier 

than Brother Fox.” Brother Rabbit went on to describe 

how he tempted the hawk by promising him a poke 

of partridges—if the bird would release him just long 

enough for him to flush them out of his briar patch. “See, 

I had to stop struggling long enough to think how to get 

out of a tough spot.” 

“Did you get him some partridges?” Marcus asked.

“Oh, no, Brother Marcus, that’s not what us tricksters 

do! When he let me go, I run off. There were plenty of 

partridges in my briar patch. But they wouldn’t be the 

hawk’s meat—not that day.” 

Fully warmed up, the rabbit didn’t even take a breath 

before launching his garden tale. “Now this one run like 

this...I was mighty hungry one mornin’ and I spied a 

garden full of greens, peas, tomatoes and...” He went on 
181

to tell how a little girl sat beside the garden gate. He told 

her a fib, saying her daddy had said to let him in. She did 

and he ate his fill. He repeated this trick for several days 

until her daddy realized the garden was being raided. 

Then the man set a box trap filled with peanuts. The 

little girl let the rabbit in the next day, and he got caught 

in the trap. 

“How did you get away?” 

“Well, let’s just say that I have a way of gettin’ folks 

attention. I told her I’d dance for her if she let me out. 

She opened up that box and out I danced. I frolicked 

right smart that day. She couldn’t take her eyes off me. 

I danced right through the garden gate and all the way 

home!” 

Marcus could just see Brother Rabbit hip-hopping 

out the gate. “That was a good one. What’s the next story 

about?” 

The rabbit saw his opening. “Well, just hold on now. 

I’m glad you liked that story, Brother Marcus. Cause 

there’s a real big lesson in it. The lesson is that people 

would be a whole lot better off if they raided a few 

gardens now and then.” 

“You mean we should steal like you do?” Marcus said 

innocently.

“What? No, no! That’s not what I meant.” The rabbit 

frowned and pulled at one of his whiskers. Hmm, this 

wasn’t going exactly as he’d planned. There might be 
182

a few things about this “helping” business he needed 

to learn. Shaking his head, he said, “I ain’t saying you 

should be doin’ like me—just eatin’ like me. You need...

ah, greens, cabbage, corn, peas—not to mention carrots 

’n turnips—and tomatoes, squash, and beans. And fruit, 

too!” 

The rabbit stopped talking and swallowed hard. “Oh, 

Lordy, Brother Marcus, I’m makin’ my own mouth water 

just thinkin’ about them carrots and peas!” Trying again, 

he said, “Now listen here. I had to stay healthy so I could 

run fast and think fast. And you need to stay healthy, 

too. Friends of mine been tellin’ me that folks need to get 

smart ’bout what they eat. And that’s no joke!” 

Marcus was always suspicious when anybody started 

talking about vegetables. He informed the rabbit that 

he only liked to eat spaghetti, pea soup, and oatmeal. 

Skillfully changing the subject, he asked, “Brother 

Rabbit, how did you think up all the tricks in those 

stories?” 

The rabbit needed time to reconsider his “garden” 

approach. With tricking he was on safer ground. “Why, 

Brother Marcus, those tricks been around a long, long 

time. Some of ’em come from stories Indian folks told 

about their tricky ol’ rabbit. He’s one troublesome joker. 

He can poke a hole in some critter’s puffed up pride 

faster than you can say ‘split lip, pop eye, big ear, and 

bob-tail.’” Stopping just long enough to give his stomach 
183

a good scratch, the rabbit went on. “My other stories 

come from Africa. That story you told me about the 

cow? Why, that story was told about a little African hare 

named Zomo. Tell me, you ever heard ’bout Ananzi the 

Spider-Boy?”

“Yes! Mrs. Davis read us a story called Ananzi and the 

Bean Pot. She said Ananzi was a trickster.”

Brother Rabbit took the empty pipe from his 

mouth and nodded with a wink: “Well, ain’t that a 

coincidence—I just happen to be a trickster myself! And 

I know lots of Ananzi’s tricks. One of ’em was that he 

could turn himself into a boy when he wanted to. Now, 

one of my favorite tricks is the time I changed myself 

into the Willa-the-Wust. I sure did scare Brother Bear 

that time...”

Sigigi cleared his throat. He hated to interrupt 

because he liked stories, too. But the Two Rabbit sure 

did like to talk! “Excuse me, but, ah...that why we come 

to see you. Little People in big trouble. We need you play 

big trick.” 

This got the rabbit’s attention immediately. “Tricks? 

Well, you just said the magic word!”

Sigigi described the trouble with the helicopter and 

how the Little People were threatened by the possible 

discovery of their towns. To avoid this disaster, the Little 

People were proposing a strategy that involved a shapeshift. Sigigi gave the rabbit some details about Eugene’s 
184

proposal to bring tourists into the forest and Thomas 

Wang’s plan that would keep them in Taniba Springs. 

Concluding, Sigigi said, “You change into Thomas Wang 

and give his talk. When Big People see and hear you, 

they forget Eugene.” 

The Two Rabbit, aka Brother Rabbit, aka Chufezomo, 

looked at Sigigi skeptically. “Whoo-wee. That’s a 

tad complicated!” Scratching his head, he said, “My 

trickiness ain’t what it used to be, Sigigi. I got to build 

up my strength for a shape-shift. I’ll need some big-time 

storytellin’ to power up.” 

 “The young people I bring can help tell stories!” 

Sigigi offered happily. 

 Thinking this a grand idea, the rabbit called out, 

“Hey! You fine young folks! Come on up here!”

 Hailey groaned, “At last.” 

Rain stood up and yelled back, “We’re coming! 

We’ve just got to get these papers back together.” While 

they had been waiting (apparently the rabbit was in 

no more hurry than Sigigi), Rain, Boomer, and Hailey 

had followed Sigigi’s suggestion that they read Thomas 

Wang’s proposal very carefully. They didn’t know why 

Sigigi was so interested in a proposal that would have no 

one to present it, but they would find out soon enough. 

 Hailey and the boys climbed up the slope to the 

overhang where the Two Rabbit was waiting for them. 

Needing no introductions, he said, “Well, howdy-do, 
185

Miss Hailey. Welcome to my Laughin’ Place. I hear you 

got lots to tell me about some fella name of Mr. Wang.” 

“Mr. Wang? Oh, sure. Uh, I’d be glad to.”

Then turning to the boys he said, “And looky here, we 

got Rain that Dances and Boomer. How you doin’? The 

Little People been treatin’ you right?” The boys nodded, 

assuming that Sigigi had told the Two Rabbit about 

them. To make certain of their safety, the rabbit hopped 

up on a rock and thrust his muzzle into Rain’s face. “You 

sure now? You wouldn’t tell me no tale?” Staring crosseyed at the rabbit’s split lip, Rain stuttered, “I’m fine....

we’re fine!” Geez, he thought, what was that about?

Marcus ran around Sigigi to his sister. “Brother 

Rabbit’s been telling me stories. About how he tricked a 

fox and fooled a hawk into not eating him, and he scared 

a bear, too! He said he’d play his fiddle for me.”

Hailey’s looked puzzled. Then her eyes grew wide. 

Turning to the rabbit, she cried, “I know who you are. 

You’re Brer Rabbit! 

“No, he’s not!” Marcus protested. “His name is 

Brother Rabbit.”

Nodding at her brother, Hailey said, “Yes, that’s right, 

Marcus. ‘Brer’ means ‘brother.’” Looking around at the 

rabbit’s mountain retreat, Hailey was amazed. “So, this 

is your Laughing Place. We saw a play at school in the 

fifth grade about you. And a griot visited our class last 

year and told us Brer Rabbit stories and stories from 
186

Africa.” 

It didn’t take much for the rabbit’s ego to begin 

inflating. Swaggering a bit, he said, “Well, naturally 

you’d be hearin’ a lot ’bout a famous fella like me!” 

However, he lost some of his buoyancy when he 

confessed, “But, ah, I might need some help pullin’ off 

this shape-shift that Sigigi’s talkin’ about...I ain’t quite as 

popular as I used to be.” 

Rain and Boomer were startled. “Shape-shift? What 

shape-shift?” 

Sigigi explained. “Chukmena solve problem. He say 

Two Rabbit turn into Thomas Wang and give talk. Now 

you got to figure out how we do this.” 

Rain stared at Sigigi. “We have to figure it out?”

“Yes, we need much storytelling...then Two Rabbit 

have ‘battery’ to make shift. Stories make him grow 

strong. I tell Little People to tell rabbit story, too.” 

“By the way, just when do I have to pull off this little 

ol’ ‘transmogrification’—hee, hee—as us tricky fellas call 

it.” 

“If that means a shape-shift—by tomorrow,” Rain 

answered gloomily. 

“Oh, my, my! That’s mighty quick!” Figuring that 

the speedy timeline gave him some leverage, the rabbit 

decided to extract a perk in exchange for his services. 

Drawing himself up, he addressed the kids in silky multi-
187

syllables of the most refined nature. “Well...in that case, I 

have certain requirements of a personal nature that must 

be met before a deception of this momentousness can be 

successfully achieved.” 

“Are you saying you want something?” Boomer asked. 

“Uh-huh. A Cobb salad. But hold the bacon, of 

course.”

189

Chapter 18 

There must have been a million stories on the Internet about rabbits. Rain 

pulled up some of the sites and started printing. Before long he had a tidy pile 

of rabbit stories. 

Wabbit Power 

Sigigi accompanied the kids back to Bear Cove 

Campground. They got back so quickly that they didn’t 

have much time to think about—much less discuss—the 

huge task they lay before them. Marcus ran on ahead to 

the campsite, but Rain, Boomer, and Hailey lingered in 

the woods with Sigigi.

“So, Sigigi, I just want to make sure we understand 

what we’re supposed to do,” Rain said. “We have to 

get our friends to help us tell as many rabbit stories as 

we can. That’s so the Two Rabbit, um, Brother Rabbit, 
190

that is, will have enough power to change himself into 

Thomas Wang.”

Boomer added, “And he said any kind of rabbit story 

would be okay, not just stories about him. Right?” 

Sigigi said to both of them, “Yes. You right.”

“But,” Hailey pointed out, “we have to make sure 

that the most storytelling is happening during the 

presentation at two o’clock tomorrow afternoon.”

Understanding the challenge, Rain said, “This is going 

to take a storytelling network. And we’ve got to do it fast. 

Hailey, you’ll have to call your friends. And I’ll call our 

friends in Thunder Rock.” 

Rain ran his fingers through his hair, thinking about 

another problem they had to solve. Groaning, he said, 

“Oh, great....so how do we get Brother Rabbit into the 

hotel?” 

Hailey glanced at Boomer and joked, “Haven’t you 

figured that out yet, Boom?” 

Boomer looked surprised: “Uhhh, no...not really.”

 “Well, better hurry up, Boomer,” Sigigi teased. “I 

bring Two Rabbit to hotel in morning. In woods—behind 

picnic table.” The little man smiled at his young friends 

and faded silently back into the forest. 

Hailey and the boys turned and pushed their way 

through the bushes that bordered the campsite. Not 

seeing her brother, Hailey called, “Marcus, where are 
191

you?”

Marcus poked his head out the tent flaps. “I’m in 

here! Are we going to the hotel now?”

“Yes, we’re going. What time is it anyway?” She pulled 

out her cell phone, which hadn’t been working earlier. 

Staring incredulously at the screen, Hailey yelled, 

“12:30? That can’t be right!” 

Boomer was confused, too. “Yeah, I don’t feel like 

we’ve been anywhere. Haven’t we been hiking for hours? 

I’m not even sweating.” 

 “Me neither,” Rain said. “Yeah, this is weird. 

Turtletown was miles away, but we got back here in no 

time.’

Crawling out of the tent, Marcus shouted, “That’s 

because it’s story time. There’s no time in story time! 

Brother Rabbit told me about it.” 

Rain looked intently at Marcus for several seconds. 

Finally, he said, “You know, Marcus, you may be right. 

Maybe we’re in a story.”

“Okay, so we’re in a story,” Hailey said, throwing up 

her arms. “That’s as good an explanation as any. Why 

not? Little People...storybook rabbits? I’m gonna worry 

about all that later. We’ve got work to do now.” 

Following Marcus, who had charged up the road to 

the trolley stop, Hailey and the boys began to devise 

a plan for transporting Brother Rabbit into the hotel. 
192

Waiting for the trolley, they began to work out how 

and where they could stage the shape-shift. And, once 

boarded and seated, they strategized how to provide 

Brother Rabbit with the suit and shoes he would require. 

However, getting off the trolley at the hotel, Marcus 

reminded them that they had forgotten one little thing. 

Rain laughed. “What’s that, Mr. Smarty?”

“Brother Rabbit’s salad!” Marcus hooted 

triumphantly.

“Well,” his sister said, patting him on the back. “You 

can order it at dinner tonight. Daddy will think it’s a 

miracle.”

Entering the hotel, Hailey ran upstairs to her room 

and dumped the bag of proposal papers in her closet. 

Then she joined the boys at precisely 1:00 p.m. in 

the lobby. She sat down next to Rain and they called 

their friends. Hailey had to leave messages, but Simon 

answered. Rain gave him a brief description of what 

was going on and asked him to get Hummingbird and 

Arianna together for a Skype session. He closed the cell 

phone just as Don and Gerald showed up. 

The little party decided to get lunch on the patio of 

one of the hotel’s grills. Although they’d eaten lunch 

at Turtletown, it was in another “time zone.” The 

adventurers were famished. After placing their orders, 

Gerald asked if they’d enjoyed the morning. Choosing 

his words carefully, Rain replied that it had been 
193

“action-packed”—an assessment that the others did not 

contradict. 

“What do you think you’ll do this afternoon?” Don 

asked.

“Well, Daddy,” Hailey said, “we thought we’d Skype 

with some of our friends at home. Show ’em some of the 

pictures we’ve taken.”

“Yeah, Boomer and I are gonna chill out, too. We 

have to save our energy for the powwow tonight,” Rain 

explained. 

When the food arrived, Marcus surprised everyone 

by sucking on his lower lip with his incisors and 

announcing in a folksy voice: “I’m mighty hongry. My 

mouth’s just a-waterin’!” Don gave Marcus a funny 

look—where did that come from?

Hailey whispered to Rain “Oh, no. He’s doing Brother 

Rabbit. He’s going to tell everything...”

“Don’t worry. If he does, they’ll just think he’s 

playing. Believe me, I’ve been there.”

The waitress set a spaghetti salad and pea soup in 

front of Marcus. He dug in, twisting some noodles 

around a bit of chopped tomato and cucumber. When 

he popped a forkful in his mouth, Don almost fell off his 

chair. 

“I thought you ordered spaghetti, Marcus. That’s a 

salad with vegetables.” 
194

“I know. I’m on a little garden raid. That’s all.”

To head off any further conversation about gardens 

(and potentially, rabbits) Hailey quickly changed the 

subject. “Daddy, would you let us use your computer this 

afternoon?”

Switching his attention to Hailey, Don said, “Sure.” 

Luckily, he distracted himself further by reminding her 

that she hadn’t called in during the morning as she’d 

promised. Replying truthfully, Hailey said, “Sorry, 

I tried, but it just wouldn’t connect. I’ll do better 

tomorrow.” 

Eager to get on with the tasks that lay ahead, the kids 

passed up dessert. Don had been tempted, but he said 

he’d follow his children’s good example and forego the 

brownie. Before heading back to the conference center, 

Gerald told Rain and Boomer that he would meet them 

back at the campground after his last session was over at 

5:00 p.m. He would pick up something for burgers and 

they could do a camp supper before going over to the 

powwow grounds. Naturally, Rain reminded him to buy 

low-fat ground beef and whole wheat buns. 

After the dads left, the kids remained sitting on the 

patio. Hailey said to Marcus, “We’re going to go up to 

the room and get on the computer. What do you want to 

do?”

“There’s a magic show at Kid’s Alley. Can I go?” 

Marcus replied.
195

“It’ll cost us,” Boomer interjected. “If we leave him 

there, we’ll have to pay.” 

Rain reached in his pocket and pulled out his 

spending money. Boomer did the same. They chipped in 

and bought a couple of hours of supervision for Marcus. 

Rain glanced at his disappearing ticket money. “Gee, the 

Mystery Spook House seems like a thousand years ago.”

“Yeah, but who cares about our eyes playing tricks on 

us when we’ve got the real thing, RD.” 

After parking Marcus at Kid’s Alley, Hailey led Rain 

and Boomer to their rooms upstairs. She headed directly 

to her father’s room and opened the closet. Inside was 

a large luggage bag. She wheeled it out and pulled the 

zipper. The bag’s cover flopped open, revealing a sizable 

compartment.

“Do you think he’ll fit in there?” Hailey asked.

“Yeah, he should,” Boomer replied.

Thinking ahead, Rain said, “Will your dad come up to 

his room during the lunch break tomorrow?”

“Maybe. If he does, we’ll have to wait until he leaves 

to get the bag and bring Brother Rabbit up here.” 

She reached up to the clothes bar and slid over a dark 

suit on its hanger. “I think Daddy’s wearing this to a talk 

he’s giving tomorrow. We could use the blue blazer he’s 

got on today for Brother Rabbit.” Looking at the pair of 

pressed khaki pants that hung next to the suit, she said, 
196

“I guess he could wear those.”

“What about shoes?” Rain asked.

A pair of dress shoes and sneakers were on the floor 

of the closet. “The rabbit will have to wear the loafers 

Daddy’s got on now. My father has more sense than 

to wear loafers with a suit.” Hailey walked over to the 

dresser and opened a drawer. “There’s several shirts and 

a couple of ties in here. We can definitely put together an 

outfit for ‘Mr. Wang.’” 

“How do you know all this stuff about what goes with 

what?” Boomer asked.

Pretending to stick her nose in the air, Hailey giggled 

and replied, “My girlfriends and I are fashionistas, my 

dear. We even put on a fashion show that’s on YouTube.” 

Boomer suddenly remembered something important. 

“Hey, what does Thomas Wang look like anyway? Won’t 

the rabbit have to know?” 

“Oh, man!” Rain said. “I forgot about that! Let’s go 

online and see if there’s a picture of him.” 

Hailey went next door and got her bag of proposals. 

She chucked it on the desk and pulled Don’s computer 

out of its bag. Rain shuffled through the proposals 

and located Thomas Wang’s. He found the page with 

his company name, Transnational Development 

Corporation. The address was for the company’s U.S. 

office in San Francisco. After Hailey pulled up a search 
197

engine, she typed in the company name and “Thomas 

Wang.” The search produced a Web site and a profile, 

but there was no photo. 

Toggling back to his profile, she quickly read through 

it. Turning to the boys, she said, “It says Thomas Wang 

has lived in California for 8 years, and he studied 

economic development at the Chinese University of 

Hong Kong. His specialty is tourism.” 

“So who do we know from Hong Kong?” Rain joked.

“Nobody, I guess,” Boomer replied. Suddenly 

inspired, he shouted, “Oh, I know! How about Jackie 

Chan? He’s from Hong Kong.”

Rain was impressed. “Yeah, that’s cool, Boom! 

Brother Rabbit can turn into somebody famous!” Jackie 

Chan was the boys’ favorite movie star. They watched all 

his old movies on TV. 

Hailey turned back to the computer. There was no 

lack of photos of the well-known actor. She printed one. 

Giggling, she handed the sheet to Boomer. “One Thomas 

Wang, coming up.” 

Rain’s cell phone rang. He spoke briefly. Hanging up, 

he said, “That was Hummingbird. She said they’ll be on 

Skype at Simon’s house at four o’clock our time.” 

“Was she very surprised by what’s going on?” Hailey 

asked.

“Well, she doesn’t know the details yet. But Bird won’t 
198

be blown away. She’s been through some pretty tricky...”

Boomer interrupted. “She’s already been blown away. 

You know that burping contest with the coyote that I 

told you about? Well, he did a burp so big it blew off 

Hummingbird’s shoes. We have a new friend, Arianna—

she moved to our rez from New Mexico. Her family’s 

Hispanic. Anyway, she got her shoes blown off, too. I 

don’t guess much could surprise them after that.” 

Hailey looked shocked. “No, I guess not. But my 

friends haven’t met any coyotes. What am I going to tell 

Natalie and Makayla and my cousins when they call? 

They’ll think I’m crazy.” 

The boys didn’t answer. Sitting down on the bed, Rain 

thought it best to move on to the next problem. “What 

kinds of rabbit stories are we going to read? I guess we 

can print off some from the Internet.”

“We can watch videos—videos are storytelling, too. 

And there’s Bugs Bunny comics online,” Boomer said. 

Hailey said, “Marcus has the Bugs Bunny: Lost in 

Time game on his Play Station®.” Then she started freelisting rabbits: “Let’s see. There’s Peter Rabbit and his 

sisters Flopsy, Mopsy, and Cottontail, Uncle Wiggly, 

Peter Cottontail, the Velveteen Rabbit, um...Benjamin 

Bunny. Mom used to read Marcus Pat the Bunny, but 

that’s for babies. Oh, we have a book called Tops and 

Bottoms—the rabbit in that one is like Brother Rabbit, I 

think. Who else?”
199

“You left out the Energizer Bunny and the Easter 

Bunny,” Boomer said.

“Boomer, the Energizer Bunny is a commercial....

we’ve gotta be serious.”

Rain went to the computer and typed in “Tops and 

Bottoms.” The book came up on YouTube. Then he typed 

in “Brother Rabbit stories,” “American Indian rabbit 

stories,” “African rabbit stories,” and “trickster rabbit.” 

Pages and pages of sites popped up. There must have 

been a million stories on the Internet about rabbits. Rain 

pulled up some of the sites and started printing. Before 

long he had a tidy pile of rabbit stories. 

Boomer wasn’t finished with the rabbit list. “Okay, so 

what about Jessica Rabbit? She’s pretty cool.”

“Oh yeah, that cartoon movie—Who Framed Roger 

Rabbit?” responded Hailey. “She was in that. She didn’t 

look like any rabbit I ever saw.” 

Boomer started to object, but Rain interrupted. 

He had found some Nanabozho stories. “The Ojibwe 

trickster rabbit can shape-shift. We ought to read those. 

Hey, you guys ever heard of a pooka?”

“A what?” Hailey asked.

“It’s an Irish spirit—a shape-shifter. There’s a free 

online movie called Harvey. It’s about a pooka named 

Harvey who’s a giant invisible rabbit.” 

“Gee, that should charge up Brother Rabbit’s battery 
200

if somebody watches that movie,” Boomer said.

Rain’s phone rang again. He answered. “Yeah, you’re 

on? We’ll call you. Okay, bye.”

Hailey and Boomer pulled up chairs next to Rain. He 

clicked on the Skype icon, added Simon as a contact, and 

hit the video call button. A few seconds lapsed, and the 

image of Hummingbird, Arianna, and Simon filled the 

screen. 

Everybody yelled and waved at each other. Rain 

jumped right in. “Hey, you guys. This is Hailey Jackson. 

We’re going to tell you more about everything that’s 

going on, but I just want you to meet Hailey first.” 

Hailey smiled and waved. “Hi, everybody!”

Hummingbird cried, “Hi! I’m Hummingbird. Oh, I 

wish I was there!” Bird put her hand over her mouth, 

“Oops, sorry, we said we’d take turns and not try to talk 

all at once. So, ah, this is Arianna.”

“Buenas dias!” Arianna said. “Hi, guys. I just got 

back from New Mexico last night. We were visiting my 

grandmother. I’m glad I got back in time to meet you, 

Hailey. Here’s Simon.” 

“Hi, Hailey. RD said you had a brother. Where is he?”

“Downstairs at a magic show. He’s only 6 years old.” 

“He’s a great little guy,” Boomer said. “He went with 

us to Turtletown and to see Brother Rabbit.” 

The blank looks from the three kids in Thunder Rock 
201

told Rain that it was time to fill them in on the whole 

story. He summarized the events since yesterday as 

best he could. Simon and the two girls asked lots of 

questions about the Little People and Sigigi, and they 

were enthralled by the description of Turtletown. Then 

Hailey provided more details about Eugene Frimble and 

Thomas Wang, and Boomer took over when they got to 

Brother Rabbit and the shape-shift. 

Simon was amazed. “All this happened just since 

yesterday?”

“Yeah. We think it’s got something to do with ‘story 

time.’” Rain said. “That’s what the rabbit told Marcus.” 

Hummingbird cut to the critical question. “So Brother 

Rabbit is a trickster?” 

Rain nodded. “Every inch of him.”

Hummingbird looked at Arianna and Simon. “I guess 

it’s a rabbit this time instead of a coyote.” 

Simon laughed. “Sounds good to me. What do we 

have to do?”

“Recruit kids to tell rabbit stories,” Rain said. We 

have to build a network that will generate the ‘juice’ that 

Brother Rabbit needs to transform himself into Thomas 

Wang.”

Arianna was the first to make a suggestion. “I could 

get my type 1 diabetes support group to help out. We call 

ourselves ‘Type 1 Tweenies.’” She explained to Hailey 
202

that she had a kind of diabetes believed to be caused by 

the immune system attacking the pancreas where insulin 

is made. Her online friends were good at sending advice 

and best wishes. Convincing them to read some stories 

for a good cause would be easy. 

Hummingbird jumped right in, offering to do some 

local organizing. “I’ll get Sammie, Little Deb, Star, and 

Walter and Larry...and my mom and auntie would join 

in. RD, I know your Granma would tell stories to your 

little brothers.” 

But Simon, inspired by that well-known hunter of 

rabbits, Elmer Fudd, was thinking big. Squinting into 

the camera, he uttered just two words: “Wabbit Power.” 

Pulling out a notebook, Simon started making a list. 

“I’ll send out e-blasts, tweets, post links to free videos 

and movies, and share YouTube sites and music, too.” 

Looking up, Simon said in his most serious voice, 

“Hailey, have you ever seen Kung Fu Bunny in Paws of 

Fury?”

Giggling, she replied, “No, I’ve never even heard of 

it.” Hailey whispered to Rain and Boomer, “Simon is a 

trip!” Playing along, she asked, “What music would you 

share?” 

“‘Fourteen Carrot Love,’ of course.”

Rain and Boomer cracked up. Who but Simon would 

remember that old Benny Rabbit song on the Muppets? 

“Yeah, Wabbit Power!” Boomer yelled. “This is gonna 
203

work!” 

“Okay, okay,” Rain said. “Let’s get started. But before 

we go, you should know that Boomer and I have told 

Hailey about the eagle, our rabbit, and the coyote. She 

and her brother are part of the gang now. We’re all in 

this together.”

“That makes seven of us,” Hummingbird said. “We’re 

growing!” 

“Welcome to the Veggie Crowd!” Arianna cried.

Simon was liking the sound of the storytelling 

network. “Yeah, all in it together. This is going to be a 

fun. No fossil poachers or bullies to give us a hard time.”

“Right, Simon. No bad guys.”

205

Chapter 19

Eugene abruptly put down his coffee cup...then he stood up and stared in 

Cricket’s direction. 

Rabbit Comes and Eugene Goes 

The next morning, Max Bigelow turned the helicopter 

slightly and headed toward the tallest landmark in 

Taniba Springs—the Crystal Mountain Casino and Hotel. 

He flew confidently over the reservation, the noonday 

sun beaming brilliantly overhead. The smile on his 

face told the story. Max was a happy man. He had been 

worried that “Operation Leprechaun” was being planned 

with one detail missing—the exact location of the place 

where the Little People lived. But now he could locate 

the hidden town precisely as four miles due east of Black 
206

Rock Mountain. The thermal imaging camera had been a 

great idea! 

A volunteer with the local fire department, it had 

been simple enough for Max to borrow one of their 

hand-held cameras. The screen had revealed the cooking 

fires, warm earth of cleared garden patches, and other 

heat-related evidence of the Little People’s activity that 

glowed yellow and red against the cooler blue of the 

surrounding forest. Max had even been able to identify 

several open areas that would be perfect for a helicopter 

landing. 

Whistling a cheerful tune, Max lined up the helicopter 

with Reservation Road as he flew over the hotel. He 

anticipated clear skies ahead for Sky High Tours.

Rain stood under the canopy roof at the hotel’s back 

entrance. He was watching Boomer pull the luggage bag 

across the red and brown patterned carpet of the hotel’s 

rear foyer. Hailey had called and given them the “all 

clear” that her dad had left his hotel room. Everything 

was going according to plan. 

The automatic door slid open and Boomer emerged. 

He set the bag upright. Before Rain could ask, he said, 

“She’s got the salad in the refrigerator.” 

They glanced over at the picnic tables. Eugene sat at 

one, eating a sandwich and flipping through a folder. 

Rain said, “Sigigi said that he eats lunch out here every 
207

day; I guess he was right.”

Boomer suddenly pointed above the trees that 

separated the picnic area from the parking lots. “Hey, 

there goes that helicopter.”

“Yeah, but without Eugene this time,” Rain said. 

He reached down and closed the zipper on the luggage 

bag’s side compartment. It was an unnecessary, nervous 

gesture. “I hope Eugene doesn’t see us drag the bag into 

the woods.”

Calmly, Boomer said, “Come on. If he looks up, we’ll 

just wait until he looks down again.”

Boomer grabbed the handle of the bag, and they 

began walking along a flagstone path that curved to the 

left of the picnic area. 

As they passed Eugene, Rain said, “Look at him, 

Boomer. He’s working so hard.” 

“Yeah, I know. Makes me feel guilty. But we gotta do 

this.” 

The path dropped slightly and veered left, paralleling 

a thickly wooded area. The boys continued on to a stone 

water fountain and then abruptly turned off behind a 

screen of dogwoods. With the bag bumping over roots 

and pine cones, they moved forward until the trees had 

closed behind them. 

Rain stopped and looked around. “This looks okay.” 

The boys sat down on a large tree root. It didn’t take long 
208

before the woods around them erupted into a vocal array 

of chirps, tweets, and caws. Little People were there and 

in greater numbers than the boys expected.

Sigigi emerged from behind a hedge of wild 

rhododendrons. Cricket was with him. She waved at 

the boys and then reached back to hold up a low branch 

heavy with white blossoms. Brother Rabbit bounded 

forth. “Well, howdy-do!” he called out. “If it ain’t 

Thistle’s favorite young’uns.” 

The boys stood up and greeted the rabbit. Sounding 

more confident than he felt, Rain said, “We think we’ve 

got everything worked out.” 

“Yeah, we got kids readin’ rabbit stories like crazy,” 

Boomer said proudly.

Brother Rabbit shuffled his feet back and forth and 

pumped his front paws in the air. “Oh, I can feel it! 

Yessiree! I’m feeling mighty fine!”

Rain noticed that the white hair on the rabbit’s 

muzzle had darkened. To Sigigi he said, “You know, he 

does look younger...”

Sigigi agreed. “He hop fast.” Looking at the bag, he 

added, “So, show us what you got.”

Boomer wheeled around the luggage bag. As Rain 

leaned down and unzipped it, Boomer whispered, “Who’s 

Thistle?” Rain gave Boomer a glance and shrugged. As 

little kids, they had referred to her only as Miss Rabbit. 
209

They had no clue that “their” rabbit and eagle even had 

names. 

Pointing to the interior of the bag, Rain said, “Uh, I 

hope you’ll be comfortable in here. You won’t be inside 

very long. We’ll be taking you to Hailey and Marcus’s 

hotel room.”

At the mention of Marcus’s name, the rabbit 

brightened even more. “Well, I’ll be real happy to see 

Brother Marcus again.” 

The rabbit hopped over to the bag and began to sniff 

it. While he examined his transport, Rain told Sigigi that 

Eugene was sitting at one of the picnic tables. He could 

hear some sadness in Rain’s voice. 

“Yes, we watching now.” He turned to his sister and 

told her that Rain and Boomer were feeling bad about 

Eugene. Cricket walked over to the boys and spoke 

briefly to them. She smiled reassuringly at Rain.

Sigigi translated. “She say, ‘Don’t worry. She take 

good care of Eugene. He get lost a little bit. Then come 

back later.’ He be okay.” 

Brother Rabbit finished his inspection. He nodded at 

the bag and said, “Let’s try this thing on for size.” He got 

in and looked up at the boys. “Well, anybody gonna zip 

me up?” 

“Ah, sure.” Boomer pulled the two zippers together 

from each side of the bag. From inside, the muffled voice 
210

of the rabbit cautioned, “Better leave me a teeny-tiny air 

hole!”

Boomer left a three-inch opening at the top. “How 

does it feel in there?”

“I ain’t no hutch rabbit—so I’m a little squeezed and 

squozed. But, it’ll do.”

“Okay,” Rain said, “we better get going before Eugene 

finishes lunch.”

Sigigi said, “Good luck. We catch you on the flip-side.” 

Cricket waved good-bye and they were gone.

Boomer pulled and Rain pushed the bag with its 

trickster cargo out of the woods and back onto the stone 

path. Once they got on the flat surface, the bag moved 

along quite easily. Brother Rabbit only weighed about 8 

pounds, big for an eastern cottontail. 

When they passed Eugene, he looked up and raised 

his hand in a friendly greeting. The boys grinned and 

waved back. They felt crummier than ever.

Sigigi and Cricket joined several young men from 

Turtletown. They had been scouting out Sky High Tours 

and the hotel since they found out that Eugene was 

responsible for the flights over the Little People towns. 

Sigigi told them they could go home. Now everything 

was up to Cricket.

With Sigigi following, Cricket moved quietly through 
211

the woods until she was directly behind the table where 

Eugene was sitting. She looked about and saw that he 

was the only person remaining at the picnic tables. She 

turned and smiled at her brother. Cricket knew why she 

had been chosen. 

To prepare herself, she stood up to her full 23 inches 

and took four deep breaths. Then she began to sing. 

Indeed, Cricket (Cholotka) was well-named. Her first 

notes were like the thrumming chirps of a cricket’s 

song. The song itself was not unusual; only its midday 

recital was a little odd. However, as she continued 

singing, Cricket performed a mental trick that was 

truly miraculous. She began to think of snowflakes. The 

more she thought about them, the cooler and slower 

her singing became—until finally, Cricket’s voice was a 

swaying, soothing “forest song” of the greatest peace, 

harmony, and serenity. 

Eugene abruptly put down his coffee cup, knocking 

his folder off the table. The irresistible charm of her 

melody had reached his ears. Ignoring his notes that 

began to blow about in the grass, he stood up and stared 

in Cricket’s direction. He stepped over the table’s bench 

and began to walk slowly toward the trees. 

Inexplicably, Eugene’s gangly, uncoordinated 

body began to stride forward with a new balance that 

propelled him out of the sun and into the forest’s shade. 

With great agility he ran between the trees—running, 
running until the green gloom closed in and he, for a 

time, remembered nothing.
Brother Rabbit got a funny look on his face...the troublesome incisor had suddenly 

dropped down and stuck on his lip. At the same time, one of his ears commenced to 

sprout, and an itchy whisker started working its way out of his cheek!

215

Chapter 20 

Rain joined the others in the reception area outside the conference room. 

Hailey was already reading her rabbit book. 

Mr. Wang Tells a Story 

Hailey opened the door and Boomer pulled the luggage 

bag into the room. Laying down the Peter Rabbit story 

he’d been reading, Marcus ran over to the bag. “Is he in 

there?” 

The rabbit put his mouth to the air hole. “That sounds 

like Brother Marcus! You gonna bust me loose from this 

croker sack?”

Rain unzipped the bag and Brother Rabbit skipped 

out. He looked around the room. “Hmm, this is right 

nice.” Wasting no time, he asked, “You got my salad?” 
216

Hailey hurried to the refrigerator. “I’ll get it.” The 

rabbit followed her. She took out the plastic container 

and removed the lid. He sniffed at the tender varieties 

of lettuce and delicately pulled out a slice of avocado. 

He closed his eyes and slurped in the creamy treat. 

The rabbit smacked his lips. “Mmm, yummy. You like 

avocado, Brother Marcus?” 

“I don’t know what it is.” 

“Well, I’ll give you a taste later.” He handed the 

plastic bowl back to Hailey and said, “So, what we doin’ 

first?” 

Hailey answered, “I thought you might want to look at 

these key talking points I pulled out of Thomas Wang’s 

proposal.” The rabbit did not accept the folder she 

offered to him. “Well, ah...if you can’t read, I’d be glad to 

read it to...” 

Brother Rabbit was indignant. “Girl, what you talkin’ 

’bout? I’m a literary tradition. Of course I can read!” 

Smiling, he added, “It’s just that I already know what I’m 

gonna say.”

Rain murmured, “Uh-oh.” What did the trickster have 

up his sleeve? 

Boomer got the photo of Jackie Chan and handed it 

to the rabbit. “We thought this picture would help you 

with the shape-shift. It’s not Mr. Wang, but we thought it 

might look like him.”
217

“Oh, yeah? Good thinkin’. My transmogrifyin’ gets a 

whole lot better when I got me a picture.” 

Hailey slid open the closet door. “We’ve got some 

clothes that you can wear.”

Brother Rabbit hopped excitedly to the closet. “From 

what you told me, Mr. Wang must be a mighty bright 

fella. I bet he’s a snappy dresser, too. You got a silk suit 

and tie in there?”

“Ahh, no, just this blazer, blue shirt and khaki pants. 

They belong to my father. Sorry, but he’s more preppy 

than snappy.”

The rabbit was a bit disappointed, but he didn’t let 

on. Pointing to the bottom of the closet, he cried, “Now, 

looky there, that’s a pair of brown loafers if my eyes 

don’t lie! I love a comfortable shoe.”

“It’s getting late,” Rain said. “How long will it take 

you to turn into Thomas Wang?”

As if he had all the time in the world, the rabbit 

replied, “Just as long as it takes.” He picked up the 

picture and asked Hailey for the coat, shirt, and pants. 

Then he hopped into the bathroom and put the photo of 

Jackie Chan on the rim of the tub. Picking up the pants, 

he daintily put one foot at a time into the legs and pulled 

them up. Looking down at the khaki-colored puddle that 

covered the lower half of his body, he laughed and said, 

“I think I’m gonna need a belt.” 
218

Hailey handed him one of her father’s belts. Brother 

Rabbit took it and looked at her expectantly. “Well?”

“Well what?”

“I need my privacy.”

Embarrassed, Hailey exclaimed, “Oh!” and closed the 

door.

From behind the bathroom door, the rabbit called out 

sweetly, “When I come out, I’ll be a new man! Hee-heeha!” 

The kids sat on the bed and waited. Several minutes 

went by. Finally Boomer broke the silence. “You didn’t 

miss anything at the powwow last night. RD and I 

danced like we had rocks in our moccasins.”

“Sorry, we wanted to go,” Hailey replied. “But Marcus 

went to sleep.” 

Rain laughed. “So did we.”

“Yeah, we should have practiced,” Boomer admitted, 

“but, man, I was tired. We even missed the fireworks. 

But it was fun meeting some of the kids from around 

here.” 

Looking at the clock, Rain said, “I guess we should be 

reading rabbit stories.” 

Hailey cried, “I can’t believe it! I’m just sitting here 

like a goof.” She jumped up and dashed into the next 

room to get the excerpts from Watership Down, a story 

about English rabbits, which she had printed from the 
219

Internet. She also grabbed a collection of stories she 

had found online about the African hare, Zomo. Marcus 

retrieved his Peter Rabbit story, and Boomer finished 

reading a story about Brother Rabbit outsmarting a lion. 

Instead of reading, Rain kicked back on the bed and 

started checking out the Wabbit Power traffic on his cell 

phone. “Man, Simon’s been busy. The tweetosphere is 

going crazy! Your friends are doing great, Hailey.”

Suddenly, they heard the crash of breaking glass and 

an explosive sneeze accompanied by a peculiar, squishy, 

sucking sound. 

“What was that?” Boomer yelled.

Hailey ran to the bathroom door. “Are you all right?” 

“Yeth. I jus’ got dizzy for a second. Having some 

trouble with the nosth. Thorry about the water glath!” 

“Sounds like he’s having trouble with his tongue too,” 

Rain said. 

The seconds ticked by. Then Brother Rabbit called 

out: “Okay, I got mosth of it. Come on in...”

The boys crowded around Hailey as she opened the 

door. Jackie Chan was standing at the sink looking in the 

mirror. But something was terribly wrong. He couldn’t 

close his mouth. A long incisor was caught on his lower 

lip. In obvious distress, the rabbit said, “I’m tryin’ to 

suck up this big toof. Can one a’ you hep me, pleeesh. It 

needth a push.” 
220

 Rain went to the sink and put his thumb against the 

bottom of the incisor. He pushed gently and the tooth 

slid right up into the bone. Brother Rabbit turned and 

looked in the mirror again. He grinned from ear to ear. 

“Well, hello there, Mr. Wang!”

At 1:45 p.m., the kids and the transformed Brother 

Rabbit made their way to the third floor elevators—with 

laptop and rabbit stories in tow. Marcus pressed the 

lobby button and they waited for a down arrow. Finally 

the elevator doors opened on a small group headed to 

the casino. With Hailey and Marcus on one side and 

Rain and Boomer on the other, “Mr. Thomas Wang” 

stepped into the confined space and turned around, 

facing the doors. The kids quickly crowded around him, 

but not before a couple at the back began whispering, 

“Did you see that guy? He looks like Jackie Chan.” Heads 

began to turn. 

Rain watched the floor number change (agonizingly 

slow) from 3 to 2. The elevator stopped. A guy got on and 

immediately started gawking. “Hey, mister, uh, did you 

know you look just like Jackie Chan?” 

Rain kicked himself. How could we have been so 

dumb? Why did we pick Jackie Chan? 

Drawing himself up to his full height, Brother 

Rabbit turned to the gawker and dismissed him with a 

disdainful sniff: “Jackie who? My name is Mr. Thomas 
221

Wang.” Nobody said a word.

The doors opened on the lobby, and the five scurried 

out, turning immediately toward the conference center. 

Boomer had been stifling a laugh that exploded as soon 

as they got past the bank of elevators. Hailey looked over 

her shoulder. No autograph seekers were following them.

Rain cried, “Oh man, ‘Jackie who?’ That was funny! 

Okay. Here goes our last trick. Everything is up to 

Brother Rabbit after this.” 

He walked quickly over to the front desk, carrying an 

envelope addressed to Bill Owens, Chairman, Taniba 

Springs Economic Committee, Conference Room B. 

Inside was a note from Thomas Wang (written by 

Hailey) stating that he had arrived that morning in 

Taniba Springs and would like to present his proposal 

if time allowed. Rain gave it to one of the clerks and 

hurried away. 

He joined the others in the reception area outside 

the conference room. The large open area was furnished 

with a couple of couches, benches, and scattered groups 

of lounge chairs. Boomer and Marcus had put their 

stuff on a bench and were getting some ice from a table 

that offered complimentary coffee and bottled water. 

“Thomas Wang” was settled in a lounge chair opposite 

one occupied by Hailey. She was already reading her 

rabbit book. Except for them, the reception area was 

empty. 
222

Rain walked over to the closed double doors of the 

room where the proposals were being presented. He 

glanced through the windows. Committee members were 

sitting at a long dais, listening to a presenter who was 

wrapping up a slide show. Rain could see the back of 

Don’s head in the audience. Gerald was sitting in a chair 

on a side aisle.

Just then Rain heard someone behind him. He 

stepped aside and a hotel messenger pushed quietly 

through the double doors. He watched the messenger 

deliver an envelope to the committee chairman. The 

chairman opened it, read the contents, and passed it 

to the committee member beside him. The audience 

broke into polite applause as the last presenter thanked 

everyone for their attention. 

After a few minutes, the chairman announced that 

their next presenter was Eugene Frimble. When Eugene 

didn’t come forward, the chairman called out his 

name. But there was no Eugene. One of the committee 

members walked to the back of the room and pushed 

open the doors. He called, “Is Eugene Frimble out 

here?” When no one answered, he went back to the 

dais and conferred with the other committee members. 

One of them gave him the envelope. He returned to the 

reception area and called out, “Mr. Wang? Mr. Thomas 

Wang?”

Brother Rabbit answered, “Over here!”
223

The committee member approached and held out 

his hand. “Welcome, Mr. Wang, We’re glad you could 

make it.” Brother Rabbit got up. He shook the man’s 

hand and said, “I’m glad to be here.” Then he followed 

the committee member into Conference Room B. As he 

passed Rain, the rabbit whispered, “Showtime!”

The chairman announced the change in agenda to 

the audience. “It seems that Mr. Frimble isn’t here at 

present, but one of the other companies that submitted 

a proposal has been able to send their representative. 

So, we might as well use the time slot. Hopefully, Mr. 

Frimble will be able to join us later.” The committee 

chairman (who thought that Thomas Wang looked like 

Jackie Chan) leaned back in this chair and said, “Mr. 

Wang, we’re all ears.”

The rabbit chuckled to himself, “Hee-hee! You think 

you got ears!” 

Starting off in a serious tone, Brother Rabbit thanked 

the committee for hearing “his” proposal. He then 

made some general statements about the importance 

of revitalizing successful tourism models to keep pace 

with new trends in the industry. Walking back and 

forth in front of the dais, the trickster droned on in this 

manner for a few minutes, lowering his voice with each 

pass before the audience. Pumped up by the power in 

the Wabbit energy grid (and a couple of charms he was 

working), his listeners soon were under his spell. 
224

Sticking his hands in his pockets, the rabbit stopped 

and fixed a gleaming, rascally eye on the committee 

members. He grinned and announced: “Now this all 

leads me to the point I want to make and that is—that 

we all go down to the millpond for a little fishin’!” The 

rabbit slapped his knee and hee-hawed like a donkey. 

“Oh yeah! I remember the last time I went to the 

millpond it was late at night. I was with Brother Bear, 

Brother Fox, and Brother Wolf, and we had one “wangdang-doodle” good time!” 

Rain, who had been keeping watch, yelped, “Oh, no! 

What’s he doing?” 

Hailey, Marcus, and Boomer leaped up and ran to the 

doors. They crowded next to Rain, trying to get a glimpse 

through the windows. Marcus jumped up and down, but 

he was too short. He pulled at Hailey’s arm, shouting, “I 

can’t see!” 

Hailey ignored him. She was so amazed by Brother 

Rabbit’s performance that she failed to notice when 

Marcus stomped off in a huff. Holding forth as if he 

were sitting in his rocking chair, corn cob pipe in 

hand, the rabbit had everybody laughing. “Well, when 

I told Brother Fox that we couldn’t do any fishin’ that 

night ’cause the moon fell in the pond, he was mighty 

disappointed. Of course, Brother Terrapin was in on the 

joke, and he told Brother Bear and Brother Wolf they 

might want to jump in and catch the moon ’cause she 
225

was hidin’ a big pot of money.” The committee members 

and audience were leaning forward in their chairs, their 

faces beaming, eager to hear more about the profitability 

of moon-fishing. 

Pulling the committee further into the millpond, the 

rabbit continued the story: “Well, ol’ Bruvver Foxth 

thaid leth’s get uth a net and wade in and fith out the 

moon...” Brother Rabbit got a funny look on his face 

and stopped in mid-sentence. The troublesome incisor 

had suddenly dropped down and stuck on his lip. At the 

same time, one of his ears commenced to sprout, and an 

itchy whisker started working its way out of his cheek! 

“Thomas Wang” began to look a lot more like Bugs 

Bunny than Jackie Chan. 

The rabbit quickly clapped his hand over his mouth 

and scurried to the back of the conference room. He had 

to escape before he melted into a pile of haberdashery! 

The kids immediately saw that the rabbit was in trouble. 

Rain yelled, “The Wabbit Power is failing!” 

Boomer recognized the problem right away. “We 

stopped reading!” Looking around, he hollered, “Where’s 

Marcus?” Hailey ran for Watership Down, but Boomer 

headed toward the nearest book, Peter Rabbit. It was on 

the floor where Marcus had dropped it. Boomer picked 

up the book and flipped it open to a page at random. In 

his well-known thunderous voice, he bellowed out, “His 

coat was pulled off, and he was rolled up in a bundle, 
226

and tied with string in very hard knots!”

Just as he reached the doors, Brother Rabbit heard 

Boomer. His ear immediately curled back on itself and 

the whiskers reabsorbed. More critically, the rabbit was 

able to nudge the tooth back into place with his tongue. 

Miraculously, Boomer’s ear-shattering recitation had 

made up in volume for what was missing in quantity. 

With his shape-shift re-energized, Brother Rabbit 

returned to his audience. “Now as I was sayin’...”

Boomer was able to lower his voice when Rain chimed 

in with an oral reading of “Nanabozho and the Spirit 

Bride.” He got further relief when Marcus returned from 

the bathroom. Hailey prompted him to keep reading. 

The little boy immediately started “Brother Rabbit and 

the Hawk,” one of the stories the rabbit had told him. 

The kids almost stopped reading when they heard a 

burst of applause. Rain looked up and said, “I guess it’s 

over.”

“Yeah, but we got to keep going until he’s back in the 

hotel room,” Boomer cautioned.

Suddenly, the double doors opened and the attendees 

came spilling out for the break. Everybody was talking 

about how Mr. Wang’s unique approach to creating 

community investment in the moon-fishing enterprise. 

Brother Rabbit slowly disengaged himself from the 

cluster of committee members that surrounded him, 

nodding and smiling to comments of “Excellent 
227

presentation!” and “Wonderful proposal!” 

When he finally made his way over to the kids, the 

exhausted (but happy) rabbit looked at Rain and asked, 

“What’s up, doc?” 

“Let’s get out of here while we’re ahead. You can 

change in the room, and then we’ll meet Sigigi out back.” 

Boomer volunteered, “I’ll stay here and find out when 

they’re going to pick the best proposal. Then I’ll come 

up.” 

Everyone except Boomer headed upstairs. Brother 

Rabbit went into the bathroom and transformed back, 

without difficulty, into his normal shape. Hailey picked 

up her dad’s clothes from the bathroom floor, brushed 

them off, and hung them neatly in the closet. She 

couldn’t get all the little grayish-brown hairs off the blue 

blazer, but she hoped Daddy wouldn’t notice. 

Brother Rabbit hopped to the refrigerator and got his 

salad. He waited while Hailey laid down a white paper 

napkin on the room’s office desk; then he hoisted himself 

into the chair. He wanted to enjoy a proper meal. He had 

almost finished it when there was knocking at the door. 

Hailey let Boomer in. His face was flushed with 

excitement. “They’re gonna vote before they adjourn at 

six o’clock. They’ll wait until five o’clock for Eugene, but 

if he doesn’t show up, they’ll go ahead with the vote.”

Brother Rabbit wiped his mouth daintily with a 
228

napkin and pronounced the salad, “Scrumptious.” “Well, 

young folks,” he said, “I’m ready to get in my wagon. 

That was a bunch of fun. I haven’t felt this good in 

years.”

Boomer rolled out the bag and the rabbit got in. The 

kids looked at him in awe. “You were just fabulous!” 

Hailey gushed.

Rain said it all. “You’re a genius. What a trick! If 

they choose Mr. Wang’s proposal and the Little People’s 

towns are safe—it will all be because of you.” 

With uncharacteristic modesty, the rabbit cautioned, 

“You better watch out. You keep talking like that and I’ll 

swell up so big, you won’t be able to zip up this bag.” 

Hailey said, “I’ll stay here and wait to hear which 

proposal they choose.”

“Right, okay,” said Rain. “When you find out, go to the 

picnic area and give us the signal. We’ll be watching.”

Boomer zipped up the bag. Followed by Rain and 

Marcus, he pulled it to the rear foyer and out onto the 

pathway behind the hotel. When no one was looking, 

they hauled the rabbit into the trees. Sigigi was waiting 

for them. Rain explained to him that Hailey had stayed 

behind to find out how the committee would vote.

For once, Brother Rabbit was quiet. Tuckered out, 

he found a niche between two tree roots and was soon 

snoozing. Marcus pulled out his PlayStation® and started 
229

to play Bugs Bunny: Lost in Time. Following his lead, 

Boomer retrieved a copy of Bunnicula: The Vampire 

Rabbit he had stuck in the luggage bag’s side pocket. It 

would help pass the time—besides, it was funny. Who 

could resist a vampire rabbit who sucked the juices out 

of vegetables? 

Rain, however, started pacing. Sigigi tried to distract 

him with a chat about his favorite recording artists, 

but he was only partly successful. Rain kept checking 

the picnic area every couple of minutes for Hailey’s 

appearance. 

Luckily, they didn’t have to wait until 6:00 p.m. 

Shortly before 5:30, Hailey came running out of the 

hotel. She dashed down the stone pathway, hollering 

“The vote’s in!” Rain quickly emerged from the trees and 

pulled her into their hideaway.

“Tell us what happened!” Rain demanded.

Hailey was jumping up and down. “Mr. Wang won! 

The vote was unanimous!” Everyone broke into a yell of 

celebration.

Startled awake, Brother Rabbit held up his paw for 

Marcus to pull him up. Chortling a well-earned, “Heehee-hee,” the rabbit said, “That’s mighty good news. You 

happy now, Sigigi?” 

 Sigigi had plopped on the ground in total relief. 

He was laughing. Struggling to stand up, he said, 

“Best Two Rabbit trick ever!” After everyone finished 
congratulating each other, Sigigi invited them to 

Turtletown the next day, “We bring all town together. 

We eat, dance, play ball. Have ‘open house party’ like 

nobody see before!”
231

Chapter 21 

Max leveled off and headed directly over Turtletown—his stolen treasure 

spinning slowly at the end of a long cable attached to the fearsome whirling 

bird. 

Max Crashes the Party 

The next morning, Max Bigelow headed out the door 

of the reservation newspaper office and joined a line 

of tourists in front of a breakfast truck in the parking 

lot next door. He had just arranged for a reporter and 

photographer from the Taniba Springs Herald to show 

up at Sky High Tours that afternoon for a big news story. 

When the newspaper manager asked Max what the story 

was about, he only gave a hint about “leprechauns,” and 

that it would put Taniba Springs on the map. Although 

the “tip” sounded like some phony promotion, the 

newspaper manager said she would send out somebody. 
232

It would be a slow news day until the powwow 

competitions that night. 

Slurping his coffee, Max congratulated himself on 

getting the free publicity. Where now? he thought. Oh, 

yeah, gotta buy some rope. Without looking, he dashed 

across the street to the town’s hardware store. The driver 

of the tourist trolley who had just turned the corner 

slammed on the brakes. Hailey and Marcus, who were 

riding on top, lurched forward, but luckily didn’t fall out 

of their seats. 

“What happened? Marcus cried.

“Oh, nothing,” Hailey said, “just some guy not looking 

where he was going.”

She settled back into her seat as the trolley made its 

stops in town. Hailey used the time to text her friends, 

Natalie and Makayla. She told them that the storytelling 

network had been awesome, and they had been a big 

part of it. On last count, over 300 kids had told, read, 

or watched a rabbit story. She promised to tell them all 

about it (well, some of it) when she got home.

Boomer was waiting for them beside the road when 

the trolley arrived at Bear Cove. As they clumped down 

the steps from the upper deck, he yelled, “Come on, 

slowpokes! We’re ready to go.” Hailey and Marcus were 

as just as eager as Boomer.

“Gosh, Boomer,” Hailey exclaimed, “this is going to be 

some party. Little People from all the towns are coming.”
233

“I wanna learn that ball game those kids were 

playing,” Marcus said.

When they arrived at the campsite, Hailey asked 

where Sigigi was. Rain replied that he was taking a nap 

in the tent. Although Sigigi had told him that Eugene 

was fine, he couldn’t wait to ask Hailey if she had seen 

him. 

“No, but Daddy talked to him. He said that Eugene 

didn’t know what happened. He was thinking about his 

presentation, and the next thing he knew he was wading 

in this little creek behind a school. Some kids playing on 

the playground saw him. The last thing he remembered 

was some crickets chirping. Daddy said he looked really 

sleepy. He told Eugene that he was probably working too 

hard.” 

“How did he feel about missing his presentation?” 

“He was really disappointed. But he understood that a 

decision had to be made.” 

“He miss out this time, but go away more wise,” Sigigi 

said. “Little People show him some things he remember 

one day.” Rain began to feel better about the situation. 

He understood that Eugene had not really lost—he would 

go home with knowledge that would benefit his work in 

the future. 

Rain and Hailey checked in with their dads by phone 

and then prepared to accompany Sigigi to Turtletown. 

The young man of the Little People told them that they 
234

would be the honored guests for today’s celebrations. 

The town was also preparing a feast for the Two Rabbit 

that a delegation from the council would deliver to his 

Laughing Place. 

Having once made the trip to Turtletown, the 

kids knew what to expect. This time they were more 

sure-footed and more curious about places they had 

only briefly glimpsed the first time. Sigigi took them 

to two remarkable sites that blew them away: the 

“Hummingbird’s Tail,” a fan-shaped waterfall that 

reflected and refracted light into a rainbow of colors, 

and “Elder Rock,” a limestone outcrop that wind and 

rainwater had carved into a wrinkled, smiling old man. 

As they headed into the valley below Two Rabbit 

Mountain, the kids began to see and hear the signs 

of many Little People. They could look down and see 

dozens of tiny trails threading through the forest—

all filled with little folk in single file trekking toward 

Turtletown. In the distance, they could hear the 

thrumming of drums and scores of high-pitched voices 

trilling a welcome to their relatives. 

Finally they arrived at the tree entrance to the town 

that they had used before. Following Sigigi down its 

roots, the kids burst upon a celebration in full swing. 

From the stomp ground came the sound of drums, the 

calls of dancers, and the rattling of river stones in tiny 

turtle shells. Cooking fires glowed everywhere and from 
235

inside the great cave came the delicious aroma of turkey, 

fresh trout, delicately spiced bird’s eggs, boiled corn and 

beans, squash dumplings, and more. 

When they spotted Marcus, a crowd of children 

pulled him to their outdoor fire where they were popping 

popcorn. Duffy was supervising. He handed Marcus his 

own popcorn popper and showed him how to put hot 

sand in a lower compartment of the clay pot. Then he 

added popcorn cobs and told Marcus to pull off the pot 

lid when he couldn’t hear popping anymore. Marcus 

served up several pots of fluffy white kernels as an 

appetizer. When it was time to eat, Duffy led the children 

to the cave where they were given generous helpings. 

Marcus ate fewer choices than the other kids, but he 

discovered that he really liked turkey stew with corn. 

But food wasn’t the only item on the menu. When 

he had barely finished eating, Duffy invited him to play 

ball with the children. Marcus followed the boys and 

girls to the tall pole with the fish on top. Duffy gave him 

an adult-sized hickory stick with a net on one end. He 

told Marcus to try to get the little ball away from the 

other players and hit the fish with it. Marcus watched 

the boys play the girls for a few minutes and then joined 

the game. Although he lacked skill (his additional height 

was no advantage), Marcus played with enthusiasm. He 

managed to hit the pole once, but not the fish. 

Back at the stomp ground, Rain, Boomer, and 
236

Hailey had joined the merrymakers in their social 

dancing. When they came to a temporary halt, Sigigi 

told the crowd that Rain and Boomer had come to 

Taniba Springs to do a dance that looked like grass. 

Everyone called for the boys to dance for them. With 

the accompaniment of a drummer who followed their 

movements, they gave a graceful presentation that 

wowed their audience. Even though they did not have 

their regalia to mimic the swaying of grasses, the Little 

People said they could see the wind blowing grass in the 

movement of their bodies. 

Out of breath, but happy with their performance, 

they followed Sigigi to Chukmena’s house. Once again, 

he and Toloowa had invited Hailey and the boys to 

share food with them. This time it was a feast. Everyone 

helped themselves to wildfowl and fish, fresh and cooked 

vegetables, and whole-grain breads made from a variety 

of seeds. 

They ate in silence for several minutes. Then 

Chukmena invited some lively mealtime conversation. 

With Sigigi translating, he said that he wanted to hear 

more about the Two Rabbit’s shape-shift. Rain, Boomer, 

and Hailey were only too happy to entertain the old 

couple with Brother Rabbit’s masterful telling of “The 

Moon in the Millpond.” But before they could describe 

how the rabbit’s “transmogrifying” suddenly shifted into 

reverse, Sigigi interrupted them. “Hold that thought, 
237

guys. We have to pause for a word from our sponsor.” 

Osihishi the Headman was hurrying to join them. 

His face beaming, he called out, “Welcome! Welcome!” 

Sitting down, he accepted a bowl of corn and beans from 

Toloowa (she knew his tastes were simple and that the 

dish was his favorite). “Chukmena, your idea to have the 

Two Rabbit perform a shape-shift was brilliant. But it 

would never have succeeded without the help of these 

young people. Sigigi, tell them that they will always have 

a home in our towns!” 

Chukmena said, “Boomer was just about to tell us how 

everything almost went wrong with the Two Rabbit’s 

talk.” 

“Oh, please, go on,” Osihishi said jovially. 

Boomer pulled out the stops, imitating the rabbit’s 

panic when his teeth and ears threatened to burst 

through his magical disguise. The esteemed elders of 

Turtletown laughed until they hurt. As they wiped away 

tears, Rain said, “It was Boomer who saved the day. He 

started reading a rabbit story so loud that the Wabbit 

Power came back!”

Sigigi had a hard time translating “Wabbit Power,” 

but Chukmena understood. He stood up and patted 

Boomer on the shoulder. “You’re a fast thinker!” 

Still chuckling, Osihishi said, “That is the way it is 

with the great tricksters. Something always goes wrong. 

All of a sudden, he said, pretending to pitch a fist of 
238

something over his head, “Everything is up in the air, but 

in the end, it all comes down where it ought to be.” 

 Just then, one of Sigigi’s friends called out to him as 

he ran to the ball ground. Sigigi stood up and thanked 

Chukmena, Toloowa, and the Headman for their 

hospitality. Motioning for the kids to get up, he said, 

“Come. We play ball!” 

The kids thanked the elders, too, and followed Sigigi. 

A huge crowd of Little People had gathered at the ball 

ground, waiting for the game to begin. Many were 

placing wagers and singing songs to encourage their 

players. The teams from Turtletown and Panthertown 

were milling on the side lines, and drummers for each 

team were beating out a steady rhythm. Boomer had said 

the game was like lacrosse, but Hailey wasn’t familiar 

with that sport. Wanting to know more, she said, “You 

said your Tribe plays this game?”

 Rain answered. “Yes. Different tribes play by 

different rules. But each team usually tries to touch the 

goal posts by hitting them with the ball or carrying the 

ball through the posts.”

Sigigi explained that most of the Little People’s towns 

had their own style of play. “Some town play with two 

stick and some play with one stick. We play with two 

stick today.” 

“Hailey,” Boomer said, “just think football, basketball, 

and wrestling plus a stick.”
239

Looking around, Rain asked, “Where’s Marcus?” 

“He went down to the creek with Cricket and some 

kids,” Hailey replied. “They were going swimming. I 

hope he doesn’t miss this.”

Rain smiled “Don’t worry. He’ll see it. They’ll play all 

afternoon.” 

“Here they come!” yelled Boomer.

The two teams began to advance on the field—each 

from the direction of the goal they would defend. As they 

approached each other, the Turtletown and Panthertown 

players raised their sticks and challenged each other 

by shouting four times. When the teams arrived at the 

center of the ball ground, they clustered around an 

official who tossed a skin ball up into the air. The players 

leaped up with their arms and sticks stretched toward 

the ball. A Panthertown team member captured it, and 

the game was on. He tried to break free and make a dash 

for the opposing goal, but was tackled by a Turtletown 

player. The ball rolled free and was instantly snatched up 

by one of Panthertown’s fastest runners. He ran—chased 

by a howling pack. Deftly avoiding the defenders, he 

slowed 15 feet short of the goal and flung the ball, hitting 

the crossbar on the goal post. A high-pitched yell went 

up from the Panthertown fans. 

Taunts and jokes from the opposition (Turtletown 

players were always teased with names like “Swifty” or 

“Speedy”) just boosted the home team’s determination, 
240

and they had soon tackled, body-checked, wrestled, 

and lobbed their way to their first score. Turtletown 

responded with its own cheer of triumph. 

The ball went back into play. Out of the ensuing melee 

of waving sticks came the crash of hickory on hickory 

and the grunts and exultant cries of the contenders. The 

game never let up. When the ball went out of bounds, 

a referee just threw a new ball onto the field, and the 

competition thundered on. 

Down at the creek, Marcus, who had been paddling 

with his new friends in the shallow water, waded over to 

Cricket. He pointed in the direction of the cheering and 

asked her if he could go see the game. She didn’t know 

what Marcus was saying exactly, but she knew what he 

wanted to do. Turning to the other children, she said, 

“Come on, let’s go watch the ball game.” She picked up 

Niska’s little girl, Foosi, and took her brother, Nikkami, 

by the hand. 

She was watching Marcus and the other children 

sloshing toward the creek’s pebbled beach when a 

hammering wind struck them from behind, pushing 

them down into the water. Cricket thrust her arm up 

over her head and fearfully looked up to see an ominous 

black shadow descending over her. She screamed for the 

children to run. Marcus picked himself up and struggled 

to the beach, dragging two other kids with him. 
241

Max Bigelow expertly maneuvered the helicopter 

from the concealed glade where he had set it down 

earlier in the day. He had taken full advantage of the 

town celebrations to cover the sound of the helicopter’s 

rotary blades. Unfortunately, Turtletown had let down 

its guard, believing that they had prevailed over the 

whirling bird. 

Lennie was scared stiff. “Max! Not so close! You’re 

right on top of them!”

Max tensely clutched the stick, controlling the 

helicopter’s back and forth sway over his targets. “Let 

me fly the chopper, Lennie. You just shoot the net gun! 

Now!”

Lennie leaned out the left door and aimed the net 

gun. He fired! With a dull boom, the net ejected. Its 

giant, weighted fingers spread out and grabbed Cricket, 

Niska’s children—and Marcus. 

Max lowered the helicopter onto the beach and 

cut back the power. With the blades still turning, he 

screamed at Lennie, “Get out! Secure the net!”

Hunched over, Lennie stumbled out the door with his 

equipment and ran to tie up the victims of Max’s scheme. 

Marcus tried to stand up, but his feet tangled in the net. 

He fell down heavily on Cricket, unintentionally trapping 

her. Just as rehearsed, Lennie whipped the net together 

and rolled the captives into a heavy tarpaulin which 

he attached by a steel cord underneath the helicopter. 
242

He jumped back in the helicopter and Max lifted off, 

swirling gently into the air. He leveled off and headed 

directly over Turtletown—his stolen treasure spinning 

slowly at the end of a long cable attached to the fearsome 

whirling bird. 
243

Chapter 22

Marcus whined, “I was scared when I got lost, Mister! If you promise not to 

leave me in the woods, I’ll show you where you can capture plenty of Little 

People.” 

Marcus’s Briar Patch

A young man playing in his first big game was looking 

up, ready to deflect a ball soaring toward the Turtletown 

goal. To the dismay of the home crowd, he suddenly 

dropped his stick. Pointing above the trees, he yelled, 

“The whirling bird!” The ball players and spectators 

tumbled over each other as they scattered into the forest. 

Once under cover of the trees, they watched to see what 

the helicopter would do. To everyone’s relief, it flew 

on and soon the drone of its engine could no longer be 

heard. 
244

Rain, Boomer and Hailey had retreated to a nearby 

thicket with Sigigi. They, like many others, emerged 

when the helicopter was gone. Sigigi immediately ran to 

his house to comfort his grandmother. Looking about 

them, the kids could see that Turtletown was in a total 

state of confusion. What had happened? Why had the 

helicopter returned? 

Amid the commotion, mothers and fathers anxiously 

rounded up their children. But several were still missing. 

When they were found hiding near the creek, they ran 

to their parents crying that two men in the whirling bird 

had taken Cricket and the children playing in the water. 

Among them was Marcus. 

Word of the kidnapping spread quickly through the 

town. Rain knew that something bad had happened. 

He ran with Boomer and Hailey to Sigigi’s house. They 

found him talking to Chukmena and two other members 

of the council. They looked sympathetically at Hailey. 

Rain cried, “What’s happened?”

 “They take Marcus and Cricket,” Sigigi replied 

anxiously. “Niska’s children, too.”

Hailey was terrified. “Oh, no! I was supposed to 

look after him. What will I tell my father?” Turning to 

Rain and Boomer, she cried, “Ohhh, this is all my fault. 

Eugene found out what we did and he’s kidnapped 

Marcus!”

“No, Hailey,” Rain protested, “that’s impossible. 
245

Eugene would never do that.” 

“Wait, wait, I got it!” Boomer yelled. “It’s the pilot! 

Don’t you see? He spotted the town when he was flying 

Eugene!” 

“But why would he take my brother?”

Boomer scratched his head. “Hmm, that’s a good 

question.”

Rain started fumbling in his back pocket. “Wait a 

minute.” He pulled out and read the business card for 

Sky High Tours that Eugene had given his dad. “A guy 

named Max Bigelow was flying that helicopter.” 

“We’ve got to tell somebody in Taniba Springs! Please, 

Sigigi, take us back,” Hailey begged. 

“Leave soon. But have to make sure town safe first. 

Don’t worry, Hailey. Cricket know how make escape.” 

Not consoled, Hailey cried out, “But Marcus won’t 

know how to escape! Where is he taking him?”

Marcus was being whisked away to a remote shack 

south of Taniba Springs. The noise from the helicopter’s 

engine was deafening and he could barely breathe. 

Although he couldn’t see, he was aware that Cricket and 

the children were laying on top of him. The tiny young 

woman was dead weight. When the net had hit them, 

she had fallen and hit her head on a rock. Cricket was 

knocked out. 
246

After about 40 minutes, Max sighted the shack and 

cleared field where he would set down the helicopter. 

During the flight from Turtletown Lennie had said 

nothing. Glancing at Lennie, Max growled, “Hey! Wake 

up. You better get ready to unhook the tarp.” 

 “When are you gonna let ’em go, Max? After they take 

the pictures?” 

“What? Oh, yeah. Sure.”

Max lowered the helicopter slowly until the tarpaulin 

bag touched the ground and was low enough for Lennie 

to jump out and unhook the cable. After Lennie gave 

the signal, he regained altitude and then landed a short 

distance away. Jumping out of the helicopter, Max raced 

across the small field to inspect his catch. Lennie had 

already pulled the cord that laced the grommets on the 

tarp. Unable to contain his excitement, Max grabbed one 

end of the canvas and jerked it. Marcus and the Little 

People rolled out, trapped in their net cocoon. Cricket 

began to regain consciousness. When Max pulled out 

a pocket knife and slit the net, her first impulse was to 

protect Foosi and Nikkami. She held onto them tightly. 

Groggily, she tried to think of her next move, but her 

brain just wasn’t working. She lay in the net, waiting 

to be seized. To her surprise, Max went after Marcus 

instead.

Snatching up the boy, Max yelled angrily, “Where’d 

this kid come from, Lennie? I thought we were capturing 
247

Little People. Does he look like one of them to you?” 

“I just fired the net. It was all so fast...I don’t...” 

Max could feel the panic start to rise. This wasn’t part 

of the plan. “Do you know what this means, Lennie? We 

just took somebody’s kid. Hey! Come on everybody—take 

a picture!” 

Max pushed Marcus away. He started rubbing his jaw 

and the back of his neck. Suddenly he turned and stared 

at the little boy. Icily, he said, “We gotta get rid of him.”

“What are you gonna do, Max? Take him back?”

“No, dump him in the woods.” Max grabbed Marcus 

by the arm, and despite the boy’s hollering and kicking, 

began hauling him toward the helicopter. 

Lennie ran after Max. “You don’t mean push him 

out?”

“I mean leave him in the forest where nobody will find 

him! This is somebody’s kid, Lennie—you wanna go to 

prison for kidnapping?” 

Cricket was helpless. Her head was clearing, but 

she still couldn’t think straight, much less work a spell. 

The bright, flashing lights in her eyes were driving her 

crazy. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to get rid of 

the fireworks. She couldn’t understand what the men 

were saying, but she could hear that the bigger, more 

dangerous one was leaving. They were dividing their 

forces. That would make it easier to deal with the other 
248

man. Cricket’s eyes flew open when she heard Marcus 

yelling. The man was dragging him away! Pulling herself 

up on one arm, she cried, “Marcus...!”

Max heard her. He turned on Lennie. “Help me get 

this kid in the chopper. Then get her and those little 

mice in the crates and load ’em in the truck. Tie ’em up if 

you have to. Then get back to the barn. We got company 

coming.” Lennie ran ahead and opened the door on the 

passenger side of the helicopter. Then he held Marcus 

down while Max strapped him in the seat. 

Max jumped in the pilot seat and revved up the 

engine. In minutes they were flying at 3,000 feet, 

headed toward the national park. Marcus’s heart was 

hammering in his chest. With tears streaming down his 

face, Marcus thought, He’s gonna leave me in the woods! 

I’ll be lost! Glancing fearfully at Max, he thought, he 

came down from the sky and got me—just like the hawk 

got Brother Rabbit. Marcus took in several shuddering 

gulps of air. The thought of Brother Rabbit seemed to 

calm him. He tried to stop crying. Then he heard the 

rabbit’s voice in his head: “When you in trouble, Marcus, 

don’t struggle. Think!” 

“Hey! What were you doing with those Little People?” 

Max’s sudden question made Marcus jump. He tried to 

think. Not wanting to reveal anything about why he and 

his sister were at Turtletown, Marcus told Duffy’s story 

instead. “Um, well, uh...they found me in the woods.” 
249

Max snickered and said, “Well, they’ll have to find you 

again, won’t they, kid?” 

Marcus closed his eyes and tried to concentrate. He 

told himself the story of the rabbit and the hawk from 

beginning to end. Yes! Brother Rabbit had tricked the 

hawk into letting him go. The rabbit had promised 

to flush partridges out of the briar patch...so that the 

hawk could eat them. When the hawk took his talons 

off his back, the rabbit ran into the briar patch and 

disappeared! Marcus was desperate enough to try the 

trick. Only he had to lure Max into the briar patch first.

Putting on his most pitiful voice, Marcus whined, “I 

was scared when I got lost, Mister! If you promise not 

to leave me in the woods, I’ll show you where you can 

capture plenty of Little People. Just take me back to 

where you found me. They got a chief that lives there. 

You can get him, too.”

Suddenly, Max was interested. He glanced in a side 

compartment to make sure Lennie hadn’t taken the net 

gun. Seeing that the gun was still on board, he asked, 

“You know where this chief is?”

“Uh-huh. Will you let me go if I show you?”

“Sure kid. Where is he? This chief.” 

“In a cave. He wears this feather cape and a big...” 

Marcus gestured with his hands over his head.

Max finished the sentence. “A big head-dress!” 
250

He banked the helicopter and started to head toward 

Turtletown. 

His eyes darting from side to side, Marcus was 

thinking fast. I’ll lead him into the town and...then...

Sigigi and Rain and Boomer will be there. Marcus 

squeezed his eyes together and prayed, Ooh, please, let 

Duffy be there, too!
251

Chapter 23

Max whistled. “Oh, man, look at that!” He couldn’t believe it. It was the chief—

just like the kid said. 

The Partridges Chase a Hawk 

Sigigi stepped aside on the trail and let Rain and Boomer 

go on ahead. He wanted to speak with Hailey for a 

moment. Walking beside her, he said, “Hailey, sorry I 

not leave sooner. Turtletown have to set up guard.” 

“I know, Sigigi. I’m just so worried about Marcus. 

Can’t we go any faster?” 

“No. Sorry. You go fast now—as fast as Little People 

go.” 

“Maybe when we get closer, I can pick up a cell phone 

signal. Then I can call my father. But what am I going to 

say?” she fretted.
252

Over his shoulder, Boomer said, “I thought you never 

got any bars last time—not until we were almost back at 

Taniba Spr...”

Rain, who was in the lead, stopped suddenly. He 

turned and looked at Sigigi. The little man had halted, 

too. He was listening intently. 

Hailey looked up. “Oh, no. I hear it, too.”

Rain didn’t say anything. A low branch of a tree 

presented an opportunity. He pulled himself up on the 

branch and scrambled up the tree until he could see the 

skyline. 

“Can you see it?” Boomer shouted.

The buzz of the engine grew louder. Instead of 

answering, Rain climbed up to a higher branch. 

Suddenly he pointed off to the east. “There it is! It’s 

headed toward Turtletown!” 

“Maybe it’s a different helicopter,” Hailey cried. “If it’s 

not the one that got Marcus, we won’t have to go back.” 

Holding onto the tree’s thickly leafed boughs, Rain 

safely made his way down the tree. When he dropped to 

the ground, he dashed Hailey’s hopes. “No, Hailey. Sky 

High Tours was painted on the helicopter. It looks like 

another raid.” 

Sigigi wasted no time discussing it. He was already 

running back the way they had come. The kids followed. 

They had no choice. Keeping a fast pace, they soon 
253

reached one of the major trails used by the Little 

People. In another 30 minutes, they met up with some 

scouts who were keeping watch at an outpost between 

Turtletown and Wolftown. They said that word had 

come that Turtletown was under attack again. Warriors 

from the other towns who had joined in the celebrations 

earlier in the day had begun to mass in the valley below 

Two Rabbit Mountain. 

Sigigi and the kids soon caught up with a party from 

Wolftown and another from Skunktown that had been 

patrolling nearby. Being part of such a large group 

made the kids feel secure. However, they were surprised 

when a warrior suddenly pulled them back off the trail 

into a thicket. A bird call up ahead alerted them that 

a Turtletown warrior was coming down the trail. The 

leaders of the Wolftown and Skunktown groups emerged 

and spoke with him. Sigigi pushed forward to find out 

what was going on. He returned quickly with the news: 

“They say helicopter at creek. They say Marcus there.” 

Rain was astonished. “You mean that Max guy 

brought Marcus back?”

“Yes. Marcus lead him into town...through secret 

place.” 

“That makes no sense!” Hailey cried. “Why would 

Marcus do that?”

At that moment, Marcus was leading “that Max 
254

guy” past the gardens on the outskirts of Turtletown. 

He had easily found the tree that served as one of the 

town’s hidden portals. But this time the Little People 

provided a much different reception than the one he had 

experienced that morning. The town was dead silent. 

Where is everybody? he thought.

At Max’s continued urging, he walked on—trying to 

be brave, but becoming more frightened with every step. 

He fretfully pulled at the rope the pilot had tied around 

his waist. What if everyone had run away? Marcus didn’t 

want to think about what would happen to him if there 

were no “partridges.” Or worse, what if Hailey, Rain, and 

Boomer had gone back to Taniba Springs? 

As they passed the ball ground, Max suddenly 

stopped. He put down the net gun and grabbed his cell 

phone. “Oh, man, who’d believe it! I gotta get a picture 

of those goal posts.” He aimed and snapped shots 

like a vacationing sightseer. Sweeping the scene with 

the phone to his eye, he hooted, “Hey, look at those 

little thatched houses over there!” When he’d finished 

thumbing through and admiring his album, he jerked the 

rope. “Okay, keep going.” 

Marcus stumbled on with Max pulling him up short 

when he saw a photo or video opportunity he couldn’t 

pass up. As they moved between the summer houses, 

Max gawked at everything: pottery bowls, baskets, a 

child’s moccasin—even the remains of half-eaten meals 
255

that had been hastily abandoned. Occasionally, before 

taking a picture, he would place a quarter beside an 

object to show how small it was. If the tabloids wanted 

evidence of the Little People, he’d give it to them!

A sudden movement out the corner of his eye made 

Marcus shift his gaze. Was someone peeking around 

the side of that corn crib? His senses now on high alert, 

the boy became aware of flickering shadows—small 

shadows—moving soundlessly behind the houses and 

among the tended blackberry thickets. They weren’t 

alone! Maybe his trick was working!

Looking around with some uneasiness, Max said, “Is 

it always this quiet?”

Marcus replied innocently, “Uh, yeah, they don’t 

make much noise—um, they take a lot of naps—in the 

cave.” 

Max sniggered. “They probably don’t even know I’ve 

got the girl and two kids. Where is this cave?

Marcus pointed. “Over there.”

Max followed Marcus up a small rise on one the 

pathways to the cave. When they topped the rise, the big 

public square and the Council House came into view. 

Beyond it, the mouth of the gigantic cave arched upward, 

its depths hidden in deep shadow. A fire flickering at 

the back of the cave’s black interior created a fantasy 

backdrop of dancing wraith-like figures. In front of this 

mysterious scene stood a tiny man resplendent in a long 
256

cape of iridescent blue and yellow feathers that gleamed 

in the sun. 

Max whistled. “Oh, man, look at that!” He couldn’t 

believe it. It was the chief—just like the kid said. A 

cool breeze, wafting from the cave’s subterranean 

shafts, fluttered the tall feathers that crested the brow 

of Turtletown’s “chief.” It floated serenely across the 

square, bringing images of mysterious underground 

passages where the Little People lived their secret lives.

Max’s mouth fell open (just as the Little Peoples’ 

spells intended). No longer interested in the boy, he 

dropped the rope fastened to Marcus’s waist. Raising the 

net gun to his shoulder, he shouted, “I’m gonna be rich!” 

Max charged across the square, taking careful aim at his 

trophy. No way he was gonna miss this shot! Wait ’til 

those Bigfoot dummies see this!

Suddenly, Max’s aim veered crazily off target. He 

stumbled to a stop and dropped the net gun. He gasped! 

A tingling nerve explosion was running up his right leg. 

Reaching down to swat off the venomous insect that had 

stung him, Max saw, instead, a bouquet of white fluff 

sticking in his ankle. He pulled at the fuzzy stuff and 

dislodged...a barb? 

Max was looking at the little missile when a war cry 

shattered the silence. Jerking upward, Max glanced 

around wildly. It was an ambush! A shower of blowgun darts hit him like a squadron of killer bees. Max 
257

screeched and ran, batting off the darts and a hail of tiny 

arrows unleashed by the ballplayers from Panthertown. 

Running back the way he had come, he jumped over four 

warriors who had come up behind him. But his retreat 

was blocked by a group of angry young women who 

bunched together, forcing him off the path. He crashed 

through a thicket and found another trail that went in 

the direction of the creek.

Scores of Little People came spilling out of the cave 

in fierce pursuit. Behind them came Rain, Boomer, and 

Hailey—all running as fast as they could to help Marcus. 

When Hailey reached her brother, she was beside 

herself. “Marcus! Oh, I’m so glad you’re okay!” The little 

boy hugged his sister so tightly that neither one of them 

could breathe. While Boomer unknotted Marcus’s tether, 

Rain went for the net gun that Max had dropped. He 

picked up the odd-looking launcher.

“What’s that?” Boomer asked. 

It was Marcus who answered. “It shoots out a net! 

That’s how he caught us.”

Rain examined the net gun carefully. “This looks like 

the trigger. I guess the net comes out of this end and it 

looks like...”

The rest of his sentence was drowned out by a party 

of Turtletown’s best defenders who came charging 

across the square. Sigigi was with them. His face flushed 

with excitement, he quickly stripped off the Headman’s 
258

feathered cape and headdress that he had used to lure 

Max. Handing them to Hailey, he said, “Go into cave. 

Take Marcus.” To the boys, he yelled, “Come! He run to 

creek. We set trap!”

Rain held up the net gun. “Come on, Boomer! Let’s 

see if we can’t catch Max Bigelow in his own trap!” 

The boys ran after Sigigi. The warriors’ plan was to 

get in front of Max by moving along the top of a small 

ridge that served as a natural wall on one side of the 

town. The ridge ran beside the path that led to the creek. 

With their longer strides, the boys soon overtook even 

the fastest of the Turtletown warriors. As they passed 

Sigigi, he shouted, “Run faster! He almost to helicopter!”

Rain picked up speed. His legs were longer than 

Boomer’s and he was soon in the lead. From the 

viewpoint of the ridgeline, he could see and hear the 

commotion of the chase up ahead. Sigigi was right! Max 

had almost reached the creek. The helicopter was only a 

short sprint away. Rain spotted Max lurching from side 

to side trying to avoid the torrent of darts and pebbles 

that the Little People rained upon him. 

Rain halted and positioned himself. He raised the 

net gun and aimed at the pilot, but there were too many 

town folk in the way. Rain had missed his shot. 

Max reached the beach. Thinking he was safe, he 

shook his fist at the Little People. “I know where you 

live...I’ll catch you all for this. I’ll be back!” 
Rain fired the net gun—fooph! The boom of the launcher silenced the angry 

pursuers who had begun to surge forward. They stopped and watched the net float 

soundlessly through the air.

261

Laughing triumphantly, he turned and ran—straight 

into a human wall.

Chapter 24

“Cricket say she get away from man called Lennie. He bring water and she 

touch him. He go away. Cricket not sure if she say big spell or little spell.”

Little People Justice

It was Duffy! Staring goggled-eyed at the young giant, 

Max gulped in fear and let out a shriek that even 

made Duffy jump. It never occurred to Mr. Bigelow 

that Goliath might be living with the Little People. 

He stumbled backwards, giving Rain an opening for 

his shot. The net gun fired—fooph! The boom of the 

launcher silenced the angry pursuers who had begun to 

surge forward. They stopped and watched the net float 
262

soundlessly through the air. When it landed on Max, 

entangling his feet and bringing him to his knees, the 

Little People broke into a cheer of triumph. 

 The Turtletown warriors quickly surrounded the 

man who had stolen Cricket and the children. They were 

angry, but they parted to let Duffy through. The young 

giant reached down and wound the net around Max. 

Then holding one end in a tight grip, he dragged him, 

bumping over rocks and tree roots, back to the public 

square. A parade of Little People followed, including 

Sigigi and the boys. The town council was waiting in 

the square in front of the cave. All of the old people and 

mothers with children who had hidden in the cave had 

ventured out and were standing at its rim. Hailey and 

Marcus were with them.

Max lay on the ground in the middle of the square, 

twisted in the net. Finally, he sat up. He started to 

protest, but thought better of it when he saw Duffy 

standing over him. Instead, he sullenly watched as the 

elders talked among themselves. 

The council members had different opinions about 

what should happen to the pilot. Some believed he 

should be made to disappear in the forest, while others 

thought he could be imprisoned with a spell. A few said 

that in past times his violation of the Little People would 

have been rewarded with the ultimate punishment. It 

was the Beloved Woman who raised an issue that halted 
263

the discussion—and decided Max’s fate. “We don’t want 

a search party to come looking for the whirling bird. It 

must be returned to the Big People’s town. How can that 

happen if the man does not fly it?” Then she added: “I 

also think we should consult Hailey. The man tried to 

harm her brother.” 

Osihishi the Headman thought about this. “Yes, this 

requires more thinking—and the viewpoints of those who 

have been affected.” He stood up and motioned Sigigi to 

come forward. When Sigigi arrived at his side, he spoke 

to him briefly. In response, the young man hurried to the 

base of the cave and looked up. “Hailey! Come down. We 

need you.” 

Pointing to herself, Hailey cried in surprise, “Me?” 

Sigigi nodded. 

Marcus pulled at her arm. “What does he want you to 

do?”

Hailey just shook her head. “I don’t know. I’ll be 

right back—I guess.” She made her way down the steps 

from the cave. Sigigi took her aside and explained the 

situation. He said that the Beloved Woman believed she 

should have a say in deciding what they should do with 

Max. 

Max Bigelow watched as the African-American girl 

followed one of the little guys across the square. He had 

already spotted her standing next to that double-dealing 

little weasel. She must be the boy’s sister. His temper 
264

flaring, Max glanced up at Duffy. What a funny farm did 

this over-grown clown escape from? Being a jerk that 

he was, Max sneered, “Hey, Captain America! You like 

playing superhero?”

Duffy leaned over and said cheerfully, “I’d watch it, 

Mister, or the only helicopter you’ll be driving is a kiddie 

ride.” 

Max ignored Duffy and focused his irritation on the 

town council. Everybody kept talking and talking. Now 

the girl was huddled with the old white-haired lady. 

Max stared at them and mumbled, “Blah, blah, blah...” 

Bored, he hunched over and started pulling barbs out 

of his clothes. He pulled out one that accidentally stuck 

in his finger. His loud “ouch” caused several Little 

People to turn and look at him unsympathetically. Max 

glared back. Fortunately (or unfortunately), the council 

wouldn’t keep him waiting much longer.

Sumpuhke, the Beloved Woman, was walking across 

the square toward Max. She stopped just short of 

where the pilot sat and called Duffy. He went to her 

immediately and knelt down to hear the words she 

spoke in his ear. He stepped back, and the little woman 

approached the pilot. She reached into her cloak and 

pulled out a small stick. 

Max snickered. “That your magic wand?”

The Beloved Woman’s lips moved as she gently 

touched him on the arm with the stick. Then Duffy 
265

cut the net to release Max. A murmur arose from the 

crowd—but the Beloved Woman calmed them with a 

gesture. Then she motioned to Duffy.

Duffy nodded. Looking down at Max, he asked. 

“Where did you take Cholotka and the children?” 

In no particular hurry, Max disentangled his feet from 

the net and stood up. “Oh, Lennie should have them 

back at the barn by now. The newspaper’s coming to take 

pictures.” Smiling, he looked around and waved, “Hi!” 

No one waved back. Grinning like a little kid, he rushed 

up to some of the onlookers, excitedly babbling, “I’m 

gonna be on TV! Maybe even get a reality show!” When 

he spotted Rain and Boomer on the edge of the crowd, 

he grabbed at them like they were his long lost friends. 

“Come on! Get in the chopper! We’re gonna be famous!”

Boomer pulled back. “Is he crazy?”

Rain was looking for Hailey. She would know what 

was going on. He spotted her making her way through 

the crowd. Marcus was with her. Glancing over at Max 

who was taking Boomer’s picture, Rain asked, “Hailey, 

why is he so happy?”

“Well, uh, Sigigi said they’ve ‘confused’ him. Despite 

what he’s done, the Little People haven’t hurt him—just 

mixed him up a little. The Beloved Woman realized 

that Max and the helicopter have to get back to Taniba 

Springs—otherwise, an air search will be ordered and 

there will be more helicopters flying around. So, Max will 
266

fly back the helicopter. And we’re going with him.”

“What? We are going with Max Bigelow?” Boomer 

said incredulously.

“That’s why he’s so happy,” Hailey explained, “he 

thinks we are the Little People he came to capture.”

“Man! That is confused,” Boomer said. 

Sigigi came up behind the boys. “Yes, but not so 

confused he not fly. He think you Little People now. But 

after time pass, he forget that... and everything...”

Rain shook his head. “Wow. I thought Coyote was full 

of tricks.” 

A young girl ran up to Sigigi. She was carrying a small 

painted pot with a lid. She spoke to him, pointing toward 

Max. Duffy took Max by the arm and led him to the girl. 

She opened the pot which contained a fragrant salve and 

began applying it to Max’s lower legs. Then she gave the 

pot to Duffy and directed him to put the salve on any 

scratches or small wounds on his upper body. Max got 

happier. “Hey, that stuff feels great.”

Sigigi said, “Toloowa send medicine. She say when he 

go home, he look okay. He heal. Nobody see.” 

Just then, a series of calls could be heard that had 

started with a scout posted to the west of Turtletown. 

Sigigi was immediately alert. He listened carefully. 

Suddenly he turned and ran, hollering over his shoulder, 

“Cricket is back!” Skidding to a stop, Sigigi hurried back 
267

to his young friends. “Hold on. Don’t turn that dial! I 

bring her.”

Boomer hollered, “Whoo-hoo! Way to go, Cricket!” 

Taking a cue from Boomer, Marcus starting yelling, 

“Whoo-hoo! Whoo-hoo!” Some women and children 

nearby heard them and began laughing. 

Hailey was beginning to understand more about the 

Little Peoples’ powers. Quietly, she said, “Sigigi said she 

would get away.”

The kids sat down under the shade of the fruit trees 

and waited for Sigigi and Cricket. Max was wandering 

about taking photos. No longer a threat, no one was 

paying much attention to him. Boomer laughed when 

he heard Max tell some kids that they would go viral on 

YouTube.

Rain said to Hailey, “It looks like the council really 

worked all this out.”

“Yeah, they asked me what I thought about their 

plan. They said since Marcus had been taken, I should 

be given the right to speak. I told them it sounded pretty 

good to me.” Hailey hesitated, “They talked about a lot of 

things. Like, uh, moving the town.”

Rain was surprised. “You mean abandoning 

Turtletown?” 

“Not abandoning it, but moving it further away. They 

are really disturbed by the kidnapping. They said they’ve 

moved towns before when Big People caused trouble.” 
268

Boomer stood up. “Hey! Here comes Sigigi and 

Cricket.” 

Cricket ran up to Marcus and hugged him. “Marcus, 

you’re okay! I was so worried when the man took you 

away.” 

Marcus was jumping up and down. “How did you get 

away?” Looking around, he cried, “Where are Foosi and 

Nikkami?”

Sigigi caught up and translated. “Cricket say she 

happy you okay.” Then he answered Marcus’s questions. 

“We take kids to Niska. They fine.” About her escape, he 

said, “Cricket say she get away from man called Lennie. 

He bring water and she touch him. He go away. Cricket 

not sure if she say big spell or little spell.”

“Does it make a difference?” Rain asked.

“Yes. Big spell last forever. Little spell not so long.” 

Cricket was looking at Marcus intently. Turning to her 

brother, she asked a question that made Sigigi smile.

Sigigi translated: “She want to know how you get man 

to bring you back to Turtletown.”

With complete confidence, Marcus said, “I promised 

him I’d show him how to get more Little People.” 

“Marcus!” Hailey cried. “You mean he’d didn’t force 

you to show him the way into Turtletown?” 

“No, it was like the story Brother Rabbit told me 

about the hawk catching him. The rabbit told him that 
269

if he let him go, he’d get him lots of partridges that lived 

in his briar patch. I promised Little People instead of 

partridges. But I knew you guys—and Duffy—would 

be here to save me.” Hailey and the boys just stared at 

Marcus. Smiling sweetly, he shrugged and said, “Well, 

Brother Rabbit said his stories would make me smarter.”

Sigigi translated Marcus’s words for Cricket. Then he 

said, “She say Two Rabbit right. You smart.”

Grinning, Rain looked over at Sigigi. “And you were 

a pretty good partridge—dressed up in the Headman’s 

clothes.”

Sigigi smiled. “Yes, I hear story of rabbit and hawk, 

too.” Everybody laughed.

Boomer, never one to show much sensitivity for 

timing, suddenly threw a damper on the conversation. 

“Hailey said the council is talking about moving 

Turtletown.”

The smile immediately disappeared from Sigigi’s 

face. “Yes, and say maybe not go to Big People town 

anymore.” Sadly, he added, “Where I get battery for 

radio?” 

Rain understood Sigigi’s concern. “Yes, it’s probably 

not a bad thing to know what the Big People are up to.”

“Do you know someone who could buy the batteries?” 

Boomer asked. Sigigi shook his head. 

“We can come back and buy them!” Marcus yelled. 
270

Disappointing her brother, Hailey said, “I don’t think 

we’ll be coming back any time soon.” 

“Is there anybody you could trust?” Rain asked.

Sigigi thought about this. Finally, he told them the 

story about the woman who listened to a warning from 

his uncle. She had respected the Little People and 

stopped her husband from diverting water away from 

a spring that was a major source of water for several of 

their towns. He said he remembered well the way she 

had looked at him. Sigigi struggled a bit to express what 

he had sensed about her. Then he said, “She act like we 

are relatives.” 

“Does she still live on that farm?” Rain asked.

“Yes. And she sell food on big road in Big People 

town.”

“We’ll try to find her, Sigigi,” Rain said. “If she did get 

the batteries—where should she leave them?” 

Sigigi looked hopefully at Rain. “At spring in back her 

house. House far from Big People town.” Then he added, 

“You see her, say ‘thank you’ for not stop spring water.” 

“Sigigi,” Cricket interrupted her brother, pointing her 

chin behind him. 

Sigigi turned around. Some of the council members 

were approaching. “Look like time to go,” he said sadly. 

The kids watched as one of the elders sent a boy to get 

Max. The pilot got up and followed him meekly toward 
271

the creek. 

 Rain looked around. “Well, I guess this is it.” 

Everybody suddenly got very quiet. 

Boomer laughed a little. “I hope Max doesn’t forget 

how to fly.”

“Don’t worry, Boomer. Spell not work that way.” 

Suddenly, it hit him that he might never see his young 

friends again. He sighed and said, “No more ‘tune in 

tomorrow at the same time.’ Too bad you live far away.” 

“I’ll come back! I promise I will.” Marcus shouted. 

“Besides I want to see Brother Rabbit again.” 

Sigigi’s sister smiled at the boy. She knew he wouldn’t 

understand her farewells—so she just hugged him and 

whispered the name he called her—“Cricket.” 

 “Sigigi,” Rain said, “Boomer and I have to come back. 

We have so much to learn from you, and...and we have to 

share with the Little People everything the eagle teaches 

us.”

Hailey had been silent up to now. Suddenly, she burst 

into tears, “I’ll never forget you, Sigigi.” Choking, she 

gasped, “You really are ‘the top of the chart’...”

Sigigi looked away. Now he understood the special 

relationship that the Little People forged with some of 

the Big People’s children. It was not only knowledge that 

they gave them, but love as well. Sigigi turned abruptly 

and walked toward the creek, not wanting the kids to see 
272

his face. He motioned for them to follow. 

The town folk from Turtletown and their visitors from 

the other towns were already gathered at the creek. Max 

was sitting in the pilot’s seat of the helicopter waving 

happily at the crowd. Duffy was holding open the left 

door of the helicopter, waiting for them to board. 

When the kids arrived, everyone began cheering 

and waving their farewells. Osihishi the Headman, 

Sumpuhke the Beloved Woman, Chukmena, and the 

other members of the council were standing together on 

the little bluff where Rain had fired the net gun. They 

were waving, too. 

As they made their way slowly to the beach, someone 

began calling Sigigi’s name. It was Toloowa. He saw 

Cricket trying to help the little healer through the crowd. 

Sigigi went to her assistance and drew her forward. 

She wanted to say something to Rain. Sigigi listened 

respectfully. With Toloowa’s gaze fixed intently on the 

boy, he said, “She say bee not sting any more Little 

People. Now she know eagle wisdom, she will teach all 

towns.” 

Rain heard Max turn over the engine in preparation 

for takeoff. He leaned down and gave Toloowa a hug. 

Standing up, Rain looked at Sigigi, but he didn’t know 

how to say good-bye. The young man of the Little People 

smiled wistfully and raised his hand. “Keep on rockin’, 

Rain that Dances.” 
273

Rain turned and joined his friends. They bent down 

and shuffled under the rotor blades to the helicopter. 

Boomer, Hailey and Marcus stepped up into the cabin 

and buckled their safety belts. Rain was the last to board. 

Duffy reached out to shake his hand. Grasping his huge 

fingers, Rain remembered Duffy’s story about how the 

Little People had helped to bring harmony to their towns 

by “doing a kindness.” He had intended to ask Sigigi 

more about it. But he had forgotten. 

Duffy saw Rain’s hesitation. Thinking he wanted 

to say something, the young giant waited. When Rain 

remained silent, Duffy simply said, “Bye, Rain.” 

“Good-bye, Duffy.”

Rain jumped in the helicopter, and Duffy firmly shut 

the door. He and the Little People moved back, and Max 

roared up the engines. The blades began to rotate, faster 

and faster, until the helicopter lifted off. The kids yelled 

their good-byes, and the people waved their arms over 

their heads. Then the whirling bird abruptly leaned into 

a wide arc over the town and zoomed away over the tree 

tops.

275

Chapter 25

A tiny fluffy barb was sticking out from under the collar on Max’s shirt. She 

reached over and plucked out the miniature blow gun dart. 

The Spectacular News Story

Back at Sky High Tours, the photographer from the 

Taniba Springs Herald sat in the shade of the barn, 

watching Lennie Blatch wandering in a nearby field. 

News was slow—but this was ridiculous. How did he and 

Suzanne get so lucky? 

“What is he doing now, Tommy?” Suzanne, one of 

the two reporters at the Herald, was concerned. She 

wondered if Lennie’s strange behavior had anything to 

do with the “spectacular news story” that Max Bigelow 

had promised.

“Well, after he ran away from me, he started throwing 
276

metal scraps out of that box over there. Now he’s picking 

weeds in that field. Did you get hold of his wife?” 

“Yes. I called the casino gift shop. Gussie said she 

would get her sister to pick her up. They’ll be over here 

as quick as they can. I can’t find Max. There’s nobody 

at the customer desk. I guess he and Lennie run the 

business by themselves.”

“Did ‘Mr. Big’ give any hint what this all about?”

“No, only that that....wait now, how did he say it? It 

will ‘make leprechauns the next big thing.’” Suzanne 

opened her notebook. “So how should I lead off this 

story? ‘Local pilot discovers pot of gold in reservation 

landfill?’ Or ‘Pot O’ Gold slot machine pays off millions 

in Lucky Charms to local pilot?’”

The Herald news team had just about given up on 

Max when they heard the sound of approaching rotor 

blades. Lennie heard the helicopter, too. He started 

running across the field—straight toward the helipad 

where the helicopter would land. He was waving a fistful 

of weeds over his head. 

Alarmed, Suzanne cried. “Get him, Tommy! He’s 

gonna get killed. He’s got no sense at all.” 

Tommy jumped up and ran toward Lennie. He 

grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled him to safety. 

“Hey, fella, watcha got there? Let’s get away from the 

landing pad and you can show me.”
277

Wide-eyed, Lennie stared blankly at the 

photographer. “Uh, I’ve got some...” Suddenly, he 

shouted, “I know! Flowers for Gussie. And there she is!”

Tommy turned to see Myrtle Owl’s old van churning 

up the gravel road to Sky High Tours. Lennie wriggled 

out of the photographer’s grip and charged toward the 

van. Myrtle pulled up in front of the barn and cut the 

engine. Gussie unbuckled her seatbelt and jumped out. 

“Lennie! What’s going on?”

“Gussie! I picked these for you!” He thrust the weeds 

in her face and turned to run off again. “We’ll make 

millions. I’ll get more!” 

Gussie reached out and held on to his arm before he 

could escape. “Stop, Lennie. Calm down.” Myrtle came 

around the car and helped her sister guide her husband 

into the barn. They sat him down in Max’s office. 

Myrt turned on a little fan that sat on the desk. “Here, 

Lennie. Cool off for a minute.” 

Suzanne poked her head in the office. “Is there 

anything we can do?”

Myrtle looked up. “I don’t think so. I’m not sure what 

the problem is. But thanks for calling, Suzanne.”

“Well, holler if you need us. We’ll be around for a 

while longer. We’re supposed to get some pictures of 

something Max Bigelow wants us to see. The helicopter’s 

coming in now.” 
278

Lennie was jerking open the drawers in Max’s desk. 

“He’s got a list of those supermarket newspapers, honey. 

I gotta call ’em. They’ll know what to do.” 

Gussie was getting very upset. “What’s wrong with 

him, Myrt?” 

“I’ll get him some water.” Myrtle found a bottle in a 

small refrigerator and took it to her sister. 

Pouring the water into a paper cup, Gussie said, 

“Maybe Max knows something.” 

“I’ll ask him, Gussie.” Myrtle was beginning to get 

suspicious. She thought she knew what Max wanted 

to show the news team. She went outside and joined 

Suzanne and Tommy.

The helicopter appeared over a low hill two miles 

from the Sky Tours landing zone. At about 900 feet 

it started a constant descent and decrease in ground 

speed. Max expertly brought the chopper to zero speed 

at approximately three feet off the ground and lowered 

it gently dead center on the helipad. He cut the engine 

and the blades slowly stopped rotating. When all was 

quiet, Max opened the right door and jumped out. 

He ran toward Suzanne and Tommy hollering, “I got 

’em! I got ’em!” Coming to an abrupt halt, he looked 

around. “Where’s everybody else? I thought there’d be 

a reception committee. Never mind, just start taking 

pictures!” Laughing hysterically, he dashed back to the 

helicopter. Jerking open the passenger door, he started 
279

pulling out the kids. 

 Rain stumbled out first, then Hailey and Marcus, 

and finally Boomer. Max grandly swept out his arm, 

introducing his prizes like a TV game show host. “I give 

you—the Little People!” 

Myrtle and the news team walked over to the 

helicopter. Tommy took a couple of shots just for kicks, 

but Suzanne wasn’t having any of it. “What kind of a joke 

is this? Come on, Tommy, let’s pack it up.” 

Max freaked out. “No! No! Don’t leave. Please!” He 

pulled out his cell phone and frantically began to pull 

up his photos—“Look! I’ve got proof!” But where there 

had been dozens of pictures and video of Little People, 

there were now only blurry images of bushes and trees. 

Desperate, Max ran to the barn, shouting, “Lennie! Bring 

out the other ones!” 

The befuddled mechanic appeared at the barn door. 

“Where’s your Little People, Max? I lost mine.” 

Myrtle was sizing up the situation. Both Max and 

Lennie were talking about Little People. But these four 

children were clearly not Little People. Giving the kids a 

reassuring smile, she said, “Are you guys okay?”

Rain answered nervously. “Uh, yeah, we’re fine.” 

Boomer, Hailey, and Marcus nodded earnestly in 

agreement. “Oh, yeah. No problem here.” 

Myrtle knew almost all of the families on the 
280

reservation. She didn’t recognize Rain or Boomer. 

“Where are you from?”

Rain introduced everyone. “We’re visiting. Our dads 

are attending a conference here this week.” 

“Did you book a tour with Max?”

“Well, not exactly. We...ah...”

Suddenly, Max rushed at Myrtle. “Aren’t they great? 

Have you ever seen anything like them? You should see 

the real itsy-bitsy ones that Lennie’s got!” He stared 

wild-eyed at Myrtle. “You’ve got to believe me...there 

really are Little People.”

Myrtle glanced over at Lennie, then back at Max. 

It was obvious. Lennie hadn’t listened to her warning. 

Myrtle pushed the pilot back a little. She smiled and 

said the words he wanted to hear. “I do believe you, Mr. 

Bigelow.” 

Myrtle wasn’t just trying to humor him. As close 

as Max was to her, she saw the evidence. A tiny fluffy 

barb was sticking out from under the collar on Max’s 

shirt. She reached over and plucked out the miniature 

blow gun dart. Then she pulled out a tissue, wrapped it 

around the dart, and carefully replaced it in her overalls 

pocket. Myrtle patted Max on the shoulder and said, 

“Just calm down.” Then she walked over to the children 

who were standing to the side, watching. By the looks on 

their faces, they knew something. “Are you kids staying 

in town?” 
281

“We’re at the Bear Cove Campground,” Boomer said. 

“And Hailey and Marcus are staying at the casino hotel.” 

Hailey had been texting with her father. She told 

Myrtle that he was expecting them at 1:00 p.m. at the 

hotel. 

 “Tell him where you are and that I’m gonna give 

you kids a lift into town.” She helped Gussie put Lennie 

in the van. He had become very docile and gave them 

no trouble. Gussie said they should take him to the 

reservation clinic. Myrtle knew there was nothing a 

doctor could do, but she agreed. It might make Gussie 

feel better. 

Lennie was stretched out on the back seat with 

Gussie, so she put Hailey and Marcus in front seat. Rain 

and Boomer could ride on the floor in back. 

Standing behind the van, Myrtle said, “Just push 

aside those baskets of produce, fellas. There should be 

enough room.” As she closed the back doors, she heard 

Boomer whisper to Rain, “Lennie’s the one that Cricket 

put the spell on.” Myrtle sighed. The boy had confirmed 

what she already knew.

Suzanne and Tommy turned their car around and 

headed out to Reservation Road. Myrtle started up the 

van and followed. Suddenly, Max began banging on the 

driver’s window: “Stop! Stop! Don’t go!” Myrtle slowly 

pulled forward. She didn’t pick up speed until she was 

clear of the pilot. Looking in the rearview mirror, she 
282

saw Max running after them, waving his arms.

Gussie was shaken. “This is freaky, Myrt. Max must 

have the same thing that Lennie does.” 

“We’ll tell them at the clinic. Maybe the fire 

department can send somebody out here.” 

Myrt took a right and headed toward town. Lennie 

soon dropped off to sleep and was snoring softly. After 

they’d driven about three miles, she pulled off onto a 

roadside clearing. “Kids, this is my fruit and vegetable 

stand. I’m gonna unload the produce in the back, and 

then we’ll be on our way. I can do it faster if you boys 

back there will help.” Getting out of the van, she said, 

“Hailey, Marcus, if you’d like to pick out some fruit 

to take with you, come on and help yourself. I’ve got 

blackberries and peaches...”

Nobody moved. Hailey whipped around her head, 

staring at the boys who were staring at her. Rain 

mouthed, “It’s her!” This was the lady who Sigigi was 

talking about! 

Rain unlatched the back of the van. “Sure, we’ll 

help. Come on, Boomer. Let’s get this stuff.” The boys 

unloaded the baskets and followed Myrtle. Hailey and 

Marcus hauled some sacks of beans, too. 

The kids put the produce on the porch of the fruit 

stand. It sheltered two rows of wooden trays filled with 

corn, beans, tomatoes, sweet potatoes, and fruits. Myrtle 

hadn’t had time to move the produce inside when Gussie 
283

had called. Unlocking the door to the little store, Myrtle 

asked, “Have you ever eaten a maypop? They grow wild 

around here. Some of them ripened a little early this 

year.” 

The kids were curious. Boomer said, “I’ve never had 

one. That would be cool.” 

“What’s a maypop?” Marcus asked. 

Myrtle got a bag and picked out several of the yellow, 

hen’s egg-sized fruits from a small wooden crate. 

Showing them to the kids, she said, “That’s a maypop. 

They grow on a vine.” She added some peaches and a 

pint of blackberries as well. “There’s enough for your 

dads, too.” 

Rain accepted the bag and stood there not quite 

sure how to proceed. Myrtle looked at him with raised 

eyebrows. “Don’t you kids like fruit?” 

“Oh, yeah, we love it. Thanks a lot. Um...well, um.” 

Rain remembered the sign over the vegetable stand—

“Big Myrt’s Fruits and Veggies.” “Ah, are you Myrt?” 

“Sure am. That’s what everybody calls me.” 

Ran put the bag of fruit on the floor. “Well, we have 

something to ask you,” Rain said. “We have a friend—a 

little friend...”

“A little friend?” Myrtle thought to herself, here it 

comes. They’re going to tell me what happened to Max 

and Lennie.
284

“You know him,” Boomer said cheerily.

Boomer’s statement caught her totally by surprise. 

“What do you mean I know him? Know who?”

“His uncle wanted your husband to stop damming 

up the spring,” Rain explained. “He—our friend—was 

standing at the back of your yard. He said you saw him. 

After that, you left the spring alone. See, their towns got 

water from that spring.”

Hailey added, “Sigigi said to thank you.” 

Myrtle Owl sat down on a crate. She was 

dumbfounded. “I...ah...I remember that day very well.” 

Only now, Myrtle thought, I know why Wesley had to 

stop tampering with the spring. 

Rain went on. “Well, he needs you to do him a favor. 

He needs some AA batteries. From time to time could 

you leave some by the spring?” 

“Batteries?”

“Double As. For his radio,” Boomer said matter-offactly. 

Myrtle nodded slowly. “For his radio. Oh, yes. Of 

course, I’ll do that.” 

“Thanks. Um...we’re sorry about Lennie,” Hailey said. 

“Is he your brother-in-law?”

“Yes, he is. I warned him, but he didn’t listen. It was 

all Max’s idea.” Myrtle sighed. “We’re taking him to the 

doctor, but it won’t do any good.” 
285

Trying to make Myrtle feel better, Boomer said 

brightly, “The spell on Lennie may not be as bad as the 

one they put on Max.”

The big woman stood up. Always cautious, she said, “I 

think we’re saying too much now. You kids just keep this 

to yourselves, okay?”

Rain smiled. “We understand, Myrt. Don’t we, guys?” 

Boomer nodded and Hailey said, “Yeah, we promise 

not to say anything about the Little People.”

Gussie poked her head in the little store. “Myrt, can 

we get going? Lennie’s waking up.”

“Sure. We’re coming.” Going out on the porch, she 

said, “Don’t forget the fruit.” Rain reached down to get 

the bag, but it was gone. So was Marcus. 

Hailey looked outside, but didn’t see him. “Marcus! 

Where are you?” she shouted. 

“Over here!” Marcus had the bag of fruit. The bright 

yellow pods of the maypop just begged to be played with. 

Like thousands of kids before him, he’s discovered that 

if you step on a maypop—they pop! “Listen to this!” he 

yelled. Marcus put one of the maypops on the ground 

and stomped it. The fruit burst like a popped paper bag. 

Myrtle laughed. She remembered how they used to 

do that when she was a kid. “Well, you won’t be eating 

that one. I’ll get you a few more.” Stepping back inside 

the store, she absentmindedly thrust her hands in her 
286

pockets. Her fingers found the tissue-wrapped dart. 

The image of the small youth disappearing into the sun 

instantly took shape in her mind. Myrtle Owl smiled. So, 

his name is Sigigi...
287

Chapter 26

“Marcus learned Brother Rabbit’s lesson—that the little rabbit can outsmart 

the big bear.”

The Power of Stories

After Myrtle dropped them off, the kids headed to 

the hotel lobby. The final session of the conference 

was over at 1:00 p.m. Rain glanced at the clock over 

the registration desk. It was 12:20 p.m. No one made 

mention of the fact that only 3 hours had lapsed since 

they left Taniba Springs that morning. They were used to 

“Little People time” now. 

Rain and Boomer collapsed into a big couch across 

from the hallway to the conference center. The chair that 

Marcus crawled into was so oversized that his feet barely 
288

hung over the end of the seat cushion. Reaching into his 

pocket, he pulled out a match box that Myrtle had given 

him. The box housed two cicadas that he had found on 

the tailgate of her van just as they were leaving. Along 

with a couple of extra maypops stuffed in his pockets, 

the large red-eyed insects promised considerable 

entertainment. Until he let them go, of course. 

Hailey took the bag of fruit to her room and put it in 

the refrigerator. Catching her reflection in a mirror, she 

thought about trying to do something with her hair. She 

had pulled it back into a fat, untidy ponytail on their 

emergency return to Turtletown. But she was just too 

tired to fool with it. Instead she trudged to the elevator 

and went back to the lobby. Spotting the boys, she 

stretched out on the couch across from them. If someone 

else wanted to sit down, they would just have to find 

another seat. 

Boomer announced that he was thirsty and went to 

buy some bottles of water. When he returned, Marcus 

had already dropped off into a doze. He handed a bottle 

to Rain and Hailey; then opened his own and took a long 

swig. Twisting back on the top, he took a deep breath 

and stated the obvious: “Wow! This has been some 

adventure.” 

With her head resting on the arm of the couch, Hailey 

gazed up at the lobby ceiling. “I can’t believe it. The 

Little People’s towns have been saved. Once from a good 
289

guy—Eugene—and once from a bad guy—Max.”

“And both times, it was because of Brother Rabbit,” 

Rain said.

Hailey glanced proudly at her sleeping brother. “He 

remembered the story about the hawk that Brother 

Rabbit told him.”

Rain looked at Marcus, too. “Yeah, the little rabbit can 

outwit the hawk—even after he’s been caught. For a little 

guy Marcus sure fooled Max Bigelow.”

Boomer added, “‘The Moon in the Millpond’ worked 

pretty well on the business committee, too.”

 But Rain didn’t hear Boomer. He was thinking about 

the power of little things. Sigigi and the Little People had 

taught him a lot about that. They were tiny, but their 

power was great. 

Boomer sat back down and clasped his fingers behind 

his head. “Yeah, I still feel kinda bad about Eugene 

though. But Brother Rabbit’s shape-shift was awesome.” 

Rain sat up a little straighter. He was just realizing 

how small things that we do together as individuals 

can add up to become a powerful force—like the 

storytelling network that had fueled Brother Rabbit’s 

transformation. “He was awesome, Boomer. But he 

couldn’t have done it without the help from all our 

friends...and a lot of kids we don’t even know.”

Boomer pumped his fist in the air. “Whoo-hoo! 
290

Wabbit Power!” 

“Yeah,” Rain said thoughtfully, “the power of 

stories...”

Suddenly Boomer remembered Thomas Wang. “I bet 

he’ll be surprised when he finds out that his proposal 

won.” 

Hailey screamed: “Eeeeee! The business committee 

is gonna go bonkers when he doesn’t look like Jackie 

Chan!” 

Rain laughed. “Yeah, the trick that just keeps on 

tricking.”

Hailey yawned. She was getting sleepy and a little 

giddy. What day was it? “I don’t think I’ll ever stop 

thinking about Sigigi and Cricket. If I knew which radio 

stations he listened to I would dedicate a song to them 

or something. You know, ‘This goes out to all you Little 

People out there...’”

At 1:10 p.m., the double doors to the conference 

center swung open and a hubbub of talk filled the lobby. 

Don and Gerald emerged with a small group of tribal 

representatives whose nametags identified them as being 

part of a business consortium from the Northwest. The 

kids watched them exchange business cards and other 

gestures of friendly departure.

Rain and Hailey waved at their fathers. The chattering 

of the conference attendees awoke Marcus, who sat up 
291

and waved too. Don and Gerald joined the kids and took 

them out to a nearby sandwich shop. It didn’t get past 

Don that Marcus’s shirt and pants were covered in dirt, 

and Hailey had twigs in her hair. Gerald also noticed 

that Rain and Boomer didn’t have much appetite and 

they looked dog-tired. They’d sure been draggy at the 

powwow last night, too. 

“What have you guys been up to? What were you 

doing out there at Sky High Tours?” Don asked.

Hailey replied (leaving out all the important details), 

“We went on a hike in the woods with a guide. We 

learned a lot about the forest around here.” 

Don didn’t look pleased. “Hailey, you didn’t ask 

permission to do that, Sweetie.” Gerald wasn’t too 

happy about it, either. He gave Rain a look—like did you 

instigate this? 

Luckily, Marcus rode to the rescue with a nifty 

diversion. “Hey, Daddy. We brought you some fruit. 

Have you ever heard a maypop pop?” 

“I’ve heard of maypops, but I never heard one,” Don 

confessed. The conversation then turned to things that 

Don and Gerald remembered doing as kids—including 

some things they got in trouble for. Rain always liked his 

father’s stories about his childhood, but he was eager to 

hear about their fishing trip.

“So, Dad, when are we gonna catch those ‘brookies’ 

and ‘brownies?’”
292

“Starting tomorrow. Trout, here we come!” 

 Since it didn’t look as if the kids were going to 

finish their lunch, Gerald picked up the check and they 

walked back to the hotel. Along the way, they planned 

for Don and his kids to meet Gerald and the boys at the 

campground early the next morning—then they would 

head out to a fish camp on Turkey Hen Creek. The rest of 

today would be best spent doing laundry, packing up—

and napping. As they crossed the courtyard in front of 

the hotel, Marcus suddenly entertained everybody with 

an impromptu demonstration of the maypop stomp. It 

was impressive, but Don told him to clean up the mess 

anyway.
293

Chapter 27

Rain walked over to the dejected boy and put his hand on his shoulder. “I was 

your age when the eagle talked to me. I was afraid he wouldn’t come back, but 

he did. Brother Rabbit won’t forget you. He can’t.” 

Brother Rabbit’s Gifts

Don’s SUV, followed by Gerald hauling the old 

Airstream, maneuvered along the twists and turns on 

the road that paralleled the Conetah River. Sitting in the 

front seat, Rain enjoyed watching the SUV rhythmically 

disappearing around the curves, then coming back into 

view as they caught up. He was loving everything about 

this July 4th morning, especially the way the glint of the 

sun on the river created a magical shimmer of gold in 

the trees. Rain could feel a growing love for this land of 

forest and river—so different from his own homeland. 
294

Rain turned and looked at Boomer who was lying 

on the back seat. A good night’s sleep had recharged 

his battery, but Boomer was still run down. “Come on, 

Boomer. Sit up. You’ll feel better.”

Boomer groaned. He had already given warning of an 

impending barf. “When does the road straighten out?” 

He pulled himself up into a sitting position and squinted 

greenly out the side car window.

Gerald answered, “Hold on, Boomer. The map shows 

that we’ll hit a straight stretch in a minute.” True to 

his prediction, the road uncoiled and the trees thinned 

as they turned onto a two-lane state highway and 

headed toward one of the tributaries of the Conetah. 

The mountainous horizon came into view. Two Rabbit 

Mountain lay dead ahead. Despite his motion sickness, 

Boomer saw it the same time that Rain did. The boys 

exchanged glances but didn’t say anything. They were 

entering familiar territory. 

When they arrived at the fish camp 20 minutes later, 

Boomer was already feeling better. That was the gift 

of youth—resiliency. The boys had a talent for quick 

transition that was not limited to popping back and forth 

between the domains of the ordinary and the magical. 

Apparently Hailey and Marcus did, too. 

Pulling into the gravel yard of the small fish shack 

Don had rented, Gerald said, “Look at that! Hailey’s 

already got out her fishing pole. She’s raring to go.” 
295

Rain spotted Marcus helping his dad haul a couple 

of suitcases out of the car. Powering down his window, 

he shouted, “Hey Marcus! Who’s gonna catch the most 

fish?”

“Me and my Daddy!” 

While Don checked in with the manager of the fish 

camp, Gerald and the boys unhooked the trailer and 

set up the awning (the tent would come later). When 

Don returned, with a small bucket of live bait (mostly 

worms), everybody piled in the SUV and set off for an 

afternoon of fishing on Turkey Hen Creek. Gerald had 

researched the streams in the area and had chosen this 

one for several reasons. The creek had a very shallow 

gradient, and the current was slower than most streams. 

Consequently, the water temperature was consistent, 

and the streambed was abundant in plant life and 

insects—just perfect for trout. 

Driving along a narrow road that followed the creek, 

Don soon spotted where a few other anglers had parked 

their cars. He pulled over on the side next to the creek 

bank. The little party got their rods, tackle, and creels 

and headed down a narrow trail to the creek. Then they 

split up. Gerald, Rain, and Boomer wanted to try out 

some of the deeper pools favored by the bigger trout. 

Don selected a spot where the water was shallow and ran 

a little faster. 

Marcus stuck by his father, but Hailey moved a bit 
296

further up the creek—although she stayed within view 

of her dad. She knew how to fish. Her mom had taught 

her how to cast her spinning rod, set the hook, play the 

fish, and reel it in. The young girl stood on a flat rock and 

cast her rod upstream. Then she let it drift downstream. 

Before long, Hailey had pulled in her first trout—a 

medium-sized rainbow. She celebrated by yahooing 

to her father and holding up her catch. A short time 

afterwards, Don heard a faint cheer coming from the 

pools where Gerald and the boys were fishing. Having no 

luck, he decided to check out Hailey’s spot. 

Collecting Marcus, Don moved up the creek and 

chose a nice shady place. He decided to try his imitation 

minnows as bait, but realized he had left them in the 

SUV. Giving Marcus the keypad, he told him to fetch 

some minnows and a couple of small spoons from his big 

tackle box. From where he was standing, Don could see 

the trail they had taken from the road; it would be easy 

to keep an eye on the boy. 

It always made Marcus feel important to help out his 

dad. He skipped along the pebble path beside the creek 

and followed the trail up to the SUV. He unlocked the 

hatch. Pushing it up, Marcus heard a smacking noise 

behind him. When he turned around, Marcus became 

the happiest boy in the world. It was Brother Rabbit 

eating a sandwich! 

Marcus forgot the imitation minnows. “What are you 
297

doing here, Brother Rabbit?”

“Eating your daddy’s lunch. What else do it look like?”

“But how did you get in our cooler?” 

“Please, Brother Marcus! You give me no credit. 

You forget that folks generally open the gate for me!” 

Grinning, the trickster added, “The car weren’t locked.” 

Swallowing the last bite, he brushed off the crumbs 

on his chest and said, “Your daddy make a mighty fine 

sandwich.” 

When Marcus asked what his dad would eat for lunch, 

Brother Rabbit replied, “Well, that’s his problem, not 

mine. He’ll scare up something. See, us tricksters don’t 

worry about small ’taters as they say. We’re always 

thinkin’ ’bout the big stuff.” 

In truth, the “big stuff” the rabbit was worried about 

was his failed attempt to educate Marcus about healthy 

food. This was his last chance. Approaching the problem 

more directly, he said, “I brought you some presents—

ah, some right special vittles I want you to taste.” 

“Where are they?” 

“Over there—across the road. Come on.” As they 

crossed the asphalt, Marcus told the rabbit to look both 

ways. Brother Rabbit patiently reminded Marcus that 

rabbits had eyes on both sides of their heads. Hopping 

into a little bower of dogwood trees, he led the boy to a 

banquet. There on an old picnic table were baskets and 
298

bowls of the freshest and healthiest fruits and vegetables. 

Marcus was amazed. “Where did you get all this 

food?”

Mischievously, the rabbit replied, “Brother Marcus, 

you ask too many questions. Now you sit down right 

here. I’m gonna show you the good stuff that your greatgreat grandmamas and daddies give us, and all the 

good stuff that Rain and Boomer’s ‘grands’ give us, too.” 

Pointing to the different dishes, he said, “Miz Rabbit, my 

dearly beloved, cooked you up some okra, rice, blackeyed peas, and yams. They all come from Africa. And 

right here is the squash, beans, and corn that Indian 

folks been growing right here for hundreds of years. 

“I just want you to try a mouthful—that’s all. You need 

a lot more variety than what you been eatin’. Now, to 

help you remember where all this good stuff come from, 

I got a song to teach you.” The rabbit took out his fiddle 

and played a little tune. Pulling Marcus close to him, he 

whispered the words in the boy’s ear—because this song 

was only for Marcus. 

The rabbit waited for a response. But Marcus said 

nothing; he just smiled pleasantly. The trickster began 

to panic. He’d flopped again! Desperate, he got right in 

boy’s face. “Brother Marcus, listen to me. I ain’t trickin’ 

you—I’m tryin’ to warn you about tricks, just like my 

stories do. I’m mighty worried that folks are gettin’ 

tricked wicked by the food they been eatin’. All full of 
299

lip-smacking foolishness that don’t give a child enough 

strength to cross the road! Why Brother Fox never set a 

trap for me that was that bad!” 

Marcus was surprised that the rabbit was so worked 

up. A veteran of food wars with his parents, he was 

used to multiple skirmishes before giving in and eating 

a vegetable. “Well, uh, I did listen to what you told me 

before. A little bit, anyway. I ate some salad the other 

night, and I ate some fruit and turkey stew the Little 

People gave me. They don’t have spaghetti—Duffy said.”

Brother Rabbit was pooped out. All this health 

messaging was hard work. But maybe—just maybe he 

was getting through to Marcus. 

Trying to please the trickster, the boy picked up 

a platter and spoon and helped himself from several 

bowls. Some of the rabbit’s offerings he liked and others 

he didn’t. The rabbit said that was alright. He just 

wanted Marcus to find out what he did like. Appreciating 

all the trouble that Brother Rabbit had gone to, the boy 

asked, “We’re having trout tonight...could I take this 

stuff with me and give some to Hailey and everybody?” 

“Sure you can! Sharin’ is what I want you to do!” 

Scratching his head, the rabbit said, “Hmm. Trout, you 

say. I don’t recollect where I put my fishin’ pole. I got 

to find it. Us rabbits ain’t much on meat, but I do like a 

tasty fish on occasion.” Brother Rabbit chuckled. “You 

may have noticed. I ain’t your run-of-the-mill rabbit.” 
300

Suddenly the trickster’s ears turned toward the creek. 

Someone was coming. “Marcus! Marcus! Where are 

you?” It was Rain.

“I’m over here!”

Rain jogged across the road. Spotting Marcus at 

the picnic table, he said, “Your dad sent me to look for 

you...” Rain stopped. “Wow! Where did all this food 

come from?” Gawking at the huge spread, he didn’t 

notice Brother Rabbit until he started talking. 

“Why if it ain’t Brother Rain! I just been talkin’ 

to Marcus here ’bout how important it is to eat all 

these vegetables. You could probably fill him in on 

everything—seeing as how Sky Heart taught you all 

about it. Uh, he said it was all about preventin’ diabetes, 

didn’t he?” 

Rain was stunned. “How do you know about the eagle 

and diabetes?”

“Thistle and Coyote told me about it. Thistle asked me 

to keep an eye on you.”

Rain just stared at the rabbit. Then the clouds began 

to part. “That’s right! You asked us if the Little People 

were treating us right...but who is Thistle?” 

“My niece.” 

Everything was becoming clearer. Rain’s jaw dropped. 

“You mean Thistle is our rabbit from Thunder Rock...and 

the eagle’s name is Sky Heart?”
301

“Uh-huh. That’s what I said.” Brother Rabbit got up 

to go. “Well, I like visitin’, but I got to get back to my 

Laughin’ Place.” 

“Wait, Brother Rabbit,” Rain cried. “We have to thank 

you—again. The story you told Marcus about the hawk...

well, it helped him to...”

The rabbit held up his paw. “Now, now, Brother Rain. 

Ain’t no need to go braggin’ on me. Sigigi done told me 

all about it.” Looking at Marcus, he said, “I’m mighty 

proud of that boy.” Hopping over to Marcus, he said, 

“Now, you promise me you’ll tell my stories—the old 

stories. And when you get older, I want you to study up 

on all the African and Indian folks that told ’em. And 

make up some new stories, too. I got to stay young!”

The rabbit leaped in two jumps to the edge of the 

dogwood trees. He turned and fixed his black eyes on 

Marcus—eyes that were bright, terribly clever, and 

covetous of knowledge. Like Sky Heart, Thistle and 

Coyote, he would find ways to help these children to be 

healthy and live long lives. 

Marcus cried, “Please don’t go, Brother Rabbit!” But 

the storytelling had made the trickster of Two Rabbit 

Mountain strong and he was eager to test his vigor. He 

spun away—racing, dodging, and bounding his way into 

the forest. 

Marcus stopped and looked back at Rain. He sighed. 

“Do you think he’ll come back?”
302

Rain walked over to the dejected boy and put his 

hand on his shoulder. “I was your age when the eagle 

talked to me. I was afraid he wouldn’t come back, but he 

did. Brother Rabbit won’t forget you. He can’t.” Marcus 

looked up at Rain, trying to feel reassured. 

“Come on. Your dad’s gonna think we fell in the 

creek.” Rain started picking up the baskets and bowls 

of food. Marcus helped. It took three trips to move it all 

into the SUV. It was a good thing that the Jacksons had 

a big cooler. Marcus popped the lock on the keypad, and 

they hurried down the trail to the creek. Everybody was 

fishing in the shallow water now. Rain retrieved his rod 

and joined Boomer. 

“Hey, what have you been doing?” Don asked Marcus. 

“I thought you fell in the creek. Where’s my minnows?” 

Handing the imitation minnows to his dad, Marcus 

answered, “We’ve been talking about vegetables.” 

“Really? Talking about vegetables? That’s hard to 

believe.” Hmm, Don thought, maybe Rain is having 

better luck with him than I’ve had.

When they took a lunch break, Don naturally wanted 

to know where all the food came from. Marcus just said 

that Miz Rabbit had cooked it. Don said it was nice of 

a reservation family to share their dinner with Marcus, 

although he was a bit surprised at the quantity. As 

expected, the missing sandwich was a mystery, but not a 

problem. Gerald had packed plenty of sandwiches. After 
303

all, he was feeding adolescent boys. 

By mid-afternoon, everybody was ready to chill out. 

The fishing had been great and they all had an appetite 

for trout. They packed up and left for the fish camp. The 

rest of the day was spent settling into their new digs. 

While Gerald took a quick trip to the closest town for 

supplies, the boys set up their tent, and Don and Hailey 

squared away the shack. Later, everyone would pitch in 

cleaning the fish.

When the long summer afternoon began to cool 

into dusk, Gerald started up his camp fire. He let 

it burn down to smoldering coals. He lightly salted 

and peppered the trout, stuffed in a little butter, and 

wrapped them in tin foil. Then he put the fish on the 

coals. After cooking about 8 minutes on each side, he 

removed the foil packets and set them aside. Pulling 

out two big fry pans, he heated up Brother Rabbit’s 

vegetables. 

Then everybody piled up their plates. The trout was 

flaky and sweet. Don noticed that Marcus ate all of his 

fish and had dug into several spoonfuls of black-eyed 

peas, yams, and squash on his plate. The father made no 

comment; he didn’t want to spook his son.

After they’d finished eating, the kids sat around the 

campfire, talking quietly. The only remaining evidence 

of the sun was a pinky glow that brightened a few low 

clouds. Rain and Boomer said they thought the meal was 
304

the best they ever had. Hailey agreed, insisting that the 

fish she caught was the tastiest. 

Gerald and Don joined them, each with a big cup of 

coffee. They were hashing over a couple of issues that 

had come up at the conference. Don interrupted their 

conversation to ask where Marcus was.

“He’s right there, Daddy,” Hailey said, pointing near 

the tree where the boys had put up the tent. “He’s letting 

his cicadas go.”

Marcus hollered, “Daddy, I let them out, but they 

didn’t run off.”

Don laughed. “Maybe they’re just tired, Marcus.”

Everybody got quiet for a while. A gentle breeze 

ruffled the leaves in the trees and the fire flickered. 

Suddenly, Gerald raised his head. “Do you hear 

something?” A sweet, wistful sigh seemed to have joined 

the breeze, making it more tone than wind. Everyone 

listened as it transformed into a jolly little melody that 

began to drift over the camp. 

Puzzled, Don said, “That sounds like fiddle music. 

Who’d be playing a fiddle out here?”

Hailey and the boys glanced knowingly at each other. 

Marcus stood up and looked in the direction of Two 

Rabbit Mountain. A smile spread over his face. Rain 

was right. Brother Rabbit couldn’t forget him. He was 

working with the eagle now. 
305

Marcus turned to his very surprised father and said, 

“Sounds like Ol’ Hoppum-Skippum Run and Jumpum to 

me!” Then he began to sing: 

“Indian folk gave corn, squash, and sassafras tea,

And African folk made okra, yam, and the blackeyed pea.

Rice under the red bean and banana on the side,

Cut me some melon and make it wide;

Turkey, and guinea hen, and hominy.

All for little folks just like me.”
306

Epilogue

Readers may be interested in what happened after the 

Jacksons and Gerald and the boys left Taniba Springs. 

Rain, Boomer, and their friends, Hummingbird, 

Simon, and Arianna, share Skype time every week 

with Hailey and Marcus. They come up with ideas for 

promoting type 2 diabetes prevention that they are now 

calling “The Power of Stories.” Their inspiration comes 

from the Sky Heart, Thistle, Coyote...and now Brother 

Rabbit. 

Rain didn’t forget Toloowa’s questions about the 

effects of high levels of blood glucose on the body. His 

mom answered her questions, but he is still trying 

to figure out a way to get the information to the little 

healer. He is hoping that Simon can come up with a 

solution.

Hailey wrote up their adventures (as much as she 

could without revealing their encounters with the Little 

People) in her family newspaper. She gave a colorful 

description of the powwow, their treks through the local 

forest trails, and their ride in a helicopter (she got in 

some trouble with her parents for not getting permission 

first—but that blew over pretty quickly). Hailey also 

reprinted the story from the Thunder Rock Times about 

Rain saving his Granma from a kidnapper and foiling a 

gang of fossil poachers. She wanted her friends to know 

that she really knew a boy that brave. With Marcus’s 
307

help, she also started a healthy food and physical activity 

column. Later in her eighth grade year, her school’s 

newspaper advisor suggested that she transfer it to the 

school paper. Hailey calls her column, “Veggie Girl,” 

in honor of Rain that Dances—the original “Veggie 

Man.” Mrs. Corn at Thunder Rock Middle School is 

corresponding with Mrs. Graham, the advisor at Hailey’s 

school. They plan to share stories and newspaper 

columns. 

Marcus got his mother to buy him every story book 

about rabbits that she could find, especially trickster 

rabbits. His favorites are Zomo the Hare and Trickster: 

Native American Tales, a book of illustrated stories 

that has a rabbit on the cover. He is also fond of 

Ananzi the Spider tales. Of course, he has all of Brother 

Rabbit’s stories. His favorite is Brother Rabbit Gets the 

Provisions.

‡

 You will be happy to know that Marcus has 

since expanded his diet far beyond spaghetti, pea soup, 

and oatmeal.

As for Eugene Frimble, the kids were very pleased 

to find out that their fathers had recommended Eugene 

for a variety of career opportunities. He was hired to 

design eco-tourism businesses for two tribes and is 

currently designing an educational animal sanctuary in 

‡

In this story, Brother Rabbit takes Brother Wolf ’s wagon of “vittles” and his horses and hides them. 

Then he cuts off the tail hair of the horses pulling the wagon. He buries half of the horse hair in 

the road, and the other half he leaves sticking out of the dirt. He shows the horse’s tails to the wolf, 

saying how awful it is that the wagon and the horses have mired so far down into the mud. Now 

the wolf will never be able to dig them out. While Brother Wolf laments his loss, Brother Rabbit 

makes off with the horses, the wagon, and the “vittles.” Marcus could never figure out what he was 

supposed to learn from the story, but as a boy, he admired it for its pure silliness and mischief.
308

South Africa. The kids worried that Eugene had been the 

victim of too much tricking, but no doubt the knowledge 

imparted to him by the Little People taught him about 

being humble. He now understands that plans, no matter 

how brilliant or well-intended, can have unintended 

consequences. Indeed, any interaction with the 

environment can have unexpected effects. Now, Eugene 

tries very hard to identify as many of these potential 

threats as he can before going forward with a proposal.

Back at Taniba Springs, Myrtle Owl began to leave 

the batteries for Sigigi in a plastic bag beside the spring 

at the back of her house. In later months, Sigigi would 

leave presents for Myrtle, too—one was a sack of some 

of the rarest maize seed in the world. (Myrtle hasn’t 

planted it yet for fear it will get contaminated by other 

corn species.) One day she brought Lennie with her. He 

placed three of his tinkers beside the spring. They were 

miniature sculptures of a tiny woman and two children. 

Soon after the Little People accepted his gift, Lennie’s 

“confusion” was lifted. 

Max Bigelow, however, became convinced that 

UFOs were using the Wetumka National Forest as a 

staging area for extraterrestrial operations on earth. 

Two years after his encounter with the Little People, 

he was abducted by alien spacecraft. (In actuality, Max 

is currently residing at the Happy Valley Rest Home. 

He looks forward to his discussions about intergalactic 

travel with the night nurse who he respectfully addresses 

as Commander Andromeda.)
309

Cast of Characters 

(in order of appearance)

Visitors to Taniba Springs 

Rain: (Rain that Dances; also called Rain or RD by 

his friends). The American Indian boy chosen by the 

Eagle. In this story, he accompanies his father on a 

trip to the Taniba Springs Indian Reservation where 

he joins with new friends to protect the towns of the 

Little People from discovery. Rain never forgets the 

Eagle’s messages about eating healthy and being active, 

and he happily shares the Eagle’s diabetes prevention 

messages with his new friends and the Little People. 

Boomer: (Thunder Cloud). Rain’s oldest friend. Always 

ready for adventure, Boomer goes on the trip with Rain 

and his father. When the situation gets serious, he lifts 

spirits with his good humor and special talents—most 

notably his very loud voice. Boomer recognizes that 

problems created by tricksters are opportunities for 

learning.

Hailey Jackson: A young African-American girl; 

Marcus’s sister. Like Rain, Hailey accompanies her 

father to Taniba Springs. When Rain and Boomer plead 

with her to join their efforts to aid the Little People, 

she helps them by obtaining the plans that detail a 

potential invasion of their hidden homes—a plan that is 

supported by her father. 
310

Marcus Jackson: An African-American boy; Hailey’s 

brother. Marcus, a 6 year-old boy, learns valuable 

lessons from a trickster Rabbit known by the Little 

People. The Rabbit teaches Marcus how to outwit a 

dangerous adversary and encourages him to try new 

foods—especially vegetables. 

Eugene Frimble: An economic developer. Eugene 

is a nerdy “good guy” who plans to introduce Taniba 

Springs to an environment-friendly approach to 

tourism. Although his intent is to generate jobs, he 

is not aware that his plans could potentially have 

unintended, negative consequences. 

Turtletown Folk

Cricket: (Cholotka) A young woman of the Little 

People; Sigigi’s sister. Cricket, known for her 

enchanting singing voice, uses spells to protect her 

people from the threat of the whirling bird. 

Sigigi: A young man of the Little People. Sent to 

discover why a helicopter has been flying over the Little 

People’s towns, Sigigi meets four children of the Big 

People who help him overcome threats to the wellbeing of the tiny folk of the forest. 

Duffy: A young man of the Big People; Sigigi’s friend. 

Duffy was found in the woods by the Little People when 

he was a small boy. He chose to stay with them, rather 

than return to his family. He uses his great strength 

and size to help the Little People. 
311

Big People of Taniba Springs

Max Bigelow: A helicopter pilot and owner of Sky High 

Tours. Max Bigelow is a “bad guy” who discovers the 

Little People while flying over their towns. He devises 

a scheme to capture and market them as “real-life 

leprechauns” that will make him a fortune. 

Lennie Blatch: An aircraft mechanic for Sky High 

Tours. Despite warnings from his sister-in-law, Lennie 

reluctantly joins Max Bigelow in his plot to seize the 

Little People—and pays the price for believing that Max 

will let them go free. 

Myrtle Owl: A farmer; Lennie Blatch’s sister-in-law. 

Myrtle is the owner of a small roadside store where she 

sells fruits and vegetables. When Lennie asks Myrtle 

what happens to people who “mess with” the Little 

People, she reflects on her own encounter with the 

tiny folk and her grandmother’s teachings. She warns 

Lennie to have nothing to do with Max’s scheme. 

The Animals of Stories

Thistle: The little Rabbit; a relative of Brother Rabbit. 

Thistle always keeps a close eye on the well-being of 

Rain and his friends. When she has a dream that Rain 

may be in danger, she and Coyote follow him to Two 

Rabbit Mountain in her homeland where she seeks the 

advice of a great trickster.
312

Sky Heart: The Eagle. Sky Heart does not accompany 

Thistle and Coyote on their trip to Two Rabbit 

Mountain. Rather, he knows that Rain will be guided 

by the lessons he has taught him about making healthy 

choices and honoring Native culture and values—and 

dealing with situations created by tricksters. 

Coyote: A Trickster. Coyote is eager to meet the famous 

trickster of Two Rabbit Mountain. Using his magical 

prowess, he takes Thistle to see Brother Rabbit, her 

wily and very funny uncle. Coyote, however, has his 

own motive for the trip—he wants to learn the source 

of the trickster Rabbit’s power. 

Brother Rabbit: A Trickster (The Two Rabbit; 

Chufezomo; Brer Rabbit). Brother Rabbit is a crafty 

fellow whose origins are found in American Indian and 

West African stories. He draws on his considerable 

powers to perform a great trick that protects the Little 

People’s towns from discovery. He also teaches the 

wisdom of clever thinking over ineffective struggle and 

the good sense of healthy fruits and vegetables. 

Other Characters

Niska: A young woman of Turtletown; Cricket’s friend. 

Niska is the young woman spotted by the whirling bird. 

Her children, Foosi and Nikkami, are kidnapped by 

Max Bigelow.
313

Gerald: Rain’s father. Gerald’s plan is to take Rain and 

Boomer fishing with his friend, Don Jackson who (like 

Gerald) is attending the economic conference in Taniba 

Springs. Gerald is pleased when Rain and Boomer get 

to know Don’s kids, Hailey and Marcus. 

Osihishi: The Headman of Turtletown. Osihishi 

oversees the town council and its strategies for 

protecting Turtletown and the other towns of the Little 

People. 

Don Jackson: Hailey and Marcus’s father. Don, who 

has prediabetes, is impressed by Rain and Boomer’s 

healthy eating habits and says he would like to learn 

more about diabetes prevention. He hopes that their 

good example rubs off on his son, Marcus. 

Gussie Blatch: Wife of Lennie Blatch; Myrtle Owl’s 

sister. Gussie is a pow-wow dancer and employee at the 

casino gift shop. She becomes worried when Lennie 

begins to display strange, confused behavior. 

Chukmena: A member of the Turtletown town council; 

husband of Toloowa. Chukmena advises the Little 

People to be cautious about eating the Big People’s 

foods and not to become too fond of their material 

goods. 

Toloowa: A healer; wife of Chukmena. Toloowa 

observed that bees were attracted to the “honey” or 

sugar in the urine of young men who were eating 

junk food from the Big People’s campgrounds. When 

Rain told her about the causes of type 2 diabetes, she 
314

promised to tell all the Little People to be active and 

eat healthy foods. 

Sumpuhke: The Beloved Woman of Turtletown. 

Sumpuhke recommends the strategy that keeps Max 

Bigelow’s discovery of their town a secret—without 

doing anyone any physical harm.

Hummingbird (Bird): An American Indian girl; a 

friend of Rain and Boomer. In this story, Hummingbird 

stays home in Thunder Rock. However, she organizes 

local reading and storytelling of rabbit stories that 

“powers” the great trick that subverts the discovery of 

the Little People’s towns.

Arianna: A Hispanic girl; a friend of Rain and Boomer. 

When Arianna meets Hailey on Skype, she explains 

that she has type 1 diabetes. Arianna offers to invite 

her online support group “Type 1 Tweenies” into the 

storytelling network. 

Simon: An American Indian boy; a friend of Rain and 

Boomer. Simon, also in Thunder Rock, also helps to 

organize the storytelling network. However, Simon 

uses social media to promote the reading and telling of 

rabbit stories across the country. 
315

Glossary

A

Absentminded: Tending to not notice or pay attention 

to things.

Abundant: Occurring in large amounts.

Accentuated (to accentuate): To make something 

more noticeable.

Accommodate: To do a favor or provide for; supply 

with.

Accompany: To be or go with as a friend.

Address: To speak to.

Adjourn: To end a meeting or suspend it until a later 

time.

Adolescent: A young person, usually between the ages 

of 12 and 18.

Adventure: An exciting experience or journey.

Affiliate: A company or group that works in partnership 

with another company or group.

Agenda: A list of items to be considered as at a meeting.

Aggressively: In a forceful or hostile way.

Aghast: Filled with surprise or horror. 

Agility: Ability to move quickly and easily.

Agitated (to agitate): To cause to move or to be upset.
316

Airstream: A brand of recreational vehicle.

AKA: Abbreviation for “also known as.”

Alcove: A small area forming a room-like shelter. An 

alcove can be inside a building or outside in a natural 

environment like a forest or a cave.

Alternate: Substitute or other choice.

Altitude: The distance an object is above the ground or 

above a given level.

Ambition: Determination; desire for work or activity; 

energy.

Ambush: To attack someone or something by surprise 

from a hidden place.

Amiss: Not quite right; out of place. 

Amplified (to amplify): To make bigger or louder.

Ananzi: A West African trickster character who often 

appears in the form of a spider. Pronounced A-Nahnsee.

Ancestries: The many lineages from which a family 

may descend. May include racial and/or ethnic origins 

or country of origin. 

Andromeda: A galaxy in space and the name of a 

science fiction TV series.

Anglers: Persons who fish with a rod and line.

Antennae: Thin, sensitive organs on the head of an 

insect or crab that are used to feel and touch things.
317

Anticipate: To expect ahead of time.

Appetizer: A small dish of food served at the beginning 

of a meal or a snack shared instead of a meal

Aquarium: A glass-sided bowl or tank where fish, other 

water creatures, or plants are displayed. 

Arc: To move along a curved path.

Array: A large group or assortment of things.

Ascents: Upward slopes or paths.

Asphalt: A black substance used for making roads.

Assessment (to assess): To find out the importance, 

size, or amount of something.

Assessment: An opinion or analysis of a situation. 

Assurance: A feeling of confidence.

Astounded (to astound): To fill with puzzled wonder.

Attachment: Strong feeling of affection or loyalty.

Attendees: The people who are present at a meeting or 

conference.

Attentive: Listening to or thinking about something 

very carefully.

Authentic: Real; genuine.

Avocado: A pear-shaped fruit with a dark green skin, 

large stone inside, and mild, light green fleshy fruit. 

Avocados are often used in salads and Mexican food.

Awesome: Breathtaking or remarkable.
318

B

Babbling (to babble): To talk foolishly, unclearly; or 

to talk too much.

Backhoe: A large machine that digs into the ground.

Banked (to bank): To tilt sideways while making a 

turn.

Banner: A long sign made of cloth or paper; a flag.

Banquet: A large meal or feast.

Barge: A flat-bottomed boat that carries cargo. 

Basked (to bask): To take great pleasure in. 

Bat Boy and Elvis: Bat Boy and Elvis are popular 

subjects for sensational stories in some tabloid 

newspapers. Bat Boy is a fictitious character that is 

supposed to be half bat and half human. The singer 

Elvis Presley died in 1977. Stories have appeared over 

the years that claim Elvis is “alive and well” and living 

in various locations around the world. 

Beam: A stream of light shining [verb]; as in a wooden 

support [noun].

Beaming (to beam): To be full of joy.

Beloved Woman: Honored title given to extraordinary 

women by the Cherokee, Creeks, Choctaws, 

Chickasaws, and other southeastern tribes; tribal 

spokesperson or peace negotiator.
319

Bigfoot: A legendary creature who lives in the woods 

and is said to be part human and part ape. Also known 

as Sasquatch. 

Billboard Chart: Billboard is a weekly magazine about 

the music industry. It publishes charts that list the 

most popular songs. 

Billboard: A large advertising sign that is placed on a 

building or the side of a road.

Binoculars: An optical device, such as a pair of field 

glasses to see distant objects.

Blacktop: The material used for making roads.

Blazer: A type of jacket resembling a suit coat.

Bleachers: A stand of benches arranged like steps for 

people to sit on.

Blood sugar: A substance in the blood that rises after 

eating. People with diabetes have blood sugar levels 

that are too high.

Blowgun: A long narrow tube through which a person 

blows a small arrow or dart. The blowgun was used 

by southeastern tribes for hunting and defense. Skill 

with the blowgun is still maintained today among 

some tribes, and is a tool in everyday use by some 

Amazonian tribes.

Bluntly: Surprisingly or disturbingly truthful. 

Bobbled (to bobble): To bounce up and down. 
320

Bonkers: Slang for crazy. 

Boogied (to boogie): To dance rhythmically. 

Boughs: Tree branches.

Bounded (to bound): To leap forward.

Bouquet: A small cluster or arrangement.

Briar patch: A brushy area formed by thorny plants.

Brookies: Slang term for brook trout, a type of fish. 

Brownies: Slang term for brown trout, a type of fish. 

Browsing (to browse): In animals, to feed on leaves, 

twigs, and branches.

Brusque: Very direct, abrupt, or concise. 

Buckled (to buckle): To fasten something with a 

buckle.

Buenas Dias: Means good morning or good day in the 

Spanish language.

Buffet: A restaurant where food is set out and 

customers serve themselves.

Buoyancy: The ability to do well in, or recover quickly 

from, a disappointment or failure; filled with air or 

liquid allowing something to float.

Burrowed (to burrow): To make a hole or tunnel to 

use as a dwelling, especially by animals.
321

C

Canopy: Something that hangs over an area such as 

a piece of cloth or the highest layer of branches in a 

forest.

Carbohydrate: A compound (usually represented by 

sugars, fiber, and starches) that supplies energy to the 

body. Carbohydrates are found in dairy products, fruits 

and vegetables, and grains.

Careless: Thoughtless or sloppy.

Cargo: Goods that are carried in a container or moved 

by planes, ships, trains or trucks.

Cartridge: A container for gas, liquid or powder that is 

loaded into another device; the container holding the 

carbon dioxide that fires the net gun.

Casino: A public room or building for gambling and 

other entertainment.

Casual: An informal way; relaxed.

Caverns: Large caves or chambers in a cave.

Celebration: A special social event, such as a party.

Challenging or challenged: Demanding or difficult.

Charge: To take the lead; to run; and to refill a battery.

Charm: To cast a magical spell.

Chatter: To talk idly, continually, or rapidly.

Chimed in: To break into a conversation or discussion 

especially to express an opinion.
322

Chomping: Chewing or biting noisily.

Chopper: Slang for helicopter. 

Chortling (to chortle): To chuckle gleefully.

Chuckled (to chuckle): To laugh quietly or to oneself.

Chunkey: A hoop and stick game that has been played 

by Native American tribes in Southern states for 

hundreds of years. 

Churning (to churn): To stir up; to shake.

Cicadas: Large winged insects with stout bodies and big 

eyes. They are well-known for their distinctive whirring 

“song” and long life-cycles. Some cicadas emerge for 

mating annually, but others have cycles of 2-5 years, 13 

years, and 17 years. 

Circlet: A little circle.

Circulars: Flyers or pamphlets; round in shape.

Clasped (to clasp): To hold together tightly. 

Clump: To cluster or group together; or to walk loudly.

Cluster: A group of things that are close together.

Clutch: To hold with the hands strongly and suddenly.

CO2: Chemical symbol for carbon dioxide; a gas. 

Coaxing (to coax): To convince gently with pleasant 

words.

Cobb salad: A salad usually made with lettuce, tomato, 

chicken, hard-boiled egg, avocado, black olives, cheese, 

and bacon. 
323

Collapsible: Something that can be folded or reduced 

in size; to fall or shrink abruptly and completely.

Cologne: Perfume or fragrance. Men’s aftershave is 

often called cologne.

Commence: To begin something such as a play, a story, 

or other activity.

Commotion: Noisy excitement and confusion.

Companion planting: The practices of planting 

certain crops close to each other that can help each 

other grow strong.

Competition: A contest between individuals or groups.

Complemented (to complement): To balance or 

harmonize with.

Complex: Complicated, as in complex thought; a 

facility with several buildings. 

Complicated (to complicate): To make difficult or 

complex.

Compliment: An expression of respect, affection, or 

admiration.

Complimentary: Free of charge.

Compulsive: Not able to stop doing something.

Conclusions: What is assumed to be true after 

evidence has been examined.

Confederation: A body comprising of representatives 

from different organizations or tribes that wish to work 

together for a common beneficial purpose.
324

Conference: A formal meeting, usually lasting several 

days, where people discuss or make decisions about a 

particular subject. 

Conferred (to confer): To seek the opinions or advice 

of others.

Confessed (to confess): To admit.

Confidently: Being sure of oneself.

Congestion, congested: Too full or crowded, as in 

traffic congestion.

Congratulated (to congratulate): To express 

pleasure to a person, as on a happy occasion.

Conical: Shaped like a cone.

Conscious: Aware of one’s own existence, sensations, 

thoughts, and surroundings.

Consciousness: The condition of being conscious: the 

normal state of being awake and able to understand or 

aware of what is happening around you.

Consensus: General agreement about something.

Conserving (to conserve): To protect or to save for 

later. 

Consoled (to console): To give comfort; lessen 

disappointment.

Consortium: An association of individuals, companies, 

organizations or governments. 

Consult (to consult): To give expert advice or to ask 

for advice.
325

Contorted (to contort): To twist, wrench, or bend 

severely out of shape.

Council: A group of people chosen to make laws or 

decisions.

Coup: An impressive achievement. Pronounced COO.

Coupler: Device that links pieces of machinery 

together.

Covetous: Wanting or desiring something greatly.

Crackle: A slight, sharp, snapping noise.

Craftiness: Skill at being clever or deceitfully clever. 

Craggy: Rough and uneven.

Craw: The throat of an animal. “To stick in one’s craw” 

means to cause resentment or discomfort. 

Crayfish: A small shellfish, similar to a very small 

lobster that lives in lakes and rivers.

Creative: Original or inventive.

Creel: A basket for carrying fish.

Creole: A language developed from the mixing of parent 

tongues. 

Crested (to crest): To reach the top.

Critter: A nickname for an animal.

Croker sack: A sack made of a rough material like 

burlap.

Crouched (to crouch): To stoop or bend low with the 

arms and legs close to the body.
326

Culprit: Someone or something responsible for a crime 

or other misdeed.

Cunning: Tricky or deceitful; also clever and creative.

Curiosity: Having an interest in something, sometimes 

an interest that is not serious.

Curtly (curt): Speaking in a rude or abrupt manner.

D

Dainty: Delicate; graceful.

Dais: A raised platform. Pronounced DAY-is.

Damper: Something depressing or discouraging. 

Dappled: Marked with spots of color or light. 

Dawdling (to dawdle): To waste time.

Dead weight: Something heavy that is being carried.

Deafening: Extremely loud.

Debate: A discussion involving several views or 

opinions. 

Debris: Rubble, wreckage, or litter. Pronounced deBREE.

Deciduous: Describes trees or bushes having leaves 

that fall off every year.

Decision: A choice made after thinking about several 

possibilities. 

Deflect: To cause something to change direction. 

Deftly: Performing in a skillful or clever manner.
327

Dejected: Very disappointed or unhappy.

Delegation: A group of people chosen to represent 

or act on behalf of somebody else, a group or 

organization.

Delicious: Very pleasing to the taste.

Demonstration: A presentation that shows a process.

Depression: A shallow hole or hollow. 

Descend: To move from a higher to a lower place.

Destination: The goal of a journey; a place to which 

something is sent. 

Development: The act of creating something over 

a period of time. Often used to describe groups or 

companies that create change or build new enterprises.

Devour: To eat quickly.

Digs: Living quarters.

Dill: An herb used to flavor foods such as pickles.

Diminutive: Small or short.

Dinette: A little dining room or a small set of table and 

chairs.

Discard: To get rid of something that is no longer 

useful or desired.

Disconcert: To unsettle or unnerve.

Disdainful: Showing contempt or lack of respect.

Disruption: A state of confusion or trouble.

Diverting (to divert): To change a route or path. 
328

DJ: Abbreviation of “disc jockey,” a person who plays 

recorded music on the radio or at a club.

Docile: Quiet, easy to control, and unlikely to cause 

trouble.

Dogwood: A flowering tree that is common in the 

southern United States.

Domains: Worlds or realms of being.

Domestic: Relating to one’s home or family life.

Domesticated: Tame or no longer wild.

Do-se-do: A square dancing step.

Double-decker: A bus or trolley that has two levels.

Doze: A short, light sleep. 

Dredge up: Pull something from the bottom of a pond 

or lake.

Drone: A continuous low humming sound.

Dumbfounded: So surprised or astonished you are 

unable to talk. 

Dumplings: Balls of dough that may have a fruit, meat, 

or vegetable filling.

Dutifully: Doing without protest; respectfully.

E

Earnestly: Showing deep sincerity or seriousness. 

Economic: Based on the production, distribution, and 

consumption of goods and services.
329

Economy: A system in which people work, produce, 

buy, and sell goods and services. 

Ecosystem: A biological community of interacting 

organisms and their physical environment.

Ecotourism: An approach to tourism in wilderness 

areas that promotes protection of the environment. 

Elated: Describes a feeling or state of great pride and 

joy.

Electronics: Devices like phones, tablets, laptops, and 

cameras that use small electrical parts or computer 

technology.

Elevated (to elevate): To raise; go up.

Elevation: Height or altitude.

Elmer Fudd: The popular Looney Tunes human 

character who is usually dressed in hunting gear and 

tracks the rabbit, Bugs Bunny.

Emcee: A master of ceremonies.

Encounter: A meeting with someone or something.

Energetically: Doing something in a lively or vigorous 

manner.

Engage (to engage): To get someone’s attention.

Engrossed (to engross): To hold attention; to engage 

or be absorbed.

Ensuing: That which will be happening next.

Enterprise: A project or activity. 

Enthrall: To hold by or as if by a spell; to charm.
330

Enthusiasm: Strong excitement and active interest.

Enthusiastic: Very interested or excited about 

something.

Entrees: Main dishes. Pronounced AHN-trays.

Enveloped (to envelope): To surround; to be 

enclosed by something.

Environmental: The surrounding conditions that 

influence a place or situation. 

Erect (to erect): To build something tall and straight; 

also to be upright.

Esteemed: Admired and respected.

Etched (to etch): To deeply carve.

Evaporated (to evaporate): To dry out, turn from 

liquid into vapor.

Excursion: A short trip or outing.

Exhausted (to exhaust): To feel fatigue; drained of 

energy.

Existed (to exist): To be real or to live.

Expectantly (expectant): Describes a feeling that 

something is about to happen.

Expectation: A belief that something will happen.

Explosive: Expanding violently or bursting with noise.

Extensive: A large amount.

Extraterrestrial: Outside the limits of the Earth.

Exultant: Happy and triumphant.
331

F

FAA: Abbreviation for Federal Aviation Administration, 

the government agency in charge of air travel.

Face: The surface, like the front wall of a cliff. 

Fancy dancing: An American Indian dance that is fast 

and energetic. 

Fares: Passengers, or the amounts they pay to take a 

trip.

Fascinated (to fascinate): To attract or entice. In this 

story, the term suggests a magical attraction. 

Fashionista: Someone who is very interested in clothes 

and fashion.

Fennel: An herb used in cooking and medicines.

Fetch (to fetch): To retrieve; to go for and bring back.

Fidget: To make small movements when nervous or 

impatient or move about restlessly.

Filed (to file): To walk in a line.

Financial: Having to do with money management.

Flattery: Praise that is excessive or not sincere.

Fledgling: A baby bird.

Fleet: A large group of vehicles or boats.

Flickered (to flicker): to shine unsteadily or to blink 

off and on. 

Flooded (to flood): to produce an enormous flow of 

water or another substance.
332

Florets: Clusters of flower or vegetable buds.

Flume: A narrow channel with a stream running 

through it.

Flush: To drive a bird or animal from its cover.

Fluttering (to flutter): to flap the wings quickly and 

lightly.

Fluty: Sounding like a flute. 

Foiling (to foil): to outwit, to stop in its tracks.

Foliage: The leaves of plants; greenery.

Folksy: Use of simple, unrefined, or friendly speech.

Folly: Foolishness.

Footprint (ecological footprint): The impact of 

human activities on nature.

Foraged (to forage): To search for food.

Foreclose: To take back property when the money 

owed on a bank loan is not paid. 

Forefinger: Index finger.

Forego: Skip, decline, don’t bother with.

Forged (to forge): To shape or form. 

Fossil: A bone, body, or print of a dead plant or animal 

preserved in rock, earth, or tree resin. 

Four-eyes: An insulting term for a person who wears 

glasses.

Foyer: Entry hall. Pronounced FOY-yay.

Fragrant: Having a pleasant or sweet smell.
333

Freshwater: Water that isn’t salty, usually refers to 

water in rivers and lakes.

Fretful: Fussy or unsettled.

Fretful: To be nervous; upset.

Frolicked (to frolic): To play, romp or move about 

happily. 

Fumbling (to fumble): To search for something in a 

clumsy way.

Funneled (to funnel): To pour through a narrow 

opening.

Futuristic: Seeming to appear from the future, not yet 

invented.

G

Gab: slang for talk.

Gags: Jokes or hoaxes. 

Gangly: Tall and awkward. 

Gathering basket: a basket used to collect food.

Gawk: To stare; to look at someone rudely.

Generates: Creates or begins.

Generation: The length of time between the birth of 

parents and their offspring.

Geological: Referring to rocks and minerals that make 

up the earth.
334

Gesture: To make a movement of the body that 

expresses an idea or a feeling.

Giggle (or giggling): To laugh with repeated short 

high sounds.

Gilded: Covered in gold, or gold-colored. 

Glade: An open space in the woods.

Glancing blow: A hit from the side that bounces off at 

an angle.

Glimpsed (to glimpse): To take a quick look; see a 

little bit of something.

Glistened (to glisten): to be shiny or glimmering. 

Glossy: Shiny.

Glucose: Blood sugar that provides energy to the body’s 

cells.

Goggled-eyed: With eyes very open in a way that 

shows surprise or amazement. 

Golden oldie: A recording or piece of music that was 

popular in the past.

Goliath: A very tall person. In the Bible, Goliath was a 

giant who was killed by David with his slingshot.

Gorgeous: Beautiful; very attractive.

Gradient: A place where the ground slopes up or down. 

Granary: A storage building for grains like corn or 

wheat.
335

Grand finale: An exciting or impressive ending of a 

show. Pronounced grand fi-NAL-ay.

Granola: A mixture of oats and other ingredients, such 

as brown sugar, raisins, coconut, or nuts. 

Grass dancing: A style of men’s powwow dancing 

invented by warrior tribes from Montana, North 

Dakota, South Dakota, Wyoming, and Nebraska. 

Dancers wear regalia that are decorated with long 

strips of yarn or ribbon, so their movements look like 

swaying grass. 

Great Removal: The removal of Native American 

tribes from the eastern and southeastern states to the 

West by the U.S. government in the 1830s.

Griot: A storyteller from western Africa who shares 

history and tradition. Pronounced GREE-oh.

Grommet: A metal or plastic ring placed into cloth or 

leather.

Guidance: Advice or counseling.

Guileless: Innocent and truthful.

Guinea hen: A bird that tastes like chicken or turkey.

Gusto: Enthusiastic enjoyment
336

H

Haberdashery: The clothes and accessories sold in a 

men’s clothing store.

Hammering (to hammer): To hit or beat with a 

hammer or other object.

Hangars: Large storage buildings for airplanes or 

helicopters. 

Harassed (to harass): To bother or torment.

Hares: Large, fast-running, long-eared mammals that 

resemble rabbits.

Harmony: A state in which everything works together 

in balance or in agreement.

Haunch: The upper part of the leg; the thigh. 

Headman: The chief leader of a community or tribe.

Helipad: An area where helicopters take off and land.

Hiccupping (to hiccup): To make a loud sound 

caused by a spasm of the diaphragm that pushes air 

through the vocal cords.

Hickory: A type of tree with very hard wood. 

Hitch (to hitch): To pull up as in “hitching up;” or to 

attach. Also a connection that attaches one thing to 

another. 

Hohokam Polka: A traditional fiddle song from the 

Southwest.
337

Hoisted (to hoist): To raise up or lift, like with a crane 

or forklift.

Hominy: A food made from dried, unshelled corn that 

is boiled in water.

Hong Kong: One of the world’s leading cities. It is a 

part of China.

Hongry: The word hungry as it is pronounced in some 

dialects of the American South and West.

Hooey: Slang for foolish talk or writing.

Horizon: Where the sky appears to meet with land or 

the sea.

Hospitality: Generous and friendly treatment of 

visitors and guests.

Hubbub: A confusion of many voices speaking at once. 

Huddle: To crowd, push, or pile together.

Huff: To say something in a way that shows you are 

annoyed.

Humble: Not proud or thinking of yourself as better 

than someone else; respectful.

Humid: Having a lot of moisture in the air.

Husks: The outer covering of corn cobs; also a thin, dry 

layer that covers some seeds and fruits.

Hutch rabbit: A rabbit raised in a cage.

Hysterically: In an uncontrollable, excited manner. 
338

I

Icily: Describes a very unfriendly tone.

Ill-mannered: Having or showing bad manners; rude 

or impolite.

Illumination: Light that shines on something.

Illusion: Something that seems different than what it 

is, or something that is not real but seems to be real. 

Imbalance: A state of disproportion that causes 

problems. In this story “imbalance” refers to different 

parts of the body not working together to produce a 

state of health. 

Imitation: Something that is created as a copy.

Immune system: The set of tissues within one’s body 

that work together to resist infections.

Impending: To be about to happen.

Impish: Naughty, mischievous. 

Impression: An imprint or dent left on a substance, 

like the imprint of a foot left in clay.

Impromptu: Not prepared ahead of time.

Incisors: Front teeth.

Incomprehension: Lack of understanding.

Incredulously: Indicating or showing unbelief: 

appearing hard to believe.

Indian Pipe: A waxy, white leafless woodland herb.
339

Indignant: Offended; resentful.

Inept: Without skill or ability.

Inevitable: Impossible to avoid.

Ingratiating: Intended to please.

Initial: Placed at the beginning.

Inspection: An examination; a “going-over.”

Instincts: A natural ability or behavior that is 

automatic.

Insulin: A hormone, produced by the pancreas, which 

helps the body use carbohydrates and fats for the 

energy it needs. It helps the cells in the liver, muscle, 

and fat tissue to take up glucose (blood sugar) from the 

blood and store it as energy.

Interfering (to interfere): To get involved in a 

situation without approval; to meddle.

Intergalactic: Located in or relating to the spaces 

between galaxies.

Interjected (to interject): To say or blurt out 

something in a way that interrupts what is being said 

or discussed.

Intermarried (to intermarry): To marry a member 

of another group.

Intrigued: Being curious or very interested by 

something.

Involuntarily: Not made or done willingly or by choice.
340

Iridescent: Shining with many different colors when 

seen from different angles.

Irises: The colored part around the pupil of the eye.

Iroquoian: A family of North American Indian 

languages that includes Onondaga, Cayuga, Seneca, 

Mohawk, Oneida, and Cherokee. 

Irresistible: Too tempting to be resisted.

Irritated (to irritate): To make someone angry; to 

annoy.

J

Jabbing (to jab): To poke or thrust. 

Joiners: Pieces of equipment used to join two or more 

things together.

Journey: A trip; to travel from one place to another.

Jovially: With good humor or a spirit of fun.

Jubilant: Feeling or expressing great happiness.

Jutted (to jut): To stick out, especially beyond the 

surface or edge of something.

K

Kilns: Ovens or furnaces for hardening, burning, or 

drying something.

Kindred spirits: Two people who share a bond based 

on shared beliefs, attitudes, or feelings. 
341

L

Launch: to take off with force.

Laurel: An evergreen tree or bush with shiny pointed 

leaves.

Leggings: A covering for the legs.

Lengthen: To make or become longer.

Leprechauns: Mischievous elf of Irish folklore that 

some believe will reveal where treasure is hidden if 

caught. Pronounced LEP-re-kon.

Limply: Not firm or stiff.

Lingered (to linger): To wait around or move around 

a place slowly, not appearing to want to leave.

Loafers: Slip-on leather shoes, shaped like a moccasin, 

with a low flat heel

Lobbed (to lob): To send in a high arc by hitting or 

throwing.

Lofty: Rising to a great height.

Lop-eared: Refers to lop-eared rabbits whose ears hang 

down. This is usually a feature of domesticated rabbits. 

Lugging (to lug): To carry or drag a heavy or bulky 

object.

Luminous: Giving off light.

Lurch: To roll or tip suddenly.

Lure: To tempt a person, animal, or fish to go 

somewhere by offering a reward.
342

M

Magicians: Persons skilled in magic; wizards or 

conjurers.

Maintenance: The care of property or equipment.

Mane: Long hair along the top and sides of an animal; 

long thick growth of hair on a person’s head.

Maneuvered (to maneuver): To move skillfully or 

carefully.

Mantle: A loose sleeveless garment worn over clothes; 

also the fabric on a lantern that is ignited to provide 

light.

Marketing (to market): To promote a business or 

service.

Maypop: The fruit of the passionflower, a perennial 

vine with a large yellow edible berry.

Maze: A confusing network of passages.

Meandering: Following a winding course.

Meaningful: Being significant or profound; having a 

purpose.

Mechanical: Made or operated by a machine or 

machinery.

Melee: A confused struggle. Pronounced MEH-leeh.

Melody: The tune of a song.

Merriment: Fun and enjoyment usually including 

much noise and laughter.
343

Merrymakers: Persons who joyfully and 

enthusiastically takes part in some activity, festival, or 

community event.

Miffed: To be angry or in bad humor.

Milling: Walking about in a small space, pacing.

Millpond: A pond created by damming a stream to hold 

water for operating a mill.

Mimicked (to mimick): To copy or imitate. 

Miniature: A smaller-than-usual version of something.

Minnows: Very small fish that are often used as bait to 

catch larger fish.

Miraculously (miraculous): Something so 

astounding that it appears to be caused by a 

supernatural power.

Mischievous: Badly behaved, often in a playful 

manner, but sometimes to do harm.

Mock: Pretending and imitating with some intent to 

annoy.

Modesty: The quality of being humble; not arrogant or 

prideful.

Momentousness: Of great importance; a very large 

and involved effort; a big effort needed to achieve a 

goal or to finish.

Monkey business: An expression for silly or 

mischievous behavior.
344

Mother-of-pearl: The pearly, internal layer of some 

shells, used to make jewelry.

Mountainous: Having many mountains.

Muffled: Hushed; barely heard.

Multi-hued: More than two colors.

Munchkins: The small characters from Munchkinland 

in the book, The Wizard of Oz.

Murmur: To speak in a voice too low to be heard 

clearly.

Muscogean: A language family spoken by Native tribes 

in the southeastern United States and Oklahoma.

Muscular: Having large and strong muscles; robust.

Mused (to muse): To think about; to consider 

thoughtfully. 

Musical chairs: A game in which players walk to music 

around a group of chairs containing one chair fewer 

than the number of players. The players rush to sit 

down when the music stops. The player left standing is 

eliminated. 

Mustering (to muster): To emotionally gather up 

confidence or bravery.

Muttered (to mutter): To say something in a low 

voice.

Muzzle: The projecting part of the face, including the 

nose and the mouth, of an animal such as a rabbit, dog, 

or a horse.

Mystified (to mystify): To puzzle or confuse.
345

N

Nakota: One of the three language groups of the 

Siouan-speaking peoples. Tribes speaking the Nakota 

dialect are the Yankton and Yanktonnais tribes of 

southeastern and north-central South Dakota.

Nanabozho: A spirit in Anishinaabe mythology, who 

often appears in the shape of a rabbit but can shapeshift and is characterized as a trickster. Pronounced 

Ne-ne-bou-JOU.

Nasturtium: A plant with circular leaves and yellow, 

orange, or red flowers that are sometimes eaten.

Neon: Very bold, bright, color. The name comes from 

brightly colored electric signs and lights made with 

neon gas.

Nervously: Feeling or showing worry, tension, or fear. 

Nestling (to nestle): To settle snugly and comfortably.

Net gunning: Use of a non-lethal weapon designed to 

fire a net which entangles the target, usually an animal.

Niceties: Small details that are part of polite or proper 

behavior.

Niche: A cranny, hollow, or crevice.

Nifty: Clever. 

Nipping (to nip): To pinch or bite sharply. 

Nose blinking: The term for a rabbit’s wiggling its nose 

up and down.
346

Nudged (to nudge): to touch or push gently.

Nuisance: Something that is bothering or getting in the 

way of something else.

Nuthatch: A small bird with a narrow beak and short 

tail.

Nutrition: Foods that form a diet promoting health and 

growth. 

Nuzzled (to nuzzle): To rub or push against gently 

with the nose or mouth. 

O

Obscure: Unclear; little known; hidden from view.

Observations: Spoken or written notes about 

something seen or heard.

Ojibwe: Refers to American Indian tribes in the region 

around Lake Superior and westward. Pronounced 

O-JIB-way.

Old Joe Clark: A mountain folk song. 

Old-timey: A style that was popular in the past.

Omega-3s: Refers to a group of three fats, not produced 

by the human body, that are found in plant and fish 

oils. These fatty acids are essential to the health of 

nerve cells in the brain. 

Ominous: Seeming threatening or scary; giving a sense 

that something bad is going to happen. 
347

Omnivore: An animal that eats both plants and other 

animals.

Orator: A person with skill in speech-making.

Overhaul: To change something completely in order to 

improve it.

P

Padded (to pad): To walk on padded feet. 

Pancreas: A large gland near the stomach that 

produces insulin and other substances that helps in the 

digestion of food.

Panorama: A wide landscape seen with a clear view in 

every direction.

Parallel: Objects in rows that are located next to each 

other, move in the same direction, and are always the 

same distance apart.

Paralyzed (to paralyze): To make powerless or 

unable to act, function, or move.

Parasites: Organisms that feed on other living things, 

usually at the expense of the host organism. 

Parched (to parch): To make dry through intense 

heat.

Partition: A divider or separator of one space from 

another.

Pathway: A track made by foot travel.
348

Peered (to peer): To look at closely.

Perch: A rod, pole, or branch where a bird or another 

object can rest.

Perk: Something considered an additional bonus or 

benefit.

Physique: The size and shape of a person’s body.

Pinwheels: A type of firework that spins like a wheel.

Plaintive: Being wistful or somewhat sad in nature.

Plantation, plantation settlements: A large farm 

or estate on which cotton, tobacco, coffee, and sugar 

cane is grown. Many workers, including slaves in 

the southern states, lived in settlements located on 

plantations in the 18th and 19th centuries. 

Poacher: A thief who steals illegally.

Pods: The seed cases of a plant.

Poke: To stick out or forward; to jab; or a sack or bag, 

as in the expression “a pig in a poke.”

Pondered (to ponder): To think or consider quietly, 

soberly, and deeply.

Pooch: A slang word for “dog.”

Portals: Entrances. 

Pout (to pout): To show annoyance by puffing out the 

lips.

Pow-wow: A gathering of North America’s Native 

peoples where they meet to dance, sing, socialize, and 

honor indigenous cultures.
349

Practicality: Sensible attitude based on reason, 

common sense, or experience. 

Practiced: Experienced; learned by doing something 

again and again.

Pranks: Practical jokes or mischievous acts.

Prankster: Someone who plays practical jokes on 

another person.

Precaution: Something done to prevent possible harm 

or trouble from happening.

Precipice: A very steep side of a mountain or cliff.

Precisely: Very exact.

Predator: An animal that lives by killing and eating 

other animals.

Prediabetes: A condition in which a person’s blood 

glucose levels are higher than normal but not high 

enough to be type 2 diabetes. People with prediabetes 

are more likely to develop type 2 diabetes. However, 

type 2 diabetes may be prevented or delayed in persons 

with prediabetes if they adopt a healthy diet, lose 

weight, and increase physical activity.

Preen: To smooth or clean feathers with the beak or 

bill.

Premature: Happening too soon or earlier than usual.

Preppy: Acting or dressing like a student at an 

expensive preparatory school. Preppy clothing is 

conservative and includes items such as khaki slacks 

and button-down dress shirts. 
350

Prey: An animal that is hunted by another animal for 

food.

Privileged: Honored or proud.

Procession: A group of persons, vehicles, or objects 

moving along in an orderly fashion.

Productive: Beneficial; working hard and getting good 

results.

Profitability: Effectiveness in making money or 

producing good or helpful results.

Promenaded (to promenade): A dance step where 

partners march together. 

Promoting (to promote): To help something grow or 

develop.

Promotion: Some form of advertising or verbal 

announcement to bring public attention to a product, 

event, or sale. 

Propellers: Two or more blades that turn quickly and 

cause a ship or aircraft to move.

Proposals: Plans presented for consideration and 

possible adoption by to a person or group of persons.

Protuberant: Sticking out from a surface, usually with 

a curved or rounded shape.

Pry: To inquire nosily or excessively into somebody’s 

private affairs

Pulp: Something soft and wet that has been crushed up. 
351

Pulverize: To crush, beat or grind something into a 

powder or dust.

Pungent: Having a strong, sharp smell.

Puny: Small and weak.

Purse: Prize winnings, usually consisting of money.

Q

Quarters: One of four equal parts of something.

R

Randomly: Showing no clear plan, purpose, or pattern.

Raring to go: Ready and excited to begin doing 

something.

Rattling (to rattle): To shake or move quickly.

Ravine: A deep and narrow valley.

Reabsorbed (to reabsorb): To take up something 

previously produced.

Reassuring (to reassure): To support or encourage. 

Recognizable: Identifiable.

Recollect: To remember something.

Recount: To report; to tell again.

Red Wing: A song about an Indian woman whose 

sweetheart died in battle. 
352

Refracted (to refract): To bend a wave of light in 

direction when it passes from one medium to another, 

as when light passes from air to water. 

Refreshing: Causing to feel rested and cool.

Regalia: Special clothes and decorations worn for 

festive or ceremonial purposes.

Rehearsed (to rehearse): To prepare; to repeat an 

activity until it is perfectly done.

Relief: Relaxation after tension has passed; help or 

assistance.

Reluctantly: Unwillingly, half-heartedly.

Reservation: An area of land reserved for use by 

American Indians. Tribes manage these lands through 

a government to government relationship with the 

United States. In Alaska, land areas set aside for 

Alaska Natives are managed by villages and Native 

corporations; or making arrangements before they 

occur.

Resigned (to resign): To accept something that you 

don’t like.

Resiliency: The ability to adjust quickly to challenging 

circumstances.

Respectfully: Showing or having respect.

Restless: Feeling nervous and tending to move around 

a lot.
353

Retreated (to retreat): To move away from a place or 

situation.

Retrieved (to retrieve): To get back or take back. 

Revitalizing (to revitalize): To bring new life and 

vitality to someone or something.

Rheumatiz: An expression for rheumatism, a disease 

that occurs most commonly in old age. It causes muscle 

pain, stiffness, and painful swelling in the joints.

Rhododendron: A small leafy tree or shrub that has 

bright flowers. 

Ribbon-cutting: Short for “ribbon cutting ceremony,” 

a public ceremony conducted when a building or 

business is opened to the public for the first time. 

Often, a ribbon is tied across the main entrance and cut 

by a celebrity or official.

Ring (as in a fossil poaching ring): A group of 

people who work together to commit a crime.

Roach: A headdress worn by American Indian men, 

often as part of their traditional regalia. It is made from 

porcupine guard hair and deer tail hair or other stiff 

hair. A roach is usually dyed a bright color.

Roller-coastered: To go sharply up and down, like a 

ride in an amusement park. 

Rolling (as in rolling song): Even and flowing. 

Rotation: The process of moving or turning around a 

central point.
354

Ruffled (to ruffle): To disorder or disarrange.

Rugged: Bumpy and rocky, like rough ground. 

Rummage: To search quickly through the contents of a 

place or container.

Rustled (to rustle): To make a crackling or crunching 

sound.

S

Sammich: Often, a child’s way to say “sandwich.”

Sanctuary: A place where someone or something is 

protected or given shelter.

Sash: A large ribbon or band of material worn around 

the body.

Sashayed (to sashay): A dance step where partners 

circle each other. 

Sassafras: The dried bark from the root of the sassafras 

plant that is used in medicine and as a flavoring. 

Pronounced SA-Sa-Fras.

Savoring (to savor): to take pleasure in; appreciate.

Scanning (to scan): to look over quickly; to look 

across a wide view.

Scattered (to scatter): To separate and go in different 

directions.

Schedule: A timetable, calendar, or agenda for planned 

events.
355

Score: To record points or numbers for a game; rating 

something numerically; or a final set of numbers; a 

count of 20.

Scrambled (to scramble): To climb over or up 

something using your hands and feet.

Scrub: In the outdoors, stunted trees, bushes, and other 

plants growing in a dry area.

Scruff: The back of a person or animal’s neck. 

Scruffy: Dirty in appearance.

Scrumptious: Delicious.

Scrunch: To draw or squeeze together tightly.

Secure: To make safe; guard.

Seersucker: A lightweight fabric usually worn in the 

summer that has an uneven surface and a pattern of 

lines. Seersucker, once popular for men’s suits, is no 

longer considered fashionable. 

Self-conscious: Unsure of oneself; somewhat 

embarrassed.

Sensitivities: States of high levels of awareness to 

something of interest.

Sentry: A guard at a point of passage.

Serenity: The state of being calm, peaceful, untroubled.

Shafts: Vertical or inclined openings that ventilate 

caves or other underground structures.

Shamefaced: Being embarrassed or feeling guilty. 
356

Shape-shift: To change from one kind of being into 

another. 

Shatter: To break or fall into pieces.

Shawl dance: A woman’s powwow dance style that is 

especially popular among southern tribes. Dancers 

carry large, brightly colored shawls and use them to 

make motions that imitate butterflies. 

Shepherded (to shepherd): To herd, guard, tend, or 

guide.

Shimmied (to shimmy): To move or shake the body 

from side to side.

Shrugged (to shrug): to hunch up the shoulders to 

express hesitation or uncertainty.

Shuddering (to shudder): To tremble or shake.

Shuffled (to shuffle): To walk slowly without picking 

up the feet; to rearrange papers or a deck of cards by 

moving them over each other quickly.

Sighted (to sight): To see; to notice or spot. 

Signaling (to signal): To indicate or show by signs or 

other motions.

Signature: A person’s name written in a distinctive 

way. 

Silhouetted (to silhouette): To create a dark shape 

against a lighter background.

Simultaneously: Done at the same time.
357

Sinkhole: A low area or hole in the ground that is 

formed when soil and rocks are removed by flowing 

water.

Situation: All of the facts, conditions and events that 

affect someone or something at a particular time and in 

a particular place.

Skeptical: Not easily convinced; having doubts or 

reservations.

Skids: The undercarriage that supports a helicopter and 

provides a landing surface.

Skirmishes: Minor or brief arguments or 

disagreements.

Skype: A telephone service that allows users to 

communicate with each other through voice and video 

typically using computers.

Slumped (to slump): To sit, lean, or fall heavily.

Sly: Clever and somewhat sneaky. 

Small taters: Small potatoes, a slang term meaning 

something that isn’t important.

Smirk: To smile or say in an insincere manner.

Smoldering (to smolder): To burn slowly without 

flames but usually with smoke.

Smug: Arrogant; with conceit or self-importance.

Snappy dresser: Someone who wears smart and 

fashionable clothing.
358

Snicker: To give a small and often nasty or sly laugh.

Sniggered (to snigger): To laugh quietly at something 

or someone. 

Snitch: A slang term meaning to steal something.

Snooze: Nap or sleep.

Solo: To do something alone; a performance by one 

person.

Solution: A liquid in which something has been 

dissolved.

Spare tire: Slang term for the excess fat around an 

individual’s stomach which looks like someone is 

wearing a tire.

Specialty: Something that a person or place is known 

for making or producing very well.

Species: A group of animals or plants so closely related 

that they can interbreed and produce fertile offspring. 

They have great similarity in DNA, body organization, 

and ecological niche.

Spectator: An onlooker; a watcher; someone not 

involved in a situation.

Spells: A magic ritual. 

Spiffy: Neat, stylish, and attractive.

Spindly: Long, thin, and usually weak.

Spiritual: Of or relating to sacred matters.

Sprinkled (to sprinkle): To scatter small drops or 

bits of a substance. 
359

Sprinted (to sprint): To run at top speed especially 

for a short distance.

Spurt: To burst forth; erupt.

Squalling (to squall): To cry out or make an 

unappealing sound.

Squatted (to squat): To crouch; sit on one’s heels. 

Squeal: A high-pitched cry or noise. 

Squeezed and squozed: Fanciful language used by 

Brother Rabbit to mean compressed into a tight space.

Squinting (to squint): To look at something with the 

eyes partly closed.

Squishy: Soft and often wet.

Stalked (to stalk): To follow by moving slowly and 

quietly

Stereotypes: Common beliefs about groups of people 

that imply that particular characteristics apply to all 

members of the group.

Stickler: A person who believes that something is very 

important and should be done or followed all the time; 

a perfectionist.

Stifle: To choke back; suppress.

Sting by Bee disease: In the novel, the name used by 

the Little People to describe the disease we know as 

type 2 diabetes. In ancient times, healers noticed that 

people with untreated diabetes had sweet-smelling 

urine—a product of too much blood sugar—that could 

attract bees and other insects.
360

Stocky: Short with a strong-looking body.

Stomp ground: An open area where traditional dances 

are performed.

Stomp: A dance with heavy, rhythmic steps. 

Stonerollers: A common fish found especially in clear 

streams of the central and southern United States.

Stoop: To bend over.

Stowaway: Someone who hides in a vehicle in order to 

travel without paying or being seen.

Strategy: A plan; an approach.

Striations: Tiny grooves or channels most often 

occurring in parallel.

Struggling (to struggle): Trying to overcome a 

challenge or opponent without making much progress.

Strut: A thin piece of wood or metal used for support in 

a building or piece of furniture.

Stuttering (to stutter): To have a speech problem 

that causes you to repeat the beginning sound of some 

words.

Subterranean: Existing below the surface of the earth. 

Sullenly: Acting resentful or angry, but also dull and 

silent.

Summary: A short review of something that captures 

the most important information.

Sunflower: A tall plant that usually has very large 

yellow flowers and produces edible seeds.
361

Superstitious: Having beliefs based on magic or 

ignorance. 

Surge: To move forward as in waves.

Suspicion: A feeling of doubt and/or mistrust.

Suspiciously (suspicious): Having or showing a 

cautious distrust of someone or something.

SUV: Abbreviation of “sports utility vehicle,” a highpowered car with all-wheel drive.

Swagger: To walk or conduct oneself in an arrogant 

way; strut.

Sweathouses: Various permanent or portable 

structures typically heated by fire or by pouring 

water over hot stones and used by American Indians 

to induce sweating for medicinal, spiritual or social 

purposes. Also called sweatlodges.

Swig: To drink in large gulps.

Swiped (to swipe): To pass a card through an 

electronic reader.

Sycamore: A tree of the eastern and central United 

States that has light-brown bark that peels off in thin 

flakes.

Symbol: An object that expresses or represents a 

particular idea.
362

T

Tabloids: Small newspapers or magazines with lots 

of photographs of celebrities and world leaders, 

often with stories that are exaggerated or filled with 

questionable information. Tack room: A room in or 

near a barn for storing saddles, harnesses, and other 

equipment.

Tackle: To force a person to fall to the ground; also 

equipment used for a purpose like fishing.

Talons: Claws on a bird that hunts and eats other 

animals. 

Tampering (to tamper): To touch or make changes to 

something that you should not.

Tarmac: A material used to cover the ground that is 

made of layers of crushed stone covered with tar.

Tarpaulin: A canvas covering.

Tart: Having a sharp and sour, but usually pleasant, 

flavor.

Tattoo: A permanent design made on the body.

Teaching certificate: An official document that proves 

someone has the right to be a teacher.

Technical: Having special knowledge especially of how 

a particular kind of work is done.

Temporary: Lasting for a short term; not permanent.
363

Tendrils: Something that is long, thin, and wispy like 

strands of hair, vines, or curls of smoke.

Terraced: Arranged in levels or steps.

Terrain: The land or physical features of the 

environment.

Terrapin: A kind of small turtle that lives in water.

Terrier: A type of small dog originally used for hunting.

Thatch: To make a roof with dried plant material.

Thermal imaging: The use of heat-sensitive 

equipment to detect or take an image of people or 

things. 

Thicket: A group of bushes or small trees that grow 

close together.

Threading (to thread): To make one’s way cautiously 

through something.

Threatened (to threaten): To cause to feel fearful or 

anxious.

Throng: A large number of people gathered together.

Throttling (to throttle): To reduce the fuel that feeds 

an engine.

Thrumming (to thrum): To make a low, rhythmic 

sound. 

Tickled (to tickle): To appeal to someone’s taste or 

sense of humor.
364

Tiers: A series of articles or steps rising one behind the 

another. 

Tingling (to tingle): To feel a slight prickling and 

stinging sensation. 

Tipi: A tent that is shaped like a cone and is used as 

a traditional shelter among some American Indian 

tribes.

Tone: The quality of a sound or person’s voice.

Torrent: A large amount of something that is released 

suddenly.

Tourism: The activity of traveling to places for 

sightseeing and recreation.

Tradition: A long-established way of doing or 

believing; related to culture and custom.

Trail of Tears: The name given to the forced relocation 

of American Indian Nations from southeastern parts of 

the United States following the Indian Removal Act of 

1830.

Tranquil: Quiet and peaceful.

Transform: To change or alter something completely 

from one state to another.

Transition: A shift or movement from one state or 

condition to another.

Translate: To change words from one language to a 

different language.
365

Transmogrification: The process of change from one 

state or form to another that is out of the ordinary or 

very weird; a shape-shift.

Tributary: A stream feeding into a larger stream or a 

lake.

Trickster 101: An expression that implies something 

that all tricksters have been taught or should know. 

Trickster: A god, goddess, man, woman or animal who 

plays tricks or otherwise disobeys normal rules and 

conventional behavior. Tricksters break the rules of 

nature and society without concern about morality. 

They may cheat, steal, and lie, but their behavior 

unusually results in creative, positive effects. Tricksters 

can be cunning or foolish or both. They are often 

funny even when teaching important life lessons or 

performing important cultural tasks. 

Trillium: An herb of the lily family with a stem bearing 

three leaves on a solitary spring-blooming flower.

Triumphant: Having won a victory and being proud of 

it.

Trolley: A bus that makes short trips. 

Trophy: An award given to celebrate a victory or other 

winning achievement.

Trudge: To walk with much effort.

Tubular: Having the form of a tube.
366

Turkey in the Straw: A well-known American folk 

song, originally a fiddle tune, which dates from the 

early 19th century.

Tussle: A short fight or struggle.

Two-bit: Slang term for not being very important or 

valuable.

U

UFO: A flying object in the sky that some people believe 

could be a spaceship from another planet, otherwise 

known as an unidentified flying object.

Ultimate: Greatest or most extreme.

Uncertainty: Not being sure; doubt about something.

Uncharacteristic: Not showing normal or expected 

behavior.

Undetectable: Unable to discover or determine the 

facts.

Undulating (to undulate): To roll from side to side; 

or to heave up and down.

Unease: A feeling of worry or discomfort.

Unpaved: An area without a cover of material, such as 

stone, tar or concrete.

Unsavory: Offensive or unpleasant.

Upwelled (to upwell): To move or flow upward.

Urine: Waste liquid that collects in the bladder before 

leaving the body.
367

V

Vacate: To leave or quit.

Valued: Having usefulness or importance.

Vanity: Self-importance; conceit.

Veer: To change direction suddenly.

Vegetation: Plants that cover a particular area.

Venting (to vent): To allow something to go out 

through an opening.

Veteran: An expert or someone with much experience; 

someone who has fought past battles.

Vibrant: Very bright, showing great liveliness and 

energy.

Vibration: A continuous slight shaking movement.

Vigor: Strength, energy, or determination.

Virtue: The result that comes from something good (as 

in “by virtue of his wits, he was successful”).

Visual: Relating to seeing or to the eyes.

Vittles: An expression for food and drink that derives 

from the word “victuals.”

Volume: An amount of something that can vary like the 

loudness of sound or the number of cars.

Vouch: To give a guarantee.
368

W

Wail: To cry out in a sad way.

Wary: Not having or showing complete trust in 

someone or something that could cause trouble.

Weir: A low wall or dam built across a stream or river to 

raise the level of water or to change the direction of its 

flow.

Whine: To make a shrill troubled cry or a similar 

sound.

Whirling (to whirl): To move or go in a circle.

Wilderness: An uncultivated natural area with 

significant wildlife in which few people live.

Wits: To have understanding, information, or 

knowledge of something.

Wood that sings: An expression for a fiddle. 

Wraith-like: Like a ghost.

Y

Yelp: To cry out suddenly in a high voice.

Yield: To give in to the wishes of another.

Z

Zinnias: A plant that is grown in gardens for its brightly 

colored flowers.
369

Zoom: To rush or move quickly; to focus on an object 

with a computer, microscope or camera with the intent 

of enlarging or minimizing it in size (as in “zoom out” 

or “zoom in”).
About the Native Diabetes Wellness Program

The mission of the Native Diabetes Wellness Program is to work 

with a growing circle of partners to address the health inequities so 

starkly revealed by type 2 diabetes in Indian Country. With social 

justice and respect for Native and Western science as grounding 

principles, we strive to support community efforts to promote 

health and prevent diabetes.

To request free copies of the Eagle Books series, or for more 

information about the program, please contact the CDC. Phone: 

toll free 1-800-CDC-INFO (800-232-4636) TTY: (888) 232-6348. 

E-mail: diabetes@cdc.gov

About the Author

Terry Lofton, former Director of the Eagle Books project at Westat 

Atlanta, retired in 2013 from a 30-year public health career. As 

author of Coyote and the Turtle’s Dream and Hummingbird’s 

Squash, the first two Eagle Books youth novels, she was delighted to 

partner with Kauffman & Associates, Inc., to complete the last novel 

in the series, The Trickster of Two Rabbit Mountain. A frequent 

traveler through the mountains of north Georgia, she was inspired 

by the landscape to imagine the hidden towns of the Little People 

in the fictitious Wetumka Mountains and the Laughin’ Place of a 

legendary trickster. 

About the Illustrator 

Patrick Rolo, Bad River Band of Ojibwe, draws from his rich 

Native American heritage to illustrate the Eagle Books. Mr. Rolo’s 

career includes newspaper, magazine, comic book, and courtroom 

illustrations. Also a painter, his works in oil hang in galleries in 

Minnesota and Washington.
Praise for The Trickster of Two Rabbit Mountain

“I liked this book is because it talks about diabetes and that makes me want to eat 

healthier. My favorite part is when the rabbit changed into Jackie Chan and did a 

presentation [that] made the other people laugh hard. The story also reminded me of 

how my mom tells me about protecting the forests and Mother Earth.”

- Dominique Gourneau

 Three Affiliated Tribes

 Minneapolis, MN 

“I learned about a lot of cultures, but the one I really looked into was the Little People 

of the cave. They are small and everybody there depends on each other. They relied on 

the environment such as making their weapons, foods, and more. We need to protect 

the environment because it gives us shelter, water and air.”

- Jaylen Clark

 Catonsville, MD

“I really liked the book; it was fun, informative, and eye opening. I was really anxious 

to see what happened next. Before I read the book, I thought that it was just vegetables 

that you had to eat along with exercising. Now I know that you have to eat all kinds 

of healthy foods. I also learned that there are many different stories from different 

cultures. The stories have a moral to them that teach a good lesson.” 

- Jordan L. Gross

 Atlanta, GA

“The story is engaging and connects the adventures of a group of friends with 

environmental awareness and healthy living. My favorite part of the book was when 

Marcus paid attention to Brother Rabbit’s story and was able to apply what he learned 

to his current situation. Marcus also trusted in his friends and knew that they would 

come to help him.”

- Arianna Baros

(The real Arianna)

Albuquerque, NM

To request free copies of the Eagle Books series, or for more 

information about the program, please contact the CDC. 

Phone: toll free 1-800-CDC-INFO (800-232-4636) 

TTY: (888) 232-6348

E-mail: diabetes@cdc.gov

Web site: http://www.cdc.gov/diabetes/pubs/eagle/index.html